Mariah Stewart - Cry Mercy

“A recent ex is usually the first person you look for, right?”

“True.”

“So this thing with Belinda, with the donor sibs, that could just be a coincidence,” Nick pointed out. “Stranger things have happened.”

“I'm not feeling it that way.”

“You psychic?”

“No. Just… smart. Yes, there is a possibility that this ex of Lori's shot and killed Henry and abducted her. As far as this whole other scenario is concerned, well, let's just say that I was a cop for too long to put much stock in coincidences. Do they happen sometimes?” She nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes. This just doesn't seem like one of those times.”

“But if you were handling the case, you'd look at the ex-boyfriend.”

“Yes, I would certainly want to know where he was all weekend,” she conceded.

“Okay, so like you said last night, we're going to take this one step at a time. You did what you had to do, you gave the detective the information that you had. If he doesn't know what to do with it, or thinks it isn't worth following up, that's out of your hands.” Nick played with the radio dial, looking for music he liked.

“I guess,” she grumbled, and Nick laughed in spite of the topic. “I just want to get to the bottom of this before something else happens.”

He leaned to his left as far as the seat belt would permit, and rested his elbow on the top of her seat. “And then what?”

She glanced at him sideways.

“Then what happens, Em? You're staying in Conroy, right?”

“As long as I pass the probationary period, yes.” She kept her eyes on the road, not wanting to meet his.

“I'll still be in Maryland.”

“And?”

“And… just saying, we'll still be close enough to see each other.” He hastened to add, “If you still want to see me, that is.”

“What brought this up?” She stopped at a red light and turned to study his face. His expression was unreadable.

“I was just thinking, as tough as it's been losing Belinda, meeting you has been… well, it's been a really good thing.” His fingers touched her shoulder and lingered on the collar of her white shirt. “I'm glad you left California. I'm glad you came east. I'm glad you were the one who took Belinda's case.”

“I'm glad too, Nick.”

“Good.” He smiled and pointed to the light that had turned green. “Drive.”

They crossed the bridge to the Eastern shore of Maryland and sped onto the highway toward Ballard, home of the congressman who would be senator-and possibly the biological father of an unknown number of offspring.

“So I'm just saying that when this is over, I still want to see you.” He put it out there like a summation.

“I would still want to see you, too.”

“Of course, you're going to see me, anyway. I'm going to find your boss that Aston-Martin if it's the last thing I do.”

Before she could respond, her phone rang.

“Caldwell,” she said, realizing that for once she hadn't been tempted to identify herself as Nolan.

“Whoa, calm down, Hayley. I can't understand what you're saying… yes, I heard about Henry and Lori. I spoke with the detective who-”

She fell silent, and in the next second, she felt the color drain from her face. She flicked on her right-turn signal and pulled over onto the shoulder of the road.

“Say that again… when did this happen? Are you sure? Her mother is certain? Hayley, you have to tell your mother everything you've told me. Tell her about Belle, and tell her about Henry and Lori. She can call me if she needs to, but right now, she needs to know this. No, honey, I don't know what it means. But don't go anywhere alone until we figure it out.”

She finished her call but did not put the car into gear. She merely sat, staring straight ahead.

When Nick asked, “What?” she swallowed hard and said, “Ali. She's supposed to be at a field hockey clinic in Bryn Mawr, but she's not there. Her car is there, on campus, but there's no sign of her. She's just gone. She hasn't been seen in two days.”

Her heart nearly pounding out of her chest, she covered her face with her hands. Nick reached over and turned off the car.

“What exactly did Hayley tell you?” he asked.

“That Ali's mother called her this morning, that she'd seen the story about Henry and Lori on TV.” She glanced up at Nick. “Apparently, after we spoke with her on the phone, Ali told her mother about meeting her donor siblings and looking for Donor 1735 and what it all meant to her. Her mother didn't like it so much, but she told Ali that if this was so important to her, it was okay for her to pursue her sibling relationships. Ali had even told her mother about the other kids. So when she couldn't get in touch with her daughter, Ali's mom went through the list of phone numbers Ali kept on a bulletin board in her room and recognized Hayley's name and called her to see if she'd heard from Ali.”

“When was the last time anyone heard from Ali?”

“If I understood Hayley correctly, it's been since Tuesday.”

“What are you going to do?”

Emme thought it over, then reached for her phone. “I'm going to have the same conversation with the Bryn Mawr police that I had with Detective Stafford this morning. And God help him if he blows me off.”

She unhooked her seat belt and looked out her window before opening her car door and getting out.

“I need to pace.” She left the door partially open. “I'll be back when I've finished my call, but right now, I have to move.”

John Jennings Gardner's home was located on a wide swath of land that faced the Chesapeake Bay and was bordered by a long stretch of marsh on one side and woods on the other. The house was cedar, grayed by salt air and sunlight and wind over the years, and looked as if it belonged on a spare spit of Cape Cod beach. It had two stories and there were two additions built onto the original section. It looked charming and homey and had no trace of pretension, and was probably worth in the millions. Next to a five-car garage that was sided to match the house, three cars were parked: two Mercedes sedans and an SUV.

“You're going to have to promise to let me do the talking.” Emme turned off the engine and glanced across the console at Nick. When he didn't respond, she said, “Seriously, Nick, I need you to cooperate.”

“I didn't argue when you wanted to drive, did I?”

“Please don't make me the heavy here. I put a lot of thought into how I'm going to conduct this. I've spent a lot of time over the past few years interviewing people. I'm good at getting answers they otherwise might not have given.”

“Why don't you just tell me to stay in the car?” The sarcasm was unmistakable. “Forget I said that. For all we know, this guy is a killer. I don't think you ought to just walk in there alone.”

“I was a cop for seven years, Nick. I can take care of myself. This wouldn't be the first time I walked into a situation on my own.”

“I'll bet you were armed then, though, right? You got a gun in that bag of yours?”

“No,” she said. “It's still in the trunk. I'm not a cop anymore, Nick.”

“Well, my point is, there's safety in numbers. But I promise to keep my mouth shut and let you do the talking.”

“Right,” she muttered. She checked her face in the mirror before opening the door. She didn't want the emotional effect of the morning's news to show. She wanted to go into this interview fresh, as if she hadn't just heard that one more donor sibling was missing. There was time enough to deal with that but it would not be her opening here.

“Ready?” Nick asked her, and she nodded. He got out of the car and waited for her before heading for the front door.

They rang the doorbell, and heard dogs barking somewhere in the house. The barking drew closer, and moments later, the door was opened by a man wearing khaki shorts and a Madras button-down collar shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. On his feet he wore bright green flip-flops, and in his arms he held a Scottie dog. Another danced around at his feet.