driver’s head.
The woman gave him an address that sounded familiar. Was it Bess’s street?
Think. What could she do? Should she try to fight? To run?
The cold metal of the gun barrel dug into her side. The taxi driver turned up his radio. A country station was playing something about loving and leaving.
“We’re going to Bess’s house?”
“Don’t talk.”
Had Griff said Sparks was going to take him out to the house? Sunny couldn’t remember, but a glimmer of hope fluttered in her chest. “Why there?”
“Bess has something I need. And this way, I can dispose of two problems at the same time.” She pressed the gun deeper into Sunny’s side. “Now tell me what Bess told you.”
“I haven’t been able to see her yet.”
“Not today. Before, when she called you.”
Sunny tried to think like a detective. The woman had to be Jane Gross. The landlord’s description fit her perfectly. There was nothing distinctive about her. She had dull brown hair, a pale face with small, unremarkable features. She was her own perfect disguise. Her description would fit a million women.
The only photos Sunny had seen of Jane were newspaper clippings of political events. It was impossible to say whether this woman was the same person that stood by Ed Gross in those blurry pictures.
But Griff’s photo, and the empty fingers on the glove told the whole story. Certainty gripped Sunny. This woman had stolen Emily. And fifteen years ago, she’d stolen Griff’s sister.
She had to stifle a gasp. She was in the presence of a monster.
She turned and looked directly into Jane Gross’s eyes. “If my baby is dead,” she whispered, “then I don’t care what you do to me.” Griff’s face rose in her mind, right beside her daughter’s, and a suffocating grief swathed her. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she choked back a short, pained sob. But she didn’t look away.
Jane ground her teeth and glanced toward the taxi driver. “Your precious kid is not dead—yet.”
Sunny’s hand flew to her mouth. She sucked air into her burning lungs. Her gaze searched Jane’s dull eyes.
“Don’t lie to me, please.” Hope flared painfully inside her.
Jane rolled her eyes and bared her small teeth. “Stop sniveling or I will shoot you.”
“Who—” Sunny swallowed her tears. She had to concentrate, had to find out everything she could, in case she was able to get away. “Who are you? You’re Jane Gross, aren’t you?”
“I’ll tell you who I am, you stupid busybody. I’m someone you should have left alone. We Specialize in Happy Endings.” Her voice was mocking. “What the hell did you think you were doing? One person’s happy ending can ruin another’s life.”
Sunny nodded numbly. She’d been so naive, so arrogant, thinking she could dispense happiness like Valentine candy. Maybe Griff was right. Maybe there were no happy endings. “But what did I do to you?”
“You meddled in our lives. Brought up things that should have been buried forever.”
“It’s true. Jennifer Curry is your daughter.”
“Shut up! This is all your fault. You deserve to die.”
“That’s what you’re going to do? Kill me?”
“Probably.”
The offhand answer didn’t even frighten Sunny. Only one thing stabbed deep into the empty place where her heart used to be. She’d never see Emily again. A sadness too deep for tears engulfed her.
She thought about Griff, and the way he’d looked at the photographs of his sister. How had he done it? How had he maintained hope through all these years?
Griff. He’d taught her so much in the few days she’d known him. She saw his violet eyes in her mind, electrified by passion, darkened by sadness, soft and warm as he looked at her.
A sense of calm swept through her. If Jane killed her, at least she’d had a taste of her own happy ending. She’d had Emily.
And for one moment out of time, she’d had love. Remembering the compassion and understanding in Griff’s eyes, she knew in her heart that he would make sure Emily was all right.
Suddenly, determination flowed through her. She lifted her chin. She was not ready to give up. Never. As long as she was alive.
“I need to see my baby.”
“Why?” Jane’s voice grated through clenched teeth. “It’s not even your kid. You got it from some little whore who didn’t want it.”
She stared at the other woman, shocked. “Of course she’s mine. I’m her mother. It’s not based on biology. It’s based on love.”
Jane’s brow furrowed for an instant. Sunny watched her. Had something she’d said gotten to her?
“You sentimental little pansy.