L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (29 page)

Rico tapped his fingers on the envelope, a dull hollow sound. Like the thud her heart was making in her chest. Had Haven’s Gate taken a photo of her child, too? Did they do that with stillborn babies? “It might help if the police could do a computer-aged photo of the child…”

He shook his head. “They’d need a photo of him at an older age to do it.”

She nodded.

“Will you let me know if anything changes?”

“Of course.” Macy suddenly wished she could do more.

Somewhere in the middle of their exchange, the waitress had brought coffee. Macy reached for her cup and holding it with both hands, took a sip.

“Not quite like Starbucks, is it?” Rico winked at Macy.

Her pulse quickened at the forced intimacy. “No, it’s definitely not Starbucks. And I should know. I live on the stuff.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Because you need to stay awake to work all night. Right?”

“Something like that.”

“You don’t take time off to have fun?”

“Not when I have work to do.”

“Ah, I see.”

Macy frowned. “You see what?”

“Work is a good excuse.”

“Excuse for what?”

“For not having anything better to do.”

She opened her mouth to give him a sharp retort, but nothing came out. Maybe because what he said held a kernel of truth. Actually more than a kernel. She didn’t have anything better to do. But that was her choice, and what she did with her time wasn’t any of his damned business.

“I could help out in that area if you were interested,” he said.

A teasing glint shone in his eyes and she knew he wasn’t talking about helping her prepare briefs. Normally she’d be put off by such swagger, but Santini’s charm drew her in and she couldn’t help but smile.

While the idea held more than a little appeal, especially after a two-year relationship drought, she already knew enough about him to know he was the kind of man who’d take over your life if you let him. And she wasn’t about to go down that road again.

“Thank you for the generous offer, Detective. As much as I’d like to take you up on it, I’m going to be extremely busy.”

She paused, flicked a strand of hair away from her face and gave him a saccharine smile. “Doing my laundry.”

***

Haven’s Gate. Macy hadn’t known about the photos, and she couldn’t stop wondering if someone had taken a photo of her baby. She’d been so sedated, she’d never even seen her child.

Detective Santini hadn’t told her the specifics of his case, so maybe she should take a look at the file. If nothing else, to satisfy her curiosity.

Crap. She should’ve questioned him when she had the chance, but at the time, all she could think about was getting out of the café. She never let people unnerve her. And his comment about helping her out. What was up with that? She handled remarks like that all the time. So what was different about Rico Santini that it had unnerved her?

Then he’d let her remark about doing laundry bounce off him like a soccer ball and insisted on walking her to her car. A gentleman. A quality that only added to his appeal.

She glanced away from the work sprawled across the couch and on her lap to check the time. Eight o’clock on a Friday night and she was a lump on the couch—in her pajamas—and alone. Working on a brief that wasn’t due for weeks.

Santini was so right. Work was an excuse for having no life.

Well, what if it was? She’d had her fill of empty dating and relationships that were so-so—relationships that never had any spark. It had been years since she met a man who flipped that switch for her.

Not since Jesse. She leaned her head against the soft pillowed cushions and closed her eyes, imagining the face of the boy who’d captured her teenage heart. Jesse had set her soul afire. He’d been everything to her. And everything her father despised. If he hadn’t been killed in a car accident the night they were going to elope…

Curling a pillow into her chest, Macy still felt the loss, dulled over time, but not forgotten. Realistically, they’d probably have screwed up their lives and the life of their child by marrying so young with no resources, no skills and no family to help. Her parents had threatened to disown her if she kept the baby.

None of the boys she dated ever fit Wesley Capshaw’s standards, and she’d loved Jesse for all the reasons her father hated him. Unlike her father, Jesse had loved her — no strings attached.

And sometimes she still wondered what might have happened if Jesse hadn’t died. Would they be a happy family today? Would they still be in love?

She’d never told anyone about her stay at Haven’s Gate because her father said it would be a stain on his political aspirations. But over the years his law practice became so lucrative, he’d never gone into politics.

