Читать онлайн книгу «Cries in the Night» автора Debra Webb

Cries in the Night
Debra Webb
Haunted by her daughter's cries in the night, Melany Jackson would stop at nothing to track down her precious child. And if that meant joining forces with Colby investigator Ryan Braxton–the man she still desperately loved–then so be it.But what Melany feared even more than her electrifying response to Ryan's potent masculinity was that he'd discover her child…belonged to him.Without a second to spare, they frantically tried to unravel the maze of clues in this confounding case. Their shared desperation unleashed a frenzied passion that threatened to consume them both. But each step they took toward rescuing the child brought Ryan closer to an undeniable truth that could shatter their future….



She could hear her baby crying… calling for her…
“Melany, wake up! It’s only a dream.”
Her eyes flew open and she looked straight into the worried blue eyes of the only man she’d ever loved. He was so close to her that she could see the worry etched across the landscape of his face. She let the tears flow, didn’t bother trying to stop them.
Where was her baby?
Ryan pulled her close to his chest. Closed those warm, powerful and comfortingly familiar arms around her. Words weren’t necessary.
Her gaze tangled with Ryan’s. She hadn’t had this much uninterrupted sleep since this whole nightmare began, and it was because of him. She knew she was safe with Ryan. She glanced at him again and wished she could read his mind. Wished she could risk telling him the truth. Maybe she wasn’t being fair to him or her child.
But for now, she had to keep her secret….

Cries in the Night
Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners and working in a factory. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and moved to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing full-time and in 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345 or visit her Web site at http://www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Melany Jackson—Her daughter is missing… presumed dead. Is this simply a case of a missing body or is something more sinister at play?
Ryan Braxton—Can he find the truth for Melany without losing his mind…or his heart?
Bill Collins—A close friend of both Melany and Ryan. Bill will do everything he can to help solve this mystery.
Rita Grider—Melany’s closest friend. She blames herself for all that has happened to Melany.
Dr. Wilcox—The E.R. physician on duty at the time of Melany’s accident. Is he afraid of a malpractice suit?
Dr. Letson—The chief of pediatrics, who claims he did all he could to save Melany’s child.
Nurse Peterson—She assisted Dr. Letson, but can she help Melany find the truth?
Clyde Desmond—He operates the funeral home where Melany’s child was prepared for burial.
Garland Hanes—He screwed up the interment, burying an empty coffin in a shallow grave. Was he acting on his own?
Dr. Rodale—She offers counseling at the free clinic where Dr. Wilcox volunteers. She only wants to help.
Rodney Mason—The attorney connected to Wilcox. He only wants his money.
Greg Carter—The Memphis P.D. rookie who can’t wait to support anyone connected to the FBI in any capacity.
Victoria Colby—The head of the Colby Agency.
This book is dedicated to a very dear friend of mine,
Melany Gardner. She is everything that a good teacher
should be. Her love of children, of people in general,
is something to behold in this day and time.
Huntland School is very fortunate to have on their staff
not only a phenomenal teacher, but also one of the
finest people I have ever had the privilege of knowing.
This one’s for you, Mel.

Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue

Prologue
She dreamed of the cemetery again.
A cold, steady drizzle fell in the dark October night. The full hunter’s moon seeped through the thick gray clouds, casting an eerie glow over the deserted graveyard. Acres of headstones protruded from the lush green grass like ugly yard ornaments.
Positioned around the newest of the graves were a dozen wreaths of varying sizes and shapes, forming a sort of temporary barrier from the harsh reality that lay beyond it. The carnations of one heart-shaped arrangement drooped with the weight of the rain and the passage of seven days since their cutting.
Melany pushed between the wreaths and dropped to her knees before the freshly turned soil. Her icy fingers tightened around the wooden handle of the shovel she held. Droplets of the unseasonably cold rain trickled down her cheeks. Her clothes were soaked through, but she no longer cared.
Nothing mattered to her anymore.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to silence the cries inside her head. Uncertainty shuddered through her, making her hesitate. The sound of her child crying echoed in the deepest recesses of her soul. Melany’s eyes opened abruptly and she jerked with renewed determination.
“I’m coming, baby,” she murmured. Her heart thudded in her chest. “Mommy’s coming.”
She plunged the shovel into the loose, damp soil with a vengeance. The sound of the metal sliding into the soggy earth made her flinch. Gritting her teeth, she flung the scoopful of soil to the side, then sank her shovel into the ground once more. She prayed for God’s forgiveness as she worked harder, faster.
She had to do this.
She had to know.
The shovel struck something solid. Melany sat back on her heels, the shallow, muddy walls of the grave on either side of her. A frown etched her forehead, rivulets of water slipping down the worrisome creases. This wasn’t right. How could this be right?
It couldn’t be.
She tossed the shovel aside, a new surge of hot tears blurring her vision as she summoned her waning resolve. A dozen questions flitted briefly through her mind despite her newly gathered determination. Why was the grave so shallow? Why was there no vault?
Melany almost laughed at the absurdity of it. This was just a dream, she reminded herself. She would wake up at any moment to the agony of not knowing for sure.
“No,” she said aloud, as if saying it out loud would make it so. “This has to be real.” She lifted her face to the rain for one fleeting instant and realized that she couldn’t stop now, even if it was only a dream.
She had to know.
Melany dug furiously with her hands then, pushing aside the shallow, remaining layer of earth. Her breath caught. The small, white casket felt smooth beneath her palms. All of her questions instantly flew from her mind. There was only the reality that she would soon know. A wounded moan tore from her throat as she leaned forward and pressed her cheek to the cold, slick surface. A wave of pain so overpowering she couldn’t breathe for a long moment washed over her.
“Oh, baby, baby, please forgive Mommy,” she mumbled between sobs. The haunting cries grew stronger inside her head, urging her on. She pushed herself up and scrubbed her face with the wet, muddy sleeve of her sweatshirt. Now, she told herself again. She had to know now.
She quickly shoved away more of the concealing mud. Her hands trembling, she released the tiny latches and lifted the small viewing lid with ease. Rain and mud splattered the pristine pink satin and lace interior during the five or so seconds it took Melany’s brain to assimilate what her heart already knew.
Her daughter’s coffin was empty.
Melany sat bolt upright in bed. She gulped in air, filling her starved lungs. “No!” she cried, then buried her face in her hands and forced away the last lingering remnants of the horrifying dream.
Her hair felt damp with sweat…or was it the rain? It was a dream…only a dream. Her baby was gone. A sob rose in her throat, then ripped out of her on a tide of anguish.
Her baby couldn’t be dead. There had to be a mistake. The dreams…the voices…it just couldn’t be.
She plowed her fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. She was losing her mind. She’d lost her baby and now she was losing her mind.
But what if she was right? She’d tried to tell them that her baby couldn’t be dead. It just wasn’t possible…she could feel her.
Melany blinked in the darkness of her room. Everything stilled inside her.
What if she was right?
Melany struggled from the tangled sheets and fumbled for the clothes she’d discarded a few hours ago. All she needed was a flashlight and a shovel and she would end this misery now.
Five minutes later, and armed with the necessary implements, Melany stepped out into the cold night air. She lifted her face to the steady drizzle of rain. Just like in the dream, she thought. But this was real. She took a deep, harsh breath and started toward her car.
“I’m coming, baby,” she murmured. “Mommy’s coming.”

Chapter One
“We haven’t found the body yet.” Supervisory Special Agent Bill Collins cleared his throat. “But, legally speaking, the child is dead.”
Ryan Braxton absorbed the impact of those words as he studied the woman seated at the scarred table on the other side of the two-way mirror. A Memphis police detective stepped into the interrogation room and offered her a cup of coffee. She declined.
“But she doesn’t believe it,” Ryan suggested without looking at the man standing beside him in the tiny viewing room.
“No,” Bill said on a heavy sigh. “She doesn’t believe her daughter is dead or that her body is simply missing.”
“I need more facts.” Ryan looked at his old friend then. Bill’s shoulders sagged in defeat. His suit was travel-rumpled and he looked far older than his fifty years. This case had gotten to him already. Ryan had thought nothing would ever shock him again, but, considering the woman involved, even he found this one unnerving. This was the very reason he’d left the Bureau and started a new career with the Colby Agency. He didn’t want to do these kinds of cases anymore.
