Second Chance (7 page)

Her smooth brow wrinkled in concentration. “He said, ‘Come on, bitch,’ once, and then another time, he shouted, ‘Bitch.’” She lifted a slender shoulder. “He might have cursed a couple more times, but nothing more.”

“And the voice didn’t sound familiar at all?”

“No.”

“Anyone else around to see what was going on?”

“Just an older couple—the Wilsons. They’re the ones who called the sheriff’s office. By the time they realized what was happening, the van had disappeared. I was unconscious.”

“How were you injured?”

“I was chasing the man who had my girls … they were screaming for me.” Her throat moved convulsively. “My hand was on the man’s sleeve. I wasn’t fast enough … he pulled away.” She closed her eyes briefly; when she opened them, Cole saw unending horror. “I tripped and fell. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital. Jenna was there.” Her eyes sparkled with contempt as she added, “And the sheriff.”

“I understand he didn’t want to send out an alert about the children until he talked with you. Why is that?”

She gave a soft snort. “Hiram Mobley is an imbecile. Despite what the Wilsons told him, he insisted he had to hear my report first. When I woke up, he became more cooperative. When the FBI arrived, he backed off completely.”

Though he figured Keeley’s mother-in-law had control of the local sheriff, Cole made a mental note to talk to Sheriff Mobley very soon.

He glanced down at a previous interview Jordan had done with her. “You gave a description of the two men. One was stocky, between five-eight and five-ten; the other was more muscular and about six feet tall. They were masked and wore jackets, but you were able to see that both men were Caucasian?”

“Yes. The man who grabbed me … I clawed at his arm, his sleeve jacket slipped, and I glimpsed pale skin.”

“And the other?”

Her eyes anguished, she bit her lip and said, “Hannah was crying, tugging on the man’s ski mask. She pulled enough of it away for me to see his neck…. He was white, very fair.”

Telling himself this was just like any other case he’d been on, Cole worked hard to avoid revealing how Keeley’s obvious grief affected him. In his years with LCR, he’d interviewed many grieving mothers. This should be no different.

“Tell me about your family. I see your mother passed away several years ago. What about your father and his family?”

“My father died before I was born. He was from Venezuela, here on a work visa. He met my mother and they fell in love. They’d planned to marry but he was killed in a car accident. She found out she was pregnant with me a few weeks after his death.”

“And you’re sure there’s no one from his side of the family who could be involved in this?”

“Quite sure. My mother didn’t know his family and they never knew about us.”

“Your husband’s family … tell me about them.”

The deep breath she exhaled revealed much about her feelings. “There’s only Stephen’s sister and mother left. His father died long before Stephen and I became involved.”

“No aunts, uncles, cousins?”

“No close relatives … just some distant cousins in Kansas. Stephen didn’t know them and never talked about them. Nolan Fairchild, Stephen’s great-grandfather, founded the town of Fairview over a hundred years ago. The Fairchilds were once a large, thriving family, but Baker Fairchild, Stephen’s father, was an only child. So is Elizabeth, Stephen’s mother.”

“I understand that Miranda, Stephen’s sister, is a good friend.”

A small smile. “Yes, she was a few years behind me in school, so we didn’t really get to know each other until after Stephen and I got married.”

“And Miranda’s mother? Tell me about Elizabeth Fairchild.”

As if unable to sit still while she talked about her former mother-in-law, Keeley stood and went to the large window that overlooked the backyard. Her face averted, she spoke softly, reflectively. “She’s very protective of the Fairchild name. Anything that could bring shame or tarnish the family’s reputation is something she’d do anything to stop.”

“And she thinks you tarnished it? How?”

“By marrying her son.”

“Do you trust her?”

She looked at him then. “Absolutely not. But if you’re asking if I believe she was involved with my children’s
disappearance, then the answer is no. Elizabeth might not love them, but she would’ve done anything to prevent the media circus their disappearance caused.”

“What makes you say your mother-in-law doesn’t love her grandchildren?”

“Elizabeth despises me and, in turn, hates my children.”

Though Cole knew enough about her background to know the answer to many of these questions, getting her perspective was vital. “Why does your mother-in-law hate you?”

