Deceived Read online

  And that was plain wrong.

  “Hey.” He gentled his voice and waited for Todd to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sorry about that, champ. I guess I’m not used to this heat yet, and it can make me cranky. We’ll get back to our pizza routine real soon, I promise. How does that sound?”

  “Fine.” At the tremulous response, Greg wished he could pull over and give his son a reassuring hug. Not going to happen during rush hour on I-270, though, so he did the next best thing. “I love you. You never forget that, okay?”

  “Okay.” Todd sniffled and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his T-shirt. Usually that drew a correction, but this time Greg let it pass. “I love you too.”

  The beautiful words were like balm on his soul, and the taut line of his shoulders relaxed.

  Until Todd spoke again a few minutes later in a quiet, wistful tone that sent another wave of uneasiness crashing over him. “I bet that lady on the escalator is a good mom.”

  Greg didn’t respond.

  Instead, he once again squeezed the wheel and kept his eyes focused straight ahead. Wishing he could wipe out the past. Wishing he could pray for help.

  But God wouldn’t listen to the likes of him. Not anymore. He only welcomed back repentant sinners.

  All he could do was hope Todd’s obsession would diminish soon and that life would get back to normal.

  Whatever that was these days.

  As Connor tossed his suit jacket onto a chair in his office and went in search of a piece of the coffee cake Nikki had brought in yesterday, her voice wafted down the hall.

  “Pregnant women aren’t supposed to lift heavy stuff.”

  When that pronouncement was followed by a fit of coughing, his lips tipped up.

  Dev had just gotten the big news.

  Ignoring the growls in his stomach, he detoured toward his partner’s office and propped a shoulder against the doorway. Dev had sprayed soda all over the files scattered on his desk and was still hacking as Nikki shoved a fistful of paper napkins at him.

  “You need me to do the Heimlich maneuver?” Connor tried to rein in his grin.

  Dev waved his question aside and focused on Nikki. “You’re pregnant?”

  “It happens.”

  “Did you know about this?” Dev looked his way and swiped at the soda-speckled folders on his desk with the wad of napkins.

  “I found out this morning before Cal and I left for the meeting on that executive security gig—which ran very long, by the way. I hope you left some of that coffee cake in the kitchen. I’m starving.”

  Dev ignored that comment.

  Not a positive sign.

  After one final hack, his partner eyed Nikki. “So . . . are you doing okay? Everything’s good?”

  “Everything’s great. And I was just kidding about lifting your files.”

  She bent to pick up a stack from the corner of his office, but before she touched them, Dev sprang out of his chair and raced around his desk. “Wait! I’ll get them.”

  “I can do it.” She grabbed the files and rose. “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated.”

  He tugged the files away from her. “Fine. But I’m here now. Where do you want these?”

  She cocked her head. Shrugged. “On my desk. I need to go through them and identify the contents since you never bother to label the new stuff.”

  For once, Dev let the dig pass and exited in silence.

  As he disappeared out the door to the reception area, Nikki winked at Connor and dropped her voice. “This could be fun.”

  He chuckled. “You’re bad.”

  “Aren’t I, though? But I’m good in other ways. Like digging for information.” She handed him the slip of paper in her hand. “There were fifteen Garbers in the phone book. That’s Linda’s number. I was getting ready to put it on your desk.”

  A quick scan told him it was a Kirkwood-area exchange. Probably not far from their offices. “What was your pretext?”

  “Build-A-Bear follow-up to verify she was satisfied with her birthday party. There were eight children at the event, three boys and five girls. The majority of them were daycare friends of her daughter, Lindsey, who’s enrolled at STL Academy all day in the summer and for aftercare during the school year. She’ll be in first grade this fall, and she dressed her bear in a pink tutu.”

  Connor stared at her. “How did you manage to get all that information?”

  “Like I said, I’m good. Remember that when raise time comes around.” She sent him a pointed look. “And don’t get your hopes up about the coffee cake. Dev scarfed down the last piece about an hour ago.”