“The accident was eight days ago,” Bill began. “Melany was in a coma for forty-eight hours.” He shrugged, a weary gesture. “There was some sort of mix-up with her CT scan. She was diagnosed with an inoperable brain stem injury. Death was considered imminent.”
Ryan gritted his teeth to prevent any outward reaction. He was a professional, he wasn’t supposed to let his personal feelings show. Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to be having any personal feelings. He kept his gaze carefully focused on the scene beyond the two-way mirror as Bill continued.
“While Mel was in a coma, her daughter died. A friend—” Bill reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small notebook. He flipped through it until he found the right page, then studied it a moment. “A Rita Grider,” he went on, “made arrangements for the child to be buried in a local cemetery since there was no point in waiting for Mel’s recovery. Hell, she even made tentative arrangements for Mel’s burial right next to her daughter. Then, the next morning, to everyone’s great surprise, Melany woke up.” Bill stared through the glass at the woman seated on the other side. “As you can imagine, she was devastated.”
“You have a copy of the death certificate?” Ryan asked, his voice carefully controlled.
Bill reached into his pocket again and produced a folded document. Ryan took it, opened it and reviewed the appropriate block of information. Immediate cause resulting in death: Cardiac arrest attributed to internal hemorrhaging. He refolded the document and slipped it into his coat pocket. He didn’t look at the child’s age or the father’s name. He didn’t want to know how soon after Melany had left him that she’d found someone new. And he sure as hell didn’t want to know the other man’s name.
“Any word on the guy who bumbled the interment?” He focused on the case rather than the woman who’d ripped open his chest and torn out his heart two years ago. Standing here looking at her now felt too surreal.
Bill flipped through a couple more pages in his trusty notebook. “According to the funeral director,” he said as he reviewed his notes. “Garland Hanes has a reputation for heavy drinking and not showing up for work. And he’s apparently dropped off the face of the earth since burying that empty coffin.” Bill sighed. “Hell, no one would have been the wiser if Mel hadn’t tried to dig up the thing.”
The image Ryan’s mind conjured of Melany digging into that shallow grave would torment him for the rest of his life. Though he hadn’t witnessed first-hand her desperate act, he had seen the kind of pain and desperation it took to push a person that far over the edge too many times. Just another anguish-filled picture to add to his hard-earned collection. Only this one was different. He knew this woman. Knew her better than he knew himself. Had made love to her. Had told her his deepest secrets…had loved her.
This was a mistake. He shouldn’t even be here. He, of all people, knew better than to get involved in a case where he had a personal connection. And this was definitely personal. Bill should never have called him in on one that hit this close to home.
He was not the man for this case. “I’m not sure I should—”
“Look,” Bill cut him off. “I know I shouldn’t have asked you to come down here, but she’s one of ours—”
“Was one of yours. Need I remind you that neither of us are in the Bureau anymore?” Ryan corrected as he turned his attention back to the woman in question. He set his jaw firmly, restraining the old anger that tinged his tone even now. Melany Jackson had walked out on her career with the Bureau the same day she walked out on him. And she hadn’t looked back on either even once. Apparently, she’d been too busy.
“Braxton, you’re a cold-hearted son of a bitch, do you know that?”
Ryan again shifted his intense scrutiny from the scene in the interrogation room to his old friend. “That’s what they tell me. But, when I was called in on a case in my Bureau days it was generally to help find a missing child, not one that’s already been pronounced dead and then buried.”
Ire lit in Bill’s eyes. “We can’t be sure the child is dead,” he ground out.
Ryan bit back the first response that shot to the tip of his tongue. His history with Bill was almost as complicated as the one he had with Melany. He suppressed the emotions that instantly tightened his chest at the mere thought of her. Dammit. Where was his control? A muscle jumped in his tense jaw. He would not allow personal feelings to interfere with his professional analysis of the situation. And, he was here. He might as well say what he was thinking.
“There’s a death certificate signed by the attending physician,” he offered quietly, knowing Bill didn’t want to think rationally at the moment. Ryan wasn’t the only one battling with personal feelings. “I’d say that’s pretty cut-and-dried evidence.”
Bill squared his shoulders into that stubborn set that Ryan recognized from years of working on the same team. “Damn, man,” Bill all but snarled, “give Mel a little credit. We’ve worked enough of these cases to know that once in a great while the connection between mother and child is so strong that they can sense each other’s needs. Mel could be right on this.”
That much was true to a degree, but more often than not it was mere wishful thinking. Ryan looked away. He didn’t want to see the worried determination in his old friend’s eyes, and he sure didn’t want to look at the anguish in Melany’s. He had seen that look far too many times in too many faces. When people lost a child, it left them empty. And they were never the same again. Ryan forced away the endless stream of memories that attempted to haunt his every waking moment. He shouldn’t be here. But what could he do? This was Mel. She needed him. Could he take the easy way out? Just walk away?
“All right,” he conceded, knowing he’d have to speak to Victoria Colby about the time off. Since he wasn’t currently assigned to a case he doubted it would be a problem.
This was a mistake. He knew it. Bill knew it, too. Ryan’s gaze moved back to Melany. But he couldn’t just walk away. He owed her that much. If he let himself admit the truth, he owed her a lot more than that. He’d taken all she had to give for three years, all the time knowing he would never give her the one thing she wanted with all her heart. He forced those thoughts from his mind. This wasn’t about him. She’d obviously forgotten him and moved on.
The idea of Melany with another man sat like a stone in his gut. But he couldn’t ignore the facts. She’d had a child with someone since he’d last seen her.
“So all we have at the moment,” Ryan deduced aloud with as much objectivity as he could marshal, “is Mel’s word against everyone else’s that her daughter is, in fact, alive.”
Bill closed his notebook and tucked it back into his pocket. He didn’t look at Ryan this time, his full attention remained on the woman they both cared for far too much. “That’s about the size of it,” he said, resigned.
“Well, then.” Ryan loosened his tie. “Let’s start with what we’ve got.”
He watched Melany for a few more seconds before leaving the viewing room. The one thing that made the whole damned situation different was Melany. She was a mother suffering through the kind of agony all mothers prayed they would never know, that much was true. But Melany Jackson was not like other mothers. She had received the same training as Ryan. She had seen many of the same cases and haunting faces as he had. And Ryan knew in his gut that no matter how far over the edge circumstances pushed her, at some point that deeply entrenched instinct kicked in.
If Melany believed her child was alive, he would damn well do everything in his power to help her find the truth.
Whatever that truth might prove to be.

MELANY SAT like a statue, her full attention focused on keeping thoughts and images of the past two days away. Despite her best efforts, snippets of her tense conversations with Bill kept echoing in her head. Sounds from the psych ward at Memphis General. The endless pacing and murmuring in the corridor…doors slamming. The distinctive click of locks turning…patients moaning. And the smell. God, the smell. She swallowed hard. Medicinal, yet somehow menacing. She never wanted to go back there.
She knew what they thought. All of them. They believed she had lost it. Her baby was dead, they thought, and she’d gone over the edge.
But it wasn’t true. Well maybe she had slipped over that precipice temporarily. She squeezed her eyes shut and blocked the instant replay of those frantic minutes in the cemetery. She had lost it for a little while…that much was accurate. When she’d tried to explain what she knew in her heart, no one would listen. She was nuts, they’d murmured.
But she knew the truth.
Bill believed her.
She opened her eyes and stared intently at the scarred table before her, tracing the lines of age and abuse wrought by belligerent suspects and frustrated detectives. Anything to prevent those horrifying images from filling her mind. But it was no use. The dizzying emotions bombarded her, leaving her defenseless.
The tiny grave surrounded by wreaths of withering flowers. The cold rain plastering her clothes to her skin. The sodden earth oozing between her icy fingers. Needing desperately to find her baby. Lights shining in her face. Two policemen dragging her away from her daughter’s grave. And then struggling with the hospital orderlies.
A pathetic sound intended as a rueful laugh but falling well short of the definition erupted from her throat. They hadn’t even bothered running her downtown, she’d been taken straight to the hospital. No one would listen to her explanations of why she was at the cemetery or her concerns about her daughter. A nurse had, and with the help of an orderly, stripped her, forced her into a shower, then strapped her into a bed and sedated her. Twenty-four hours later, after she’d been questioned and analyzed by the shrink on duty, they had allowed her a telephone call.
