Valerie Hansen - Family In Hiding

“I still don’t like it.” Marshal Summers shrugged beneath the padded shoulders of her tailored jacket. “However, if he’s willing to sneak back in, I don’t see any reason to prevent his trying to help us. We can post men in the lobby and pick him up when he comes out.”

“I really do want to make amends,” Dylan said with feeling. “As long as no one suspects me of working with the police, I can’t see any problems, can you?”

“Actually I can see plenty,” the lead detective grumbled. “But it’s the Feds’ call. If you want him to go, I’ll agree to release him to you.”

That was how Dylan ended up back at his apartment to change clothes and shave before being escorted to his office at Munders and Moore, L.L.C., via taxi.

In retrospect, he felt it was possible that at least some of the clues might lead back to Frederick Munders’ wife, Matilda, who ran Perfect Family Adoption Agency. The puzzle was how an overtly open and honest woman like her could have gotten involved in baby stealing. It didn’t make sense. That was a big reason why Dylan hadn’t suspected the risks to his own conscience until he was in way over his head.

Thoughts of his three children brought somber reflection. How devastated those other parents must feel to have lost custody of their babies! When he’d believed that the adoptions were voluntary, he’d had no trouble bending the rules to expedite transfers of guardianship. Now, however, he knew better.

Straightening his tie and running a palm over his dark hair to make sure he was presentable, he left his plainclothes escort and entered the modern high-rise containing the law offices where he was ostensibly still employed. As long as nobody asked him what he’d been doing on his recent days off he figured he’d be okay.

He mopped his brow with a linen handkerchief before tucking it back into the breast pocket of his custom-tailored blazer, stepping onto the elevator and pressing the button for the fourth floor.

Everything seemed quite ordinary when he disembarked. The firm’s prim receptionist merely nodded to him as he passed, while clerks and paper-pushers overlooked his passage the way they usually did when they were busy.

Dylan’s private office was bigger than a cubicle but far smaller than that of his boss or the other senior partners. He paused in the doorway, taking care to avoid attracting undue attention, then sidled through and quietly shut the door behind him.

Nothing seemed to have been disturbed until he crossed to a filing cabinet and opened it. Everything pertaining to the adoptions the police had asked about had been removed. It hardly mattered that the files were gone, however, because it wasn’t the actual paper copies the police needed, it was the private background information they contained. That, he could provide.

Going quickly to the golfing trophies atop his bookcase, Dylan unscrewed the base of one of them and withdrew a USB flash drive from a hollow space. His hands were shaking so badly he had trouble reassembling the award properly but he managed to cobble it together enough to withstand a cursory inspection.

Pocketing the drive, he wheeled and headed for the door. All he could think of was getting out of there ASAP.

He’d almost reached the elevator when he heard someone shout a gruff, “Hey!”

The doors slid open with a whoosh. Ignoring the urgent-sounding summons, Dylan stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby.

His last glimpse through the closing doors was of a uniformed security guard. The man had a hand on the butt of his holstered gun and was hurrying toward him.

It didn’t matter why the guard was alerted or who might have questioned his presence. All Dylan could think of was escaping. He punched other buttons, hoping he hadn’t been too late to override his original selection.

Slowing, then coming to a smooth stop, the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. The number two was still lit on the panel, so Dylan paused rather than disembark on three. A normal person who was being chased would get off as soon as possible and take to the stairs. Logically, so would the guard who had missed the elevator. Therefore, he had to think of some other way to elude his pursuer.

By the time Dylan reached the second floor the answer had come to him. There was a back entrance to the building’s barber shop with a stairway leading to and from the street. It was meant for tenants only, particularly for attorneys who wanted to avoid lurking reporters and other nuisances. This time, it would be his escape route.

He pounded down the concrete steps and burst out onto the busy sidewalk, quickly moving away. Made it!

When he thought about delivering the flash drive, however, he realized he had inadvertently ditched his covert police escort when he’d fled from the guard. There was no way he dared backtrack at this point. Worse, he looked every bit the professional man that he was. If someone from Munders and Moore really was after him it would be hard to hide. Not only were the police going to be looking for him soon, lots of people around there knew him on sight, too.

Reaching for his wallet, he wished the police had seen fit to return his cell phone so he could at least call for help. He ducked into a drugstore to buy sunglasses and whatever else he could find that would alter his appearance. He was paying for the glasses and waiting for the clerk to cut off the tag when he spied the answer to his unspoken prayers.

A young man wearing a tattered red St. Louis Cardinals jacket and cap stepped up behind him at the register with a bottle of soda in hand.

“A hundred bucks for the jacket,” Dylan said, flashing a bill as proof and shucking his navy-blue blazer.

The youth began to grin. “Twenty more gets you my hat, too.”

“Done.” Dylan handed over the money as well as his own expensive coat and tie. “Here. Take these. I won’t need them.”

“How about my shoes?” the guy asked.

Dylan ignored him and told the salesclerk, “Keep the change,” donning the silky red jacket as he raced for the door. By the time he was outside he had put on the sunglasses and pulled the bill of the cap low over his forehead.

Now what? He knew he should immediately hail a cab and return to the authorities so they wouldn’t think he was trying to pull a fast one and get away from them.

Yes, he would go back. Soon. But there was something even more important to do first. He had to talk to Grace in person. To explain why he’d done what he’d done—and how he was determined to make amends. Somehow.

Granted, it probably wouldn’t make any difference to her at this point, particularly because he’d have to tell her he’d been in police custody, as well. Yet he desperately wanted her to know how penitent he was and that he was already aiding the authorities as best as he could.

That kind of truth had to be conveyed face-to-face, Dylan decided. There was no way he could ever convince Grace of his change of heart over the phone. Even looking straight into her eyes was no guarantee of success. But he had to try. He simply had to. Her opinion of him mattered more than anyone else’s and if he waited until after he’d turned over the flash drive he might not get that chance to speak with her privately.

Lacking an available taxi, he boarded a bus and took a seat. Just as the driver was pulling away from the curb, several more security guards burst from his office building and gathered on the sidewalk, talking into handheld radios and gesturing as if making plans for his capture. They might not know why he’d visited the office but they certainly seemed upset about it, meaning that someone must have an idea what he was after, despite not being aware of his secret files.