Operation Bassinet. Joyce Sullivan
in drive and her house receded from view. Next time she came home, would Keely be with her?
She straightened, lightly stroking Keely’s hair. She had to think positively. As soon as her real daughter was safely returned, she’d hire a lawyer and fight for custody of Keely, even if she had to sell her house and everything she owned to pay the legal fees.
Were there even any Collingwood family members who’d fight for custody of Keely? The Collingwood murders had been all over the news—speculation running rampant on the talk shows over who would get the money because there were no other living relatives except Lexi’s greedy sister, Annette York. Annette was probably going to get the death penalty for killing her sister and brother-in-law.
Stef cleared her throat and glared at the back of Mitch’s head. “Where are we going?” she asked.
His face was reflected in the rearview mirror. He drove the way the cops on those reality TV shows drove, both hands on the wheel, his body language vigilant as if he expected trouble to come leaping out of the bushes.
Oh, God. Did he?
Visions of car-jackings raced through her mind. She suddenly realized that if Keely really was the lost Collingwood heir, she’d stand to inherit a fortune, which was why she’d been kidnapped in the first place. Her inheritance would make her vulnerable all of her life.
“We’re going to New York City,” Mitch said, his baritone bursting Stef’s panicky realization that he hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said Keely needed protection. “The Foundation has offices there. My boss has reserved a suite at a hotel. He’ll meet us there.”
“Who’s your boss? Is he related to the Collingwoods?”
“He calls himself The Guardian.”
Stef wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”
“He’s a private security consultant who keeps his identity under wraps to protect his clientele. Ross Collingwood hired him after Riana was kidnapped. He was the one who nailed Annette York for killing Ross and Lexi Collingwood.” Mitch’s voice held deference and respect. “When I was with the L.A.P.D., I heard stories about him from officers who’d assisted him with celebrity stalking cases.”
Stef didn’t care who The Guardian was or what he’d done. She was prepared to dislike him on sight. As far as she was concerned, The Guardian was just a man who wanted to take Keely away from her.
“Are there other family members? I’ve only heard about the sister—she doesn’t sound like someone I want to meet.”
“That information is being kept under wraps.”
Stef rolled her eyes. From the tone of Mitch’s voice, she wasn’t going to get any information out of him about the Collingwoods. Maybe she’d have better luck with his boss.
Keely popped the cup out of her mouth and twined her tiny fingers in Stef’s hair. “Mommy, beddy-bye story?”
“Sure, baby.” Stef curled an arm across her daughter’s body as if shielding her from Mitch’s real-life tales of pseudonymous detectives, celebrity stalkers and murderers.
“Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Keely, who lived in a cozy blue house on Maple Lane. One fall day Keely and her mommy were outside raking leaves when they heard a bell-like voice say, ‘Ouch!’ Keely looked down into the grass and found a tiny fairy who was just big enough to fit in her hand. The fairy was crying. The rake had ripped one of her beautiful wings and now she couldn’t fly home.”
She made a scooping motion with her hand and held it up to her daughter’s face. “Keely took the fairy home and made a soft bed for her with her snuggie. And her mommy put a special bandage on the fairy’s wing. The next morning when the fairy woke up, her wing was all better and she could fly home. To thank Keely, the fairy promised to grant her one special wish. And what did Keely wish for?”
Kee popped the cup out of her mouth again and yawned sleepily. “A daddy.”
Stef gaped at her in surprise. Where the heck had that answer come from? Keely had never said anything like that before. But then, she’d never been whisked away from her bed at night by her mommy and a towering stranger, whom she perceived as making her mommy sad. Keely was just a baby. Too young to understand that her daddy had died and gone to heaven. But instinctively old enough to articulate that she wanted a daddy to protect her and her mommy from Mitch.
Stef’s heart broke. Keely didn’t need a daddy. She had a mommy who loved her more than life itself and surely a judge would recognize that and rule in Keely’s best interests even if Stef wasn’t Keely’s biological mother. No matter how big of a fortune was involved.
Yeah, and Stef had bought into the fairy tale that she and Brad would live happily ever after, too.
“Oh, Kee,” she whispered, pressing her mouth against her daughter’s silky head and fighting to keep her tears from clogging her throat and upsetting Keely even more. “That’s a lovely wish. Now close your eyes and go to sleep just like the fairy.”
Softly, very softly, Stef sang her daughter the “I love you” song they’d invented and glared at the sleek golden outline of Mitch Halloran’s head.
MITCH SWORE under his breath as he attempted to tune out the love and desperation in Stef’s voice as she sang to Keely.
He’d witnessed some horrible things in his career—butchered bodies, neglected and abused children, junkies so strung out they’d take a life for a couple of bucks to buy their next fix. Now he could add this poignant moment to that list of worst evers.
All he could do was hold fiercely to the fragile cord of hope that somehow Stef Shelton would get her real daughter back alive. Or this would destroy her.
Just as another girl’s death had destroyed another heartbroken woman who had depended on him. Theresa Lopez had died of a stroke eight months after Carmen’s death.
Decisions usually came easy to Mitch. He didn’t waste time agonizing over what to do. He made a decision and went with it until the circumstances changed and he had to make another decision. Paddy had taught him that valuable lesson after Mitch had been dumped on his doorstep because his mother’s boyfriend didn’t like having a teenage boy with an attitude hanging around. The visit with his grandfather was supposed to be for a few days. But those few days had stretched into a month, then a couple of months.
After watching Mitch check the window every time a car pulled in the drive, Paddy had told him he had to quit worrying about when and if his mother was coming back—events he couldn’t control—and to make a decision to soldier on and focus on things he could control such as making friends, getting good grades and figuring out what his mission in life was. Most importantly, deciding what kind of man he wanted to be.
Mitch had used Paddy’s advice to control his destiny ever since—cracking the books to get the grades he needed to get a degree in criminal justice, busting his ass in the police academy and distinguishing himself as a detective.
He stole another look at Stef in the rearview mirror. Her left arm was curled protectively around the top of the car seat, her head pillowed on her shoulder. He steeled his emotions to the heartbreaking story of love and fear her body language projected.
“Is she asleep?” he asked tentatively, trying to establish a rapport with her. Whether she liked it or not, he was in this with her.
Her tone was charged with rebellion. “Yes, finally.”
Oh, boy.
He kept his tone even. “I know this is rough, but I need to ask you some questions.”
“Such as?”
“Do you remember anything unusual happening in the hospital after Keely’s birth? Did you see anyone suspicious near your child? Maybe a nurse or a hospital worker?”
“Why would I tell you anything that would help you succeed in your ridiculous