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For five years, she’d accepted her sister and niece were gone. She’d accepted she was now alone, the last living Markham of her family tree. She’d given Becca and Robin a joint funeral befitting royalty, even though Robin’s casket had been empty.
The investigators had explained a fire as intense and long-burning as the one that had destroyed Becca’s home could have easily destroyed a baby’s body and bones. But what if someone had saved Robin from the flames?
What if?
The image of Ally Alexander’s unique birthmark flashed through Sophie’s mind, and she scrambled for the album she kept safely tucked in her nightstand drawer. Robin’s baby album.
She lifted the small object from the drawer, tracing a finger across the yellow duck that graced the cover. Sophie cracked open the treasured collection of snapshots and smiled down at the luminous face that met her gaze. The navy-blue eyes. The dark brown hair. The pert little nose.
Her throat tightened as she flipped through the images of her niece until she found what she’d been searching for. The close-up of Robin’s birthmark.
A perfect butterfly.
Sophie inhaled sharply, squinting at the photo.
Could two children possibly have such an identical mark? Of course, it might be possible. But Ally Alexander not only had the identical mark, she also had the same coloring and was similar in age to what Robin would be were she alive.
And she’d been adopted.
Was it possible?
Sophie swallowed hard, thinking of the series of articles Gary Barksdale had written for the Philadelphia Inquirer on the kidnapping and recovery of a local girl. The child had been six months old when she’d been kidnapped and four years old when she’d been reunited with her family.
He’d be the perfect person to help her sort through her suspicions and questions about identification, aside from the fact she’d be talking about his cherished niece.
Anxiety battled for its place among the tangle of emotions in her gut.
Gary Barksdale.
Seeing him tonight had been a reality check.
Since they’d split up, she’d worked with a vengeance, first at graduating college with top honors, then at landing a job with WNJZ.
She’d allowed herself to feel the pain, the joys and the triumphs of the stories she covered, yet she’d never let herself become close to anyone after her sister’s death.
Not a coworker. Not a friend. Not a lover.
Thoughts of the brief romance she’d shared with Gary rushed into her brain and she warmed instinctively. Her involvement with him had been heady, wonderful and foolish.
Breaking it off had been the smartest move she’d ever made. Watching her sister’s abusive relationship a short while later had convinced her she’d made the right move.
Once Robin had been born, Becca had wisely kicked out the man she’d been involved with— Robin’s father. He’d threatened violence on more than one occasion and after Becca had filed a restraining order—at Sophie’s urging—he’d thankfully disappeared from their lives.
Becca had moved back to the Philadelphia region, ready to make a fresh start with her gorgeous daughter. Sophie had been ready to do whatever her sister and niece needed. Anything.
Tears swam in her vision and she blinked them away.
Anything.
Then everything had changed, and the sister and niece who were her world were gone. Forever.
Or so she’d thought.
She might be grasping at the longest shot of her life, but she had to see it through. She owed that much to her sister’s memory.
Her reporter’s instinct wouldn’t rest until she fully explored the possibilities, and as much as she didn’t want to face the man again, she knew exactly where to start.
Chapter Two
Gary pulled open the door to the diner, pausing for a beat to gather himself. He’d been pushing an afternoon deadline when Sophie called. He’d asked her to give him an hour to finish up. He should have asked for two. Maybe then he could have cleaned up a bit.
He ran a hand up through his close-cropped hair then down over the stubble on his jaw, catching himself in the move.
So what if he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all last night? He hadn’t. The news came first. Sophie knew that. Hell, she lived the life as much as he did, only she had to do it live in front of millions of viewers.
She waved from a booth along the far wall of the quaint room and Gary couldn’t help but notice how slender she’d become—not that she’d ever been heavy—but back in the day, the woman had had curves. Serious curves.
He grinned to himself as he crossed the worn linoleum floor, picturing her long brown ponytail shoved up into a baseball cap, her U of D jersey tucked into a pair of tattered jeans, white high-top sneakers on her feet.
What a sight she’d been back then.
Sophie stood and extended her hand.
What a sight she was now.
Gary bypassed the handshake and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. She blinked and a flush of color spread up her face.
She glanced down at the table, apparently waiting for him to slide into his side of the booth. Her close-cropped, dark hair feathered impeccably around the sharp angles of her cheekbones. Small diamond studs sparkled from each earlobe.
Her crisp white blouse looked as though it had been made for her, the seams perfectly hugging her slender shoulders, the sleeves falling smoothly to the shirt’s precise cuffs. A rich brown jacket lay folded on the bench seat next to her, a perfect match for the slim, classic skirt that sheathed her lean hips and thighs.
“I guess you’re wondering why I called.” Sophie’s voice cut through the visual inventory Gary had been taking.
He nodded. She was absolutely right. He was wondering why she’d called. Certainly it hadn’t been for old time’s sake.