Who else could she have called? She had no family. Melany rubbed her eyes, then dried her cheeks with the backs of her hands. She hadn’t wanted to call Bill, but she hadn’t known what else to do. She knew she could trust him and if anyone on earth would listen to her, it would be him.
He had listened. Despite her lack of hard evidence, he’d ordered the exhumation. She shuddered as those memories tumbled one over the other into her head. It was just like in her dream. No vault…just that tiny white coffin with its pink satin interior.
And just as she knew it would be, it had been empty.
She closed her eyes and struggled with the emotions twisting inside her. Where was her little girl? Why had they lied to her at the hospital? How had they fooled her friend?
She knew with every fiber of her being that Katlin was alive. But how would she ever prove it? The doctor had signed the death certificate. The funeral home attendant had signed for the body. Her good friend, Rita, had identified Katlin from a photograph. A new surge of pain constricted her throat.
How could all of them be wrong? But how could they be right? She wouldn’t let them be right.
Another shudder quaked through her. She had to be strong. Her baby was out there somewhere and Melany had to be strong for her. She stiffened her spine and blinked back the tears welling in her eyes once more. Bill would help her find Katlin. She could trust Bill. He’d been her mentor at the Bureau. Her mentor and her friend. She’d known him for eight years. He wouldn’t let her down.
The door opened behind her and someone stepped inside. Melany smiled weakly. She knew it was Bill even before he walked around to the other side of the table and took the seat opposite her. He smelled vaguely of Old Spice and the cigarette he’d no doubt just sneaked a few puffs from in the closest men’s room.
Bill looked tired. Hell, they were both tired. They’d been up the better part of the past forty-eight hours. His suit was a little wrinkled, but still presentable. Lines of fatigue had scrawled themselves into his familiar face. He was like family and she was so glad he was here.
“How’re you holding up, Mel?” he asked gently.
She forced a little more feeling into her smile. “I’m okay.” It was a flat-out lie, but he understood. Her child was missing. How could she be okay? Her head still ached a little but most of the soreness was gone. None of that mattered right now. She had only one thing on her mind, finding her daughter.
“Have they found the employee from the cemetery who…” Her words trailed off. She couldn’t say the rest. God, would this nightmare never end? She just wanted her baby back.
Bill shook his head. “Not yet. But don’t worry, we’ll find him soon.”
She wasn’t really worried on that score. Not anymore. Not with Bill here. He would see that this investigation was handled properly. He wouldn’t be swayed by the local authorities who considered her just another distraught mother who wouldn’t face reality. To them, this whole thing was nothing more than a misplaced body. The body would show up, they’d assured her. She might as well come to terms with the loss now.
But she couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.
Bill leaned forward, propped his arms on the table and peered at her with those steady gray eyes. “We’re going to need help on this one, Mel. I’m good, but not good enough. We need the best on our side.”
Melany stilled. A new kind of emotion stirred inside her. A mixture of fear and a kind of anticipation she didn’t want to feel. No. Not him. She shook her head. “I don’t want you to call him. I trust you. You know how to do this.”
“This is too important,” Bill countered firmly, his voice carefully gentled. “You know it better than anyone. We need the best. He is the best.”
She started to argue but he stopped her with an uplifted palm. “I’ve already called him. He’s here. He wants to see you.”
Dammit, she did not want to see Ryan Braxton. She twisted her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking. “He’s here? Now?”
Bill nodded. “He wants to help you, Mel. Let him. He’s the best there is and you know it. We need him.”
Bill was right. Ryan Braxton had been the best man at Quantico when it came to finding missing children and their predators. His instincts were uncanny. His skills unparalleled. He never failed. Katlin deserved the best. Melany needed him, even if she didn’t want to admit it. But hadn’t he left the Bureau?
As if reading her mind, Bill said, “He’s with a private agency now, but he’s willing to take the case if you want him.”
If she wanted him? She almost laughed, but couldn’t manage the energy required. With monumental effort she pushed the past aside and focused on one thing, her daughter.
“All right,” she agreed, her voice so stilted she hardly recognized it as her own. “Whatever it takes to find my little girl.”
As if on cue, the door behind her opened once more. He’d been listening, she realized. He knew she didn’t want him here, but then that wouldn’t surprise him, she imagined.
That damned anticipation spiked again, sending adrenaline rushing through her veins. She moistened her lips, summoned her resolve, and looked up to greet the man she’d walked away from two years ago. The man she’d loved with her entire being. The same one who’d chosen his career over a life with her. And Bill was right, she suddenly realized. She needed Ryan Braxton. It would take his kind of relentlessness to look beyond the obvious and find Katlin.
When her gaze met his she wasn’t at all prepared for the impact of those deep blue eyes. Her resolve crumbled immediately, leaving her as defenseless as she’d been two years ago, all over again. His dark hair was still short. There was a peppering of gray at the temples. Her gaze lingered there. That was definitely new. She would never have believed anything, not even age, could touch Ryan. He was far too invincible, too unreachable. But there it was. Did he look older, otherwise? She resisted the urge to shake her head. No, he looked exactly the same.
Tall and lean with broad, broad shoulders. His Armani suit looking as if he’d just put it on. The navy a perfect match for those dark eyes. His too-handsome face clean-shaven, the set of his square jaw all business.
“Hello, Mel.”
He didn’t sit down. She’d known he wouldn’t. It was an indication of power. She’d seen him in action countless times. He was in charge now and the sooner she realized that, the better it would be.
“Ryan,” she returned. Fierce emotions warred inside her. The need to drink him in with her eyes, the need to touch him…and at the same time the urge to run like hell. How could she talk to this man, tell him about her daughter, and not tell him everything? She considered the sculpted angles of his face again, the shallow cleft in his chin, the mouth she’d kissed so many times, and then she looked fully into those all-seeing eyes. Her heart lurched at what she saw there. Something more than the sympathy he wanted her to see. And then it was gone, but not quite quickly enough.
He still cared for her and, damn it, that only made bad matters worse.
“I want you to start at the beginning,” he said in that deep, husky voice that made her shiver. His words were calm, quiet, as if they hadn’t lived together for three years…as if they hadn’t made love night after night all that time.
“Tell me everything,” he added, then reached into his inside coat pocket and removed a document. When he’d unfolded it and laid it on the table, he pushed it in her direction. “Make me believe that this is a mistake.”
Melany dragged her gaze from his to stare at the document. Shelby County Health Department. Certificate of Death. Katlin Jackson.
“Give me one shred of evidence that this is a mistake, Mel,” he told her, “and I swear I’ll move heaven and earth to find your daughter.”

Chapter Two
By 7:45 p.m. Ryan and Bill had commandeered a fair-sized office with two incoming lines and a fax machine. Memphis P.D. was happy to help, and to turn the case they definitely did not want over to the Feds. Bill inconspicuously passed Ryan off as an agent, as well. The usual jurisdiction battle lines went undrawn. No one wanted to touch this case. Even the press had played it soft. Minimal coverage in the papers. None of the local television channels had spent more than a perfunctory thirty seconds on Melany’s grave-digging escapade.
It was just as well, she decided. Any hype in the media could work against them. The last thing they needed were calls from people who thought they knew something when they really didn’t. She wasn’t ready for false Katlin sightings from strangers just yet. She’d worked in the investigation business long enough to know that most of the input generated by the media was useless. There were times when the media could actually be a very efficient tool, but those occasions were few and far between.
At least the local cops were no longer looking at Mel as if she was crazy. She almost smiled. Those accusations now rested firmly atop Bill’s and Ryan’s shoulders. The boys in blue merely looked at her with sympathy at this point. No doubt the possibility that the Feds were only dragging out the inevitable had been discussed by all on duty.
Mel didn’t care what they thought. All that mattered was that she finally had help. Expert help. If anyone could find Katlin, it was Ryan. Her gaze drifted in his direction. They had to find her. Soon. Mel wasn’t sure how much longer she could take the not knowing.
