Lullabies and Lies - By Mallory Kane Page 0,23
is—”
Sunny’s anguished gaze met his, and a flame of fury glinted in her green eyes. “Do you have children, Agent Stone?” she asked coldly.
He winced. “No.”
She lifted her chin as a single tear rolled down her cheek. “Then you cannot possibly know how hard this is.”
Chapter Four
Griff felt as if she’d slapped him.
During his years with the FBI, he’d heard those words before. And each time he heard them, they tore another hole in his heart.
He’d consoled frantic parents whose desperate fear turned into rage against the people who were trying to help them, because they couldn’t get to the kidnappers. So he’d always responded with respect, concern and assurance. Usually his calm demeanor consoled the terrified families.
He’d never taken it personally. His feelings didn’t matter. He was a professional. His job was not to share his private anguish, it was to offer comfort and find the truth. He’d never even been tempted to share his own personal feelings.
Until now.
He clenched his jaw against the urge to tell Sunny that he did know exactly how hard it was for her, that he’d been through it all himself. It would do her no good to know that he spent a part of every single day searching for his sister.
“I apologize, Ms. Loveless,” he said. “You’re right.”
Sunny looked at him curiously, her hands squeezed so tightly together that her knuckles were stark white.
“Some of the very best agents the FBI has are working on your little girl’s case right now. What I need from you is a promise to cooperate fully. The more we know, the better our chances. You can’t do this alone.”
Sunny nodded, her head bent. “I know that.” She lifted her head, her face taut with pain. “I hope I haven’t waited too long.
Her lower lip trembled. A tear gathered at the corner of her eye and slipped down her cheek.
He knew she was terrified of what the kidnapper might do.
So was he.
He read through the second note again.
Remember, I’m watching you.
“Have you noticed anyone following you? Any cars sitting outside?”
“People park on the street. I haven’t noticed any strange vehicles, but I’ve had other things on my mind. You should ask Lil.”
“I will.” He gestured. “You’re sure you don’t have any idea what the kidnapper is hiding?”
“I’m sure. I’ve never had an unhappy client.”
“Never? What about Jennifer? I’m sure there are others you haven’t been able to help.”
“Well, yes, but I’ve given each of them a full refund. I wouldn’t classify them as unhappy.”
“It doesn’t have to be an unhappy client. For instance, what was your most recent case?” Griff knew about all her cases, but he wanted her to talk about them. She’d been there, seen things that wouldn’t be found in a case file.
She sniffed impatiently. “A couple of weeks ago an elderly lady hired me to contact the members of her high school cheerleading squad. It was very simple. I found most of them via the Internet. The rest I located through friends and alumni records from the high school. She’s planning a reunion now.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. The people I help have nothing against me. Why would they steal my daughter?”
“What if one of those cheerleaders had just poisoned her son-in-law because he’d been beating his wife, her daughter?”
“Are you kidding me?” Sunny laughed in disbelief.
Griff spread his hands. “Not the greatest example in the world, but in working on a case, you could innocently stumble upon a crime in progress, or someone like Gross, who’s running for office and doesn’t want his dirty laundry aired. Your questions could push an unstable person over the edge.”
Sunny’s eyes narrowed.
Good. Griff felt a surge of triumph. She was getting over the idea of her clients as innocent people she was bound to protect.
“You need to change the way you think about your cases. Forget the happy endings cr—stuff. Think of each client as a suspect, guilty until proven innocent.”
Her brow furrowed and her eyes snapped with irritation. “That defeats the whole purpose of my—”
“Tell me about every case you’ve ever had, no matter how small, starting with the cheerleaders. Were any of the ladies reluctant—” Griff stopped when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID. It was Lieutenant Carver.
“Carver, what have you got?”
“Looks like Mabry’s death is going to be ruled accidental.”
Griff balled his fist. “Damn it. I need to see the CSI report and the medical examiner’s findings.”
“I’ll arrange it. Meanwhile, I do have some good news. Brittany