L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (38 page)

She inched open the door just enough to step inside and then closed it again, shining her flashlight along the floor to guide her. Within seconds, she found the record room. All she was looking for was something that showed her child had been stillborn and that his death had not been caused by negligence.

She pulled out a file drawer. Damn. The files only had numbers on them — no names. She quickly determined the numbers correlated with certain dates. The date the client came into the facility and the client’s initials.

Knowing that, it shouldn’t take too long to find her file. March 21, 2002. But these were current files, she realized. She needed old files and they didn’t seem to be right here. She directed the flashlight beam from one corner of the room to the other, stopping at several stacked boxes on her left. Each had a label with a year on it. As she scanned them, her heartbeat quickened. There. There it is! 2002.

She couldn’t move. All she had to do was find her file and see what had been recorded. Simple. She took a deep breath and pushed a chair over to the rack. As she did, she had the oddest feeling—a feeling that she wasn’t alone—that someone was watching her.

Her gaze darted from one shadowy spot to another. Nothing. She was overreacting, that’s all. Perfectly natural since she was doing something illegal.

It was a stupid thing to do. She knew that. But her need to know about her child far outweighed the consequences. She pulled down the box and took off the cover, fingering through the manila folders inside. Yes. There. Her blood rushed.

Would there be a photo? Did she really want to see it if there was? All it would do is make her long for something she could never have. Her vision blurred with tears at the thought that her little boy never had a chance to live…or know his mother’s love.

Taking a deep breath, she felt a sudden pall of dread. A feeling that this would not end it.

Girding her resolve, she found the entry for the date of her baby’s birth and flipped through three boxes before she found her file and pulled it out. She skimmed over all the entries for each day she’d stayed at the shelter until she reached March 21. But…what… What the—? The entry for that date had been blacked out. She flipped another page and another. The only entries after that pertained to her discharge.

Her hands shaking, she pulled the page and stuffed it into her waistband.

She went to the same date and found Carla’s file. The entry verified that Carla’s child had been stillborn. She was right about that. So, why had she been told otherwise?

Still trembling, she closed the box and hoisted it back in place and, as she did, she felt that same eerie awareness, as if someone was watching her. Turning, she saw nothing. No cameras she remembered…and as far as she could tell, Danielle had been right about that.

She had what she needed. After making sure the door would lock behind her, she left the building and drove home like a madwoman, her mind conjuring one scenario after another. Had her visit the other day prompted someone to delete specific information in her file? Redact it? But why?

It was a question that needed an answer—and she was going to get it.

***

“RICO, IT’S MACY.”

Something was wrong. And he could tell by the agitation in her voice that it wasn’t a hangnail. He swiveled his chair to look the other way and keep the conversation private from Jordan. “What’s up?”

“I need you.”

“Well, I was wondering when you’d realize that.”

“Please don’t joke. I need your help.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“I know there’s a process to get information from a document even if it’s been blacked out.”

“Yes. CSU does it with forged checks. What about it?”

She hesitated briefly. “I have a document. If I gave it to you, could you ask CSU to look at it?”

“I can if it pertains to a case. But I can’t give them something personal.”

“It might be pertinent.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Oh, man.” He took a deep breath.

“If you can’t take it to CSU, maybe you can find out what process they use, what chemicals and how they go about doing it. Maybe you could get some of their chemicals and—”

“What’s in it?”

“I have a page from my medical file at Haven’s Gate. And the information from the date I gave birth has been redacted.”

“How did you get it?” He hoped she’d say she requested it through the proper procedure to obtain confidential records, but he had a bad feeling that wasn’t the case. “Or don’t I want to know?”

“You don’t want to know. Can you help me or not?”

“I want to help you Macy, but I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t think you can—or you can’t. Which is it?”

“Can’t.”

She was silent for the longest time, and then she said, “This is really important.”

He heard the pain in her voice. Dammit. But he couldn’t just barge into CSU and ask them to do something with illegally acquired information that didn’t even relate to a current case. Or could he? What harm could come of it? He gritted his teeth.

