Lullabies and Lies - By Mallory Kane Page 0,32

day, starting at three o’clock this morning when Carver had called him about Mabry’s suspicious death.

He paced deliberately in front of the glass wall that looked out over the Nashville skyline and tried to think about the M.E.’s report on Mabry’s death. It didn’t work. All he could see before his eyes was the hurt in Sunny’s expression when he’d snapped at her.

There are no happy endings. It had been a cruel and thoughtless comment, born from his own pain—his own failure. He’d been focused inward on the grief that had consumed him ever since he got here.

Nashville. That was the problem. The city where he’d grown up was calling to him, reminding him, accusing him.

He stared out over the city’s streets, laid out like the spokes of a wheel. They were fast turning shiny and reflective with the rain that had begun to fall.

Nashville had changed a lot since he’d been gone, yet the skyline remained familiar. He knew exactly where Centennial Park was. His gaze zeroed in on the lights that defined the downtown park with its replica of the ancient Parthenon.

Old grief settled deep in his belly. He turned away from the window, and his gaze landed on the screen of his laptop. The screen saver had come on.

Outside, the city taunted him with whispers of traffic and rain as he stared at the slide show of pictures from that fateful summer day when he’d taken his toddler sister to that very park.

If he hadn’t been so interested in his new camera, if he hadn’t turned his back on Marianne’s stroller to snap a picture of a dog jumping to catch a Frisbee…

He muttered a curse, and took two giant strides over to the desk and shut off the computer.

If he hadn’t…

But he had. That few seconds of distraction had given Marianne’s abductor time to grab her and run.

He kept the photos on his screen saver, not to remind him of that day—he needed no help with that—but to keep his sister’s face in his mind.

To keep her alive.

He slid his laptop into its case and locked it, mindful of the FBI case notes and files it contained. He took it everywhere. He even kept a change of clothes and a few sundries in the compact case.

Back at the window, he pulled the drapes. With the city hidden behind yards of material, maybe he could get some sleep.

He looked at his watch. Ten o’clock. He was exhausted, but he was too antsy to rest. He couldn’t sit, couldn’t relax. He sure as hell had no hope of sleeping.

He wondered how Sunny was doing. It had been a long day for her, too. First, he’d shocked her with the information about Mabry’s death.

Then there had been the fake bomb, which he still didn’t understand. Even though Burt Means theoretically had access to blasting caps, the gratuitous display didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the case. There was a chance it was coincidental, but he didn’t think so. It seemed more like a diversionary tactic.

Whatever its purpose, it had certainly spooked Sunny. Then to top it all off, he’d slammed her in the face with his cruel remark about happy endings, then put her through the third degree, questioning her for hours about every case she’d ever handled.

She’d been pale and drawn by the time he’d left to check in with Carver about the package. Her friend Lillian had been there, eyeing him with her sharp, disapproving gaze. She thought he was being too hard on Sunny.

He was. But he had to make sure she didn’t hide any more information from him. And if he had to destroy her rosy dreams in order to save her child, he would.

Feeling a little dirty, he took a quick shower, telling himself it would make him feel drowsy. It didn’t work. He couldn’t get Sunny Loveless’s hurt green eyes out of his mind.

He knew she was all right—she had Lillian to take care of her. But he’d feel better if he heard her say it. He didn’t allow himself to consider any other motive as he took out his cell phone and dialed her home number.

No answer.

His first instinct was to rush over to her house, but he stopped and forced himself to think logically. Maybe Lillian had managed to get her to go to bed early.

He looked toward his own bed and sighed. It was no use. He’d never get to sleep until he’d checked on her.

He pulled on