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“I know. I didn’t pay for my tickets to the policeman’s ball.” She put another degree of unpleasantness in her voice.
“Give it one more try.” Mel Haskin, on the other hand, was using the condescending tone of a man talking to a child.
“You tell me,” Lily said, very angry.
“Suspicious behavior,” he said casually.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Lily said. “I’ve got a right to be anywhere I choose, as long as I’m not violating the law. I also have a right not to be harassed by the police.”
“Reporters all seem to think they have a lot more rights than other people,” Mel said, his tone still conversational, though his dark eyes crackled with intensity.
“I’ll give you one more chance. What do you want? Either tell me or leave me alone. If you don’t comply, I’ll have to go to your superior and explain that you’ve been following me and harassing me.”
“You do that—and while you’re there, I want you to explain to my superior what you’re doing in this part of town late at night. This is a far cry from the posh neighborhood where the Johnsons reside. I’m just wondering if your presence in both places somehow links them together.”
“I’m working on a story. I’m doing my job.” Lily’s heart rate had tripled, but she knew she had to keep Mel from seeing the effect he was having on her.
“I’d believe that if it had been the body of a dead politician that was discovered on the Johnsons’ veranda. Or, say, a woman who was having an affair with one of the Washington officials. Or even the son or daughter of some official who wanted to spill the beans on good old mom or dad.” He paused for effect. “Those things I’d believe—they’re what the media today consider legitimate stories.”
“I work on several stories at the same time. Reporters don’t have the luxury of focusing on a single story.”
Mel laughed a deep, full laugh that under other circumstances might have triggered a smile on Lily’s face. Instead, her frown deepened.
“I’m just curious about what the Post’s premier political reporter has to say about a baby. Yes, a baby is a legitimate story. Readers love stories with fairy-tale endings, and if the Johnsons adopt that baby, he’ll have a wonderful life. I just don’t see you as the reporter to put that Cinderella finish on it, though. You’re too tough.”
“You’re getting very close to being insulting.” Lily was shocked that he could get under her skin. Being tough was usually a compliment, but Mel made her sound cold and hard and heartless.
“I didn’t realize you were such a romantic, Lily. Reading your byline in the paper, I always had the feeling you were more interested in being the executioner than the fairy godmother.”
His words stung, and Lily tightened her hands on the steering wheel. Though one part of her brain knew he was trying to goad her into a response, she couldn’t stop herself. “That’s a damn lie. I don’t identify with the executioner. When people do bad things, I write about it. Just exactly the same way you try to put them in jail.” The more she talked, the hotter she got. She pushed her door open, forcing him to step back, as she got out of the car.
“I didn’t realize you were so sensitive,” Mel said, his amusement only further inflaming her.
“I’m not overly sensitive. I’m a hardworking reporter who tries to write the best story she can find. I don’t make up facts and I don’t persecute individuals, but by God if I get the goods on them, then I don’t cry in my coffee when I hang them out to dry in print.”
“What terrible deed can you pin on an infant?” he asked.
“Not the infant, you nitwit. The fa—” She barely caught herself in time. “What’s this personal vendetta you have against me?”
“It’s not personal, Lily. I just want to know what your role is regarding the abandoned baby. Right about now, I’m sure you have one.”
She inhaled sharply and knew she had to gather her wits and keep her mouth shut. Mel Haskin was a superb interrogator, and he’d just gotten her to admit some very important information about her private views on life.
“My role is to write a story about this baby, if there’s a story worth writing. And I won’t know that until I look into the facts a little more. So tell me, Detective, why are you following me? And this time I won’t be distracted. I want the truth.”
“I think you know more about this baby than you’re letting on. See, I don’t buy it that the primo political reporter for the paper is suddenly going to write a women’s-section story about abandoned kids. I know the newspaper business. You’ve worked hard to be respected as a political journalist. You don’t want to go back to writing touchy-feely pieces on babies.”
Although Mel angered her, Lily had to give him credit for understanding her business far better than she’d ever have thought. She’d busted her chops getting accepted as a political writer. Even though journalism was an area where women rose farther and faster than most other professions, there was still a glass ceiling.