  As she started down the hall, the guilty party pushed through from the front—and held the door open for her.

  Connor’s eyebrows rose. That was a first. Meaning interesting—and entertaining—times should be ahead.

  As for the latest information Nikki had unearthed—that, too, suggested interesting possibilities. If the blond boy the Build-A-Bear clerk had mentioned happened to be the same one Kate had seen, there was a better-than-average chance he attended STL. And if surveillance verified that, finding his last name would get a whole lot easier. It could be as simple as running the plate on the car that picked him up.

  Beyond that . . . things could get trickier.

  But for now, he had a positive development to share with Kate.

  “Big news, huh?” Dev paused outside his office.

  It took a second for Connor to realize he meant Nikki news, not case news. “Yeah.”

  “Hard to picture, though. Nikki with a baby . . .” Dev shook his head.

  “She’s had plenty of practice being a mother since she rescued her brother from that den of iniquity she grew up in and gave him a real home.”

  “True. But a baby . . . that’s a whole different ball game.”

  “I have no doubt she’s up to the challenge.”

  “Yeah. She does handle difficult situations—and people—well.” One side of Dev’s mouth hitched up. “Speaking of challenges . . . how goes the boy-returned-from-the-dead case?”

  Connor waved the slip of paper. “I have a lead.”

  “No kidding? I assumed that was dead in the water . . . forgive the less-than-tasteful pun.”

  “I can forgive the pun. Eating the last of the coffee cake . . . not so much. That was going to be my lunch.”

  “At four o’clock?”

  “The two-hour meeting ran five hours. The CEO’s been getting death threats in the wake of recent union negotiations and wants to beef up in-house security for an upcoming trip to some of his facilities. Get ready to clear your calendar in mid-August. It’s going to be a three-man job. As for my case—it isn’t dead yet. I’ll fill you in as soon as I know more. In the meantime, I need to update my client.”

  “Not exactly hardship duty . . . especially if you do it in person.” Dev elbowed him as he brushed by into his office.

  Connor let the jibe pass—because he agreed. Too bad this was business that could be handled over the phone. Would be handled over the phone with any other client. So to keep things professional, he’d deliver the update from his desk.

  On the bright side, however, if things progressed on this case, there’d be plenty of opportunities to see Kate again.

  And if they hit a dead end . . . maybe he’d find a reason to see her, anyway.

  Kate closed the notebook on her lap, capped her pen, and smiled at the young woman seated across from her in the role-play corner of her office. “You did great, Sarah. Excellent eye contact, positive body language and facial expressions, and articulate answers. You’ve been practicing.”

  “Every day.” Sarah Lange started to tuck her hair behind her ear, caught herself, and rested her elbows on the arms of her chair instead, keeping her posture relaxed and open. “I’m trying to pay attention to every detail. I want this job.”

  “I know.” And not just for the money. After years of putting up with abuse from the husband she’d finally divorced, she
could also use an infusion of self-esteem. “I think you have an excellent chance of getting it too. You’ve come a long way in the past eight weeks, and you have all the right qualifications.”

  “I’m not aiming too high, am I?” The words were laced with trepidation.

  “Absolutely not.” Kate kept her tone gentle but firm. “Art history might not be the most marketable college degree, but you’ve been a docent at the art museum for two years and you were the office manager for an art supply business.”

  “The art museum was a volunteer job, and the manager position was a long time ago.” She lowered her voice and glanced at the four-year-old cherub playing with her doll in the opposite corner of the office. “Before . . . Steve.”

  At least she didn’t flinch when she said his name anymore. Now, an undercurrent of anger colored the words. Better than fear, but she still had a ways to go. As did her too-silent daughter.

  “Volunteer work counts, and you have outstanding references from both the art museum and your previous job, even though that was eight years ago. The gallery manager would be lucky to get you as his administrative assistant.” Kate had said all those things before, but with Sarah’s interview scheduled for nine tomorrow morning, it couldn’t hurt to repeat them again as a confidence booster.

