Against the Law (5 page)

The phone started ringing and the receptionist paused. “I've got to get that.” She smiled. “I'm sure Cookie will take very good care of you.”

“Thank you,” Lark said as the woman hurried back to pick up the phone.

As they arrived in front of the notary's desk, Caroline Demarco looked up from her computer. “Good morning. May I help you?”

“We'd like to talk to you about a document you notarized,” Dev said. Setting the adoption papers on the desk in front of her, he flipped them open to the last page, and pointed to the seal that had her name and the words
Notary Public for the State of Arizona
printed around the rim. “You notarized these papers, correct?”

Cookie checked the seal and her signature beside it. “Yes, I did.” Wariness creep over her features. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing that has to do with you or your notary,” Lark reassured her with a smile, easing the woman's nerves.

Good girl,
Dev thought. They needed the woman talking, not clamming up.

“Ms. Demarco, do you happen to recall who brought the people in to sign these?” he asked.

“It's been a while, but adoption papers aren't something I deal with very often. I notarized the documents for Melvin Keetch. He's an attorney.”

Lark's face lit with excitement. “Do you know where we can find Mr. Keetch?”

“He used to work upstairs. That's how I met him. But he moved away from Phoenix last year.”

Her shoulders slumped.

“Do you know where he went?” Dev asked.

“I'm afraid not. I didn't really know him that well.”

“Heather Delaney was my sister,” Lark gently explained, pointing at the signature on the page. “She was pregnant when she signed these papers. Do you remember her?”

Cookie looked at the date on the signature page. “That was more than four years ago. No, I'm afraid I don't.”

“Did you ever notarize anything for Mr. Keetch that involved other pregnant women?” Dev asked.

Cookie nodded. “I remember he did work on occasion for the adoption agency mentioned in the document you brought in.” She pointed to the name beneath the logo on the front page of the document. “Loving Home Adoptions. That was the name. There were a couple of other times he asked me to notarize papers like these.”

“Any chance you remember the names of the people who signed?” Dev asked.

“It's really important we find these people,” Lark added.

“I remember the last one I did. It was just before Keetch closed his office. Her name was Caroline, like mine. That's the reason I remember. She was maybe
twenty, twenty-one. The people from the adoption agency brought her in. I don't remember their names but I remember that once the paperwork was signed, the girl seemed relieved.”

Cookie turned a smile on Lark. “Sometimes adoption can be a good thing, you know?”

“Sometimes,” Lark agreed softly.

“Any chance you remember the young woman's last name?”

Cookie pulled open her left-hand desk drawer. “Like I said, it was just about a year ago, right before Keetch moved out of his office.” She drew out her dog-eared notary book and began to turn the pages. “The law requires each person whose name is notarized to sign the book and write in their address.”

He knew that, was counting on it.

She looked up, suddenly wary. “I probably shouldn't give out this information….”

Lark reached over and caught her hand. “My sister died three months ago. I promised her I'd make sure her baby was safe. We really need this information, Ms. Demarco.”

“Whatever you tell us goes no further,” Dev promised.

Cookie looked up at Lark, still a little uncertain.

“Maybe you're a mother yourself,” Lark added. “You'd want to know your baby was safe, wouldn't you?”

Cookie glanced away. She opened the book and started working backward through the pages to the approximate date a year earlier.

“Here it is. Caroline Egan. This is her address, or at least it was at the time.”

Lark picked a pen up off the desk and wrote down the street and number. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Dev tried not to notice the flash of pain on Lark's face, gone as fast as it appeared. He knew she was still grieving for her sister. He owed it to Clive Monroe to help her keep the promise she had made.

But he was beginning to wonder if maybe he was just doing it for Lark.

“A
re we going there now?” Lark asked as Dev's Porsche roared away from the real estate office.

“No time like the present.”

