Lullabies and Lies - By Mallory Kane Page 0,70
room, Mia.”
Mia stared wide-eyed at Sunny.
“Go,” Sunny said, hoping Mia had sense enough to keep going, right out to her car. “Take Emily and go.”
Jane let go of the girl and pushed her out of the way.
Mia bent and picked up Emily’s infant carrier, then disappeared through the door, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floors. Sunny’s heart shattered. She swallowed a sob.
“Give it to me.”
“First, tell me what I did to you.”
Jane laughed, a harsh sound that ended in a cough. “I don’t have time for the TV show wrap-up. Sorry. Besides, if you’re too dumb to know—”
Sunny played to Jane’s arrogance. “Then shoot me. But I think you have the wrong person. I’ve never even met you.”
“How can the world be so full of stupid people? You went to see Eddie. You got him all upset about that girl.”
“That girl is your child.”
“Oh please. Now you sound like Eddie.”
“Eddie wanted his daughter, didn’t he?” Sunny knew she was treading on dangerous ground. But she had nothing to lose. Jane was going to kill her anyway. If she could keep her talking long enough for Mia to get Emily to safety…
“Eddie’s a sentimental old fool. I’m about to make him a congressman. And now you show up and ruin everything. You already had old Mabry stirred up. He’d totally forgotten about us until you started asking your questions.”
“I don’t understand.”
Jane rolled her eyes and took two steps forward, pointing the gun at Sunny’s heart. “Mabry knew the date we left. When you mentioned the date to Eddie, I knew you’d figured it all out.”
The date. Sunny tried to ignore the gun. What was so important about the date?
“June 30th,” she muttered. In her mind’s eye, she saw the entry in Griff’s database. June 30, 1991 was the same day Griff’s sister had disappeared. Then she remembered an article in the newspaper archives about a stolen child.
Oh dear God! “You stole Marianne. The toddler in Centennial Park, fifteen years ago.”
“See!” Jane waved the gun. “You’ve figured it all out. Now you have to die.”
Chapter Eleven
Griff watched as the back door opened. He trained his gun on it, his heart beating so wildly that he could hardly hold the weapon steady.
A dark-haired teenager carrying an infant carrier ran out the door toward her car. It had to be Mia.
He stepped in front of her, holstering his gun.
When she saw him she gasped and opened her mouth to scream, but he held out his badge. “Shh. I’m Griff Stone. I talked to you on the phone about your mother,” he said softly, keeping an eye on the back door and his gun hand ready at his side. “Is that Emily?”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “I don’t understand—”
“Who’s in the house?”
“Aunt Janie, and Emily’s mother, I think.” She wiped her eyes. “She has Mom’s book.”
“Get in your car and drive to McCarthy Avenue. There are police there. They’ll take care of you.”
The girl nodded, but she didn’t move.
“Go on,” he said gently.
He turned toward the door, his limbs tingling with a combination of relief and fear.
Emily was safe. Thank God.
But what about Sunny? Worry ate at his gut. He moved carefully toward the back door and eased it open. It was dark inside the house. He blinked and shook his head, hoping his eyes would dark-adapt quickly.
He heard voices.
Carefully, he moved through the kitchen into the dining room. The murmur of voices increased in volume. He recognized Sunny’s voice, and the familiar melodic tones nearly undid him. She was all right, so far. Hot relief tightened his scalp.
Then he heard the other voice—harsh, nervous. It was Jane. At least she was talking.
Just as he approached the archway into the living room, the voices stopped.
He heard the creak of unoiled wheels rolling over wood.
Then a gunshot.
Oh God, no!
He rounded the doorway, weapon up, ready to fire. For a horrible instant, he couldn’t see anything in the darkness. Then a shadow moved.
Both women were down!
“Sunny!” he shouted.
The figure closest to him shoved a desk chair in his direction and he saw the glint of sunlight on metal.
He dived to the floor and rolled just as a bullet whizzed past his ear. Damn it, he couldn’t fire. He didn’t know where Sunny was.
“Griff!”
Her voice came from his left.
He turned away from the voice and toward the source of the bullet, catching another flash of light. He vaulted up and toward the glint. His hand knocked the gun away as he slammed into the slight body in his path.
Jane