Kathleen Long - Without a Doubt

“Want to tell me about it?” Cookie asked.

“What? My headache?” Sophie rolled her neck, then massaged her pounding temples. She could feel Cook’s visual scrutiny, but she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d take a hint.

“Whatever you and Gary Barksdale were arguing about earlier.”

Apparently Cookie wasn’t going to let this one go without forcing the issue.

“Sounded pretty intense. Did I hear you mention Becca and Robin?”

Sophie spun on him, gracing him with one of her trademark glares. “How about if I give you a transcript? Would that ease your curiosity?”

Her venom didn’t make the man flinch, not in the least. He knew her too well, knew all of her acts of bravado were nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

“Feel better?” He crooked a gray brow.

“No.” She slouched in her seat, regretting her inappropriate outburst. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Nope.” He shook his head and patted her arm. “I didn’t, but I’m glad I could be here to take the heat. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to use the wide-angle lens the next time I film you?”

It was his favorite threat, and it never failed to make Sophie smile.

“Anything but that.” She pulled herself upright in the seat and took a deep breath. “You have to give me your word you won’t tell a soul.”

Cookie nodded. “You know you don’t have to remind me of that.”

“You’re right.” Sophie swallowed before she continued. “Did you notice the Alexanders’ daughter?”

Cookie let loose with a chuckle that rumbled the windows of the van. “The whirlwind with the lollipop, the coloring books and the off-note singing?”

Sophie nodded. “I think she could be Robin.”

Cook blinked, then his eyes narrowed. Silence stretched between them. “How?”

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. He knew her well enough to know she’d have thought through every possible angle before making such a statement.

“You remember there were no remains, right?”

He nodded without saying a word, lines of concern etching the corners of his eyes.

“Did I ever tell you about her birthmark?”

Cookie shook his head.

“A butterfly,” Sophie continued. “A perfect butterfly.” She pointed to the nape of her neck. “Right here.”

“Just like the Alexander girl,” Cook said softly.

Sophie met his curious gaze and nodded. “And she’s five years old.”

“The same age Robin would be.”

“And she’s adopted.”

He gripped the steering wheel as if the news had thrown him off balance. “So you’ll pull the adoption records and take it from there?”

“Yeah.” Sophie blew out a tired sigh. “I will. I’m compelled to check this out. I have no choice.”

“What if it turns out she’s not your niece?”

“Then at least I’ll know for sure.” She breathed in deeply, realizing she wasn’t prepared for that possibility. She’d already decided she was right in her assumption.

“And if she is your niece?” His tone dropped low and intent. “Are you going to take her away from the only home she’s ever known?”

Sophie opened her mouth to answer, but then fell silent. She hadn’t really thought about the situation from that perspective. Bringing Robin home was going to be a long and difficult road. She could handle it, though. She had to. For Becca.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

“What if what’s right is leaving that girl where she is?”

Disbelief knotted in Sophie’s throat. John Cook was the last person she expected opposition from. “Whose side are you on, Cook?”

He patted her knee. “Yours, honey. You know that. I just want to make sure you’ve really thought this thing through before you do anything rash.” The gray brows met in a peak. “You’ll be careful?”

“Always.”

He gave her a quick wink. “Okay. Then let’s get you out of this van and on your way home. It’s been a long day.”

“I have to run in for a few things.” Sophie shrugged into her jacket as she stepped down from the van. “Want me to grab anything for you?”

“I’m good.” He shook his head and grinned. “I’m just going to straighten up here then head home. I’ll see you bright and early.”

“You got it.” Sophie paused for a split second, then stepped close and planted a kiss on his cheek.

His blush was evident even in the shadows of the dark parking lot. “What was that for?”

Sophie shrugged. “Just because.”

“You’re not getting soft on me are you?” His tone had taken on a teasing note. “I know how particular you are about keeping your cool.”

“Never.” She released a quick laugh as she hurried across the parking lot.

Getting soft? Not hardly.

She’d worked too hard for too long to earn her reputation as one cool reporter under fire.

But cool or not, right now she was emotionally wrung out, wanting only to gather a few personal items and put this day behind her.

HER PRODUCER HAD SIDETRACKED Sophie when she’d dashed inside to grab her date book. Now, fifteen minutes later, she was beyond exhaustion, ready for a hot bath, a glass of wine and sleep. Lots of sleep.

All worries about Gary Barksdale and Ally Alexander could wait until morning. She wasn’t capable of additional coherent thought tonight.

Forty-eight hours ago, her life had been status quo. Now her reality had been tilted on its axis.

If Ally was her niece, not only had Robin survived, but she’d been put up for adoption. By whom? And why? And if whoever had taken her had planned their actions, had the fire really been an accident?

She shook her head. She was overtired and letting her imagination get carried away.

She weaved between the parked cars in the lot and stopped dead in her tracks at the site of the van. The side door sat wide open, just as it had been when she’d said good-night to Cookie.

A shiver whispered down her spine, and she quickened her pace. What was taking him so long? Was something wrong with the truck? With Cookie?

She had her answer the second she got close enough to see into the van. Cookie lay sprawled across the equipment on the floor of the truck, one arm bent beneath him at an unnatural angle, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth.

“Cook.” The word slid across her lips, barely audible.

Her heart lurched in her chest.

She scrambled into the van, checking for a pulse and breathing a sigh of relief when she found one—weak, but beating.

“Don’t you worry. I’m going to get you help.”

She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, satisfying herself he was able to breathe on his own. She shrugged out of her jacket, bundled it on top of him, then dumped the contents of her purse to locate her cell phone, not wanting to leave his side long enough to reach the van’s two-way radio.

She hit the speed-dial button for 911. “WNJZ parking lot. We need help ASAP.”

But before the voice on the other end of the line could respond, something knocked the phone from Sophie’s hand. She twisted, raising her hands defensively, but she was too late.

Her assailant backhanded her across the side of her face, then hoisted her, kicking and screaming from the van.

The masked man pinned her to the asphalt, his knee in her chest. Her face throbbed from where he’d struck her, and her legs protested at the way they’d been twisted beneath her.

When he slapped a piece of heavy tape over her mouth, bile rose in her throat. Her only hope now was that help for Cookie would arrive in time to save her.

She fought to scramble to her feet, but felt the back of her attacker’s hand against her cheek again. This time when she fell, her attacker dragged her around the far side of the van, headed toward the deserted lot of the soon-to-be-demolished hotel next door.