She settled back in her seat. Outside it was another perfect fall day, the sky so clear and blue it looked surreal. This was why people moved to the desert, why they put up with the awful heat in the summer. It was why Heather had stayed when she could have moved away.

Lark sighed. So far they hadn't found anything that would lead them directly to her sister's baby, and yet she felt as if they had come a very long way. Dev seemed focused and determined. Once he set his mind on a course of action, he wasn't about to give up. He would follow each lead to its conclusion and that, she was sure, would eventually take them where they needed to go.

And so she let herself be lulled by the roar of the engine, let the curve-hugging machine in the capa
ble hands of Devlin Raines take them to their next destination.

As the car zipped along, she cast him a sideways glance. With his dark good looks and amazing blue eyes, he was one of the best-looking men she had ever seen. But already that seemed unimportant. It was his sense of purpose, the competence he exuded that attracted her. She bit back a grin. That and his incredible body.

He flicked her a glance. “What?”

Lark jerked her gaze back to the road. “Nothing.”

“I don't think it was nothing. Whatever it was had you squirming in your seat.”

Oh, dear.
She released a slow breath, giving herself time to come up with something he might actually believe. “I guess I was thinking of Steve.”

“Steve?” Those lean suntanned fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Steve who?”

“Steve Rutgers, my attorney.” She couldn't believe she was telling him such a bald-faced lie, but Dev was frowning, obviously disapproving, and that made her curious. “I haven't dated anyone in a long time. Steve is handsome and single and I was just wondering—”

“Well, don't,” he said darkly. “You're here on business. Keep your mind on business.”

Interesting.

She glanced over at his grim expression and laughed. “I wasn't thinking about my attorney.”

“What then?”

She almost smiled. “None of your business.”

Dev flashed her a look, but didn't press the matter. She wondered if he knew how attractive she found him.
Probably. A guy who looked like that had to have woman falling at his feet.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he was the kind of man who preferred the woman to be the aggressor. She studied his beautiful, slightly mysterious, dangerous-looking profile. Ranger. Macho man. No way.

Her mouth edged up as he pulled the car to the curb in front of a small, gray, single-story bungalow on the west side of the city and turned off the engine. Clearly, she hadn't figured him out yet. But maybe that was okay. In fact, it was probably better if she didn't make the effort.

Lark opened the door and swung her legs out of the car as Dev rounded the hood and came up beside her.

“Ready?”

She nodded and gave him her hand and he pulled her up out of the low-slung car. Together they walked up the cement path, climbed the wooden front porch steps, and Dev knocked on the door. No answer.

The door swung open when they knocked again. A petite blonde in her early twenties stood in the opening. She had big blue eyes, a soft smile, and she was at least six months pregnant.

If Dev was surprised, he didn't let it show. “Ms. Egan? Caroline Egan?”

“Yes.”

My name is Devlin Raines.” He handed her his business card. “This is Lark Delaney. We're here to ask you some questions about Martha and Evan Olcott.”

“I'm afraid I don't know anything about them.” She
started to close the door, but Dev stuck his foot against the frame and the door slammed against it, blocking her effort.

“We aren't here to cause you any trouble,” he said. “We're just trying to find them. Lark's sister gave up her baby through the Loving Home agency. We need to find out where the baby went.”

She only shook her head. “I really can't help you. My relationship with the Olcotts ended as soon as I delivered my baby and the Olcotts placed it with an adoptive family.”

“Are you aware the adoption might not have been legal?” Lark asked.

“That isn't my problem.” Caroline tried to close the door, but Dev kept his foot propped against it.

“I see you're pregnant again,” he said. “May I ask if you're planning to give this child up, as well?”

Lark was surprised by the question. She assumed Caroline Egan had married or that she had gotten pregnant again because she wanted a baby.

“I'm giving it up, yes. Arrangements have already been made.”

“How much are you getting?”

Her lips thinned. “Not as much as I got from the Olcotts.” Her smile was as narrow as her lips. “I'm working with the Hancock Agency. You're welcome to call them if you want more information. Now, please leave me alone.” She swung the door and this time Dev let it close.