  “I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you. You not only coached me through all these practice interviews, you also polished up my résumé and found me this great lead. I just hope it works out.”

  “I have every confidence it will.”

  Sarah stood and reached for her purse. “Thanks again for squeezing me in for an emergency session today. I’m sorry I kept you so late.”

  “No worries. I’m often here far later than this.” Kate rose, and while Sarah collected her belongings, she crossed to the little girl and dropped down beside her. “I like your dolly’s dress today, Isabel. Yellow is such a happy color. It reminds me of sunshine.”

  The girl looked up at her with wide eyes that had seen too much, her expression solemn. “I had a yellow dress once too. But it got torn, and my daddy threw it away.”

  Kate’s throat constricted. Thank God Sarah had sought counseling for both of them.

  “Come on, honey. It’s time for dinner. Why don’t we stop at Panera and you can get some of that macaroni and cheese you love? How does that sound?”

  The girl’s face brightened as she took Sarah’s hand, but an undercurrent of apprehension colored her words. “Will you stay with me, Mommy?”

  “Of course.” Sarah sent Kate a worried look as she hugged her daughter.

  Kate gave her client’s arm a reassuring squeeze, a silent reminder that the clinginess would pass and counseling would help. But it would require patience. Damage to the psyche often took far longer to heal than damage to the body. She’d learned that in school, saw it demonstrated every day in the clients she served, and had experienced it firsthand. Loss, abuse, fear, anger, grief—they all took a heavy toll.

  She followed the mother and daughter to the door. At six o’clock, the small suite was silent, the staff and volunteers gone, the individual offices dark. “Will you call me as soon as the interview is over?”

  “The minute I walk out the door.” Sarah held out her hand. “And no matter what happens with this job, thank you for making me feel competent, capable, and respected again.”

  “You’re all those things . . . and more. Now you two have a nice dinner—and make time for some hugs tonight.”

  She watched them walk away hand in hand, then shut the door and wandered back to her office. It was late, but why hurry to leave? It wasn’t as if she had anything exciting planned for the evening. Review some budget paperwork. Prep for another role-play tomorrow. Finish the presentation on New Start she’d be delivering on Friday at a women’s club luncheon. There were no hugs on her agenda.

  Fighting back a wave of melancholy, she straightened her shoulders, pulled her purse out of her desk drawer, retrieved her keys, and fished for her cell. She was through with pity parties. Once had been enough.

  Cell in hand, she scrolled through voice mail. Only one new message, from four-ten. Not long after she’d started her session with Sarah.

  She keyed in her access code and pressed the phone to her ear.

  “Kate, Connor Sullivan. I have some news. Give me a call on my cell when you have a minute.” He recited the number, and she grabbed a pen to jot it down.

  The line clicked, and she took a steadying breath. Telling herself not to get her hopes up, she tapped in his number.

  He answered on the first ring. “Sullivan.”

  Her respiration ticked up. “This is Kate Marshall. Sorry for the after-hours call, but I just got out of a meeting and found your message. It sounded promising.”

  “Promising might be a little too optimistic, but I do have a new lead.”

  As he filled her in on the latest developments, Kate’s spirits rose—and even his final warning that they could still hit a dead end didn’t deflate them.

  “So what’s next?”

  “Surveillance. My plan is to watch the daycare center tomorrow during the morning drop-off period and hope I spot the boy from the mall security screen grab.”

  “I thought you said the image was fuzzy?”

  “It is. Those kinds of shots usually are. But it’s clear enough to get me in the ballpark, and I’ll take photos of any boys who look similar. We can sort through them later and see if we have a match.”

  “Would it help if I went along? I might be able to rule some out immediately.” Even as she made the offer, Kate’s brow puckered. Where on earth had that come from?

  Based on the silence on the other end of the line, Connor was trying to figure out the same thing.

