Lullabies and Lies - By Mallory Kane Page 0,60
world without Emily. A world where she woke up every morning and asked herself whether there was something she could have done. Whether she could live another day without her baby.
“Oh, my God, Griff. How can you bear it?”
The look on his face gave her the answer. He couldn’t, and yet he did. Each day of the past fifteen years was carved into the granitelike harshness of his jaw.
She looked at his laptop, then back at him. “That’s how,” she whispered. “That’s why you do this.”
“Get dressed, Sunny. We need to talk to the Crime Scene unit, and check on Bess Raymond.” He grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it over his head.
“No. I want to see those pictures.”
“I thought you wanted to find Emily,” he threw at her.
She lifted her chin. “I saw something in one of them. It’s important.”
Griff ran his hands down the T-shirt to smooth it before tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. He was a little surprised to find that he still had skin.
Sunny had flayed him wide open with her questions and insights. And now she wanted to see his photographs? His private failure? He’d never shown anyone as much as she’d dug out of him in these past five days.
“No.”
“Griff, please. I need to see it again. I may have—recognized someone.”
“Recognized someone? Who?” He studied her keenly. What was she up to? Her number-one priority was finding her daughter. Why did she suddenly want to delay to look at his photos?
Her gaze was sharp, earnest, determined. She wasn’t lying. But what was she talking about? He glanced at his watch. Seven thirty.
“Those photos were taken fifteen years ago, in Centennial Park on a Sunday. It’s entirely possible that someone you knew might have been there, and gotten into one of the pictures.”
“That’s not it.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I can’t explain it. But I have to look again.”
She looked up at him with those trusting, sad green eyes. “It has something to do with Emily, I’m sure of it.”
Griff sat at the desk and opened the laptop. He accessed the graphics files where his photographs were stored. He had to steel himself to look at the file names.
Sunny read them. “Marianne, Parthenon, dog with Frisbee, Marianne stroller—that one. Try Marianne stroller.”
Griff opened the file. “That’s the very last photo I took of Marianne.” Never-shed tears roughened his voice.
Sunny laid her hand on his arm and the gentle understanding of her touch almost undid him. He clenched his jaw and concentrated all his strength on remaining detached.
“I turned around and saw the dog chasing the Frisbee. I moved a few steps away, sighting through the camera lens to catch the best shot. When I turned back, Marianne’s—” he had to stop and clear his throat “—Marianne’s stroller was lying on its side and she was gone.”
His eyes devoured the pretty round face, with the dark, dark lashes and deep violet eyes that were so much like his own. “She was so beautiful,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
He wiped his eyes, trying to make it an offhand gesture. Sunny’s fingers tightened on his arm, so he doubted he’d pulled it off.
“Yeah. Me, too. So what did you see in the photo?” He shifted and straightened.
Sunny let go of his arm. She leaned in, studying the people in the photo. “Can you zoom in?”
“Sure. Here’s the zoom. Go ahead.” He stood. “I’m going to call the hospital, see if Bess has woken up.”
Sunny sat back and looked at the entire photograph as Griff keyed in the hospital’s number. She’d noticed something as the photo had appeared and disappeared on the screen saver. But looking at it now, she couldn’t identify anything in particular that was odd or noticeable.
It was a pleasant photo of a pleasant afternoon in the park. The replica of the Parthenon filled the background. Couples sat on the steps, arms intertwined, heads close together. People milled about, either alone or with others.
On the other side of the room, she heard Griff asking about Bess. From his tone, it sounded as though she hadn’t regained consciousness.
Sunny glanced at him. He met her gaze and shook his head. What if Bess never woke up? She was the only one who knew where Emily was.
The anguish of the empty years ahead nearly crushed her soul. She had to find Emily. She would.
She turned her attention back to the photo. There was something important in this picture. She was sure of it. She