Wordlessly, they turned and started back to the car.

“I can't believe it,” Lark said. “The girl is a baby-making machine. That's what she does for a living.”

“I'll have Chaz look up the Hancock Agency but I remember seeing the name repeatedly on the web. I think they're probably legit.”

“How can a woman do that?”

He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I guess she sees it as a job, just like any other. She makes babies instead of quilts or homemade candy or something.”

Lark made a rude sound in her throat as they crossed the porch and descended the wooden front steps. “What do you suppose she earns?”

“She's blonde and blue-eyed. Caucasian babies are in high demand. Twenty thousand, maybe more. It isn't against the law—not if the adoption agency is licensed and following all the state mandates.”

“That doesn't seem like a lot of money, considering the trouble and the possible risks.”

“Could just be a way to earn a little extra.”

Lark paused next to the car, biting her lip to control a shot of anger. “What about the father?”

“Probably a sperm donor.” He opened the passenger door. “Provides more opportunity to get the most saleable attributes.”

“Which makes the baby worth more.”

“That's right.”

She slid into the seat and Dev closed the car door. He rounded the hood and slid in behind the wheel.

“Heather didn't get paid,” Lark told him. “I know that much. She wouldn't have taken the money if it had been offered.”

He stuck the key in the ignition. “You don't think your grandparents received any sort of payment?”

“Definitely not. They were Catholic. Very devout. And they didn't need the money.”

“But the Olcotts did.” He cranked the key and the engine began to purr.

“That's right, they did. But if they were paid as highly as we think, why couldn't they pay their bills?”

“Good question. I'll have Chaz look into it.” He pulled the Porsche into traffic and punched the accelerator.

“Do you remember how your grandparents first came across the Olcotts?” he asked.

Lark shook her head. “Through friends, I think. Or maybe someone in their church. I really don't know.”

He slowed to take a corner, downshifted. “We need to find the Olcotts.”

“Even if we do, what makes you think they'll tell us where to find the baby?”

He looked at her and his eyes turned a cold, steely blue. “Oh, they'll tell us. I promise you that.”

Lark was beginning to know that look. It was one of fierce determination and she didn't doubt him for a minute.

 

By late afternoon the following day, it was clear the job he had thought would be easy wouldn't be easy at all.

The good news was, Chaz had located the Olcotts, formerly the Oldmans, now going by the name Mary and Benedict Fellows. They were managing a chain of child care facilities in Los Angeles.

“At least they aren't selling babies,” Lark said from across the table in his office where she had been reading articles on black market babies she had printed off the internet.

“Not openly, at any rate.” At her sudden pallor, he regretted his words. “What I mean is, they're still involved with children. Might provide opportunities to locate pregnant women willing to give up their babies.”

“Maybe the business is legitimate.”

“I think it probably is. The question is whether or not the Fellowses are managing it in a strictly legitimate fashion.”

She looked at him with those tilted green eyes that made his insides hot. “So when do we leave?”

“I plan to leave in the morning. Town's already called Desert Air and made the arrangements. I rarely fly commercial anymore. It's too much trouble. Especially since I'll be carrying.”

“Carrying what?”

He grinned. “A gun, sweetheart. It goes with the job.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out and he knew she had spotted the dimple that occasionally appeared in his cheek.

“That dimple is really overkill, you know.”

He just shrugged. “Sorry. I didn't put it there.”

He didn't like the look on her face, as if he had just gone down a notch in her book. Most women thought it was sexy, dammit. Then again, Lark Delaney wasn't like most women.

“So am I meeting you here or at the airport?” she asked, returning their previous conversation.

“You aren't meeting me anywhere. You aren't going.”

She smiled sweetly. “If that's what you're thinking then you would be wrong. I told you we would be doing this together. I meant it.”