“Have you tried the Internet? You can get almost any kind of information you want if you Google it.”

“No.”

“Look, Macy. I really want to help—”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Her voice was distant, her words curt, and then the dial tone droned in his ear.

He slammed down the phone. “Son of a bitch.”

Jordan looked up. “That good, huh? Important call?”

“Yeah.” Rico leaned back in his chair, cracked his knuckles…thinking. “It could be significant.”

“Well, then, do what you have to do.”

When Rico didn’t respond, Jordan added, “Not everything in the world is black-and-white. You of all people should know that.”

Right. But, dammit. He liked things to be black-and-white. It’s one of the reasons he was in law enforcement. There was order in what he did. He didn’t want to be out there making his own decisions about what was within the law and what wasn’t. Right was right and wrong was wrong.

“We have to make decisions all the time,” Jordan said. “Right or wrong, we never really know until after the fact.”

“This isn’t in the gray area. There’s no question of right or wrong.” Rico stuffed his hands into his pockets and frowned at Jordan.

Jordan simply smiled and nodded.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MACY PUNCHED IN ANOTHER search on Google. Even if she found the information to get the ink off, she would have to find where to get the chemicals and it was probably too late for that. She slumped back in her chair and held the document up to the light one more time. If she could just see through the paper… No such luck.

She tossed it on the table. Damn. The sudden buzz of the doorbell made her jump. She shoved the paper under one of her law books and crossed to the door. No one she knew would stop by at this hour. No one she knew would drop by without calling first. And it had to be someone who had the security code. The only people who had that were her parents and her best friend, Amalia, both of whom were out of the country. And Rico. She’d given him the code when he’d come to pick her up for dinner at her parents.

But that wasn’t happening. He’d been adamant on the phone.

She pressed the intercom. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Rico.”

Barefoot and wearing a skimpy camisole top and boxer shorts, she wasn’t exactly dressed for company. But after checking the peephole she opened the door.

“It’s late. Has something happened?”

He shook his head. “I had an idea.”

She stood still. “An idea.”

He passed her and went into the living room. “Yeah. An idea. I have one once in a while.”

She grinned. He seemed to be able to make her smile even when she felt horrible.

“You know how people do those rubbings and it transfers to the paper, I thought maybe that would work with the document you have if the writing was done with a heavy hand.” He held up a brown paper bag and pulled out some tracing paper and dark pencils.

“Where’s the document?”

“It’s on my desk. But the writing is covered with black marker. I doubt it’ll work.”

In a few quick steps he was in her office. “Where?”

She pulled the document from under her books and handed it to him. His eyes bugged slightly when he saw the Haven’s Gate imprint on the top of the page.

“I didn’t break in or anything.”

His skeptical gaze said he wasn’t quite sure she told the truth. “Fine. But if someone didn’t give this to you through proper procedures, don’t say another word. I don’t want to know.”

It was hard to suppress a grin. He was determined to follow the damned rules, no matter what.

He shrugged off his jacket, laid the paper on her desk, right side down, placed a sheet of tracing paper on top of it and began to rub over it with one of the pencils. “Soft lead,” he said. “I use it for drawing sometimes.”

She liked watching him. Watching the muscles in his arms flex as he worked. He was dressed even more casually than normal in a white T-shirt and faded jeans. “You’re an artist? I never would’ve suspected.”

He kept rubbing. “No, I’m not. But I like to draw for my nieces and nephews. Cartoons and caricatures, mostly.”

This was a side of Rico Santini she hadn’t seen before, and she was even more intrigued. She knew he liked kids by his collection of keepsakes from his nieces and nephews. But she didn’t know he had a creative side. Maybe he wasn’t as inflexible as she thought. He was here, wasn’t he?

“No big deal. Just something I learned to do out of boredom when I was at summer camp one year. My parents sent me there because they thought it would get me away from the computer. I wasn’t even allowed to take my electronic games along.” He kept rubbing.

She moved closer to see how he was doing. “You poor thing. You were so deprived.” She would’ve given anything to go to summer camp with friends. Most summers she went to Europe with her parents. Hating every minute.