They had exchanged cell phone numbers for convenience and Ryan had already started a time line on a wall-mounted whiteboard. Sitting stiffly at the equipment console-turned-conference-table, Mel stared at the time line now, her abdominal muscles clenched in a familiar knot of anticipation. She knew this routine, somehow found it comforting. This was the first step and her relief was almost palpable. Bill was on the telephone getting a court order for copies of all the hospital reports related to Mel and Katlin, his voice a low, but gruff murmur. Any minute now he would snag one of the locals and make him his personal gopher.
“What can I do?” Mel’s voice sounded stark in contrast to Ryan’s silence and Bill’s quiet cadence.
Ryan stopped labeling and dating incidents and turned to her. “What?”
The trance. A familiar pang of jealousy speared through her. The Braxton trance. Whenever he took on a case he immersed himself so completely that he was barely aware of anything else around him. He blinked now, focusing on her, waiting for a response, attempting to assimilate her comment. Their relationship had never stood a chance against his work. It consumed him…defined him. Nothing or no one else mattered. If only she could tune out all else as he could, maybe the next few days wouldn’t be so bad.
“Would you like me to set up witness interviews?” she offered. She cringed at the old hurt weighting her tone. The flicker of surprise in his eyes told her he’d heard it, too. But she couldn’t just sit here…she had to do something, to help in some way. “Additional interviews,” she clarified when he only stared at her. “That’s the next logical step, right?” She stood to punctuate the question.
He scrubbed a hand over the five o’clock shadow darkening his chin as if considering her offer. “Look, Mel. You know the drill. The fact that you’re even in this room is a breach of protocol. You really—”
“Don’t even think about it, Braxton.” The hurt was gone from her tone, anger and an icy warning vibrated in its place. Bill looked up from the notes he was making, his end of the telephone conversation stumbling to a halt.
“This is my daughter.” Mel pointed to the pictures taped to the wall and stepped closer to the man she refused to be intimidated by. Glared up into those cool blue eyes without flinching, which was a pretty amazing feat considering her heart was pounding like a drum. “She’s not just some statistic in a case. She’s my flesh and blood. And you’re damned right that makes me personally involved. But the bottom line is, I don’t give a damn what it makes me. You will not shut me out. Either I help you with this investigation or I start one of my own. It’s your choice.”
He hesitated, damn him, just long enough to make her sweat.
“Start with the paramedics and any witnesses at the scene,” he ordered coolly. “I want a copy of the police report and I want to see the vehicle first thing tomorrow morning.” He didn’t miss a beat at her sharply indrawn breath. “I want to know who else was on duty in the pediatric ward when the child coded. I want to know,” he pressed, his voice harsh, demanding, “every little thing—no matter how insignificant—they did to revive her and their conclusions about what went wrong. I also want to know the name of anyone who so much as looked at her from the moment she was wheeled through the E.R. doors. Any questions?”
He wanted to scare her off. But it wouldn’t work. Mel fought to control the trembling that had started in her legs and was working its way up her rigid body. “None.”
“Good.”
He gave her his back, turning his attention once more to the time line he was so meticulously constructing. She forced herself to take two unsteady steps back to the table that served as their workstation.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. That’s right,” Bill said into the receiver as he watched her ease down into the seat across from him. “I’ll send someone over for it, ASAP.”
Melany picked up a couple of freshly sharpened number twos and dragged a yellow legal pad in her direction. She wet her lips and forced her attention to the task of list-making.
“You okay?” Bill asked quietly.
She nodded, still uncertain of her voice, then blinked back the fresh tears brimming. By God, she would not cry. Not now and give Braxton the satisfaction of thinking he’d accomplished his goal.
Bill punched in another string of numbers and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like self-righteous ass. Mel felt her lips curl upward in spite of the damned tears now spilling past her lashes.
“Ayers?” Bill barked. “What’s the name of that rookie you said we could borrow?” He listened. “Well, send him down here. I have a job for him.”
Bill hung up. No goodbye, no thank-you, just hung up. That was Bill. Mel covertly swiped her eyes, then quickly scribbled a couple of names she remembered onto her pad. He was the perfect contrast to Ryan. Bill was all grumpy bark and no bite. Ryan was the one to be wary of. Polished, silent and lethal. There was a kind of dangerous elegance about him. And why wouldn’t there be? He spent ninety percent of his time dealing with the lowest of the lowlife. People who committed crimes against children.
The work had hardened him to the point that most who knew him well called him heartless. But Mel had been around during that other ten percent of his time. His lovemaking and sense of possessiveness were every bit as intense as his dedication to duty. He’d loved her the only way he’d known how, no question there. But he always held back part of himself. Never let go completely. He was the most guarded man she’d ever known. And no matter how much she’d loved him, she could never get past that wall he’d erected around his heart.
She recognized that it was a self-preservation instinct, pure and simple. But it didn’t make it any easier to accept. So she’d left. And now, here they were, thrown together again by fate. God, how she wished she could go back and change what had happened. She closed her eyes and replayed her last hours with Katlin. They’d been in a hurry to get to the post office before it closed. She’d suddenly realized she’d forgotten her purse and had to turn around.
The light was green, but the other car didn’t yield. She was halfway through the intersection before she realized he wasn’t going to stop…then it was too late. She remembered reaching back to brace Katlin. Though the baby was strapped into her car seat, the move had been instinctive. She recalled vividly the sound of squealing tires. The horrible impact and groan of crumpling metal.
Then nothing.
“This is Greg Carter,” Bill announced.
Startled, Mel looked up. A young man had entered the office without her realizing it. The gopher. Blond hair, brown eyes, and most likely still as green as he’d been the day they issued him the stiffly starched uniform he so proudly wore.
Mel stood, offered her hand and dredged up a thin smile. “Hey, Greg, good to have you on board.”
He grinned and gave her hand an enthusiastic pump. “Thanks, ma’am. This is my first time working on a joint task force.”
Translation: playing errand boy to the Feds and company. “I’m sure you’ll be a big help.” Though she wasn’t at all sure the four of them actually fulfilled the definition of a task force, why burst the rookie’s bubble?
“And this is Ryan Braxton,” Bill said, gesturing in his direction. “He’s the lead investigator in this case.”
Ryan’s wide hand engulfed the kid’s and squeezed briefly. “We have two rules, Carter,” Ryan said bluntly. “What’s said between the members of this team goes no further without authorization from either Bill or me, and you never deviate from orders. You do it when, where and how we say, no exceptions.”
Greg bobbed his head. “I understand, sir. You can count on me.”
Braxton’s rules. Though he had always been highly sought after for his awesome profiling abilities, he wasn’t exactly team player material. His former Bureau superiors had long ago given up on making him play by their rules. Ryan Braxton was a rule unto himself. He did his job and nobody asked questions, because he was just too damned good. No one would risk losing his expertise. She was sure the Colby Agency felt the same way about him now that they had him on their team. Mel was no different. She would play by his don’t-question-anything-I-say rules and she would do whatever he told her…to an extent, choosing her battles carefully.
Whatever it took to find Katlin. She swallowed back the ache that climbed into her throat each time she thought of her daughter. Focus on the steps of the investigation, she reminded herself as she directed her attention back to the newest member of their little group.
Bill gave Carter a detailed list of what he expected him to pick up at the hospital then said, “Pick up the court order first. And when you get to the hospital, I want you to watch the clerk pull the records and make the copies. Don’t let those files out of your sight until you have a complete copy. With this kind of case you can’t trust anyone. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mel wouldn’t have been surprised if the guy had snapped off a salute before hustling out the door. Talk about eager.
She studied Bill for a moment. It didn’t matter to him that the records clerks were probably gone home by now. He wanted what he wanted now. In that respect he was very much like Ryan. But no one she had ever met in the Bureau could hold a candle where Ryan’s single-minded determination was concerned. He had spent most of his Bureau time on the road for that very reason. He was relentless. He never gave up until he’d accomplished what he set out to do. She’d never been more grateful for that characteristic than she was now.
Following Bill’s lead, Mel returned to her assigned task. She grimaced as her stiff muscles reminded her that she wasn’t back to her old self yet. And, God, she was so tired. She massaged her neck, wishing the steady throb in her head would take a break. She really needed some sleep. But sleep was out of the question. Every time she closed her eyes…the voices came. She just couldn’t go through another night of the dreams and cries.