He clenched his jaw. “I can be there and back a lot faster if I travel alone.”

“I might have questions, something about the adoption that you wouldn't think to ask. I'm going.”

He growled low in his throat. He'd known she would be trouble. He had sensed it from the moment he had first seen her. “Fine. Be here at seven. We'll be flying out of Scottsdale. We can drive to the airport together.”

“All right.”

“And don't be late.”

She gave him one of her sugary smiles. “I was here on time this morning, wasn't I?”

Dev cast her a knowing glance. “How often does that happen?”

“It's going to happen tomorrow, so you don't need to worry.”

He just laughed.
Women.
You had to love 'em. Or at least he'd like to love this one for at least a couple of nights. He didn't think one steamy round of sex with a lady this hot would be enough.

“Are we done for the day?” she asked.

“We're done. I'll see you in the morning.”

“You've got my cell number. Let me know if anything comes up.”

He didn't answer. Something was already up, pressing hard against his zipper. And now she was going with him to L.A.

He wanted to punch Madman in the nose for sending her his way.

 

The chartered Navajo twin-engine plane made a smooth landing at the Burbank Airport and taxied across the tarmac to the executive terminal.

“Thanks, Tom,” Dev said to the pilot as they prepared to depart the plane. “Nice flight. Great job, as always.”

“We're heading back tonight, right?”

“If everything goes as planned. I'll call you as soon as I know for sure.”

“Great.”

Lark stepped into the aisle and Dev moved behind her as she made her way toward the door. The pilot, Tom Dominguez, flicked her a friendly glance as she reached the door. He'd been extremely professional all day, pleasant but never overstepping the bounds between pilot and passenger.

“It was nice meeting you, Ms. Delaney,” he said.

“You, as well, Tom.”

Lark smiled as he went ahead of her down the steps, then waited for her near the bottom, took her hand and helped her to the asphalt. Tom retrieved their bags from the cargo bay, then she and Dev crossed the tarmac to the car Dev had rented.

Each of them had brought an overnight bag. There was no way to know where the information Chaz had
turned up might take them and, like Dev, Lark wanted to be prepared.

He tossed their bags into the trunk of the inconspicuous dark brown Buick rental while Lark climbed inside and fastened her seat belt. Once he was behind the wheel, Dev punched the address Chaz had given them for the main branch of Blue Bunny Day Care into the navigation system and a map appeared on the screen.

The system's female voice began giving directions and Dev put the car into gear. “All right, Gretchen,” he said to the invisible navigator, “we're ready when you are.”

One of Lark's eyebrows went up. “Gretchen?”

Dev chuckled. “She kind of reminds me of a Nazi commandant. You had better do what she says or else.”

Lark laughed because it was true. She had a similar system in her own car and she often felt as if the invisible woman telling her where to go had some strange power over her.

From Burbank, they drove down Victory to the Hollywood Freeway, exited, and started up Franklin.

“Should be up here on the right somewhere,” Lark said, checking for which side had the even street numbers. Eventually she spotted the blue-and-white sign that read Blue Bunny Day Care. “There it is.” She pointed to a flat-roofed, nineteen-fifties-era building with a small parking lot in front.

“Got it.” Dev wheeled the Buick into the lot, found a space, and killed the engine. They climbed out of the car and headed for the door.

Inside the doors was a large open area where kids were playing, all of them shrieking and laughing. If only
life continued that way, Lark thought ruefully, the world would be a far better place.

A receptionist stood behind the counter, pouring over a stack of paperwork as Lark took stock of her surroundings. A huge plastic blue rabbit dominated the center of the room, with stairs the kids could climb to get inside the body. The eyes were windows they could see out through and there were small holes to crawl through in each of the toes on the rabbit's hind feet. There was a slide that looked like a caterpillar and a merry-go-round in the shape of a coiled snake with a goofy smile on its face. Several young women roamed about, keeping a gentle eye on the kids' activities.