Unleashed (16 page)

Until Mikey, Caroline hadn’t had much experience with babies, but she took on the role of nursemaid like she’d been trained for it. The first year and a half of his life she’d seen him every day. Squeezed his plump little thighs when she changed his diaper. Walked him up and down the hall, singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” on an endless loop. Imagined what it would have been like with her own baby.

Kate and Mikey had moved out two and a half years ago, and Caroline understood Kate needed to be closer to school and they needed to have their own space.

That didn’t mean it didn’t break her heart.

“So you’re a grandmother then, aren’t you? What does that make you? A GILF?” Danny asked.

“A what?”

“Never mind,” he chuckled. Caroline wanted to press him but they had reached Melody and Patrick’s house, a beautiful Mediterranean style stucco house tucked back from the street.

Patrick answered the door when Caroline rang the doorbell. She couldn’t help returning his broad, friendly smile. He was a big, strapping Irishman with thick silver hair and a weathered, ruddy complexion. Like James, he’d aged extremely well. On the north side of fifty he was still fit, his belly flat, the muscles of his arms evident in the sleeves of his polo shirt.

She’d met Patrick a little over ten years ago, after she and James had been seeing each other for several months, and she’d liked him as soon as she met him. Unlike most of the friends and colleagues that she’d met, Patrick didn’t look her over like she was on an auction stage and follow it with a look at James so blatant it might as well have been a high five. Of all of James’s friends and colleagues, Patrick was the only one who seemed more interested in her brain than her bustline. He’d grilled her about where she was from, why she hadn’t gone to college, and if she thought she was prepared to be a stepmother to then thirteen-year-old Kate. Apparently satisfied with her answers, Patrick, and by association, Melody, had taken her under their collective wing and insured her acceptance into the country club social circles James ran in.

Since James’s death, Patrick had been Caroline’s rock, a big brother type who helped her with everything from funeral arrangements to using his influence to get Rachael Weller to represent her. As Caroline stepped over the threshold, Patrick opened his arms, and Caroline didn’t hesitate to step into his embrace.

“How are you doing, kid?” he asked as he released her with a warm pat on her shoulder. “Melody said you wanted to talk to us? About James?” Caroline nodded and he looked over her shoulder. “And this must be the private investigator you were talking about.”

Danny introduced himself and offered his hand. Patrick took it, and Caroline could see the muscles in his forearm tense as he squeezed Danny’s hand in an aggressive grip. The men locked stares, gray to blue, sizing each other up as they shook hands several seconds beyond courtesy.

“Ease up boys, okay?” Caroline said. “No need to break each other’s wrists.”

Patrick’s face creased in a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Caroline chalked up Patrick’s suspicious vibe to being protective of her. Patrick gave Danny’s hand one last pump before releasing it. “Melody’s waiting for us in the living room,” he said, motioning for Caroline to lead the way. “You’ll have to forgive me for not offering you a drink,” he said, his voice echoing off the high ceilings and hardwood floors, “but I have to get up early tomorrow to drive to Sacramento.”

“Another seminar?” Caroline asked. In addition to his busy radiology practice, Patrick also taught seminars in cutting-edge ultrasound and X-ray techniques.

Melody was curled up in the corner of the sofa with a book when they entered the living room. She smiled and put down her book before she stood and gave Caroline and Danny a dazzling smile. She wore leopard print silk lounging pajamas, and her usual full face of makeup. Her smile melted into a concerned frown when she got a closer look at Caroline. “Caroline honey, you look like you’re about to drop. Sit down.” She pushed Caroline onto the love seat and resumed her position on the couch.

Danny took the seat next to Caroline, his broad frame swallowing up the remainder of the small sofa. He rested his ankle on his knee and spread his arms across the padded back. His fingers barely grazed her shoulder.

She shifted as far away as possible and gained about an inch of extra space. She barely took a breath before Danny shifted imperceptibly and closed the gap. Caroline gave him a sidelong glance, but he was looking at Melody, his expression bland as Wonder Bread.