Even if she’d wanted to write a “touchy-feely piece,” as Mel put it, she couldn’t afford to show that kind of weakness.
“That still doesn’t tell me why you’re tailing me.” She had to get the focus of the conversation off her and back where it belonged—on Mel.
“Like I said, I’m curious to see what you’re up to. I’m playing a hunch.”
“That borders on harassment.” She could see she wasn’t calling his bluff.
“I don’t think my boss or your lawyer would agree.”
“I don’t like being followed.”
Mel nodded. “I’ll note your objections. If you want me to stop, why don’t you tell me what you know about this mysterious baby?”
Lily felt her frustration grow. She’d already wasted fifteen minutes with the detective. Susie was waiting for her. Waiting and probably fretting. And she had to figure out how to write her story without putting Susie in more danger.
“I have a busy night planned, officer. Now, if you’ll excuse me….”
She felt his hand on her arm. “What are you doing down here?” He nodded at the street, which was no longer empty. Several shadowy figures had appeared at the end of the block, and they were standing and waiting, like wolves packed for the kill.
Looking at the four men, Lily felt a tremor of fear shoot through her. The neighborhood was bad. She was going to have to get Susie out of here. The only reason they’d chosen this part of town was because it was one area where Wayman Bishop’s influence didn’t extend. No, this part of town was under the sway of gangs and poverty, and not even the advisor to the mayor, with all of his power and pull, had figured out a way to bring it under his control.
“As I said before, I’m working on a story,” Lily said.
“I hope it’s worth risking your life.”
“I’ll be careful. I always am. Besides, those guys aren’t any more dangerous than a roomful of senators.”
To her surprise, Mel laughed out loud. The sound of his laughter worked like a talisman against the men at the end of the block. They quickly withdrew, disappearing into the shadows.
“You have a point there, Lily. But where senators may ruin your career, those guys might kill you.”
To her surprise, she found herself staring into his dark eyes. It was a second that felt like an instant electric charge—and an eternity. She saw things in those eyes—a flicker of pain and caring, and keen intelligence. It was so sudden and so unexpected, she forgot to breathe.
“That would be a real loss,” Mel added softly.
The unexpected compliment in his words made Lily draw in a sharp breath. “I have to go,” she said, suddenly more aware than she wanted to be of how handsome Mel was. This tall, athletic man kept himself in shape. He also normally kept himself at a distance, which was part of his appeal. He was good to look at and had been completely unapproachable—until this moment.
“Go home,” Mel admonished her. “Whatever your story, it can wait until morning.”
“Absolutely,” she said, hurrying to get back inside her car. The wind had picked up and she found she was shaking. She rolled the window down a crack. “Please quit following me.”
“I’ve got to head back to the office,” Mel said. “I’m trusting you to have the good sense to get out of this part of town.”
“Thanks for the advice, Detective.” Lily started her car and drove away at a brisk clip. She turned right at the next main road and headed back toward the safer parts of the city. Mel’s lights were behind her for several minutes, and then he turned away. Gradually she slowed. And stopped.
For fifteen minutes she waited to see if he’d suddenly appear behind her. But he didn’t. He really was gone. Backtracking, she headed toward Cedar Street and Susie.
This time she watched the rearview mirror. She couldn’t afford to let Mel discover where she was going. He was already suspicious of her. Now she had to move Susie—and fast.
MEL GAVE UP the idea of tailing Lily again. She was too smart a lady for that. He drove home, wondering exactly what her role in the baby story was. At first he’d been bluffing, but the longer he’d talked with her the more certain he’d become that she was involved with baby David.
But how?
He’d read her newspaper stories. She wasn’t a sentimentalist. Just the opposite. She was one tough cookie.
He pulled into his drive and slowly went into his house. He’d bought it a few years before, an investment in a town where real estate was better than high-tech stocks, and a lot safer.