SHE SHOULDN’T BE IN HERE. Ryan rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. She looked like hell, definitely needed some rest. His brow furrowed into a frown. He wondered if she’d even eaten today. He forced his attention back to his time line. She was a grown woman. She could take care of herself, he reasoned. It was none of his business whether she’d slept or eaten. They were working a case together. Nothing more. And, had it been up to him, she wouldn’t even be doing that.
He tried to recall the months they’d worked together before…before they’d become lovers. What was the point? Even then he’d been mesmerized by every little thing about her. The way she smiled…her laugh, the way her mouth quirked when she wanted to laugh and knew she shouldn’t. Everything about her made him want her. The curve of her cheek, the taste of her lips, the heat of her sweet body as he sank deeply inside her. His lips tightened into a thin line of self-deprecation. How could he still think that way?
She wasn’t his anymore. As soon as he solved the mystery surrounding her daughter’s disappearance they wouldn’t see each other again.
He’d go back to Chicago and she’d go back to…to whomever she’d turned to since she’d walked away from him. His frown deepened. Where the hell was the child’s father now when Mel needed him most? Ryan snapped the cap onto the black marker he’d been using with enough force to crack it. Why did he even wonder? Somehow he had to get past this ridiculous feeling of possessiveness. He’d even caught himself studying the child’s photograph to see if he could find any resemblance to himself. Of course there was none. The child was a carbon copy of her mother. Why had he done that?
He’d spent the entire afternoon, he glanced at his watch, and a good part of the evening closed up in this office with her. The subtle scent of her perfume was driving him crazy. It was the same fragrance she’d always worn. Sweet, light, natural. He wanted desperately to thread his fingers into all that silky blond hair. To taste those pink lips while he stared into those eager green eyes.
He massaged the back of his neck, the muscles tight and knotted there. He had to get out of here before he did or said something he’d regret. “I’m calling it a night.” He turned to face Bill and Mel. “We could all use some rest.” He sent a pointed look in her direction. She merely lifted her chin and glared back at him.
Bill closed his notebook. “I was just thinking the same thing.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve probably got time to have dinner before Carter gets back. I want to look at those files tonight.”
Ryan resisted the impulse to shake him. Didn’t Bill get it? He’d had all the Melany exposure he could take today. “Fine.” Ryan headed toward the door. “I’ll see the two of you in the morning.”
“I thought we could take Mel to dinner and see her safely home,” Bill put in quickly, stopping Ryan dead in his tracks.
They were going to have to have a talk. But not right now. Not in front of Mel. The last thing Ryan wanted was for her to know that she still affected him…on any level.
Ryan pinned Bill with a look. One he hoped relayed the depth of his irritation. “I’m sure you two can manage without me. I have things to do. Calls to make.” He turned to Mel. “You have my number. Call me if you need me.”
She nodded, her expression unreadable.
He didn’t want to wonder what she was thinking, but he did. He walked out anyway, paused in the corridor and took a long, deep breath. He had to stay focused on the case…not Melany. He had to keep the face of the child before him…not the mother. It was the child who needed him. Whether she was dead or alive, he had to find her. That was his job. Holding Mel’s hand was not part of the deal. Bill would just have to see to that task himself.
Ryan exited the building and unlocked his rental car. He opened the door, but hesitated before getting inside. He cursed himself for the hesitation. Mel was strong, she could handle this, he assured that irritating little voice in his head. She didn’t need him, anyway. Hadn’t she been the one to walk out? Besides, if she wanted a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold, why didn’t she just call up the father of her child?
He gritted his teeth at that thought. Damn. He didn’t want to feel this. He just wanted to do the job and get the hell out of here.
“Ryan, wait!”
Mel.
He turned in the direction of her voice. She was hurrying toward him, her face pale, her eyes suspiciously bright. Something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name shifted in his chest. He stood there, staring at her, until she’d reached him and caught her breath.
“Was there something else?” he growled.
She shook her head. “No, it’s just that…” She paused and grappled for composure. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for agreeing to help me.”
His fingers tightened on the door. Why hadn’t he already gotten in and driven away? His own emotions were too raw and close to the surface to deal with this. “There’s no need to thank me,” he told her flatly. “I’m only doing my job.”
She pushed a handful of silky hair behind her ear. She’d always worn it up around the office. Seeing her with it down like this reminded him of the time they’d spent together. Alone. Intimately.
“I know you didn’t want to take this case.” She looked away, but couldn’t hide the tortured expression that had claimed her features. “You probably think I’m crazy just like everybody else, but I know my daughter’s alive.”
He flinched at the tormented sound of her voice, then grabbed back control. This was business, he had to make sure it stayed that way. “I don’t think anything at this point,” he said with more clinical detachment than he’d thought possible. “And, if I remember correctly, you were the one who didn’t want me on this case.”
Color rose in her pale cheeks as she looked up at him once more. “I was wrong.” She shrugged one slender shoulder. “I didn’t know how I would handle seeing you again.”
An eyebrow shot up his forehead. “Why would you worry?” he demanded sharply. “We have been over for two years.”
She looked away again, and he could have kicked himself. Where the hell was his control?
“I know.” The words were hardly more than a sigh. “But I was worried anyway. We were—”
“Were being the operative word,” he interjected roughly. This was going nowhere. Neither of them needed this right now. “Your appreciation is duly noted. Get some rest, Mel, you’ll need it.”
He got into the car, closed the door and drove away. There was nothing else to say about the past and one of them had to be big enough to admit it.
He just hadn’t expected it to be him.

Chapter Three
Melany sat in Katlin’s room that night.
She’d taken a long hot soak in the tub to ease her stiff muscles. Now, she just sat there, trying not to think. Or feel. She rolled her head, stretching her neck. It didn’t help. Her head still ached, not like before, but just enough to be annoying.
The minute hand on the Little Mermaid clock sidled one notch closer to the hour. Twelve minutes before 1:00 a.m. She really should go to bed. She was exhausted. She needed to sleep. But why bother? If she slept, she would dream. If she dreamed she would have to remember.
She didn’t want to remember. She wanted to focus on tomorrow and the day after that. Focus on finding Katlin. Bringing her home. She moistened her lips and clasped her trembling hands in her lap. She would bring her home. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. And then she would sit and watch her baby sleep like so many other nights….
Nights she’d taken for granted. How could this happen? She pressed her lips together as the hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She’d seen it happen to other people. But, like the rest of the world, she’d never imagined it would happen to her. When she’d been at the Bureau she’d worked cases so unthinkable, so heinous that she’d carefully locked away the images in some rarely visited recess of her mind. She was a professor of law now. Had put her Bureau days behind her. She couldn’t even remember the names of the victims anymore.
It was one of the most important tools an agent could possess. The ability to separate the facts from the emotions. Don’t look at them as people…they’re cases. Just cases. Ryan had taught her that. But now it was her name…her case file.
Her child missing…presumed dead.
A breath shuddered out. Her gaze settled on the frilly yellow coverlet in her daughter’s crib. She’d sat in this rocker and watched her baby girl sleep the night before…the accident.
What she would give to be able to do that now.
Mel stood, wiped the tears from her eyes and stiffened her spine. She had to do something constructive. Make plans. Clean house. Something. Her gaze rested on the crib once more. She should have taken down the crib months ago. Katlin had climbed out a dozen times already. She was too old for a crib. There were youth beds available for that in-between age when a toddler was too old for a crib, but not quite old enough for a regular twin-size bed. The local super-store had them, she recalled.
She went in search of the sale catalog she’d gotten in the mail the other day. She may as well pick one out right now. She could have it ready and waiting when Katlin came home.
She flipped on the living room light and rummaged through the basket that held her magazines and catalogs. Katlin would love a pretty pink bed. Mel was relatively certain she’d seen a sort of storybook or princess style youth bed in here somewhere. Her little girl would be so excited when she came home and found it in her own room.
Melany paused, catalog in hand. If she came home. That damned trembling started again. Katlin was coming home. She was alive. Melany knew it. She felt it as strongly as she felt her own heart beating beneath her breast.
She sat down on the sofa and flipped through the pages. Other people just didn’t understand. She and Katlin had a special connection. She sighed, thinking of the baby-sweet scent and pale silky hair of her child. Well, maybe all mothers and daughters had a special connection, but theirs was different. Mel always, always knew when Katlin needed her or when something wasn’t quite right where her child was concerned. She could sense it, no matter how many miles stood between them.