He stopped what he was doing, shook out his fingers and turned to look at her. “I thought so at the time, but now I’m happy I had the experience. I learned there was more to life than computers. And I made my parents happy.”

“You’re parents sound wonderful.”

“They’re all right. Hey, they’ll be here this weekend if you want to meet them. My sisters and brothers, too.

She didn’t know what to say.

“I’m having a barbecue. You can help me.”

Help with a barbecue? “I’m afraid my barbecue experience is limited.” Catered events for charity, usually. “You don’t want me to help. Really. Take my word on it.”

“Well, come anyway.”

When she didn’t respond immediately, he said, “I’d really like that. A friend thing. We are friends aren’t we?” He smiled. “Your mother thinks so anyway.”

Macy laughed. He had a way of getting her not to take herself so seriously. She’d been so focused on what she was doing, she’d forgotten how good it felt to simply let go — not think about consequences.

“Tell me you’ll come and I’ll finish what I’m doing.”

Arching a brow, she said, “Sounds like blackmail to me.”

“Friendly coercion. When was the last time you spent time hanging out with a frien’s large Italian family, most of whom like to stick their noses into everyone’s business?” he asked, shrugging, hands spread, palms up. “What could it hurt?”

What could it hurt, indeed.
She hesitated. “Okay. I’ll come. As a friend.” Friend, shmend. At this moment she wanted to throw him on the desk and ravish his body.

“Great,” he said and then went back to the paper.

“Does it look like it’s working?”

“I think so…I hope so.”

As she stood watching him, his cologne teased her senses, a fresh ocean breeze. Her stomach curled. She wanted to reach out and touch him, slid her hands down his broad shoulders, run her fingers through his dark hair.

“If this doesn’t work, infrared light or laser photography might. One of the CSU techs told me that’s how to separate the ink from the correctional fluid—or marker in this case.”

Her chest expanded a little. He wouldn’t do anything his ethics didn’t allow, but he’d gone out of his way to find out what he could do to help her.

“There,” he said and stood. “Let’s see if it worked.”

Her breath caught. She jerked back a few inches, raising her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, gosh.”She ran a hand through her hair. “I — I want to know what it says, but—” she whirled around “—but I’m afraid of what I’ll find out.”

His puzzled look lasted only a second. “Do you want me to look at it first?”

Her pulse pounded at the base of her throat. What a baby she was. She’d helped so many clients through terrible crises and most of them had weathered the storm with dignity. What kind of wuss was she? She straightened. “No, let’s look at it together.”

He took the tracing paper and walked to the couch. “The light’s better here.”

She followed him. “Let’s do it.”

He held the tracing paper to the lamp. The letters were smudged but she could make out a few words like breech baby and Cesarean. A bunch of numbers and then, Healthy baby boy, 7 lbs, 13 oz, 21 inches long. Vital signs normal.

What? What the hell… Oh, God! The room swirled and her legs started to buckle. She gripped Rico’s arm and at the same time felt him reach around, holding her up.

Her baby was born healthy. Did he die later?

Or not at all?

A mistake. That’s what it was it. She’d taken the wrong file…or they had the wrong information in her file. Her baby had been stillborn. Her father had taken care of the funeral arrangements. They had a little vault where her child was buried. She’d been there.

***

RICO HELD HER TIGHT. What happened after Macy’s baby was born healthy was anyone’s guess. There could’ve been complications and the child died later. But why wasn’t it documented? Negligence rang loud and clear. And Haven’s Gate didn’t want a lawsuit and have to pay out a lot of money. Which most certainly would be the case with Macy’s dad representing her.

He tried to get her to sit, but she pulled away, her eyes wild. “I—I don’t understand. There’s no notation to say what happened to him after that.”

“Did you read the next pages in the file?”

“I read a couple lines and they were all about my discharge. I thought. Damn! I should’ve taken the whole freaking file.”

“Not a good idea.”

