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“I didn’t kidnap Jubilee. Tabitha asked me to bring her to her father.”
“Tabitha. Right.” The disgust in August’s voice was obvious.
Malone didn’t question it.
He didn’t want any part in family drama.
He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. He loved his siblings and his cousins, and he hadn’t minded helping to raise them, but he’d done his time, and now he enjoyed the freedom that came with being single.
Most of the time he enjoyed it.
Lately, he’d been a little tired of returning to his empty apartment, sitting up late at night, dozens of memories filling his head. He had his demons. A man couldn’t do the kind of work Malone did without them. Some days, he wished that he had someone to fight them with.
That was the truth.
One he didn’t like to admit even to himself.
“Tabitha really has changed,” Quinn whispered as if somehow that would keep Jubilee from hearing.
August snorted.
“She has!”
“We’ll see if you still feel that way when you’re sitting at the local sheriff’s office explaining why you’ve transported a missing child across state lines.”
“What are you talking about, August? I did what her mother asked me to do.”
“If this little girl is Daniel Boone Anderson’s daughter, then Tabitha is not her mother. I’ve done a little research while I was waiting. Anderson’s daughter was kidnapped by his former wife.”
Jubilee stiffened, her muscles going taut, her little hands pushing against Malone’s chest. She might not be saying a word, but she understood everything they were talking about, and it was upsetting her.
“That’s enough, McConnell,” Malone said quietly. He didn’t want to scare the little girl more than she’d already been.
August didn’t get the hint. He just kept talking. “Nothing to say to that, sis? You’ve always been quick to defend people. Even people who don’t deserve it. Tabitha is not just a thief and a liar. She’s a kidn—”
“I said,” Malone cut in, “that’s enough.”
“Not nearly,” August replied.
“How about you stop thinking about your vendetta against your sister long enough to consider the kid’s feelings?” Malone growled.
That shut August up.
Up ahead, blue-and-white lights flashed through the trees, the tinny sound of a police radio drifting on the chilly night air.
“Looks like they’re there,” August said. “I’ll run ahead and fill them in.”
He sprinted forward, and Quinn muttered something Malone couldn’t hear.
“What’s that?” he asked, glancing in her direction. Strobe lights splashed across her face. There were scrapes on her neck and on her cheeks. Probably from hiding in the tree throw and running through the woods.
“Nothing I want to repeat in front of Jubilee.” She took the little girl from his arms, hugged her tight. “Everything is going to be okay, sweetie. I know it will be.”
She couldn’t know it. Not with any certainty. Life played out the way it did. God did what He would. All they could really do was trust that He had things in control.
Malone didn’t correct her.
There wasn’t any sense in that.
Besides, Jubilee deserved a little comfort before she got handed over to more strangers.
And then to Boone?
Malone hoped so. That was the goal. Get her back to her biological father.
If she was Boone’s kid.
One way or another, the police would figure things out. Before they did, they’d probably hand Jubilee over to Child Protective Services. Which was a shame, because Boone wouldn’t be in-country for another...Malone glanced at his watch...twenty-nine and a half hours. He’d want to see the girl as soon as he arrived. That might be difficult if CPS secreted her away.
Still...
If she was Boone’s kid?
That would be something.
Everyone who worked for HEART knew how long and hard Boone had hunted for his daughter. She’d disappeared while he’d been overseas, serving his country. His first wife had joined a cult and taken their newborn baby with her. By the time Boone returned to the States, everything he’d thought he’d had was gone—his wife, kid, money. All of it had gone to the cult.
He’d hired a lawyer, petitioned for custody, but his wife had gone so deep into the cult it had been difficult to find her. She’d died of a drug overdose a few months later, their daughter taken by members of the cult. Despite the efforts of police and FBI, she’d never been found.
Eventually the case had gone cold, but Boone hadn’t given up. Even after he’d married again, he’d kept looking.
If this was his daughter, all those years of believing she’d eventually be found, all those years of following dead-end leads, tracking down friends of friends of his deceased wife, would pay off. All that hope that Boone had held out, all the belief and faith he’d poured into the search? It would be worth it.
That would be nice to see.
Malone considered himself a cynic, a little rough-edged and definitely more logical than emotional, but even he liked a good story and a happy ending.
If Jubilee was Boone’s little girl, that would be the kind of happy ending everyone at HEART worked for. A coup for the entire team; and something that would be celebrated by everyone.
If...
The story Quinn had told her brother didn’t jive with what Malone knew. According to Quinn, the five-year-old had been living with a real estate broker named Jarrod Williams. If he had any ties to the cult Boone’s first wife had joined, Chance hadn’t been able to find it.
A little more time would bring everything to light. It usually did. For now, they had to keep track of Jubilee, make certain that she didn’t disappear again, and convince the police that she really could be Boone’s child.
He glanced at Quinn again, her small frame drowning in the oversize sweatshirt, her hair just brushing its collar. If she hadn’t called her brother, if she hadn’t told him when to expect her, she might still be hiding from the men who’d followed her from Maine.
Or worse.
She might be dead.
They’d have to make sure she stayed safe, too.
They?
He was on vacation.
As soon as Chance showed up, he was going back to it.
Until he showed up, though, Malone would stick around. He always completed his missions. This time would be no different. He just hoped that finishing it didn’t mean sticking around for days or weeks. That seemed to be the way things went—he agreed to help for a few hours and ended up helping for a lot longer.
He pushed through a thick stand of trees, stepping off the path and into a small field that butted up against a wide well-manicured yard. The small ranch house August lived in was just ahead, the glow of the porch light faded beneath the onslaught of emergency lights. Three police cars were parked in the driveway, and two officers stood on the porch, talking to August.
