Lullabies and Lies - By Mallory Kane Page 0,7
had slipped off the seat. Maybe Emily had somehow fallen. Maybe…”
Suddenly, vividly, the taste of wet paper and leather flooded her mouth and the memory of kneeling there in the backseat of her car, clawing the note from her cheek, reading its ominous contents, overwhelmed her.
She’d stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans as the grocery clerk rushed up. She couldn’t tell anyone about the note. The kidnapper knew her name. He’d threatened to kill Emily.
“Ms. Loveless, I know this is difficult, but I promise you, it will help.”
She didn’t look at the agent. She had to push the grief back, so she could concentrate on her story.
She patted her cheeks, trying to mask the truth, trying to look innocent under the sharp eyes of the FBI agent, acutely aware of the note burning through her pocket to her skin.
The kidnapper was deviously clever. By not giving her any hint of who he was, he’d left Sunny with nothing to gain by telling the police about the note—and everything, her child’s life—to lose.
Tell the police anything about me—
Who? The question had been screaming through her mind for the past two days.
“Ms. Loveless, are you all right?”
She blinked. “Yes. I—I’m fine.”
“You told the police you couldn’t give them a description.”
She met his unreadable gaze. “You’ve read the police report. You know that’s not what I said.” Irritation sharpened her senses. Was he trying to draw her out of the horrible trap of her memories? Or was he hoping to confuse her, to catch her in a lie?
She doubled her hands into fists. “I described the person as medium height, slight build, with a hooded jacket, dark pants and shoes and leather gloves.”
“Leather gloves? You didn’t mention that before.”
Sunny opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d almost said too much. She’d almost told Agent Stone that she’d tasted the leather when the kidnapper had stuffed the note into her mouth.
She shrugged. “Gloves. They smelled like wet leather.”
He jotted something in a small spiral pad. “But you couldn’t make out any features or distinguishing marks?”
Sunny interlaced her fingers on the tabletop, using all her strength to appear honest and innocent as cold terror enveloped her like the embrace of a ghost.
How long could she fool this self-described expert in missing children? He was asking all the right questions. It was as if he knew.
She had noticed a distinguishing feature. Or at least she thought she had.
If she was right, it could be a key to the kidnapper’s identity. And if the kidnapper found out Sunny had talked, he would kill Emily.
She kept her eyes on her fingertips. “No. Nothing,” she lied. “I couldn’t see. The rain was a deluge.”
“What did you do then?”
“The store clerk called the police. She stayed with me until the police got there.”
The memory of those endless hours and the detective’s unrelenting questions sent a shudder through her.
Agent Stone’s eyes narrowed, and Sunny’s senses immediately went on full alert. She had to stay composed.
“I was soaked,” she said lamely.
She could read his mind. He knew she was hiding something. If she were sitting on his side of the table, she’d be thinking the same thing.
He’d probably sat across from a distraught mother or father dozens of times. How many desperate parents had lied to him to protect their children?
Had he already seen through her? She shifted in her seat and the note in her pocket crackled—or was it her guilty imagination?
His eyes never left her face. “You haven’t heard anything from the kidnapper? No phone calls? No notes?”
“I’ve already been through all this,” she countered, hearing the tension in her voice. “Why aren’t you out there looking for my baby instead of wasting time asking me questions I’ve already answered?”
“I told you. I need to hear your answers firsthand.”
“What’s the point? My story is not going to change. I can’t tell you where Emily is. Don’t you think I wish I could?” Sunny avoided his probing gaze. She didn’t like his changeable eyes, or his gruff voice.
“You might be surprised how much you’ve already told me.”
His voice was soothing, encouraging, but the words sent terror streaking through her. His features were etched with determination. His body telegraphed protection and strength.
God she wanted to trust him. If anyone could help her find her daughter, Sunny believed this man could. If only she dared confide in him. She ducked her head, looking down at her hands. Her knuckles whitened as she squeezed her fingers together, forcing herself to stay strong,