Gary knew she had no interest in picking up where they’d left off seven years earlier. She’d made her feelings crystal clear when they’d parted ways, and Gary had no desire to set himself up for that kind of hurt again. Ever.
He inhaled deeply, shoving the old disappointment out of his head. He’d truly loved her back then, but her heart had been cold and sharp-edged when she’d walked away—as cold and sharp-edged as the rest of her body appeared now.
Maybe she’d done him a favor way back when. Since their breakup, he’d avoided personal entanglements, focusing on honing his reporting skills. His stories had progressively grown bigger and broader, and now he’d attracted the interest of the L.A. paper.
Not bad.
Gary dropped onto the bench seat and Sophie mirrored the move.
“What’s up?” he asked, realizing he’d taken far too long to speak.
Her throat worked, and she stared at him as if studying every line and shadow of his face. “It’s been a long time.”
Her voice was soft, bringing memories of the tender times they’d shared rushing back.
Gary nodded, but kept his features expressionless. “You’ve certainly changed.”
Her solemn features broke into a smile, and for an instant he flashed back on the younger, softer Sophie.
The skin around her eyes crinkled. “Can’t say the same for you.”
He glanced down at the creases in his denim shirt and the coffee stain on his rolled-up sleeve. He met her gaze and arched his brows, rubbing a hand across his day-old beard. “We don’t all have to be live at five.”
“I guess we don’t,” she said softly.
“Speaking of which—” Gary took a long sip of the coffee the waitress had poured into his cup “—don’t you have a broadcast to get ready for?”
Sophie nodded, then splayed her hands on the glass tabletop. “I’ve got a little time first. How about you?” She lifted her gaze to his. “Can you give me a half hour or so?”
He could. The question was whether or not he wanted to. “Sure,” he answered, wondering what the woman was up to.
“I wanted to talk to you about the Hernandez story.”
Even though he’d mulled over the possible reasons she might want to see him since her call, it was safe to say the Hernandez case hadn’t appeared anywhere on his mental list.
He narrowed his gaze, his curiosity beginning to percolate. “Go on.”
“How did they work the identification?”
It was a simple question. Too simple for someone like Sophie. She knew the ropes. Hell, she’d covered the story. Gary’s investigative nose began to itch.
“I thought you knew the case.”
“I do.” Her features brightened and she ran the fingers of one hand across the table. To the left, then to the right. To the left. To the right.
She stilled suddenly, catching herself in the nervous move.
“I want to hear it from you. Step by step. Just in case there’s anything I’ve forgotten.”
He frowned, not believing her motivation for a second. “Why?”
“I have a source who’s wondering about a child’s parentage.”
“A kidnapping?” He straightened now, wanting to know every detail.
Sophie shook her head and tucked her wispy brown hair behind her ears. “Not necessarily. Could be mistaken identity.”
He leaned forward, close enough that Sophie sat back, pressing herself against the padded bench seat.
“I’m not following you.”
She measured his expression, her eyes reading his face. She tipped her head and pressed her lips together, her stare never leaving his. “Off the record?”
Now she had his full attention. “Sure.”
“What if a child was presumed dead, but there might be a possibility that child was alive? Where would you start?”
Now Gary was the one who straightened against his seat. “What about the body?”
“No body.” Her features tensed.
Gary pursed his lips. “How?”
“Fire.”
The images crystallized in his mind. The black-and-white of the burned-out home. The photos of the mother and daughter who had perished in the blaze, the child’s remains obliterated by the heat of the inferno.
He’d heard rumor of how crazed Sophie had been after the deaths. Not that he could blame her, but did she really believe anyone could have survived? After five years, hadn’t she let go of the grief and moved on?
“You’re not talking about a source, are you?”
Her eyes widened, as if the fact he’d seen right through her surprised her. She shook her head.
“What brought this on?”
“I saw someone.”
The pain in her voice gripped at his gut and twisted. For a crazy moment, he longed to reach across the table and take her hands. Longed to pull her into his arms and smooth away her heartache. But seven years was a wide void to cover, and he had no intention of bridging that gap.
“Who?”
Sophie shook her head. “No names. Just help me.”
Help her? Words Gary thought he’d never hear uttered from Sophie’s gorgeous lips. She’d never let herself need anyone, had she?
“Please, Gary.” Her eyes pleaded with him now, eradicating any bitter feelings he still held for her. “Tell me where to start.”
And so he detailed every step of the Hernandez case. Every inch of the investigation, the identification, the reunion of the kidnapped child with her mother.
As he walked back toward his car, he found it impossible to quiet the whirling thoughts and questions racing through his brain.
Who had Sophie seen? When? Where?
What had sparked her reporter’s brain to question the validity of her niece’s death?
Then one thought silenced all of the rest.
She’d reached out to him. She’d asked for help.
Maybe Sophie’s sharp edges hadn’t won out yet after all.
“THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T LIKE these fluff pieces,” Cookie said as he drove the WNJZ van across town toward the Alexander home.
