Nanny Witness. Hope White
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been so utterly selfish as a teenager. He hadn’t prevented Harry from getting hurt.
Ever since Whit’s brush with death on the job, he’d been determined to heal his relationship with Harry. Whit wanted to be a good brother, and a loving uncle to Mia.
“She’s turning onto Mountain Pass drive,” Steve said.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Narrow road. Sharp turns.”
Whit relayed the information to the 9-1-1 operator.
“I’m sending deputies to intercept her,” the operator said.
“Thanks.” Whit turned to Steve. “Let’s not crowd her.” He certainly didn’t want her rolling the van with his niece in the back seat.
Whit’s eyes burned as he stared ahead at the kidnapper’s vehicle. They would lose the white minivan to a sharp turn, and then catch sight of it again. It was awfully bold of the kidnapper to walk into a hospital, pretend to be a family member and leave with the child.
Bold and criminal.
“She won’t get far,” Steve said, trying to make Whit feel better.
Steve approached a sharp turn a little too fast and they came dangerously close to skidding off into a ravine.
“Sorry, I’ll slow it down,” he said.
Whit nodded, his vocal cords tied into knots. He used to love the adrenaline rush, the buzz of a chase, although not when it involved one of his own, and there were very few of those left in his life. His serious romantic relationships couldn’t withstand his commitment to the job, and he’d grown distant from his work family because of his medical leave.
He found himself at an impasse, possibly forced to sit behind a desk for the rest of his career. It wasn’t the same as being out in the field, of leading an investigation. He wasn’t sure what the future held professionally, what he’d end up doing.
That untethered feeling made him realize how important it was to have a support system, a real family. He and his half sister, Beth, had reconnected, and he thought he was on the right track with Harry, until he’d stopped returning Whit’s calls.
“Where’d she go?” Steve peered out the window.
“Down on the right?” Whit craned his neck, hoping to see the minivan.
They reached a four-way stop and looked both directions.
The minivan, with his niece in the back seat, was gone.
* * *
Never talk to police, her mother’s voice whispered in the recesses of her mind. The family code.
By now Carly should want nothing to do with her family, their advice, their lies. Yet childhood trauma was imprinted on her heart.
If you talk to police, they will take Greta away.
Carly readjusted her position in the interrogation room chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She was proud of herself for remaining calm and not allowing her past to cause her to have a total meltdown. After all, the last time she’d been questioned by police she was a naive thirteen-year-old who’d been played by her mother and cajoled by authorities.
No one had cared about Carly’s well-being. They all had their own agendas: her parents wanted her gone and the cops wanted to finish their paperwork.
Still, when Carly stepped into this room with the one table and chairs on either side, the past flashed through her mind.
The fight with her mother.
Hiding Greta in her room to protect her.
Police breaking down the door. Put down the knife.
“So, you’ve been employed by the Bremertons for six months?” Detective Harper asked.
“Yes, since the baby was a month old.”
Harper had asked that twice already.
“And the vehicle you saw blocking your car was a dark SUV?”
That was the third time he’d asked that one.
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t see the plate numbers?”
She was done with this irritating line of questioning. She assumed he was stalling until he could somehow get more information about her juvenile crime.
“Shouldn’t you be looking for Mr. and Mrs. B.?”
“Maybe if you gave me more information it would help me find them.”
Right, keep her talking until she said something he could use against her. She knew how it worked.
“Detective, I have been chased, shot at and assaulted,” Carly said. “I’m tired and would like to leave now.”
Harper shot her a displeased look, but she wouldn’t be intimidated. She wasn’t that thirteen-year-old girl, scared, alone and charged with felony menacing because she’d been trying to protect her little sister.
“I’ve answered your questions. Am I free to go?” she pushed.
“You haven’t answered the most critical one—what were you charged with when you were thirteen?”
She clenched her jaw and stared at the door behind him. Giving Harper that piece of her history would convince him she was guilty of something, anything. Today she was guilty only of loving and wanting to protect baby Mia.
“Lawyer, please,” she said.
Harper’s eye twitched.
A young deputy in his twenties popped his head into the room. “Detective, an emergency call just came in. A child’s been abducted from Saint Mary’s Hospital.”
Carly stood. “Mia?”
Detective Harper turned to her. “What do you know about this?”
“What could I possibly know? I’ve been in here with you.”
He narrowed his eyes as if assessing her honesty. Finally, he said, “You’re free to go. Not back to the Bremerton estate. It’s a crime scene.”
“My car’s there, and my clothes.”
He nodded at the young deputy. “Schneider, give Miss Winslow a ride to her car and make sure she vacates the premises without taking anything from the house.” Harper turned back to Carly. “I’d prefer you not leave Summit County.”
Oh, she had no plans to leave the county or even the small town of Miner, Colorado. Carly wasn’t going anywhere until she knew Mia was safe.
“Ma’am.” The young deputy motioned.
She accompanied the deputy and left the police station, hopefully never to return.
* * *
Twenty minutes later Deputy Schneider pulled up the long driveway of the Bremerton estate. The gates, which were usually closed, were wide open to allow access to law enforcement officials. Carly felt uneasy, knowing how much the Bremertons valued their privacy.
Deputy Schneider parked beside her car.
“Thanks,” she said. She got out of the patrol car and glanced at the house. It was hard to believe everything that had happened. She said a silent prayer for Mr. and Mrs. B.’s safety.
“Ma’am?”
She turned to the deputy.
“I need to escort you out,” he said.
“Sure, of course.” As she approached her blue compact car, the echo of men’s voices drifted to her from the deputy’s shoulder radio. She caught part of the conversation. Someone said, “Mountain Pass Drive” and “white minivan.” She guessed