Finding Her Son (17 page)

“I need the hope today. Last night was amazing. I’m glad I found you, but I want my son.” Emily rested her head against his chest, taking comfort in the solid beating of his heart. “I was close to giving up,” she said softly. “I never admitted it, never let myself say it out loud, but I was tired. Bone weary from all the disappointments. Then you rescued me.” She rested her chin on her hands and stared up at him. “You gave me back the possibility. I needed someone in my corner. Someone who won’t ever give up. Not until we’ve found him. You’re that man.”

His discomfort made her smile, and she kissed his chest. “Don’t be embarrassed. I love that you don’t back down or hide or avoid. You face challenges head-on. You’re the only person in my life who’s ever
really
fought for me.”

A loud buzzing sounded from the bedside table, and Mitch sat up and flipped the alarm off. His awkward posture told her more than he’d ever admit aloud.

“I said too much,” she said with a smile.

He looked over his shoulder, his expression sober. “I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said. “And I will.”

She hugged his waist, laying her cheek against his back. “I don’t believe that.”

“You will.”

He rose from the bed and slipped on his jeans. She took in his powerful shoulders, recognizing that once again he wanted to protect her. From hope, from being disappointed.

He was a good man, but he couldn’t stop her feelings. Not about him, not about the phone call. This was the first news she’d ever received. There hadn’t been a reward posted. She hadn’t been in the papers or on television recently. She’d considered raising public awareness with an anniversary push to search for Joshua, but the Wentworths’ latest accusations had squashed that opportunity. If she became more of a media target, Joshua would get lost in rumor and innuendo.

Mitch turned to her, his expression grave. “I have to go to the wine-storage unit.”

“Take me with you.”

He shook his head, and she gripped his arm. “I know you want to keep me safe, but we’re not going to be out in the open. Besides, I can help you. I spent time with Perry. Maybe I’ll recognize something.”

He hesitated, then lightly kissed her cheek. “Bring your phone. If that woman calls again, put it on speaker. I want to hear exactly what she says.” He drew her into his arms and tapped her on the backside as he kissed her lips. “Now go get dressed.”

They pulled out of Noah’s driveway in the truck a half hour later.

“At least it’s not too far off the highway,” Mitch said. “We should be there right as it opens. Gotta give Perry credit. Who would think of looking in a wine-storage facility? He was a whisky guy.”

Emily studied the phone and checked again for a signal. “Why hasn’t she called again?”

Mitch patted her leg. “Even if she doesn’t, Perry was onto something. He died for what’s in that locker. It’ll give us a lead.”

She nodded and stared out the window as they drove along the highway. Mitch, silent, threaded his fingers through hers. She glanced down, and warmth flowed through her veins. He was there for her, and for the first time in such a very long time, she felt like Joshua had a real chance. Her desperation and depression had given way to determination. This time, she would find Joshua. With Mitch at her side, she could do anything.

The drive seemed endless. When Mitch pulled across the street from the parking lot five minutes before the business opened its doors, Emily’s heart skipped a beat.

He twisted in the soft leather seats. “Keep the phone with you. Stay here while I check things out. We weren’t followed, but I want to be sure you’re protected.”

“No one else has this information,” she said.

“If there’s one receipt, there could be more. I just want to be careful.”

Mitch exited the vehicle, scanned the area and walked across the street. She could see the tension in his back, the awareness in his body. Like a mountain lion on the prowl. Without pause, he chose a path near a stand of trees. Momentarily, he stood strangely still, as if feeling for danger.

He searched the area, leaving no corner unexplored, even going so far as to place his hands on the hood of the cars in the parking lot. His every move filled Emily with confidence. He was wonderful.

He disappeared behind the building and a few minutes later came around the other side. In no time he rounded the truck and opened the door for Emily.

“Looks secure. No movement inside, but the owners could be in the office. The engines were cold.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s ten.”

She stuffed the phone in her pocket, and they walked to the front door. He tugged on the metal handle.

It didn’t budge.

“Locked?”

He rang the bell and waited another thirty seconds.

Still no response. Mitch peered through the window.

“I don’t see anyone,” he said.

A shudder of apprehension skittered up Emily’s neck. She clasped Mitch’s hand. His jaw throbbed, his entire body tense.

“Should we try another door?” she asked quietly.

Mitch banged on the glass. “I’m not leaving without checking this place out.” He drew his weapon. “Stay behind me.”

When he rounded the back corner, the pristine lot looked safe enough. Mitch walked up to a steel door. He tugged. It didn’t budge. He didn’t like the feel. Every instinct in his body thrummed with anticipation. His training told him to call for backup, but who could he trust? If the evidence was inside, how could he be certain it wouldn’t disappear, and, with it, Emily’s chance to find Joshua? Mitch never thought he’d come to a point where he’d completely turn his back on procedure. He’d live with the consequences.

If he found Joshua, it would be easy.

Mitch lifted a roll-up delivery door and let out a curse. Boxes were strewn everywhere. Wine bottles were broken. A bloody boot lay between two crates.

Emily gasped and followed Mitch as he walked toward the foot. A man lay on the concrete, his eyes wide open, a bullet hole in his chest.

“Stay close,” Mitch whispered and knelt down. “He’s cool to the touch. Been here awhile.”

He rose and methodically searched the loading room, keeping constant watch on the entrances. Once he’d secured the area, he paused in front of a closed door leading into the main building. He turned to Emily. “Stay barricaded in here until I call for you. If you hear anything, anything at all, don’t wait. Run. Take the truck and call 911.”

“What about you?”

“This is my job, Emily. I can take care of myself, but Joshua won’t have anyone if something happens to you. Understand me?”

She hesitated. “Mitch…”

He took her by the shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze. “Just promise me.”