She rounded on him, anger springing from every muscle. Hercules yipped and backed away. “This is my child we’re talking about, Rico. Not one of your cases. And if you wanted a reason to get that search warrant, it won’t get much better than this.”

He clenched his teeth. Bit back a retort.

“They’re my records, and I have a right to see them.”

“Yes, but not to steal them. I’m as shocked as you are, Macy. But it won’t help anything if we don’t plan out what to do next.”

She raised her chin, determination etched in the firm, straight line of her mouth.. “I know what
I’m
going to do next. I’m going to find out what the hell happened to my baby. I’m going to find out why someone used a black marker to redact the information about his birth. I’m going to—” Her voice shook as she flung her arms up in frustration.

He looked into her eyes, held her gaze. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. Then, gently, he took her hands, pulled her to him into an embrace…and just held her. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly. “I’ll help you.”

Her body trembled against his and his own anger flared. But for her sake, he kept it under control. “I promise you, we’ll find out what happened.” He drew back to look into her eyes, now pooling with tears. “But it probably won’t be right this minute.”

She went limp in his arms, as if all the fight had gone out of her. After a moment, her breath hitched and she straightened. Nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Since we don’t know what happened, and we can’t do anything yet, how about I make you a cup of coffee?”

She gave a wobbly smile and let out a long breath. “Tea would be good.” She stepped to the couch and sat, stared at the paper. “I feel so helpless.”

He knew the feeling well. And he didn’t want to leave her alone, not even to go to the kitchen. Not that he thought she’d do anything, but because he wanted to stay and hold her. Protect her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Fucking bastards,” he said to himself on the way to the kitchen. Searching for what he needed, he picked up the stainless-steel teakettle, filled it with water and turned on the range, one of those flat-top jobs. He couldn’t see where to set the damned kettle until he saw the red ring.

Yeah, he was frustrated, too — by his inability to get the answers Macy needed. And because she didn’t even know the whole story and he couldn’t tell her what he did know.

He had a couple ideas where to go from here. One, since Haven’s Gate was a nonprofit organization, he didn’t need a warrant to look at their financial records. He wasn’t sure what that would show, but at least he’d know where the money came from to fund the place and where it went. Evidence could be buried anywhere. Two, if Macy’s child had died, she could exhume the body and DNA would prove whether there was negligence…and even whether it was her child or not. All that was doable — and within the law. But it would take time.

He checked one of the cabinets to see where cups and tea might be.

“To your right.”

Macy was standing in the doorway watching him.

“I’ll get the tea,” she said.

When the pot whistled, he poured the water over the tea bags she’d placed in the cups. “Maybe whiskey would be better,” he said.

She actually laughed. “A lot of whiskey.” But her mirth was fleeting. “I can’t believe this is happening. Worse yet, I keep thinking that if I hadn’t let my father handle everything, I’d know what happened. Maybe it’s all nothing and I’m reading things into this.”

Macy sat in a chair at the kitchen table, Rico next to her. “Maybe. We don’t know what happened but we know something did. People lied to you. Reports are missing. Information blacked out. You’re not reading anything into that. But let’s not go beyond the facts. Not until we know more.”

She tapped the rim of her cup with one fingernail. The sound almost echoed in the big ultramodern room. “Logically, I can rationalize missing reports and even why people lied if they were looking out for my well-being, which I don’t really believe. But what I can’t rationalize is not knowing what happened to my child after his birth.”

“If your father handled everything, why don’t you talk to him?”

She scoffed. “I tried to get him to tell me why he’d said Dr. Dixon was only there that one time and he wouldn’t even talk about that. He hates that I had an illegitimate child. But I think mostly he hates that the baby’s father wasn’t acceptable to him and I became pregnant anyway.”

“He’s your father. I’m sure he was just protecting you.”

She placed the tea bag on a teaspoon and wrapped the string around it to wring out the excess liquid, then leveled her gaze on Rico. “I’d like to think that was the case. But knowing my father…”

Bitterness laced her words. She obviously had a different kind of relationship with her father than he had with his. In his world, parents protected their children. Families stuck together, no matter what.