Against the Law (8 page)

Benedict moved to his wife's side. “How can we be sure that if we give you the information, you won't still turn us over to the police?”

“Our interest is in the welfare of the child,” Dev said. “But I warn you, if you don't tell us everything—and I mean everything—you're both going down for this.”

Lark flicked him a glance, unsure what he meant to do with the Fellowses once he had the information. Whatever it was, they couldn't let these people continue selling babies.

Mary looked up at her husband. “Ben…?”

“Give them what they want, Mary.”

She gripped her hands tightly in her lap. “We haven't kept in touch with them. I can give you their names, and the address and phone number we had for them four years ago. That's the best I can do.”

“How much did they pay you for the baby?” Lark asked.

“I don't…don't remember the exact—”

“Ninety thousand dollars,” Benedict said. “The couple had a good deal of money. The husband was a very successful businessman. They couldn't have a child of their own and his wife desperately wanted a baby. We felt they would make good parents.”

“Why didn't they adopt through legal channels?” Dev asked.

“The husband had served time in prison. It was years earlier when he was just a young man, but it was still
on his record. It would have kept them from legally adopting.”

Dev pinned the man with a hard blue stare. “All right, here's what we'll do. You give us the information, we don't give you up to the police. But if you call the parents, try to warn them in any way, the deal is off. We go to the cops and you do not pass Go, you do not get to take another turn around the board, you just go straight to jail. Got it?”

Benedict swallowed so hard his Adam's apple moved up and down. Lark realized Dev was trying to make sure the adoptive parents had no warning of their arrival. She needed to know the truth about these people's lives, see the way they actually lived, not just some act they put on for their benefit.

“That won't be a problem,” Ben finally agreed.

“I'll get you the information.” Mary hurried out of the kitchen, her low heels thumping down the hall.

She returned a few minutes later. Her hand shook as she handed Lark the paper with the information written on it. “Here it is.”

Lark reached out and took the paper. “Catherine and Byron Weller,” she read. “The address is in Phoenix.” She looked up at Mary Fellows, feeling a tightness in her chest. They were almost there. Soon, she would be able to fulfill her promise.

“What…what did the Wellers name the baby?”

Mary stared down at her hands. “They named her Christina. Catherine called her Chrissy.”

A lump rose in Lark's throat. She could still see Heather's face as she begged Lark to find her child.

“One more thing,” Dev said. “If we find out you're still working your con, if you're using your job at the Blue Bunny Day Care to further your black market activities—”

“We aren't,” Benedict interrupted. “I swear. We gave all that up when we left Phoenix. We have a good life here, good jobs. We've changed our ways. Please, you won't find any wrongdoing on our part. Not anymore.”

“Then I suggest you get some help with your gambling problem, or you'll be right back where you were before. And that means heavy-duty prison time, my friend.”

Benedict shook his head. “We don't gamble—not anymore. If you think that's where we were while we were gone, you're wrong. We were at a child-care conference in San Diego.”

Dev's look remained hard. “Just remember what I said. One screw-up, you're finished.”

Benedict slowly nodded. Mary reached out and caught her husband's hand.

Dev turned to Lark. “I think we've got what we came for.”

Lark stared at the names on the paper until her vision began to blur. She nodded, swallowed past the lump in her throat. They had what they'd come for. She prayed the Fellowses were telling the truth and Catherine and Byron Weller were loving parents to her sister's little girl.

Unfortunately, there was the not so small matter of the husband's prison record.

Ignoring a shiver, Lark let Dev guide her out of the house.

T
hey were back in Phoenix, perfect October weather, sunshine and shirtsleeve heat, the sky a brilliant shade of blue. Lark had returned to her room at the Biltmore, which was good as far as Dev was concerned. He didn't need any more sleepless nights. He didn't want her close enough to feed his unwanted desire.