The emptiness of the house hit him every time he opened the front door. No matter how much furniture he bought—the bright throw pillows, the warm and inviting sofas and chairs—the house seemed empty. One reason he worked so many long hours was that he didn’t particularly like going home.
He considered cooking something for dinner—a very late dinner, as it happened. It was, actually, closer to breakfast. Instead, he went into the bedroom and started to undress. His mind was on Lily Markey.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her—at a double homicide where a member of the president’s cabinet had killed his wife and then himself. It had been a bloody, sad scene, and Lily had hung tough with all the boys. But he’d seen the horror deep in her green eyes. And he’d somehow sensed it wasn’t the blood she found so awful, but the waste.
During the past year, he’d run across her at different events. She’d been at the capitol when he’d testified about the need for more money in the public schools for parenting classes. She’d done a good job on the story and had even called him for a quote the next day.
She’d also been in the precinct house a time or two, checking facts. He realized, with a start, that he had a vivid memory of every single time he’d seen Lily. Well, with her auburn hair and sizzling green eyes, she wasn’t a woman that a man would forget. He grinned to himself as he remembered the wolf whistles and comments that followed in her wake whenever she left. Boy, that would really make her angry.
And the idea of her anger made his smile widen. She had a temper. Was it her coloring or her convictions? That was a question he would like to find the answer to.
After he found the mother of the abandoned baby.
Lily knew something about that. He wasn’t sure what, but something. He could almost smell it on her. Somehow, he knew it was linked with her work. So what would high-level politics and an abandoned baby have to do with one another?
As he stretched out to try and sleep, he knew it would be a night of unanswered questions and little rest. But it wasn’t all bad, spending the night with Lily Markey. At that thought, he felt a sudden desire. Yeah, there were a lot worse ways to spend an evening.
“EVERYTHING’S FINE,” Lily reassured Susie Bishop. She put the groceries on the Formica table in the tiny kitchen and immediately began to open a can of chicken and rice soup. “I want you to eat, okay?”
“I was worried,” Susie admitted. “You were gone so long.”
“I had to run by the office,” Lily told her. “My boss caught me.” She decided against mentioning Mel Haskin. Susie was already frightened enough. It had taken her weeks to win Susie’s trust, long hours of conversation and personal revelations. It was only when Susie really believed that Lily understood the emotional quicksand of abuse that Susie had finally trusted “a reporter.” Working in Lily’s favor had also been the fact that Susie had no one else to turn to.
“Did you check on David?”
Lily hesitated. Was it better to answer the questions about the baby or simply say she didn’t know? Susie had given up the child. At least physically. What was the best way to help her emotionally accept that the baby was now someone else’s child?
“He’s fine.” Lily knew she didn’t have the heart not to answer. She carried the soup and crackers in to Susie. “Eat this and then we’re up and walking. We need to leave here fast.”
“Where will we go?” Susie’s eyes widened, a clear blue fear.
“Some place safer. There were some men on the street. They frightened me. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone. And it isn’t safe for Patti to come and go, either.”
Susie looked down into the bowl of soup. “A lot of people are risking serious injury to help me. Why?”
Lily realized she didn’t have a real answer to that question. Why was she doing this? Risking her life and her career? “Because it’s what should be done,” she said simply. “There are good people in the world, Susie. People who want to do the right thing because it is right.”
“I thought for sure Wayman had either bought everyone or had them hurt so badly they stayed hidden.”
Lily knew it was a quote she’d use in her story. So many lucky people—men and women with safe lives—didn’t understand how a woman could put up with abuse. They didn’t understand the systematic destruction of all safety nets until a woman—or a child—believed there was no one powerful enough to help them escape. They were all alone. Susie, even now, didn’t believe she was safe. Lily had a terrible thought—would Susie ever believe she was safe? Would she ever have the peace of knowing that the sacrifice of her son had been the only choice, for both of their survivals?
“Don’t worry about Wayman. In just a few hours, you’ll be far out of his reach.”
“And David? He’s safe, isn’t he?”