And to this day, no one knew about her so-called indiscretion. Not her grandparents, not her friends, though she had few of those these days, and especially not her business associates.

Now with her law firm just getting off the ground and working with children as she did, it seemed prudent to keep the past in the past. But if Santini decided to reinvestigate Haven’s Gate who knew what might come out?

She nipped at the soft skin on her bottom lip. What could it hurt to go to the station and look at the detective’s file? If there was any way to tell if Cody was the abducted child Santini hoped he was, she’d want to make sure they did all the right things in reuniting him with his parents. Right now, the poor child was disoriented, confused and undernourished. Even if Cody turned out to be the missing child in Santini’s case, telling the boy he had parents he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t recognize could be traumatic.

But if by simply looking at Santini’s case she might be able to get him to back off, it would be worth the visit.

CHAPTER THREE

SATURDAY MORNING, an hour after Macy Capshaw said she’d be at the station and she still hadn’t arrived. Well, what made him think she’d have any respect for his time?

Jordan wasn’t in, but Will Houston, another detective on the team sauntered by. “That woman sure has you tied in knots.” As his name indicated, Will hailed from Texas and he had the drawl to prove it.

“I guess when you’ve been raised with the proverbial silver spoon, you get used to doing whatever you please.” Rico opened the Ray file. “Even if it inconveniences someone else.”

“That’s bad manners in my book, but maybe she has a good reason.”

“Yeah? It would have to be better than good since she didn’t bother to let me know.”

“So, blow her off.”

“I would in a New York minute if I didn’t need something from her.”

Will raised his eyebrows, his craggy face a testament to life in the fast lane. “First time I ever heard those words comin’ out of your mouth.”

“It’s a job. That’s my only interest.”

Walking back to his own desk, Will said, “If you say so, buddy. If you say so.”

Annoyed at his coworker, and annoyed at himself for getting more upset than he should, Rico tore open the file to see if some new evidence might miraculously appear. It didn’t.

Just as he was about to chuck the file, he saw her at the door. Tall and blond, she was a striking woman. Not movie star beautiful, but she commanded attention. Wearing a pink jogging outfit and with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, she sure had his.

“Sorry I’m late.”

That was it? No reason, just sorry? “No big deal,” he said, motioning to the chair at his side. “Have a seat.”

As she sat next to him, she flipped her hair behind her shoulders and leaned forward, elbows on his desk, her face much too close to his. He didn’t know what fragrance she wore, but it made him think of dimly lit bedrooms and satin sheets.

“I was surprised to find you in the Robbery-Homicide Division.”

“Otherwise known as the ‘we-do-it-all unit,’” Rico quipped. “Murders, bank robberies, extortion, sex crimes and kidnappings.”

“I’m impressed. I’ve studied some of the more famous cases your department has investigated. Manson, the Robert Kennedy assassination and O. J., to name a few.”

“All before my time,” Rico said, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “I guess that’s a good thing. In at least one of those cases, the division got a lot of flack that I hear wasn’t warranted.”

She looked skeptical.

He shrugged. “That’s what I heard.”

Picking up a photo, one of the many of his nieces and nephews that cluttered his desktop, she asked, “Yours?”

He laughed. “Nope. That’s my nephew. All nieces and nephews.”

“So far,” Will, now sitting at another desk, interjected.

Rico stared at him. “How about I get a little privacy here?”

Grinning, Will got up. “Okay. I’m gone.”

Rico turned back to Macy.

She put down the photo and checked her watch, as if she had only so much time to give him. “What would you like me to do, Detective?”

He slid the busting-from-its-seams case file toward her. “Look at this.”

“You want me to look at the whole thing? What possible good would that be?”

“I want you to see if anything in the file strikes a chord with anything you’ve uncovered about Cody. There are more photos. Maybe you can see if there’s a resemblance between the parents in this case and the boy in your case.” He’d tried to get Chelsey Ray to come down, but couldn’t reach her. Mostly, he wanted the attorney to find an ounce of sympathy and let him meet with the boy in her charge.