If Katlin was…dead, surely that feeling wouldn’t be so strong. Melany could feel the pull even now. Her daughter needed her. Every time she closed her eyes she could hear her cries. She shook her head. She didn’t care if people thought she was crazy. She knew what she felt. All she’d needed was for Bill to believe her, and he had.
Ryan was another story. He was far too analytical to simply believe any old thing he was told. He would require evidence, solid proof that there had been some sort of foul play involved in the case.
And Melany had none. Just her intuition and an empty coffin. The authorities, including Ryan, had to admit that at least one law had been broken. A body was missing and that was a felony in itself. She’d been charged for a vault and a proper interment, which she hadn’t received—that was also a criminal offense. Even if the funeral director claimed the body was merely misplaced, he still had the latter charge to explain. He’d taken the easy way out and blamed an employee, Garland Hanes. An employee who was suddenly missing and known for his bouts of alcohol abuse.
Melany shivered. Had that man touched her child? She closed her eyes and banished that thought. She would not allow herself to believe Katlin had been harmed in any way until someone proved it to her beyond a shadow of a doubt. She just couldn’t bear the thought of it. She would search until she found the truth. Her child was out there somewhere and needed her. She would do whatever she had to in order to keep Ryan Braxton on the case.
Anything—except tell him the truth.
She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t take the chance. Bill wasn’t going to like it when he found out. If he found out. He was one of those people who was honest to a fault. Tell it like it is, was his motto. But Melany couldn’t do that this time, for more reasons than one.
She would face the consequences when the time came, if Ryan somehow discovered the truth—and he most likely would. When he’d had a chance to really look at the facts, he’d do the math and then he’d ask her. If he asked, she’d never be able to lie to him…not straight-faced, anyway. Katlin was his child. She could only pray that he wouldn’t discover he was Katlin’s father anytime soon. She needed that ruthless detachment for which he was known. The truth would only muddy the waters.
Melany set the catalog aside and drew her knees up to her chest and hugged her arms around them. She had to sort through all these leftover feelings where Ryan was concerned. She couldn’t work with him day in and day out without getting her head on straight first.
He read her too easily. She had to get her emotions in check. She rested her chin atop her knees. If she focused, she could deal with it. She was tougher than she looked, always had been. Her mother had been a single parent, and only sixteen when Mel was born. Sixteen and an alcoholic. She didn’t even know who Mel’s father was.
Mel had sworn she would never do that to a child. And here she was hiding the truth, giving her child her own name, just like her mother had done to her.
But this was different. She laughed, a dry, grating sound. Yeah, right. This was different, all right. She hadn’t had the guts to tell him the truth two years ago, how would she ever muster up the courage, now?
Enough, Jackson, she chastised. She had to have some sleep. Mel dropped her feet to the floor and stood. The kind of sleep where dreams didn’t come. She glanced longingly at the catalog. She’d pick out the new bed tomorrow. It was late. Ryan would expect her to be on her toes come morning. He didn’t like slackers and had absolutely no patience for excuses. She wasn’t about to give him any reason to say she couldn’t pull her weight.
She padded into the kitchen and turned on the light over the sink. The worst was behind her now. The investigation was under way, and she actually had people on her side. She could relax just a little. Exhaling a weary breath, she searched for the prescription Dr. Wilcox had given her. After checking the label, she opened the bottle and removed two of the little pills. She popped them into her mouth, then held her hair out of the way while she washed them down with a drink of water straight from the tap. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she flipped off the light. Twenty minutes tops and she’d be asleep.
Though she hated drugs, for the time being they were a necessary evil. A first for Mel. If her mother were around she’d get a good laugh out of that one. She’d accused Mel of being too uptight for her own good. You’ll see one of these days, her mother had taunted. You’ll need help sometime. Just like me, she added as she popped another Valium. Hitting thirty had been tough on Carla Jackson and her chosen profession. She’d taken up popping the pills along with her booze to ease the pain and block the image of her last steady John.
Mel pushed away those unpleasant memories. She hadn’t thought of her mother in years. She supposed that if she really wanted to, that in some twisted way she could blame her mother for the accident. After all, if Carla hadn’t made Mel want so badly to be the exact opposite of her, she probably would never have lent her SUV to a friend. God knew her mother had certainly never helped her own daughter, much less a friend. If Mel hadn’t lent Rita the SUV, then she and Katlin wouldn’t have been in a tiny compact vehicle when the accident occurred. Then maybe none of this would—
“Stop it,” she ordered. She pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead and forced the tormenting thoughts away. Rest, she needed rest.
All she had to do, she reasoned as she made her way to her room, was find something unrelated to the accident to focus on for the next fifteen or so minutes. She climbed into her bed and pulled the covers up around her. The feel of Ryan’s full lips pressed firmly against hers instantly invaded her mind. She almost pushed the vivid memories away, but didn’t. Reliving nights with Ryan—before—was better than allowing the reality of this waking nightmare to slip to the forefront of her thoughts.
She had to keep the hurt at bay.
She had to be strong.
Her baby was counting on her.

RYAN BRACED his hands on the window frame and stared into the darkness. It was raining again. A streak of lightning temporarily brightened the hotel parking lot. The weather matched his mood, he decided, dark and stormy.
He blew out a disgusted breath and jerked the curtains closed. A quick glance at the digital clock on the bedside table confirmed his suspicions that it was well past time he’d gone to bed. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto the nearest chair.
But then, what would be the point? He definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep. He couldn’t get Mel out of his head long enough to concentrate on anything else. He needed files, interview reports, case studies. Anything to keep his thoughts from wandering back to her. If he were back at the office in Chicago, there would be plenty to keep him occupied.
But he wasn’t in Chicago.
He was here…where she was.
He tunneled his fingers through his hair and slumped down onto the bed. She still held that same old power over him. She was the only woman who’d ever wielded that much. He could never resist her. The first year without her had been pure hell. He’d worked 365 days. Hadn’t wanted a day off. Still rarely took one.
When she’d left the Bureau—left him—he’d thought he would never be able to go on without her. But he’d managed, just barely—and only by leaving the Bureau himself and finding a fresh start.
What the hell was he doing in Memphis working a case that involved her child? A child she’d had with another man? He frowned trying to recall the child’s age. Something over a year. He glanced at his briefcase. The death certificate was there. But he had no intention of getting up and looking at it. It made no difference how little time it had taken her to get over him. For that matter, she could have left him for another man, though he doubted it. But, who knew? Maybe she met someone who gave her the kind of attention she wanted…deserved.
Someone who didn’t study cases about dead and missing children as a career. Someone who could bear to give her the child she wanted so desperately.
Anyone but him.
He’d seen too much. Knew too much about the evil men could do. His jaw clenched automatically and the images receded, a practiced response. He would never bring a helpless life into this world. Not after all he’d seen. He just couldn’t do it. He’d wanted their relationship to be enough.
But it hadn’t been. She’d wanted more and he couldn’t give it to her. Wouldn’t give it to her. So she’d taken the Pill their entire relationship to keep him happy.
Ryan leaned back onto the stack of pillows. No matter how he’d tried to forget her, he couldn’t. No other woman made him feel anything even close to what he and Mel had shared. Oh, he’d tried to erase her memory. But he’d failed miserably.
Now he worked. He’d almost gotten used to going home to an empty house on the rare occasions he bothered to go home. That diversion had come with its own costs. The plants had all died. He’d had to give his dog to a neighbor. But otherwise he’d managed. Had even reached the point where he seldom thought of her more than once or twice a day.
And now this.
What had Bill been thinking when he’d called him?
He hadn’t been thinking. That much was clear. Bill loved Mel like a daughter and he intended to help her, whatever the facts indicated.
The facts all pointed to the child’s death. There was absolutely nothing to corroborate Mel’s theory.
Deep inside, in that place he kept all those messy emotions hidden away, he hoped like hell the facts were wrong. No matter who had fathered the child, he didn’t want Mel to know this kind of loss. He didn’t want her to live with this level of hurt for the rest of her life.
Close your eyes, Braxton, he ordered. Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.
The instant his lids lowered, the image of Melany filled his mind. She smiled up at him, love shining in her green eyes. She was wearing that little black dress he’d liked so much. His fingers knotted in the rumpled sheet beneath him but he allowed the memories to come. Kissing the smooth skin of her shoulder. Lowering the zipper, then the silky dress. Following the path of the sensual fabric with his mouth. They’d made love over and over that night, then the light of day had brought reality back with a vengeance.
