The Cop's Missing Child. Karen Whiddon
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urge to run away, to quit her job, drive home immediately, pack her and Ryan’s things and get the hell out of Texas. She wanted to run … again … away from anything she perceived as a threat … away from him.
She took a few deep breaths. Sally returned, bearing the promised water. As Emily opened her mouth to speak, the phone rang. Waving her thanks to Sally, Emily answered, keeping her voice steady and professionally polite.
After she completed that booking—a morning spay—some clients came in: the Jones family with their three pugs. After that, a steady stream of phone calls and customers kept her busy. Somehow the afternoon flew by without her once thinking about Mac Riordan and the danger of his beautiful, casual smile.
Finally, the last appointment left and Emily locked the front door. She rushed through her normal closing duties, straightening the waiting room magazines and making sure the front door glass was smudge free. If she hurried, she’d make it to Mim’s Day Care where her son attended the after school program half an hour before closing time, and she and Ryan could swing by the grocery store and pick up the boxes of macaroni and cheese she’d been promising to make him, along with his beloved hot dogs, for supper.
The next morning, Emily woke with a renewed sense of purpose. She refused to allow herself to be run out of town. She just had to figure out the best way to fight. Sure, Mac Riordan was handsome and a charmer, but Carlos had been the same. She knew how to deal with men like him, even if it meant pushing away the simmering attraction she felt for him.
Feeling strong, she went to wake Ryan.
She sat down on the edge of his rumpled bed and watched him sleep, her heart bursting with love. As usual, seconds after she touched his shoulder, her son opened his eyes wide and held out his arms from a hug. Her throat clogged and her eyes filled as she wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the shampoo scent in his clean hair.
“I love you, mama,” he murmured, his voice full of sleep and sounding younger than his five years.
She cleared her throat, smiling mistily. “I love you too, Ryan.”
As she poured him cereal, a good compromise between the sugary one he’d wanted and the totally healthy one she had chosen, she found herself taking comfort in the familiar routine. No matter what kind of day she had at work, sharing her mornings with Ryan and looking forward to the evening ahead kept her motivated to have a positive day.
After breakfast, she followed him to his room to check out his clothing choices. Once she’d approved those, which happened more and more often these days, she grabbed the car key, buckled her son in his car seat and left.
“Have a good day.” Leaning down to kiss her squirming son’s cheek, she breathed in the apple juice and soap scent of him and wished the knot in her chest would ease.
“I will.” Ryan shifted from one foot to the other, clearly eager to hurry inside his kindergarten classroom but equally loathe to abandon his mother.
“Go on, then.” She gave him a tiny push, smiling as he tore off without another glance at her.
Looking at her watch as she left the elementary school, she waved at Mrs. Parsons, the assistant principal who always took morning duty at the front door, before hurrying to her car. The small gray Honda had been old when she’d purchased it, but it was clean, dent-free and it ran well, which was all she cared about. Every day she had to get Ryan to school and then pick him up from day care after. That, combined with her job and weekly trips to the grocery store, didn’t seem to be more than the little car could handle.
Now though, she had one more errand she wanted to run before she had to be at work. Emily planned to pay a visit to the sheriff’s office. One thing she’d learned being married to Carlos had been that the squeaky wheel got the grease. If she didn’t push, she knew they’d ignore her worries over the anonymous letter. They had no idea of her life story and the reason she took such things seriously, and if she had her way, they never would. That said, she had no intention of ending up one of those horrific stories you see on the evening news.
She’d make sure the Anniversary Police Department viewed her threatening letter as … well, as threatening as she did.
Already in her office, Renee Beauchamp looked up as Emily approached. Though her brown eyes appeared bright, the faint dark circles under told a different story.
“Good morning,” Emily said firmly, stepping into the sheriff’s office uninvited and taking a seat in one of the two chrome-and-cloth chairs facing the desk. “I’d like a moment of your time.”
Renee nodded, her expression showing nothing but professional interest. “What can I do for you, Ms.
Gilley?”
“I’m here to find out what you’ve learned about the letter.” Another trick Emily had learned was to state things as though they were fact, rather than ask questions. This conveyed both a sense of confidence and of purpose.
“Nothing, actually.” Renee steepled her fingers on the desk in front of her. “We’ve had very little to go on, and since there was no specific threat—”
“Oh, but there was,” Emily interrupted firmly. Pulling her copy from her purse, she read the relevant line. “I know what you’ve done. You’ve stolen what is mine and you’ll pay for what you did. Tell the truth, or risk everything.”
Nodding, Renee leaned forward. “While I appreciate and understand your concern, the letter is too vague. If, for example, it read ‘I’m going to plant a bomb in your garage’ or something, we’d have cause to act. But the wording ‘you’ll pay’ conveys nothing.”
Biting back an instinctive response, Emily swallowed back her anger. Just because the sheriff spoke factually didn’t mean she didn’t have a private, visceral reaction. As a woman, she must. Emily knew she had to appeal to this if she wanted help.
“Do you have children, Renee?” Emily asked softly.
A quick shadow appeared in Renee’s eyes, then vanished. “No, I don’t.”
She held up her hand as Emily opened her mouth to speak. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t get where you’re coming from.”
“Then how can you tell me it’s not a threat?”
“Because the letter did not directly threaten you or your son,” Renee said gently. “And if you read it again, you’ll see there is absolutely no specific threat in there—at all.”
Incredulous, Emily had to force herself to close her mouth. “You honestly don’t believe ‘you’ll pay for taking him’ puts me—or him—in any danger?”
“Ms. Gilley—”
Bulldozing through whatever platitude the other woman was about to offer, Emily stood. “Ryan is adopted, Renee. I know you had no way of knowing that, but I can’t help feel this letter is somehow related to that.”
A tiny frown appeared between the sheriff’s perfectly arched eyebrows. She sat up straighter, giving Emily a piercing look. “All right. I’ll check it out. I’ll need to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course.” Emily watched while Renee grabbed a pen and pad.
“Did you go through a service, or was the adoption privately arranged?”
“It was private.” Emily managed to sound confident. “My former husband—I’m a widow—handled everything. But I located all the records he gave me back then and would be glad to provide you with copies.”
“I’d like that.” The sheriff stood, holding out her hand. “Just bring them by at your earliest convenience.”
Standing also, Emily shook hands. It was almost time for her to head to work. “Thank you. I will.”
“Have a good day.”
“Oh, I have one last question.” Turning in the doorway, Emily tried for both a casual