Bastard knew exactly what he was doing, crowding her like that, getting in her space.

“What did you want to talk about?” Patrick had taken a seat on the cushion next to his wife. His hand rested on her spotted, silk clad knee.

Caroline licked her lips and tried to figure out how to start. But Danny’s deep voice cut through the room before she could utter a syllable.

“As you know, I’m helping Caroline look into her husband’s murder,” he began. “We’re exploring a connection he may have had to a shelter in San Mateo about eighteen years ago.”

“What kind of a shelter?” Melody asked.

“It’s a shelter for pregnant teens,” Danny said.

“I don’t understand what relevance James’s work at a shelter for pregnant teens would have on his murder investigation,” Patrick said, giving Caroline a confused frown.

“In a case like this, we need to follow every lead, no matter how obscure it seems,” Danny said. “We think James may have helped some of the girls find adoptive homes for their babies. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?”

Patrick shook his head. “James did a lot of family law, and I know he handled adoptions on occasion, but it was never anything we discussed in depth.”

“He never talked to you about his work at the shelter?” Danny asked.

Again, Patrick shook his head. “This is the first I’ve ever heard of it. When did you say this was again?”

“The time frame we’re looking at is between May and July of 1991.”

Melody rolled her eyes and she and Patrick exchanged a knowing look. “The year of hell,” Patrick said. “I barely saw James at all that year.”

“That was the year Susan was diagnosed for the first time,” Melody explained. “I didn’t know her that well then—Patrick and I had been married for about a year.”

“Mel was getting ready to have Jennifer, and I was picking up extra shifts at all the area hospitals. My ex-wife sued me for additional alimony—”

“We call her the leech,” Melody piped in, her smile straining around the edges.

Danny smiled faintly as they chuckled, but his eyes stayed locked on Patrick.

“But if she wasn’t such a money sucker, I might not have met you,” Patrick said with a smile for his wife. “I met Mel on one of my many extra shifts about a year before.”

“I remember Mel mentioning that,” Caroline said.

“Anyway,” Patrick continued, “James and I were both so busy, we barely saw each other for at least six months.” Patrick scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’m trying to think if I saw him at all that summer.” He shook his head regretfully. “I wish I could help you.” His bushy gray eyebrows knit together over his bold beak of a nose. “Now explain to me again what you think this has to do with his murder.”

“I’m still working on a theory,” Danny said. “But we’ll let you know as soon as we know something.”

Patrick returned his grin, his chilly blue eyes belying the warmth of his expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but the trill of a cell phone interrupted. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the display. “I need to take this. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.” He nodded to Caroline as he got up from the couch, flipped open the phone, and exited the room.

“Sorry,” Mel said, twisting and untwisting her fingers in her lap. “I wish I could help, but like Patrick said, I was getting ready to have Jennifer, and I certainly wouldn’t have any idea about James being involved in something like that.”

“It’s okay,” Caroline said. “Like Danny said, we’re not even sure if there’s a connection.”
Not to James’s murder anyway
. “We’re just covering all our bases.” And not like Danny hadn’t left a few holes in the information he provided. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his mother’s connection to James or the shelter.

As Melody walked them to the door, Caroline felt a strange sensation, like something scratching at the back of her brain. A faint, tingling itch, like she was missing something but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Tell me none of this has anything to do with Jennifer,” Melody said as soon as she’d locked the door behind Caroline and Danny.

Patrick felt his mouth go dry and his heart squeeze at the panic he saw in Mel’s face. “Of course not, sweetheart.”

Mel’s hand shook as she smoothed her already impeccable bob. “Please tell me you didn’t know anything about this. Please tell me we didn’t do anything illegal.”

Patrick pulled her tense form into his arms. “Mel, we didn’t do anything wrong,” he lied. “It’s just like James told us, there was a girl who wanted to put her baby up for adoption. There’s nothing illegal about what we did.”

“What if Jennifer finds out we’ve been lying to her all of this time?” Melody said, the catch in her voice nearly breaking his heart.

