Shirlee McCoy - Mystery Child

“I guess they were, but Tabitha—”

“Is just like our father was. You know it. I know it. She’s a liar, a thief, a con woman.”

“Was those things. People change.”

“Some people change,” he grumbled. “Our sister isn’t one of them.”

“Jubilee is her daughter,” Quinn retorted. “How about you have a little respect for that?”

To his credit, August didn’t say another word about Tabitha. “Sometimes we have to break promises to keep our word, Quinn,” he said instead. “You’re going to have to tell the police everything she told you.”

“I can’t do that. Tabitha said—”

“A promise isn’t a good one to keep if it gets you killed,” Malone broke in, lifting Jubilee from her arms. “Whatever she said, whatever she told you, doesn’t matter in light of the fact that you’ve been followed here. The more the police know, the easier it will be for them to figure out what’s going on.”

He was right. She knew it, so she kept her mouth shut, and trudged behind August, Malone right beside her. Jubilee seemed comfortable enough in his arms, her head resting against his chest, the candy still clutched in her hand.

She’d felt heavy, but Quinn knew she was small for her age. Probably an inch shorter than the smallest kid in Quinn’s kindergarten class. Someone had painted her fingernails pink with tiny flowers in the middle of each nail. She had a pretty diamond and gold necklace that Quinn thought was the real deal, a beautiful coat that had probably been purchased at some fancy designer shop, patent leather shoes, and the look of a child who had been given just about anything and everything she wanted.

Except for the bruise.

That was the one discordant note in an otherwise perfect picture, and it made Quinn’s heart ache. To have everything you wanted and nothing that mattered? That was the cruelest irony of all.

The faint sound of sirens drifted from somewhere in the distance, the local police responding to August’s call.

Or the state police?

Either way, the promise Quinn had made Tabitha had been broken. There was no way to undo that, and Quinn didn’t know if she’d have wanted to. Despite what she’d said to August, she knew Tabitha had looked her square in the eye and lied.

There’s nothing to worry about, Quinn. You’re not breaking any laws, and my husband couldn’t care less about Jubilee. Not his kid. Not his concern. It’s me that he wants. Plus, he’s got no idea that I came here. Vegas is far away, and he doesn’t know I have a sister in Maine.

Maybe not, but he’d figured it out, and Quinn was sure her sister had known he would. Tabitha had been edgy and anxious when she’d stood on Quinn’s doorstep. She’d refused to go inside, refused coffee, tea, food. She’d kissed Jubilee once, told her to be the best girl she could and taken off before Quinn could ask questions.

It had all happened fast, and Quinn knew that was purposeful, knew that her sister was protecting herself more than she was protecting her daughter. She had to have understood just how easily her husband could find her and Jubilee. She should have warned Quinn. She should have told her to be prepared for anything. Instead, she’d smoothed things out, made them nicer than they were.

Just like August had said—she was like their father.

Her daughter could have died because of it.

Her daughter...

Malone had called Jubilee by a different name.

Kaitlyn? Kendal?

Quinn had been too terrified to really listen to what he was saying. She needed to ask more questions, she needed to get some answers. First, though, she needed to get to August’s house and away from whoever might still be lurking in the woods.

* * *

They made quick time, heading east on a path August led them to. It wouldn’t take long to get back to the ranch-style house that stood in the middle of acres of corn fields and pastures. That was good, because Malone didn’t like the feeling he was getting. Trouble. It seemed to pulse around them, mixing with the howling of sirens and the soft rustle of leaves and pad of feet.

“Where’d you tell the police to meet us?” he asked. “If they’re at the Jeep, you might want to call and let them know we’re heading toward your place.”

“I gave them my address. They’ll be there when we arrive.”

“Do you think they’ll take Ju...” Quinn’s voice trailed off. She must have realized it wasn’t a good question to ask in front of the five-year-old. The kid had already been through a lot. She’d been thrust into the arms a stranger, driven from Maine to Maryland. Everything she’d known, everyone who was familiar, was gone.

She didn’t cry, though. Didn’t complain. Didn’t ask for Quinn, her mother or her father. She just rested her head against Malone’s chest, the bag of candy he’d given her hanging from her hand.

Odd. Maybe even a little alarming. Most of the kids he brought out of traumatic situations wanted the familiar, begged for whomever it was they were closest to. This kid didn’t seem as if she wanted anyone or anything. Except, maybe, to be left alone.

If she really was Boone’s daughter, he’d have his work cut out for him. Building a bond with a child who didn’t seem to have bonded with anyone wasn’t going to be easy.

Then again, maybe she had bonded. Maybe she was in shock or so terrified she was afraid to speak.

He patted her narrow shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay, kid,” he said, and she looked square in his eyes. For just a second, just enough time to make his pulse jump, he saw Boone in her face. Something about the tilt of her eyes, the freckles that were definitely on her nose. It was enough to make him want to put her in his SUV and drive her straight to HEART headquarters, keep her safe there until Boone arrived.

He couldn’t. Not without getting into a boatload of trouble with the local PD and with Chance. Malone’s boss liked to play by the rules. He liked to do things by the book. He did not like to get on the bad side of law enforcement.

They trekked up a small hill, pushing through thick foliage. Despite her short stature, Quinn kept up, her pale face and panting breaths the only sign that she was wearing down.

“You doing okay?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Dandy,” she panted, the response almost making him smile.

“I hope you feel that way when we get to the house,” August grumbled. “You could go to jail, sis. You could be charged with kidnapping. You know that, right?”

“I didn’t kidnap Jubilee. Tabitha asked me to bring her to her father.”

“Tabitha. Right.” The disgust in August’s voice was obvious.

Malone didn’t question it.

He didn’t want any part in family drama.

He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. He loved his siblings and his cousins, and he hadn’t minded helping to raise them, but he’d done his time, and now he enjoyed the freedom that came with being single.

Most of the time he enjoyed it.

Lately, he’d been a little tired of returning to his empty apartment, sitting up late at night, dozens of memories filling his head. He had his demons. A man couldn’t do the kind of work Malone did without them. Some days, he wished that he had someone to fight them with.

That was the truth.

One he didn’t like to admit even to himself.

“Tabitha really has changed,” Quinn whispered as if somehow that would keep Jubilee from hearing.

August snorted.

“She has!”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way when you’re sitting at the local sheriff’s office explaining why you’ve transported a missing child across state lines.”

“What are you talking about, August? I did what her mother asked me to do.”