But he kept silent, watching as she flipped through the pages, her face expressionless. She stopped only when she landed on another of Chelsey’s photos. “Did she plan to give up her child for adoption? That’s why most girls go to Haven’s Gate, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yes, she did. She was a teenager, unmarried, had no money and no way of caring for the child.”

“And the baby was kidnapped from the nursery?”

“Yeah. We covered all angles. The most likely scenario was that the baby’s father had abducted the infant since he hadn’t wanted the mother to give the child away. But later we discovered the mother had changed her mind about the adoption and told the father, so there was no reason for him to take the boy. When that lead fizzled, we had few others. We interviewed staff, checked lists of anyone who was allowed in the nursery during that time, and still came up with nothing. Our leads went cold and the baby has never been found.”

Macy picked up a copy of the boy’s birth certificate, then looked at Rico. “The baby disappeared after the mother told Haven’s Gate she didn’t want to go through with the adoption—or before she had a chance to tell them?”

“What does the entry in the file say?” He caught her gaze, her blue eyes making it hard to stay focused on the case. He went to the file again and flipped a couple pages.

“I didn’t see anything about it… But it’s a big file.”

Rico’s muscles tensed. It was a good question. Only he didn’t know the answer. How many times had he gone through the case — and yet he didn’t know the answer to something as simple as that, something that could have larger implications?

She shrugged. “It was just a question. It probably doesn’t matter.”

Maybe not to her, but it did to him. This was his niece’s baby they were talking about. Besides, he prided himself on doing a thorough investigation, everything by the book. He should’ve known the answer. “I’ll check the file later.”

Later when she was gone…because right now sitting next to her had him thinking of things that had nothing to do with the case.

High maintenance, Santini. Not your type
. Now if he could convince his body, he’d be a lot better off.

Frowning as she looked at the file, Macy suddenly jerked back. Closed the file. “I — I have another appointment, so unless you have anything else…” She pushed away from the desk. “I’m sorry. I really don’t see how this is doing any good.”

From the way she’d closed the file, he could only figure something she’d seen in it disturbed her. He was sure of it. But within seconds, she’d collected herself. She leaned forward. “I hope you didn’t think my coming down here to look at the case was going to make me change my mind about letting you see the boy.”

He almost laughed. Was he that transparent? “No, I didn’t think that at all,” he lied.

She raised one of her fine blond eyebrows in question, her expression dubious.

Despite himself, he laughed. “Okay, maybe I did…a little.”

Her full mouth turned up in a smile, but there was no smugness in her voice when she said, “An honest man. I like that.”

At which point, she stood, turned and walked toward the door, pink velour clinging in all the right places.

He sprang to his feet and followed. Before she reached the exit, he touched her shoulder. “Thanks for coming down. If you have a change of heart, please let me know.”

She turned. “It isn’t going to happen. I can tell you, though, after looking at the photo of both parents in the file, I don’t think there’s a resemblance.”

Disappointment, sharp and quick, shot through him. “Kids don’t always look like their parents.”

She nodded. “True. As I said, if someone doesn’t show to claim him, there will be DNA testing, and I’ll do what I can to ensure your case is one of the first tested.”

It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted…but it was something.

“Thanks. I guess it pays to know the right people.”

***

MACY HADN’T INTENDED on going to her office on a Saturday afternoon, but she didn’t have any other plans and she had to do something to get her mind off what she’d learned at Santini’s office. She unlocked the big double doors, went in, pulled out one of her other client files and sat at her desk, forcing herself to focus on the papers in front of her. The Joffrey case. A welfare mother was bringing suit against one of the largest health maintenance organizations in the country for not giving her daughter the same quality of care other clients received.

Even though Macy wanted more than anything to see Marilyn Joffrey receive monetary compensation for her loss, she knew all the money in the world could never replace the woman’s child.