“She won’t,” he vowed. “The records are sealed, and James made sure the birth mother could never contact us.” With Patrick’s help. He would do anything to protect his wife, even perpetrate the fiction that Jennifer was their biological child. Even kill his best friend who threatened to reveal their secrets.

“It’s all going to be fine, Mel,” he promised. “I’ll never let anything happen to our family.”

As they drove back to her house Danny called to check in with Derek and Ethan and compare notes on what they’d found. Caroline took in as much as she could from his side of the conversation, and he filled her in on the rest after he parked her car and followed her into the house.

“The other women corroborate Lauren’s story,” he said as he dropped his duffel bag on her kitchen floor and draped his leather coat over a kitchen chair. “They all remembered Anne and James, aka Jack Murphy, but none of them were approached by James to give their babies up for adoption.”

“What about Emily? Does anyone know what happened to her?” Caroline asked. There was that niggling feeling again, combined with a twist of dread in her gut that she couldn’t shake off.

Danny shook his head. “None of the other girls know what happened to her either. Like Lauren said, as far as they know she moved back with her parents. Speaking of which, Toni got an address. They’re completely off the grid in a little town in the Sierras, no phone, nothing. I think we should pay them a visit in person tomorrow. It’s about a three hour drive from here.”

Caroline nodded and glanced at the clock. It was already after eleven. “In that case, we better get to bed so we can rest up.”

Danny’s full lips curved into a half smile and his gray eyes turned to molten silver. “Sounds good to me,” he said and took a step closer.

She’d been chilled from the damp night, but now Caroline’s core temperature rose a good five degrees. “I mean, I need to get to sleep. In my bed.”

He took another step. “Any bed is good with me.” His lips were firm and smooth, framed by the dark outline of stubble. He stepped closer, blocking out the light from the overhead fixture as he bent closer. Backlit, he was a huge, dark, silhouette coming toward her, his intent clear in every line of his massive body. “And I promise I’ll let you sleep after.” He was so close she could feel his breath ruffling her hair, smell the spicy scent of his skin. Head bent, he stopped just short of kissing her.

Waiting for her to make the next move.

Making sure she was clear that ultimately, the choice was hers.

It would be so easy. Take one half step forward. Slide her palms up his chest, feel the granite hard lines of his body as she twined her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. Breast to chest. Soft to hard. Tilt her head back to take his kiss. Part her lips, open to him, give up every last shred of resistance.

He’d carry her upstairs and strip her. Lay her across the bed and run his hands and lips over every square inch of her. He’d part her legs and drive his thick cock all the way inside her. Within minutes she’d be writhing, whimpering, screaming her way to an orgasm the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in a decade.

All she had to do was move. One. Half. Step.

Lust and fear warred in her chest as she contemplated that one half step.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “You can sleep in the guest room,” she took a half step back, whirled, and practically sprinted up the stairs.

His low chuckle vibrated along her nerve endings and her heart picked up speed as his heavy footsteps pounded behind her. She hurried to her room and slammed the door shut without a backward glance. One look was all it would take to grind her resolve into a fine dust.

She leaned back against the door, panting, heart pounding as she heard him stop in front of her door.

“You sure you want me to stay in the guest room, Caroline?”

No
. “Yes, I’m sure. Good night, Danny.”

“Good night, Caroline.” He laughed softly and she could see him perfectly in her mind’s eye. White teeth flashing against dark skin. Fine lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. An expression of amusement and frustrated desire in his eyes. “Sleep tight.”

She leaned against the door, stifling a moan as she listened to his retreating footsteps.

Fear and self-preservation had won out over lust, but barely. Caroline didn’t know how much longer she could take it. She remembered—too well—how easily Danny could move past her defenses. Every second she spent with him it became more and more difficult for her to resist. She was so terrifyingly close to giving in.

She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let him break her again.