The good news was, they were back in town. The bad news was, the Wellers no longer lived in the house on Apache Lane in the Apache Ridge subdivision, the upscale residential community east of town where they were living when they had adopted baby Chrissy.

Lark called her that now, and Dev had begun to think of her that way himself, as a real person, a child whose welfare might be in question.

A little girl Lark already loved though she had never seen her.

Dev sighed. Lark would be here any minute and he still hadn't heard from Chaz, who was working on getting
a current location for the Wellers. He and Lark had gone to the address the Fellowses had given them as soon as they got back to Phoenix late yesterday afternoon but ended up with a big fat zero.

“I'm sorry,” said John Orlando, standing next to his wife, Rachael, at the front door of their home.

“The Wellers haven't lived here for some time,” he said. “Not since a year ago July.” He turned to his wife. “Isn't that about when we closed escrow on the house, honey?”

Rachael Orlando smiled. “July twenty-fifth. I remember we moved in on the twenty-seventh.”

“Do you know where they went?” Lark asked hopefully.

“I'm afraid not,” John said. “I know they were building a really nice home in one of those resort communities south of Tucson but I don't know which one. I think the house was just about finished.”

“That's right,” Rachael agreed. “I remember Catherine Weller saying how excited she was to be moving in.”

“Did you ever see their little girl?” Lark asked.

Rachael smiled softly. “I remember seeing her. She was adorable. She was with her nanny outside the closing room in the escrow office. I think her name was Cathy…or Candy…something like that.”

“Chrissy?” Lark supplied.

“Yes, that was it. Chrissy. Such a sweet little girl.”

Lark smiled but her eyes glistened.

“Thank you for your help,” Dev said. Catching Lark's hand, he led her down the front porch steps back to the car and settled her inside. “Don't worry, we'll find them.
At least it looks like the Fellowses were telling us the truth.”

Now as he sat in his office, he fidgeted, waiting for Lark, waiting for Chaz to do his computer magic and find the Wellers' current address.

The phone on his desk began to ring. He recognized the caller ID, saw it wasn't Chaz, picked up the receiver and leaned back in his chair. “Hey, bro.”

Jackson's deep voice scraped over the line. “Haven't heard from you in a while. Thought I'd check, see if you're still holed up at home or off somewhere with a pretty señorita.”

Dev smiled, always happy to hear from his oldest sibling. “I'm here. Working on a case at the moment.” He filled Jackson in on his latest client, the phony adoption and Lark's quest for her sister's little girl.

“Sounds interesting.”

He nodded though his brother couldn't see. “She's definitely that and a whole lot more.”

“I meant the case,” Jackson said, “but I can see there's more going on than you're telling me. What's she look like? I'm guessing blonde and blue-eyed, petite and big-busted, not much in the brain department.”

Dev laughed. “Actually, she's smart as hell. A tall brunette with a great ass and legs that go on forever.”

Jackson chuckled into the phone. “Interesting.”

“I think that's been said.” Dev sat up in his chair. “Listen, she's due here any minute. I'm trying to get a new address for the kid's adoptive parents. With luck, Chaz should have the info any time.”

“Take care, then. Talk to you soon.” Jackson hung
up and Dev set the receiver back in its cradle. Down the hall, he could hear his buxom, silver-blonde housekeeper, Aida Clark, humming as she dusted the furniture. Then he heard the front door open and close, and Aida introducing herself to Lark.

He smiled as he recognized her long, purposeful strides approaching down the hall. Lark buzzed through the open doorway, ruby-streaked hair flying around her face. She caught his smile as he rose to greet her and when she smiled back, an odd feeling swelled in his chest.

“Did Chaz call?” Lark asked.

“Not yet.”

“Maybe he sent an email. Did you check?”

He could have missed it during his brother's phone call. “I'll check again.” Sitting down at the computer he used for his mail, he searched for a late arrival but there was nothing new.

“I like your housekeeper,” Lark said, standing behind him to look over his shoulder. “She seems really nice.”