Lily nodded at the soup bowl. “If you’ll eat, I’ll tell you.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “The Johnsons have already spoken with Judge Patterson. There will be a hearing Monday, and I’m sure the Johnsons will be awarded temporary custody of the baby. Once that happens, then it’s pretty much a done deal. David will have a wonderful, safe home. In a matter of weeks, no one will even question where he came from. He’ll be safe for the rest of his life.”
It wasn’t all true. A lot of it, in fact, was the picture Lily wanted to paint. It was what Susie needed to hear to have the strength to keep going.
“He’s such a beautiful baby.” Susie lowered the soup bowl and brushed the tears from her face. “He’ll grow up to be happy and handsome and with every opportunity I could never give him.”
“He will,” Lily agreed. “Because you loved him enough to save him.”
Susie nodded. “And now we have to go.” She put the bowl on the bedside table and swung her legs down to the floor. “I’m ready to walk. We have to get going. What about my passport?”
Lily could only admire the other woman’s courage. “I should have it for you by tomorrow afternoon. The flight’s already booked in your fake name. We just have to find a safe place until tomorrow.” She had a sudden thought. “We can go to my place.”
“That might not be smart. You’re already in this deep enough. If Wayman ever found out I was at your home, he really would kill you.” Susie eased to her feet, her face grimacing from the pain. She wobbled a moment, but steadied herself and stood erect. “That’s not so bad.”
“Look. It’s less than twenty-four hours before your flight leaves. We can manage to keep you safe and hidden for that long, and I think this place is a lot more dangerous than hiding out at my house for a few hours.” She had a few concerns, but mostly she wanted to get off Cedar Street and away from the sense of doom that hung over the place.
She clicked on the small television. She’d missed the evening news, but there was a local station that carried a midnight cap of events in the city.
She instantly regretted her decision when the first image that flashed on the screen was a close-up of Wayman Bishop. He was looking down at something, and the camera pulled back to reveal a body covered by a sheet.
“My God.” Susie’s voice was terrified, and just before she collapsed, Lily grabbed her and settled her onto the bed. Both women stared at the television in fascination as the camera closed in on the reporter.
“Mayor Torrell’s advisor Wayman Bishop is on the scene. He’s checking out the murder firsthand and has a statement from the mayor,” the reporter said.
She held the microphone out to Wayman.
“Mayor Torrell abhors this senseless violence against women, and the mayor is going to make it his number-one priority to begin the systematic prosecution of men who prey on the women of this city.” He pointed to the discreetly covered corpse. “This woman is a victim, and she will be vindicated.”
Lily snapped off the television, but she knew the damage was done.
“What’s he up to?” Susie asked, her voice loaded with fear.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lily said, forcing her voice to sound strong and assured. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be safe in England. That’s all you have to think about.”
Chapter Four
So, the daffodils are blooming, a sure sign that Jack Frost is on the run. Clotilde tells me that Rose was up at the crack of dawn and on the Internet ordering a special baby outfit for little David to wear to court Monday. Special delivery, since none of the shops were open Sunday morning. That baby is going to be spoiled rotten. But Clotilde has a point. What if Rose and Preston aren’t allowed to keep the little boy? Heartbreak won’t begin to describe what will happen to them.
It’s a sticky wicket, as a British kitty would say. But the Internet is a good idea—at least for checking out the maker of that basket.
I’ve been doing my research, and there’s a cute little boutique not far from the Smithsonian that specializes in exactly that kind of basket. Clotilde and I have a date this morning to go there and do a little snooping around. Of course the shop is closed, which is perfect for me. I don’t want to buy anything, I just want to look at the books.
I’m wondering how Clotilde is going to take to breaking and entering, sneaking rides on public transit, dodging humanoids who either want to adopt us or have the pound pick us up—all the myriad facts of my life as a P.I. which she’s been protected from.
I can’t explain it to Clotilde, but I’m having some trouble with this case. She wants me to find David’s mother and make sure that she’s not going to snatch little David back. I’m just not so sure I want to find this woman. I mean what kind of mother would toss her kid? Maybe it would be best if we just let her disappear.