A wry smile twisted her full mouth. “I’m a walking cliché. Poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks marries the richest boy in the county. My mother was an unwed mother. In small towns, especially this small town, that means something. Elizabeth was horrified to have me as a member of her family.”

Cole looked down at his notes. “But Miranda, her daughter, is also a single mother, isn’t she?”

“Even though Miranda and Maggie live with Elizabeth, she barely acknowledges their existence.” She shrugged. “I’m not necessarily the only one Elizabeth ostracizes, I just happen to be her favorite target.”

“Hailey and Hannah are her son’s children, too. Surely she feels some affection for them.”

“Affection is an emotion for normal people. Elizabeth isn’t normal. To her, my girls are tainted with my blood.”

Could Elizabeth Fairchild really be so cold and hate her daughter-in-law so much that she didn’t care that her own grandchildren had been abducted? She might hate the mother, but the children were her son’s—her own—flesh and blood.

When he’d lost his daughter, Cassidy, his in-laws had grieved almost as much as he did. A grandparent with this kind of cold, uncaring attitude was foreign to him. If Elizabeth could hate that deeply and severely, what
better way to destroy the woman she despised than to take her children from her?

“The person who arranged your husband’s abduction was never found. And from all accounts, there are still no suspects. Correct?”

Returning to her chair, Keeley nodded. “Yes. The final theory was that someone saw an opportunity to make some money and they knew we could pay the ransom. Though it’s my understanding from LCR that Stephen wasn’t supposed to die. Another kidnap victim inadvertently killed him.”

Refusing to give himself an out by avoiding her gaze, Cole faced her and answered, “That’s true.”

Keeley hadn’t thought Cole Mathison’s expression could get any grimmer, but for some reason, it had. Perhaps she was wrong about him. His questions were thorough and his demeanor gave every indication that he took this assignment very seriously. Something inside her began to ease.

“I know you’re new to the case, but Eden, Jordan, and the FBI believe that the same person who had Stephen kidnapped could also be responsible for Hailey and Hannah’s disappearance. Do you agree?”

“The person who paid for the abduction could well be the same person.” Cole Mathison’s eyes went icy cold as he continued, “Donald Rosemount, the man responsible for the actual abduction, is dead.”

“Yes, I was told he was killed by one of his victims.”

“That’s true, also.”

“You seem to know a lot about Stephen’s case. You worked on it, too?”

“Yes.”

“So you think it’s possible it’s the same person?”

“Abductions are rare enough in this country. To have two in the same family is too much of a coincidence.”

“But if that’s the case … who? And why would they try to take me, too?”

“I know you’ve been asked this before, but are you sure there’s no one in your past who could hold a grudge against you?”

“I’m certainly not the most popular person in town, but other than Elizabeth hating me for marrying her son, I can’t think of anyone in my past who hates me.”

“No old boyfriends?”

“No. I didn’t date a lot. Stephen was my first serious relationship.”

The man across from her leaned forward. They locked gazes, and she saw a flash of something intense as he said, “We will find your children, Keeley. I promise you that.”

Behind that hard exterior, Keeley glimpsed not only determination but also compassion. That strange tension she’d felt on meeting him disappeared. Cole Mathison did indeed care. For some reason, he wanted to hide it, but she sensed his kindness and his resolve. He shared the same conviction that everyone else did.

Without any concrete reason, Keeley felt more optimistic than she had in weeks. Somehow, just seeing the steady, resolute look in this man’s eyes, hearing his deep, masculine voice filled with purpose, reassured her. There were too many people working for the same goal for it not to come true.

She was going to get her babies back. She was sure of it.

   A door slammed somewhere in the house. Elizabeth jerked, losing her concentration on the book in front of her. This time of night, no one should be up. It was probably Miranda coming in late as usual. She’d left her daughter, Maggie, in the care of one of the servants while she, no doubt, went slumming around again.

Elizabeth couldn’t care less where she had been or what she did as long as she brought no more shame to the Fairchild name. She’d done enough for a lifetime.