He’d asked her to marry him. She’d hesitated, begging him to change his mind about having children. He’d said no. She’d tried a dozen different ways to sway him. He hadn’t listened.
She’d cried.
He’d stood firm.
She’d packed.
He’d pretended not to notice.
Then she’d left.
He’d been certain she would come back. But she hadn’t. The months went by and she didn’t call. He’d almost lost his mind. Then the months had turned into a year and he’d faced facts. She wasn’t coming back.
He started to call once or twice…but then a new case would come up and he’d be too busy. If she’d wanted to talk to him she would have called, he’d rationalized. It was over and he’d had to come to terms with that.
It hadn’t been easy but he’d done it. At least he thought he had until he saw her again. Not one thing about her had changed. She still looked twenty-five, despite being thirty-four. She wore her hair the same…the way he liked it. The long silky strands of gold made him ache to tangle his fingers there. Having a child hadn’t changed her slender figure much, either. If anything she looked more womanly.
Had bearing that child given her that extra touch of softness, those ever so slightly fuller curves? Did the man who’d made love to her last appreciate the subtle differences? He clenched his jaw until it ached.
Ryan pushed up from the bed and paced the suddenly too-small room. He needed a long, hard run to regain his perspective. He’d been to Memphis before, three or four years ago, had stayed in this very hotel. It was a safe enough area for a late night run. At this point he didn’t really care. He had to work off these crazy mixed-up emotions and all the adrenaline surging through his body.
He pulled a pair of sweats and his running shoes from his duffel and sat them aside. Ninety seconds later, he was ready to go. He glanced at the clock—2:00 a.m. He functioned on less than two hours’ sleep most of the time. A couple of nights without any at all wouldn’t kill him.
He reached for the door. A loud knock rattled the hinges a split second before his fingers curled around the knob. Ryan tensed. He glanced at the clock again, then eased closer to the door as another knock sounded.
“It’s Bill. Get the hell up, Braxton. I’ve got something for you.”
Ryan removed the chain and jerked the door open. “What’ve you got?” he asked without preamble.
“A body.” Bill looked smug. “And it isn’t the kid’s.”
Ryan pulled him inside and shut the door. “Whose body?”
“Garland Hanes,” Bill told him.
A new surge of adrenaline pumped through Ryan’s veins. “The funeral home attendant?”
Bill nodded. “The guy who buried the empty coffin.” Bill pulled out his trusty notebook. “Apparently gave himself a third eye and a one-way ticket to hell.” He grinned. “And guess what Memphis’s finest found in the wallet he left behind?”
Ryan’s tension moved to the next level. “Just tell me what they found.”
Bill pulled a plastic evidence bag from his inside jacket pocket and waved it in front of Ryan. “A picture of a little girl. A very much alive little girl.” His grin widened. “A little girl named Katlin Jackson.”

Chapter Four
Ryan sat on the side of the bed and stared at the telephone, waiting for the minutes to tick off. Bill would call Mel this morning and explain the latest turn of events. Ryan had asked him not to mention the picture until after he had interviewed Rita Grider, the friend who identified the child’s body. He didn’t want to raise additional hope that might not pan out.
Mel would be mad as hell when she found out he’d hidden any aspect of the case from her, but it was necessary. Not only would it prevent further hurt if things didn’t turn out the right way, but it would avoid any additional distraction. Keeping her focused was difficult enough without adding another layer of false hope.
He watched as the digital clock on the bedside table next to the telephone clicked off one more minute, 7:29 a.m. He’d been up all night, hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Staying put until this morning had been almost more than he could manage. He’d wanted to view the body of the funeral home attendant, Garland Hanes. He’d wanted to scour every square inch of the scene where he’d been found. But somebody had screwed up and gone through the steps at the scene, including moving the body, before realizing the victim was tied to this case. Bill hadn’t gotten the call until after the body was already at the morgue. Taking all that into consideration going directly to the scene in the dark and rain hadn’t made much sense.
It hadn’t, however, kept Ryan from taking that run he’d decided upon before Bill’s visit. He’d run until he’d exhausted himself, thrown his damp clothes to the bathroom floor and stood under a long, hot shower. Despite the depletion of adrenaline he still hadn’t been able to sleep.
Now he only waited to make the one call necessary to his continued participation in this case. Afterward, he had one stop to make before rendezvousing with Bill at the scene where Hanes’s body had been discovered by two teenagers. The clock’s digital readout blinked to 7:30.
Victoria Colby was almost always in her office by 7:30, he hoped today would prove no different. He punched in the proper series of numbers and waited through the first ring.
“The Colby Agency.”
Mildred. “Good morning, Mildred, this is Ryan Braxton.” Victoria’s loyal secretary was the first to arrive and the last to leave every day that the agency doors opened.
“Ryan, how are things in Memphis? You know I’ve always wanted to visit Graceland.”
He would never have taken Mildred for an Elvis fan, but, hey, she could fool the best CIA interrogator if she so chose. “Things are complicated,” he offered. “This case looks like it might take a while and…” He hesitated, knowing this was the point of no return. “I’ve decided to stay on and see it through.”
“I understand,” she said knowingly. “I’ll put you through to Victoria.”
There were no secrets kept from Mildred. She had a handle on everyone and everything that involved the agency.
“Ryan, it’s good to hear from you. Have you learned anything new?”
The sound of Victoria’s voice proved oddly calming. He couldn’t say for sure precisely what it was, maybe the fact that she had believed in him when he’d felt certain total burnout loomed just around the corner. Or perhaps it was merely because she somehow seemed to sympathize with what had made him have to walk away from his past. Whatever the case, Victoria understood.
“The funeral home attendant’s body was found last night.” Ryan scrubbed a hand over his face, only then realizing that he hadn’t shaved. He frowned, wondering how he could forget something he’d done every day since his junior year in high school. “There was a photograph of—the child—which would indicate she was alive at the time it was taken.”
Victoria paused, then said, “Can you verify that assumption?”
“We’re gonna try.”
Another pause. “I see.” The sound of leather shifting crinkled across the line as she apparently reclined fully into her high-back executive’s chair. Ryan had watched her do that dozens of times as she’d considered the ramifications of whatever she’d just been told. “You’ve decided to participate in the case, then?”
He drew in a heavy breath and released it slowly before responding. She had to know how difficult a decision this was for him. “It’s the only thing I can do. I can’t just walk away…she needs me.”
“You’re doing the right thing. We can get by without you for a while. Research will certainly miss your eye for detail, but we’ll manage.” She didn’t have to say, but he knew she understood that the she he used referred to Mel as much as it did the missing child.
When he’d initially applied to the agency, Victoria had offered him the position of investigator, but he’d declined. The idea of dealing with real people no longer appealed to him. He much preferred working with facts and hypothesized scenarios. He’d had enough of investigative work for two lifetimes. But he had to do this one last thing…he had to do it for Mel. And the kid.
“I’ll keep you up to speed on my progress if you’d like, though this isn’t an official Colby Agency case.” He wasn’t sure of proper protocol under the circumstances. He would be working under the Bureau’s umbrella.
“I’d like that very much,” she said without hesitation. This time there was something different in her voice, something besides the usual confidence and determination.
Another frown inched its way across Ryan’s brow. He had the distinct feeling that Victoria was holding something back. Before he could pursue the thought, she spoke again.
“What are the chances you’ll find this child… alive?”
There was a definite quality of uncertainty in her tone now. He considered her question. It was the same one he’d been asked a thousand times before in his old life at the Bureau. His answer was always the same. “Slim to none.” The statement was blunt and cold, as he’d intended it. The worst thing a man in his position could do was engender false hope. He’d seen others do it, only to watch the families of victims fall apart later when things turned out badly. He never went that route.
“How is Miss Jackson holding up?”
It wasn’t until that moment when he heard Victoria say Miss Jackson that two things struck Ryan. Why was Mel still single? And why did her child carry her surname? Why not the father’s? Mel was too careful to, without due consideration, get involved with a guy on that level. She never acted before she analyzed the situation. That’s why she hadn’t become Mrs. Ryan Braxton two years ago. She’d considered what he offered, assessed the data and concluded that it wasn’t enough. How had she managed to end up a single parent?