And the Joffrey case couldn’t keep her mind from going back to one thing. Chelsey Ray had agreed to give up her child for adoption, but had changed her mind.

A chill crawled up Macy’s spine.

No matter how many times Macy’s parents had impressed upon her that she was unable to care for a child, she’d finally realized she couldn’t do what they’d wanted her to do. Her baby was a part of her — and a part of Jesse. She couldn’t just give their child away like an old pair of shoes. At the last minute she’d changed her mind about the adoption — just as Chelsey had.

But young girls changed their minds all the time, some even after taking their babies home. Because that’s when reality set in.

It also bothered her that the same physician that delivered her baby delivered Chelsey’s child. She’d had no idea Dr. Dixon worked at the shelter. Her father had told Macy the physician was a personal friend and that he would come to the shelter, deliver Macy’s baby and keep everything confidential.

Back then, naive and barely seventeen, she hadn’t known medical records were always confidential — that any physician who delivered the baby would have to abide by the laws of confidentiality.

So what was the big deal? Twelve years had passed. What difference did it make whether Dr. Dixon was on staff at Haven’s Gate or not? Still, the question niggled at her. Why would her father lead her to believe Dr. Dixon wasn’t on staff? Or had she just assumed it?

The easiest thing would be to talk with her father and see if what she remembered was correct. If her father would even talk to her.

They’d had little communication since Macy left his firm. But her mother kept calling Macy, urging her to come for dinner and make up with her father. She hadn’t taken her mother up on the invitations, but maybe it was time she did.

She picked up the phone and punched in the number, hoping her mother wouldn’t be engaged in her usual activity — shopping.

“Hello,” a woman’s voice trilled.

“Mother. How are you?”

“Macy? Is that you?”

“Ye-e-es,” Macy drew out the word. “Who else would call you mother?” Granted she hadn’t called the house much since the fallout with her father, but her voice hadn’t changed in that brief time.

“I’m surprised to hear you call that’s all. Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not. I called to…to find out how you are.”

Macy heard a sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. “Oh, sweetheart, I can’t tell you how good that makes me feel. Let me get your father so you can talk to him.”

“No, don’t do that. I want to talk with you, Mom.”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Ever the peacemaker, Sarah Delacourt Capshaw wanted everything to be fine with everyone, no matter that she was married to a tyrant who directed all aspects of her socialite life. Okay, that wasn’t fair. Her mother’s life was just different. It wasn’t how Macy wanted to live hers, but so what. Passing judgment was exactly what her father did.

If her mother found her importance in life through keeping ahead of the pack in just about everything, then who was Macy to say it wasn’t right for her.

“What do you want to talk about, dear?”

“I…uh…was wondering when I might come for dinner?”

Her mother’s excited squeal nearly perforated Macy’s eardrum.

“Tonight? I’m having your grandparents for dinner and they’d be so happy to see you.”

“Okay. What time?”

“Is seven all right? I can change it if it’s not convenient for you.”

“No, Mom. Seven is perfect.”

When she hung up, Macy felt warmed by her mother’s reaction. She’d made her mom happy. Such a little thing, and the woman was ecstatic. Knowing her grandparents would be there had made the idea of dinner with her father a whole lot less stressful for Macy, too.

Wesley Capshaw wasn’t going to steamroll anyone with Ira Delacourt in company. It was her grandfather’s name and money that put her father where he was, and Ira Delacourt doted on his only grandchild. Her father wouldn’t win any points being rude to her in front of Ira.

Comfortable with her decision, Macy spent the rest of the afternoon on other cases, four of which involved women who’d fled from abusive husbands. She could never understand how one person could physically hurt another, but it happened all the time.

Even as she worked the other cases, her mind drifted to Santini’s cold case — and to Detective Santini himself. How warm his hand had felt when he’d placed it on her shoulder. How gentle, yet firm. Strong. She liked strong men, both physically and mentally.