K
aylee’s knees shook as she was led to a doorway. Two of the nurse types had retrieved her from her bed that morning. Ignoring her protests, they stripped her of her jeans and T-shirt and dressed her in what looked like a hospital gown. Kaylee had protested, slapping and kicking, but the two women had subdued her and tied her hands in front of her with a plastic strap.

As she was half led, half dragged down the hall, another girl emerged through the doorway. She was a short brunette with wide, brown eyes. She was hugely pregnant, her belly swelling against her hospital gown. “What are they going to do to me?” Kaylee asked the girl as she passed, earning her a pinch on the tender skin of her inner arm. The girl just shook her head. “They’re jus’ gonna look at you,” the girl replied in a thick southern drawl.

Kaylee was momentarily stunned to hear the girl speak English. In the few days she’d been there all the other girls she’d seen were foreign. In addition to her Thai roommate, she’d encountered a couple other girls, but none of them spoke English. She wanted to stop, ask the girl more about how she’d gotten here and how they might get out, but she was shoved through the doorway before she could form a sentence.

Kaylee’s heart lurched to her throat when she saw three men speaking in low voices in the corner. She shrank back, her bare feet making slapping sounds on the linoleum floor as she scrambled for an escape. Ruthless fingers dug into her arms and pushed her forward.

The men turned to stare at her, three cold pairs of eyes running over her. She recognized two of them. One was the man she knew only as Gates, the man who had paid Ericka for her. The other she’d seen a couple of days ago, on her way back to her room after she’d been taken down so another nurse—a Chinese woman that time, could drain her of several more vials of blood. He was an old guy, big and tall with thick gray hair. He’d been wearing surgical scrubs, but today he wore a white lab coat over his shirt and khaki pants. His blue eyes were bright against the reddish flush of his skin and they raked over her with all the emotion of a snake before he turned back to say something to Gates she couldn’t hear.

The third guy she didn’t recognize. He wore an expensive looking suit and a heavy gold watch and he was really good looking, like actor handsome with dark blond hair and green eyes. But his slick good looks didn’t stop her skin from crawling or keep the nausea from bubbling in her throat as he looked her up and down.

“Nice,” he said to Gates.

Kaylee’s knees shook and she was afraid she was going to wet her pants. She swallowed back a surge of vomit. Were the two men there to have sex with her? Here, in this weird, clinical room with only a padded plastic table and horrible fluorescent lights?

Gates nodded at the two women holding her. One untied the back of her gown. Kaylee squawked as it fell down, exposing her breasts to the men. Tears pricked her eyes and she shook with panic as she struggled to put the gown back in place with her bound hands.

“We need to see her,” Gates snapped, and one of the nurses cut the tie binding her hands while the other stripped the gown from her.

“No!” Kaylee lashed out with her arms and legs, catching one of the nurses in the stomach. The woman’s breath left her in a whoosh and she bent double as Kaylee jerked free of the other woman’s hold. Naked, she ran for the door, but a brutal hand grabbed her by the hair. She was yanked against a hard chest. She struggled, then felt her vision dim as a thumb dug into the side of her neck.

“If you do not do exactly as you are told, it will go much worse for you.”

A tiny voice in Kaylee’s head urged her to take her chances. What was worse than being gang raped, which she was pretty sure was going to happen in about five minutes. But the voice was drowned out by something horrible, awful, inhuman promised in Gates’s voice.

He pulled her back to the center of the room.

“Her blood work is all clear?” the doctor guy asked.

“Perfectly healthy. She’s totally clean.”

They were worried about what they were going to catch from her? What was going to protect her from them?

“She’s perfect,” the good looking one said, and Kaylee closed her eyes against his assessing stare. “She’s got the hair, the height. Great bone structure. I know of at least four couples who would be interested, especially if we can match her with a similar type.”

Her heart pounded in her ears until his voice became muffled. She braced herself for their touch, told herself to float away, close off her mind where no one could touch her.

“Put her up on the table.”

Oh, God, she was going to throw up. But maybe that would repulse them enough to stop.

She heaved, her meager breakfast spattering against the linoleum.