Emily bit her lip and nodded. He gave her a quick wink, slowly opened the door, slipped through and pulled it softly shut. A purring filtered through the quiet from his right. He scanned the room, and a cat’s eyes glowed from beneath a table. The tabby was curled up against a woman’s body, her face, arms and throat cut, a broken wine bottle at her side.

He rested his fingers against her carotid, but she had no pulse. A search of the rest of the building came up empty, and he hurried back to Emily, who stood poised in the door with a broken wine bottle for a weapon.

He wrapped his hand around hers and took the jagged glass from her. “Always the fighter.” He led her into the shop. “Come this way.”

He escorted her past the woman’s body, but she paused, her hand covering her mouth, her expression shocked and saddened. “That poor woman.”

“These guys don’t leave witnesses alive.”

“How’d they know about this place?”

“Perry’s face was pretty bruised when we got there. They may have beat it out of him.”

“Did they take his evidence?”

“We’re about to find out.” Mitch stood in front of wine-storage locker eighty-five. The gate hung at an angle. The lock had been forced open. “They ransacked the place.”

Every bottle in the wine cabinet had been broken. The shelving torn apart.

Emily dropped to her knees. “It’s gone. They destroyed everything.”

Mitch knelt beside her and hugged her close. “Yes, they did.” He turned her to him. “Which may mean they didn’t find what they were looking for.”

“But—”

“The woman’s throat was cut with a broken bottle,” he said. “Maybe they wanted information.”

Her hand clutched at her throat.

“Might be the same people who attacked you, though they weren’t very tidy.”

“If they didn’t find the evidence, where is it?” Emily asked. “Another compartment?”

“They destroyed the cabinet.” Mitch stood and looked around the facility. There were numerous lockers, all numbered. “Perry said, eighty-five.”

“That could’ve been the year of the wine, not the locker number.”

“Maybe,” Mitch mused. “Eight. Five. Eight times five. Forty. Eight minus five. Three. Fifty-eight.” He walked along the corridor, scanning those lockers. Some were full; some nearly empty. “If we have to, we’ll search them all.”

“Eight plus five,” Emily said, her voice tentative. “Thirteen. Mitch! Perry’s lucky number was thirteen. He made a point of telling me this long, involved story of how everyone else’s unlucky number was his rabbit’s foot.”

Emily’s enthusiasm warmed Mitch’s heart, but more than that, he’d come to recognize Perry had, at least in the last month of his life, laid some groundwork for them. “Did he share a lot of information like that story with you?”

“Not really. That’s why it stuck out.”

“Probably just what he intended,” Mitch said.

They hurried over to locker thirteen. Inside were only three bottles of wine. He slipped on his gloves and forced open the lock. One more act that would get him suspended. Or fired. Right now, he didn’t care.

He pulled the bottles one by one from the cabinet. “An eighty-five Merlot,” he said. He hefted the bottle in his hands. “The weight is wrong.”

He turned it over, studying it from every angle, then smiled. “Well done, Perry.” He twisted the bottom, and it screwed open. A tube fell out. He opened the lid, revealing several sheets of paper coiled inside.

“Clever guy,” Mitch said.

Emily started to remove the papers, and Mitch shook his head. “No. Not here. Not now.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the speed dial.

“Our fingerprints are all over this place. We have to be here when they arrive.”

Emily gripped the tube. “You’re not going to show them Perry’s files?”

“Not yet, but you have to understand what we’ve done here today could cost us a prosecution.”

“I want these guys in jail, but I won’t let one more of Perry’s clues get lost in the police department, Mitch. I only trust us to find Joshua.”

Her words solidified the dark cloud on Mitch’s soul, but he pushed it aside. “Let’s get outside and wait for the cruiser. Then we’ll go back to Noah’s.”

E
MILY SAT HUDDLED IN
the truck. Heat blared at her, and she clutched the wine bottle in her arms.

Cops swarmed the wine shop. Ian had shown up alongside the coroner. Two bodies in black bags had been carted off, and Emily hadn’t ever seen Detective Tanner as furious as he was right now—or Mitch’s expression as cold and withdrawn.

Tanner, his face red, pulled Mitch aside and poked at his chest. Mitch’s entire body went stiff, and he reached under his jacket. He pulled out his gun and badge and shoved them at the detective, then turned his back on his boss.

Oh, no. She’d watched enough television to know what that meant.

Had she cost Mitch his job?

She needed his help, but she knew enough about Mitch to know his career meant everything to him. Otherwise he wouldn’t be fighting so hard to get his SWAT position back. His work defined him. She couldn’t let him sacrifice himself.

The weight of the bottle they’d hidden from the police turned heavy. Maybe Perry had given her enough that she could help herself and Mitch at the same time. Once they found Joshua, everything would be fine.

She twisted the bottom of the bottle open and slid out the documents. She rifled through them, but at the top of one paper was a phone number and a single word circled:
Adoption.

The word screamed through her head. She looked up at Mitch, who still argued with Tanner. She bit her lip and with a deep breath took out her cell phone and dialed the number.

Every ring vibrated through her, rattling her already shot nerves. She held her finger over the end call button. Another ring. Then a woman’s voice came on.

“Anderson and Wiley. We specialize in private adoptions. How can I help you?”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Had Joshua been adopted? Could this woman lead her to her son?

“Hello?”

Emily forced herself out of the fog. “Umm, yes. I wondered…I mean—”

“You’re interested in adoption?”

The kind voice seemed like a grandmother’s, and even though she wanted to spill out her entire story and scream at this woman to tell her everything, Emily hung on to the calm and patience she’d learned over the last year of dead end after dead end. Her mind whirled through possibilities, and she finally settled on a strategy.