The Hidden Heir. Debra Webb
people? It didn’t make sense. Brody didn’t appear incompetent by any means.
Keith would know soon.
Forty-five minutes later, Keith sat outside a twenty-four-hour diner in South Bend.
“This can’t be right,” he murmured. Would Ashley Orrick have the nerve to work in the open in a place like this?
Keith had a very bad feeling that something was way out of sync here.
He got out of his car and surveyed the crowded parking lot. Every instinct warned that solving this case wasn’t going to be anywhere near this easy. But the location was all he had.
Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the length of the front facade of the diner. Booths, tables and even the long counter fronted by bar stools looked to be occupied. Four waitresses weaved around the maze of customers. Not one looked like his target, but all looked harried.
Since he knew this wasn’t the only restaurant in town, he could only assume, judging by the crowd, that the food must be above average. But it wasn’t the food he was interested in.
As he moved inside, he pretended to scour the place for an open table or stool, surveying each waitress a little more closely. Nope. Not one matched Ashley Orrick’s description. That didn’t mean she wasn’t in the back working in the kitchen in some capacity. For that matter, she could be here having dinner. Just in case, he scanned the faces of customers a bit more slowly. No one caught his eye.
Noting the arrow pointing to a side corridor and the location of the restrooms, Keith made his way through the diner. He bypassed the men’s room and took a chance. He knocked on the door of the ladies’ room. When no one answered, he stuck his head inside and checked the stalls. Empty.
With a quick glance toward the diner to make sure no one was headed that way, he moved past the restrooms and the emergency rear exit, to the door marked Employees Only. He pushed into the kitchen and had just enough time to scrutinize the crew scrambling to fill orders before anyone noticed his presence and realized he didn’t have any business poking his head through the door.
“Hey!” A short, stout woman shouted. “You can’t be back here!”
“Sorry.” He shrugged, tried to look embarrassed. “Bathroom?”
“The door marked Men’s Room,” another woman said with a smirk.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, then quickly made his exit amid a rumble of laughter.
He returned to the dining room, located an unoccupied bar stool and made himself comfortable.
“You ready to order?”
He glanced up at the waitress waiting on the other side of the counter. A bottle blonde, tall, slim. Looked as if she’d worked one shift too many.
“Coffee.” He pushed a smile into place, glanced at her nametag. Gina. When he was just a kid, his mom had been a waitress. Honest work, he remembered her saying. Honest but hard. As an adult he’d always left big tips.
“Cream? Sugar?” She had shored up a faint smile in answer to his, but it appeared as mechanical as her one-word queries.
He shook his head. “Black.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing else.”
A few moments later, she set the mug of steaming coffee in front of him and moved on to the next customer. As he savored the coffee, he watched the patrons coming and going.
Half an hour passed and still no sign of anyone even remotely matching Ashley Orrick’s description. He’d considered numerous possibilities. Had she dyed her hair? Blond? Brunette? What about her eyes? Would she be wearing colored contacts to camouflage her vivid green eyes? He had to admit he’d never known anyone with eyes that brilliant. They shone like jewels. That sounded cheesy, but it was true. He’d definitely know those eyes if he spotted them, even in a crowd and from a reasonable distance.
She could have gained weight. Lost weight, though not much if she wanted to maintain her health. Ten years ago, she’d looked thin enough.
Ben had done an age progression on her and estimated that she wouldn’t look that different unless she’d had a significant weight change or suffered from an illness or been in an accident that altered her physical appearance. He’d gotten the age progression on the infant, as well. And though Ben’s friend, who Keith suspected worked for Homeland Security, asserted that the progression was ninety percent accurate, Keith would have to see the kid to believe it.
Still, he paid attention to every male child and each female adult who entered or exited the diner.
And nothing.
Not an hour later.
Not two hours later.
He’d been had.
“HE’S HERE. Been hanging out a couple of hours.”
Ashley felt her heart thump against her sternum. Damn. She should have known the story this guy had given her mother was too good to be true.
“You’re sure it’s him?”
“Yep. I’m looking right at him. He’s wearing that navy suit your mother described. The white shirt and red tie. He’s tall, blond hair, great blue eyes. Tanned. Just like one of those surfer guys. Damned good-looking for a cop.”
“Not a cop. A P.I.”
“Whatever.”
Ashley closed her eyes and exhaled a weary breath. When would it end? When would she and Jamie have a normal life? Never, said her heart.
“Can you pix him for me?”
“Sure.”
“And Gina,” Ashley went on, a new kind of fear suddenly kindling inside her.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. I don’t know…” What was it? Nothing she could name or put her finger on. “Something about this one scares me.” Maybe it was the enormity of the offer Desmond had thrown on the table this time. She sensed a desperation in the act she’d never felt before.
“Don’t worry, Ash, I’ve got this dude’s number. Soon as I hang up, I’ll send you a snap of him.”
“Thanks, Gina.”
Ashley hung up her cell phone. The one she used to contact only Gina. She had three altogether. One for calling her mother, which bounced all over the country, ultimately showing that the call originated from Delta’s Diner in South Bend. And then the one she used for calling her son.
She blinked back the emotion that burned in her eyes when she thought of her precious boy. It had been two weeks since she’d seen him. It got harder and harder every time she had to leave him.
When he’d been just a small child, it had been easier. He’d cried. She’d cried. But she had known that he really didn’t understand what was happening and that he would love her and forgive her; the fact that she’d left him would be forgotten by the next time she came to see him.
Things were different now. He was ten. He no longer cried, he asked questions. Demanded answers. He no longer forgave her so easily when she left and then returned sometimes days, sometimes weeks later.
It was hell.
She squeezed her eyes shut but failed to block a few of the tears that would not be contained. She hated Desmond Van Valkenberg.
Why didn’t he just leave them alone?
At first, it had been about the threats. If she ever told anyone what she knew…what she’d seen…
But she’d never told a soul. And he’d left her alone.
Then, after two years, as if he’d suspected she had told his secrets, he’d shown up in her life again. She and Jamie had barely escaped