She opened her eyes to see the slickster and the doctor frantically backpedaling to avoid the spray while Gates shook his head in disgust. He glared at the nurse types.

“Get her up on the table and clean this up.”

The nurses glared at her and yanked her over to the padded table and pushed her to lie flat. She heard a ripping noise and thick velcro straps were fastened around her upper arms and wrists.

Kaylee was afraid the force of her heartbeat was going to break her ribs as the big man in the doctor coat pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and snapped them on. He nodded at the nurses, who came over to hold Kaylee’s legs. Forcing her to bend at the knees, they held her legs open as the doctor approached.

“Just relax. I promise to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

Sobs tore at her throat as she struggled against the straps and the women holding her. Tears blurred her eyes as she stared up at the man. “Please let me go. Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to take a look at you.”

Somehow through her panicked haze she realized there was no lust in his gaze, just a cold, clinical detachment. She remembered the other girl’s words. “They jus’ wanna take a look at you.”

That didn’t calm her or stop her body from revolting as a gloved finger was pushed inside of her. She froze, her entire body paralyzed by fear and disgust as she endured the exam. It was no different than the exam she’d had last year when she wanted to go on the pill.

Yet as the doctor withdrew his hand, stripped off his gloves and dropped them into the garbage, she felt ill and hollow, like someone had scooped out her guts and tossed them to the floor.

She didn’t bother to struggle as the nurses unstrapped her and forced her arms back into the gown.

“She’s in great shape,” she heard the doctor say, but she couldn’t bring herself to lift her head to glare at him. “We’ll know for sure in a few days after an ultrasound to do a follicle count,” he continued, and Kaylee started to tune him out, not understanding what the hell he was talking about.

But his next words snapped her back to attention and froze the blood in her veins.

“…and I see no reason why she would have any problem conceiving this month.”

It took her a few seconds to process what he was saying. But as realization dawned, she felt the blood drain from her face in such a rush she thought she was going to faint. All of the questions about her period, the blood tests, the pregnant girls she’d seen in the house. It all made sense now.

I know of at least four couples who would be interested
.

They weren’t going to just sell her for sex. They were going to get her pregnant and sell her baby.

Marshall blocked out the stunned look on the girl’s face as he followed Patrick out of the examination room. Unlike many of the girls, this one was American born and bred, a native English speaker. It took her a minute, but after Patrick delivered his prognosis, understanding had leached the remaining color from her already pale face. She knew exactly what was in store for her in the coming months.

Guilt coiled its way through his belly, but he shoved it aside. Guilt was what got James Medford killed. Guilt and stupidity. First for not covering his tracks well enough, and then for trying to threaten them all—including Gates—into letting him out of the business. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with Gates.

Patrick was no pussycat either. And from the look in his icy blue eyes, he was still on the warpath over Marshall’s inability to get Caroline Medford out of the picture earlier that week. Apparently not even the successful delivery of a healthy baby girl, which promised to earn both Marshall and Patrick healthy commissions, or the promise shown by their latest recruit was enough to cool him off.

They left the shaking girl behind in the exam room and went out in the hallway. “We’ll get her scheduled for a shoot,” Gates said. “You’re welcome to observe, as always,” he said to Marshall.

His face heated. But even through his embarrassment he couldn’t deny a spike of lust at the thought of watching the beautiful blonde get fucked. He only wished he could be the one doing it, but the risks were too high. He had to content himself with watching.

Patrick shook his head in disgust. “Pervert.”

Marshall didn’t get it. The doctor had no qualms about impregnating girls on purpose to sell their babies to unsuspecting, desperate couples. No hesitation about killing his best friend and trying to kill his best friend’s wife. But somehow Marshall was less moral because he liked to watch the girls when they made their debuts.

Gates’s phone rang and he excused himself to take the call. Marshall took that as his cue to make his exit, but Patrick caught him by the shoulder. “We need to talk.”