“Looks like this is it,” Quinn said so quietly he almost didn’t hear. Then she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and marched toward them.
THREE (#ulink_de835aa6-1285-5ea0-bc3d-eb6b6a07738a)
No record of Tabitha McConnell ever giving birth.
No adoption records.
No evidence that there is any connection between Jubilee and your sister.
The words spilled out of the mouth of the stunning brunette who sat across the table from Quinn. Flawless skin, beautiful tailored suit, Special Agent Veronica Spellings looked like a model and acted exactly like what she was—a federal investigator. She’d arrived an hour ago, and she’d been all business ever since. Questions. Jotted notes. Sympathetic looks mixed with a few raised eyebrows.
“Take a look at this,” she said, sliding a paper across August’s kitchen table, her dark eyes devoid of emotion. She had short nails and long fingers, the diamond ring that glinted on her left hand almost gaudy in comparison to the woman’s conservative suit.
Quinn lifted the paper, eyeing the colored photo of a pretty blonde, a tall red-haired man and an infant. The woman held the baby as though she wasn’t quite comfortable with it, her smile a little forced. She had dark circles under her eyes and the look of someone who was deeply unhappy. Beside her, the man stood grinning at the camera. His hand cupped the woman’s shoulder, and the joy in his face was undeniable.
“That’s Megan and Daniel Boone Anderson, and their daughter, Kendal. The picture was taken a month before Megan and Kendal disappeared. Megan died a few months later. Kendal has been missing ever since.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn murmured. She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“That was five years ago. The baby would be Jubilee’s age now. Mr. Anderson has moved on, of course. He has a family. Children, but he’s still desperate to find his daughter. He’s never stopped looking for her.” Agent Spellings eyed Quinn expectantly.
Quinn knew she was supposed to respond. Maybe with a gasp or a denial—No way! The baby in the picture isn’t Jubilee.
She couldn’t deny what she didn’t know, though.
She wanted to believe Tabitha, but the evidence Agent Spellings had laid out was undeniable. Up until Tabitha had moved to Nevada a year and a half ago, she hadn’t had a child. Friends at her old apartment had never seen her with a little girl. Her coworkers hadn’t ever heard her speak about being a mother.
The FBI had moved fast, gathering information a lot more quickly than Quinn ever could have, and the information indicated that Tabitha had lied.
Quinn couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t brush it under the carpet and pretend it didn’t exist. But, she wouldn’t regret the decision she’d made, either. Jubilee deserved to be with someone who loved her, who had been desperately seeking her for years. If she was Daniel Boone Anderson’s child, she deserved to be part of his family.
“I’m sorry for what happened, but I don’t know anything about it.” She fingered the photo before sliding it back across August’s kitchen table. She and Agent Spellings had been left alone in the room, a half dozen police officers and two other agents vacating the kitchen and escorting August and Malone out with them. A CPS caseworker had arrived and taken Jubilee into another part of the house.
Hopefully, she hadn’t taken the little girl away.
Jubilee might not be her niece, but Quinn felt responsible for her.
“You’re sorry, but do you understand the ramifications of what you and your sister have done?”
“Of course, I understand, but I had no reason to doubt my sister’s story.”
“Except that you hadn’t seen her in years,” Agent Spellings pointed out.
“She’s family.” That was it. All Quinn was going to say. If she needed a lawyer, she’d get one. Right now, she just wanted to be done and go home.
“I understand. I have sisters, too. I know how deep the bond can run.” Agent Spellings sighed. “You’re not in any trouble with us, Quinn, but we would like to speak with your sister.”
“If I knew where she was, I’d tell you.”
“I hope so.” The agent switched gears, pulled something out of a briefcase. “We found this in your car.” Agent Spellings set a manila envelope on the table, Tabitha’s handwriting scrawled across the front. It had been sealed when Quinn fled the SUV. Now the flap was open.
“Tabitha gave it to me.”
“And you didn’t open it?”
“She asked me not to.”
Agent Spellings raised a dark eyebrow. Obviously, she doubted Quinn’s answer.
“She asked me to give it to Jubilee’s father,” Quinn continued, her tone a little more defensive than she wanted it to be.
“I would have been curious enough to open it,” Agent Spellings countered. “Most people would have done the same.”
“I’m not most people. Jubilee’s father’s contact information was on the envelope. I didn’t have any need to see what was inside of it, and I had no reason to doubt my sister’s word.”
Agent Spellings snorted, the first time she’d done anything that was less than professional. “Of course you did. Your sister is as much of a con artist as your father was.”
It was a low blow, and one Quinn wasn’t expecting. Obviously, Jubilee and Tabitha weren’t the only ones the FBI had been investigating.
“What does that have to do with anything?” she hedged, not sure where the conversation was going but certain she wasn’t going to like it.
“Did you really think she wasn’t conning you, Quinn? That she didn’t know you were going to become bait? A way of getting whoever was after her off her tail?”
“All I know is that she was dead serious when she said she was afraid of her husband. She wasn’t conning me when she said he’d kill her when he found her.”
“Believing people we love is a lot easier than realizing we’ve been fooled and used by them.”
“I’m not a fool, Agent Spellings. Living with my father taught me how to know a lie from the truth.”
Agent Spellings sighed. “Then, maybe she was afraid but maybe it was because she took thousands of dollars from her husband’s bank account and stole a small fortune worth of family jewelry from his wall safe.”
“Who told you she did that?”
“A police report was filed in Las Vegas last night. We’re trying to get in touch with your sister’s husband now. He flew out of town on business a few hours after he filed the report.”