“Aida's the best. Her sister, Livvy, works for my brother in Wyoming. When I found out Aida lived in Phoenix and was looking for a job, I snapped her up. I'm damned lucky to have her.”

Full of energy as always, Lark sauntered over to the wet bar and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Let's call him,” she suggested. “Press him a little.”

Dev shook his head. “No way. I've tried it. Just slows him down. Chaz'll call as soon as he's got the info.”

She started pacing back and forth, sipping from the
mug, pausing to snatch a chocolate doughnut from the box Town had set on the counter earlier that morning.

Dev's phone started ringing. “It's Chaz,” he said, noting the caller ID. Lark raced over, hovered behind him.

“Hey, buddy,” he said to Chaz. “Lark's here. I'm putting you on speaker. What have you got?” He pressed the button and Chaz's voice floated out.

“Your intel was right. The Wellers built a house south of Tucson. It's in the desert below an old historical town called Tubac. There's a fancy resort there, homes built around a golf course. I'm emailing you a map of the community showing the roads and the location of the house.”

“You're a prince. What have you got on the Wellers so far?”

Chaz's chair squeaked into the phone as he shifted his position. “Wife owns a candle shop in Tubac called La Candalaria. It's the name of some Catholic virgin or something. Tubac is a tourist town, lots of art galleries, gift shops, that kind of thing. Catherine does okay, doesn't make anywhere near enough to pay for that fancy house they live in.”

“What about the husband?”

“Byron Weller imports corrugated steel shipping containers from Mexico. Company's called Global Direct. It's big business these days.”

“So he's got plenty of money.”

“The place he lives, High Plains Resort and Golf Course, ten to twenty thousand square-foot homes. Takes very big bucks to live there.”

“I guess so. He have an office?”

“One listed in Tucson and one in L.A., but a lot of this kind of selling is done on the internet, so he may work mostly out of his house.”

“Anything else?”

“Not yet, but I'll stay on it.”

Dev hung up and turned to his computer, brought up Google and typed in Global Direct. The website came up, showing the Tucson office address as well as the office in L.A. There were addresses and phone numbers but not much of anything else.

He typed in La Candalaria, Tubac, AZ, and the website popped right up. Black background, candles flickering, glowing in a dozen different holders.

“Nice page,” Lark said from behind him.

“Check out the right-hand corner.”

“Oh, my God, it's her!”

“Catherine Weller, owner, operator.” The words were printed beneath her photo.

“She's pretty,” Lark said.

She had strawberry-blonde, shoulder-length hair and a bright white smile. “Maybe a few years older than you,” Dev said. “Late twenties, early thirties.”

“She looks nice, kind of friendly.”

“We'll know soon enough. By the time Chaz gets finished, we'll know everything there is to know about Byron and Catherine Weller. In the meantime, we're off to Tucson, pretty lady. You still got that bag packed?”

Her gaze flew to his face, her cheeks turning pink at the endearment he hadn't meant to say. Damn, what the hell was the matter with him?

“I tossed it into the car just in case.”

“Great. I think we might as well drive. It's about a hundred and fifty miles but if we fly, we'll still need a car and the nearest place to rent one is probably Tucson, which would leave us a fifty-mile drive, anyway.”

“Plus, we don't know how long we'll need to stay.”

Excellent point.
He had no idea how long this might take, but Lark would want time to talk to the Wellers, meet little Chrissy, and satisfy herself that the child was in good hands.

He was beginning to understand the way her mind worked. Dev figured that might take a while.

“We'll take the Suburban. It's more comfortable.” And there was more room in case they needed it. He blocked that thought from his mind. The Wellers were obviously substantial people. They were probably wonderful parents.

“That thing is a major gas hog,” Lark said with a smile. “My sister would not have approved.”

He chuckled. “I don't use it all that often.”