“Watch the suit,” Marshall said, wrenching away from Patrick’s grip. He winced at the way the doctor’s meaty fist had crumpled the fabric. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened to Rachael Weller. It’s not my fault the guy’s aim was off and Taggart was able to pull Caroline to safety.”

Marshall had been watching from across the street, out of sight, to make sure everything happened according to plan. Taggart had grabbed Caroline before the Escalade had even rounded the corner. Like he could sniff the threat on the wind. Like he was some fucking psychic.

“Thanks to your so-called perfect plan, we’ve got bigger problems. Last night Caroline came to my house and asked me about James being involved with Harmony House. Specifically helping girls find adoptive families.”

Marshall’s face paled. Even though he hadn’t been involved in what happened eighteen years ago, it didn’t take a genius to realize if they kept following that thread, it would eventually lead them to Patrick. And to himself. “What did she find?”

“She didn’t say specifically. But it was enough to lead them there. We can’t take any more chances. We need to find out what they know, what they found, and take them both out before they dig any deeper.”

Marshall nodded. Easier said than done. In the months since James had died, he and Patrick had been over every inch of James’s house, his office, his car, even Kate’s apartment, without finding a single shred of the evidence James claimed to be keeping. Insurance, he’d claimed.

It had turned out to be a death sentence. Marshall had convinced himself that meant they were fine, James must have been lying, bluffing to cut himself free of a business he could no longer stomach.

“I’ll take care of it,” Marshall said.

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Yeah, well this time I mean it. Just make sure Gates stays in the dark about all of this. If he thinks we’re a liability—”

“We’re both dead,” Patrick finished.

“You weren’t kidding when you said off the grid,” Caroline said as she stepped carefully out of Danny’s Jeep which he’d driven in deference to the weather. It had been pouring in Piedmont when they left, meaning snow in the Sierras, and the tiny town of Whiskey Creek didn’t disappoint.

By the time they got to Emily Parrish’s parents’ house, a good six inches of snow had accumulated on the dirt and gravel driveway, and it showed no signs of slowing. Danny was beginning to wonder if they’d make it out of the mountains even with four-wheel drive and chains.

The Parrishes lived in an A-frame house three miles outside of Whiskey Creek. The green metal of the roof showed through where the snow had slid along the sides to the ground. A carport on the right of the house sheltered an ancient Ford F-150 pickup and about a decade’s worth of chopped wood. Thick smoke curled from the chimney, lending a sharp salty bite to the frigid air.

Caroline took a step forward and cursed as her boots slid out from under her. Danny caught her before she hit the ground. “I told you to go with hiking boots,” he griped. “Or better yet, a pair of these,” he stomped his own black army issue winter boots for emphasis.

Caroline had insisted on wearing a pair of clunky, fleece lined suede boots, thinking they’d keep her feet warmer. “Sorry, I threw out my combat boots last season.” She pulled from his hold and took another step, nearly falling on her ass as she hit a patch of slick gravel hiding under the snow.

Danny lunged forward and wrapped his arm around her to steady her. Snow dusted her dark hair, releasing the fresh scent of her shampoo. His cock, already in a state of semi-arousal just from being cooped up in a car with her, thickened to full hardness.

Something had to happen, soon. He was trying to be patient, hang back, let her come to him, an approach that had worked so well with her years before. But last night had nearly done him in. Danny didn’t think he could take another night of having her sleep just down the hall from him while he jacked off like a loser in her designer sheet draped guest bed.

Something definitely needed to happen. But later, because right now he needed to get his mind off the way Caroline’s luscious round ass filled out her jeans and on whether or not Emily’s parents knew anything about her connection to Anne Taggart and James Medford.

Danny let his arm slide from Caroline’s shoulders as he knocked. A rangy, rawboned man who could have been anywhere from fifty-five to seventy-five answered. His thinning gray hair was cut military short, his white beard was neatly trimmed. His flannel shirt was cleanly pressed and tucked neatly into a pair of heavy canvas work pants. “Are you lost son?” the man asked, his blue eyes showing a mix of confusion and concern behind his wire rimmed glasses.