When Stephen lived at home, he had often come in this late, sometimes later, and had made no effort to be quiet. She had never been able to break him of that irritating habit, but he’d been so charming, she’d often overlooked his less desirable qualities.

Melancholy hit her, as it often did, when she thought about her son. Why, oh why, couldn’t he have taken after her instead of his philandering father?

Her husband, Baker, had been undisciplined, emotional and fiery, uncaring of his status in the community. She had saved his ass on numerous occasions, and saved him from destroying what his ancestors had worked so hard for. Without her, the Fairchild name would have been forever soiled.

She’d never expected great things from Miranda. She’d been a whiny, irritating child; Elizabeth hadn’t seen much improvement in her as an adult. Though Miranda hadn’t seemed to be anything like her father, getting pregnant in the midst of her sophomore year of college by a man she refused to even name changed Elizabeth’s mind. And Maggie, no doubt, would grow up to be just like her. Another Fairchild failure.

At one time she’d thought Stephen had inherited at least some of his mother’s qualities. She took pride in the family name and their stature in this world. She had thought Stephen did, too, but when he’d married that tramp, he had deeply disappointed her.

She’d had such plans for Stephen. With the Fairchild money and influence behind him, the sky had been the limit. And as his devoted mother, she would have been at his back, pushing him gently toward a grand future. With his good looks and charm, he could have been anything she wanted … even possibly president someday.

Instead his hormones and the weakness he inherited from his father had overruled any good qualities he’d inherited from her. His stunt of marrying the one woman he knew his mother would definitely not approve of had sealed her opinion of him. Though she could never admit it to anyone publicly, she had often thought that Stephen got what he deserved.

Now the children he’d spawned with that slut were gone. Of course, being the lady that she was and with her status in the community, she had to show at least a modicum of concern.

The damnable FBI and those humorless people from that do-good organization had questioned her repeatedly. Though she refused to hide her disgust for their mother—she wasn’t that good of an actress—showing outright antipathy toward the brats would have garnered suspicion. Something she couldn’t afford.

A soft sound penetrated her thoughts. Elizabeth put her book aside and marched to the door. It was after eleven. No one should be about this time of night. Any servants would be immediately fired if she saw them.

Opening the door, she peeked out. Saw no one. Perhaps it had been the wind. Elizabeth closed the door and, instead of going back to her reading chair, headed to the bathroom. It was time for her facial. Though weariness pulled at her, she was too disciplined not to complete her nightly ritual. Her appearance was an integral part of her persona. How many people had she heard comment that Elizabeth Fairchild looked at least twenty years younger than her real age? Society valued youth and beauty. With her looks and wealth, she would continue to control her part of the world and the people in it. After all, she was a Fairchild. It was not only her duty; it was her right.

As he sat reading at the small desk in his bedroom, Cole massaged his temples, where a headache had set up residence. He reviewed the pages of notes he’d taken in his interview with Keeley. From what he could tell, she was hiding nothing. Whatever he asked, she’d given him a straightforward and sometimes heartbreaking answer. Clearly her only desire was to find her children.

He remembered being the same way when his wife and daughter were murdered. Stripping himself bare, he’d share even the most minute detail in an effort to find the bastards who’d destroyed his family and taken the two people who meant everything to him. Though they’d been identified and punished, he hadn’t felt any satisfaction. His family was gone and nothing could be done to bring them back. Another incentive to help Keeley. He could and would return her children to her … she would have the peace he’d been denied. He owed her that.

A knock at the door jerked him from his grim thoughts. Jordan stuck his head in. “Ready?”

Cole nodded.

Jordan and Eden came into the room and settled onto the sofa across from him.

“Who do you like?” Cole asked.

Eden answered first. “I’m still going with the grandmother. There’s an aura of evilness around her.” She shrugged. “Can’t explain it other than I feel there’s something more there than just her hatred of Keeley.”
She gave a sidelong glance at her husband. “Jordan’s got another theory.”

Jordan shook his head. “I don’t deny the grandmother’s evil, but she just seems too obvious. Her hatred of Keeley is blatant. There’s not a soul in this county who doesn’t know about it. If she was behind it, I think she’d back off a little. She hasn’t.”