While Lark went out to retrieve her overnight bag, Dev headed for the master bedroom to get his own. They were on the road fifteen minutes later and heading southeast on the 10 Freeway toward Tucson. Normally, he would enjoy the drive out through the open desert country. But spending so much time with Lark in the confines of the car, no matter how roomy it was, was bound to be torture.

Very sweet torture, but torture just the same.

He clamped down on every urge he possessed, forced his mind on the task ahead, and said a silent prayer
that when they found the Wellers and little Chrissy, everything would be all right.

 

Lark sat in the deep leather passenger seat of Dev's big, fully loaded, white Chevy Suburban. She was enjoying the scenery, admiring the beauty of the dry desert landscape when a sound caught her ear and she realized her BlackBerry had started to ring. Digging madly through her oversize red suede LARK bag, she managed to get to the phone before she lost the call.

Recognizing Brenda's number, she pressed the phone against her ear. “Hi, Bren, what's up?”

“Just checking in. Haven't heard from you in a while. Thought I'd better find out what's going on.”

“At the moment, I'm on my way to Tucson—well, a little town called Tubac to be precise, which is fifty miles south of there.” She smiled. “We found her, Bren. We found Heather's little girl.”

“Oh, my God, that's wonderful!”

“Her name is Chrissy. Chrissy Weller. I saw the mother's photo on the internet. She owns a candle shop in Tubac. She looks nice. We're on our way to meet them.”

“Oh, Lark, that's great news. Your sister must be lighting up heaven with her smile.”

“Maybe. But I don't think she'll be happy until she knows for sure Chrissy is in a good home.”

“You'll make certain she is.”

Lark thought of Heather and nodded, felt a lump rising to her throat.

“So what did you decide about the condo?” Brenda asked.

“I called the Realtor. She's getting the paperwork together to put it on the market.”

“Lousy timing.”

“I know.”

Voices sounded in the background at the other end of the line. “Listen, the kids are arguing about something. I better run. Let me know what happens, will you?”

“I will, I promise.” Lark ended the call, thinking how lucky she was to have Brenda for a friend. She opened her purse and this time shoved the phone into the pouch designed to hold it.

“Friend?” Dev asked, flicking her a sideways glance.

“Since we were in high school. Brenda's divorced, raising two kids by herself. We're totally different but it doesn't seem to matter. We're still great friends.”

“Brenda lives in Phoenix?”

Lark nodded. “Not too far from Heather's condo. She's been helping me clear it out, get it ready to sell.”

“Market's bad right now.” He put on his turn signal, passed a slower car, and pulled back into the right hand lane. “You could just keep it, you know. Give you a place to stay when you're in town.”

There was something in his voice, something Lark couldn't quite decipher. “I don't get to Phoenix that often.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

There it was again. It sounded almost like disappointment.

Inwardly, she scoffed. Devlin Raines wasn't the kind of man who tied himself down to a woman. Maybe he was hoping she'd spend a few days in town now and then and he could make an occasional booty call.

She looked him over, admired his handsome, confident profile, noticed the tanned, capable hands wrapped around the steering wheel, and the notion didn't sound all that bad.

The freeway stretched in front of them, a wide black ribbon of pavement lined with sand and a variety of cactus. A few fluffy clouds floated overhead but the air was crystal-clear. She leaned back and continued to enjoy the ride.

When they reached Tucson just under two hours later, Lark's stomach grumbled. Dev must have been hungry, too. He pulled off the freeway into a Burger King and they went inside for sandwiches and a pit stop. After a lunch of hamburgers, fries and Cokes, they hit the road again, turning south from Tucson onto Highway 19.

As they made their way toward the little town of Tubac, the route turned even more scenic, with craggy gray peaks rising up from a desert floor dotted with mesquite, and a sky the same fierce blue as Dev's gorgeous eyes. Birds occupied the branches of spindly ocotillo and a coyote darted along the stones in a dry stream bed beside the road.