“As well as can be expected,” he said in answer to Victoria’s question. “This is the worst thing that can happen to any parent. There’s no way to accurately describe the sheer torment she’ll endure.” He closed his eyes and wished for one long moment that he could make it go away. No matter that she’d obviously run into another man’s arms when she left him, she was still Mel. The woman he’d loved…the woman he’d lost.
“Don’t hesitate to call if this agency can do anything at all to help.”
Again he heard the vulnerability in the usually strong woman. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”
When the call ended, Ryan was sure of one thing. Victoria Colby understood this situation a little too well. He didn’t know how or why, but in one capacity or another she had been in this very situation. The Colby Agency had worked a number of cases involving missing children…or maybe it was more personal. Maybe he’d look into that theory.
Then again, if she wanted him to know her personal business she would tell him. The best thing he could do was keep his mind on the matter at hand.
His own entirely too-personal business.

VICTORIA COLBY sat very still and prayed the horrifying sensations would pass.
The past had been catching up with her for a while now. No matter how she tried to push the memories away, they somehow managed to surface. She found it especially difficult anytime a case involved a missing or endangered child. Her mind went automatically to Trevor Sloan. She remembered well what he’d gone through losing his son. But his story had had a happy ending that included finding his son as well as saving Rachel Larson’s son. They all lived happily ever after as a family down in Mexico. She recalled Nick and Laura Foster. Their child had been missing. Again, fortunately for all involved, they’d found the boy unharmed. Most recently, Pierce Maxwell had discovered he was to be a father. He’d had to race against time to save his child from those who would have used that innocent life to further their own goals.
But there wasn’t always a happy ending.
Despite everything she could do tears welled in her eyes, emotion clogged her throat. Some children were lost forever. No clues…no bodies were ever found to give closure to their cases. To allow the families left behind to move on.
Victoria knew exactly how that felt. Her son’s body had never been found. For eighteen long years she had harbored hope. In the beginning, she and James had exhausted every means to find him. But seven-year-old Jimmy was nowhere to be found. He’d simply vanished, not leaving a trace.
Only three years after he’d disappeared, James had been murdered. Victoria closed her eyes to hold back the tears. She surely would not have survived that blow had it not been for Lucas. Once she’d buried her husband, she’d turned back to the one thing she could cling to: this agency. She had worked hard to make it what it was today and along the way she’d never given up on finding Jimmy…at least for the first dozen or so years.
It had been easy to maintain that sprout of hope then. She’d been fully engrossed in building the agency, so she never had time to allow reality to sink in. Then she’d had to face the facts. After nearly two decades, Jimmy wasn’t going to be found, dead or alive. He wasn’t coming back. Again, Lucas had gotten her through that black time.
And still, here she was once more, reliving the past. Allowing hope to glimmer…wondering what her son might be doing now and if he looked as much like his father now as he had at seven. It was foolish…a waste of time.
James Colby was dead. James Colby, Jr., was dead, as well.
But she was alive.
Victoria pushed to her feet and squared her shoulders. She would not dwell on the past for another moment. She could not change history. God knew that if she could, she would. She would give her life for her son’s this minute…this very second if it would bring him back.
But nothing was bringing him back. He was gone.
Forever.
Her heart thundering in her chest, she skirted the desk and walked out to Mildred’s desk. “I think I’ll step out,” she said, her chin tilted at an angle that dared her secretary to question her reasons.
Mildred looked taken aback or maybe she was just surprised since Victoria rarely left the office for anything once she arrived. “If you’re waiting for an argument,” Mildred offered sagely, “you’ll get none from me. The weather is beautiful.” She waved a hand toward the bank of elevators in invitation. “Have a nice walk.”
Victoria’s palms were sweating and that foolish heart of hers just kept beating harder and harder. She felt flushed and chilled to the bone at the same time. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d suffered from a panic attack, and, yet, this felt exactly like the onslaught of one.
“When Ian arrives let him know that I’ll be back in an hour or so.” Her throat had gone bone dry and the room tilted just a little.
Victoria railed at herself for showing weakness. She was made of stronger stuff than this. She found it hard to believe that the Melany Jackson case had undone her so thoroughly. Where was that steel armor she generally wore? That hard-earned determination?
Vivid flashes of memory cut through her thoughts as she waited for the elevator car to arrive. She squeezed her eyes shut to block the visions but she just couldn’t stop the images. Her little boy running, the sun glinting against his dark hair. His toys scattered haphazardly around his room. And then that moment—that soul shattering moment—when she’d realized he was gone.
She’d only looked away for mere seconds. The telephone had rung and she’d hurried to answer it. But when she’d looked through the kitchen window to see that Jimmy hadn’t wandered from the kid-size fort he and his father had built in the backyard he’d been gone. It hadn’t taken her more than thirty or forty seconds to step from the yard to the kitchen to grab the telephone. She’d stretched the long cord until she could watch him through the window while she talked.
But he was already gone.
Despite every security measure they’d taken.
In the blink of an eye.
Gone forever.
The room spun wildly and Victoria clutched at the wall to no avail. She marveled briefly at the glittering colors that exploded before her eyes and then the lights went out.

VICTORIA DIDN’T dare move when her mind turned itself back on. She tried to think but couldn’t. Where was she? What happened? And then she remembered. She opened her eyes very slowly, hoping to diminish the spinning in her head.
“Ah, there you are,” a kindly male voice said softly.
She concentrated on focusing her vision for a few seconds before it actually worked. Her brain had obviously kicked back into gear since she recognized the voice. Kyle. Dr. Kyle Pendelton. What was he doing here?
She tried to sit up but he held her still. “Not just yet, Victoria,” he said with uncharacteristic sternness.
“What happened?” She looked around the room to get her bearings. The office lounge. She was lying on the sofa in the lounge. Kyle sat in a chair that had been pulled close. He peered down at her now, concern marring his attractive features.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” he responded with clear accusation in his tone. “The last time we spoke I was under the impression that you intended to take a vacation. That you were going to start working fewer hours.”
Oh, God, Mildred had been running off at the mouth again. Victoria would have rolled her eyes had she possessed the necessary strength. But, as it was, she felt too weak to breathe, much less argue the point.
“She never leaves the office before six,” a voice piped up.
Victoria did manage a scowl this time. The voice belonged to a loose-lipped traitor. “Mildred, we’ll discuss this later,” she said with as much intimidation as she could muster.
Mildred harrumphed. “I’m shaking in my boots.”
Victoria felt the blood pressure cuff tighten on her arm, the squeezing sensation accompanied by the wheeze of the pump. “Your numbers are still a little higher than I’d like,” Kyle interjected. “Arguing isn’t going to help lower them.”
“I’ll just get back to my desk,” Mildred said petulantly, but paused at the door. “Talk some sense into her, Doc. God knows we’ve all tried.”
As the door opened and then closed Victoria caught a glimpse of Ian Michaels and Trent Tucker, two of her investigators, holding vigil outside. What a fool she was. All this worry and excitement because of her stupidity.
“I’m sorry they called you in, Kyle,” she said wearily. “I’m fine, really.”
He arched a speculative brow. “I can see that.” He settled his stethoscope into place and listened to her heart, encouraging her to breathe deeply from time to time and effectively putting a halt to further conversation for a bit.
When he’d removed the instrument and laid it aside, she told him the truth. “I let this new case get to me. That’s all. I’ll be fine in a little while. There’s nothing weak about me. I’m as strong as an ox. I’ll bounce back from this just like I always do.” Kyle was one she’d left off her list of those who understood what it was like to lose everything. He’d lost his wife and child to a vicious animal who still rotted in prison. Of all people, he would understand how she felt.
He took her hand in his. “Victoria, I know how strong you are and stubborn as the proverbial mule. But I also know what you go through every single day of your life.” He leveled those solemn brown eyes on hers. “I do exactly the same thing. Work, sleep, eat. You and I do all those things that are expected of us. And, if we’re lucky, the monotony will distract from the reality of the gaping hole in our hearts.”
Victoria blinked furiously. Dammit, she would not cry. She couldn’t do this…not now with Kyle watching. She’d made a big enough fool of herself already this morning.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/debra-webb/cries-in-the-night/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.