  Her cheeks warmed, and she lightened her tone in an attempt to smooth over the awkward moment. “Sorry. I’m sure the last thing you want is an amateur hanging around while you’re trying to do your work.”

  “Actually, your offer has some merit.” He spoke slowly, as if he was mulling over the idea. “As our office manager reminded me, a lot of young boys are blond. Having someone along who saw the child in person could make the process more efficient. But it would be an early start. The daycare opens for drop-off at six. I plan to be in a discreet position nearby no later than five-forty-five and hang around until nine.”

  “That’s not a problem. I’m an early riser, and I can come to the office late tomorrow. My first meeting isn’t until ten.”

  “Then why don’t I pick you up at five-thirty in the parking lot at your office? When we’re finished, I can drop you off back there.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Two pieces of advice. First, dress casual and cool. I can’t leave the engine and air conditioner running the whole time or the car will overheat. Second, don’t drink much before you leave your house. Once we’re in place, we’ll be in the car for the duration. We could miss the boy if we have to make an emergency bathroom run.”

  “Got it.”

  “Turn in early, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  When the phone went dead, Kate dropped it in her purse and stood. Connor was right. Since she’d have to be up by quarter to five, she needed to head home, fix a quick dinner, and go to bed with the sun.

  But as she exited the New Start offices, she had a feeling sleep was going to be elusive. Because while Connor had accomplished more than she’d even dared hope when she’d sat in his office on Monday and poured out her bizarre story, they were reaching the end of the line. If this lead didn’t pan out, she’d be back where she’d been on Friday.

  Wondering about the identity of the little blond boy who looked enough like Kevin to be her son.

  6

  This wasn’t the smartest move he’d ever made.

  As Connor maneuvered the Taurus under the Golden Arches in the lot next door to STL Academy, he slanted a quick glance at Kate. He’d told her to dress for the weather, but he hadn’t expected a tank top that rev
ealed such a wide expanse of creamy skin, a skirt that exposed a long length of shapely leg, and a ponytail that highlighted her classic profile.

  If there’d been a collar on his T-shirt, he’d have been tempted to run his finger underneath to loosen it.

  So much for staying cool on his end—and the sun hadn’t even peeked above the dawn-tinted horizon yet.

  Focus on the job instead of the client, Sullivan.

  Right.

  He chose a parking spot that would give them both a view of the front door of the daycare center, positioning the car so he could lower his dark-tinted window and take quick shots of potential subjects. After he used the automatic controls to open the two backseat windows, Kate’s window, and the sunroof, he shut off the engine.

  Despite the early hour, humid air flooded the car in seconds.

  He sent her a rueful look. “Sorry. Doing surveillance in the heat—or cold—is one of the less glamorous aspects of being a PI.”

  “It’s not too bad yet.” She regarded his window. “You’re leaving that closed?”

  “To keep out prying eyes. I’ll lower it partway to take pictures—after the camera’s in front of my face.”

  “Seems very clandestine.”

  “Careful.”

  She conceded his point with a bob of her head, then motioned to the fast-food restaurant off to the side behind them. “At least this lot was conveniently located for our purposes.”

  “Yeah. I scoped the area out on my way home last night, and believe me, this is better than some of the places I’ve had to hole up.” Far better. He reached back, grabbed two cases from the backseat, and handed her one. “Binoculars. Go ahead and adjust them to your eyes.”

  “There are a few cars pulling into the lot already.” She gestured toward the daycare center as she opened the case.

  “That’s why I wanted to get here early.” He removed his own binoculars from the case, set them on the console between their seats, and reached into the back again for his camera.

  She fitted the binoculars to her eyes as he took the digital camera out of its case, twisted on the 100–300 mm zoom, and verified that the glare filter was in place. The last thing he wanted was a beam of sunlight bouncing off the glass in the lens. A careless sniper could lose his life that way—and a PI could lose the tactical advantage of covert surveillance. Once you were made, the job got a whole lot harder.