“So…” Jake had to tread carefully here. “You’re not her mother?”
Maggie looked up at him, half-smiling as if that were the silliest question ever. “Oh, no,” she said. “Of course not.”
“Okay, Maggie, help me now,” Jake said. “You were on the other side of the duplex, right? With baby Diane Marie? You heard us come in? And you ran to this side of the house so we wouldn’t find you?”
Maggie nodded, silent.
“Is my partner going to be okay if he goes up there? There’s no one there? I’m trusting you, Maggie. Yes?”
“It’s only us,” she whispered.
Jake cocked his head at DeLuca. “Okay. Check it out. Be careful.”
What did she do before cell phones? By the second ring, Jane had grabbed hers by feel from her tote bag as she braked to a semistop in the slow-moving Fast Lane of the Mass Turnpike, rush hour in full swing. Was it Jake? She inventoried herself, just in case. Black turtleneck, clean. Good jeans, her good flat boots. Hair, okay. Makeup, fixable.
“This is-,” she began. Fingers crossed.
“It’s me,” Tuck said. “Ella called. She wanted you, said she knew all along it was you at the Dunkin’s. So much for that idea. But she said she had to talk to you, wouldn’t tell me what it was about, so I gave her your cell, I hope that’s okay, and she-”
Jane’s call waiting beeped in, interrupting Tuck’s light-speed recitation.
“Tuck? Call you back.” She had to see if it was Jake. Punching the phone onto speaker, she inched through the tolls toward Boston. “This is Jane.”
“Miss Ryland? I’m so sorry to call. It’s Ella. Ella Gavin. Ella from-”
“Yes, Ella, I know.” Jane was going to kill Tuck.
“Okay. Good. Like I told Miss Cameron, I recognized you at the coffee shop. It didn’t seem like you wanted me to, but everyone knows you. How you protect your sources, no matter what. How trustworthy you are. That’s why I’m calling. It has to be confidential.”
“Well, thank you, Ella.” Jane wondered where the hell this was going. Why does everyone ask for confidential? “Of course. Confidential. What can I do for you?”
“Have you not picked up your messages at work?” Ella said. “I left you one two days ago telling you about Mr. Brannigan.”
“Really?” There had been nothing on Jane’s phone, so-oh. The operator had probably sent Ella to the “Jane” line, the voice-mail limbo where stressed-out receptionists dumped what they decided were nuisance calls. Which interns answered. Sometimes.
“I bet you got the tip line,” Jane said. “I apologize. That’s-anyway. But I know about Mr. Brannigan, and I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Listen, Miss Ryland?”
“Jane.” She was past exit 14 now. Almost home.
“Jane. Okay. Ah, I’d get in trouble if anyone knew I-Well, listen. I have the paperwork that proves Miss Cameron is not really Audrey Rose Beerman. The original intake documents for baby Beerman don’t show a bracelet or note. Mrs. Beerman would have them, too, to compare. But thing is, I called some other families who were reunited with their birth children by Lillian, and it seems like…” Her voice trailed off, almost buried in the roar of a thundering sixteen-wheeler.
“Ella? Are you there?”
“Well, I think-I think they could have been sent the wrong children, too.”
“What?” Jane tried to process this. “Why would anyone-”
“I’m outside Lillian Finch’s house right now,” Ella interrupted, talking even faster. “With a key she gave me. There was nothing in her office that proved anything. So I think the proof must be in her house.”
Was this flake planning to go inside? Into the home of a possible murder victim? Jane tried to concentrate on the road, on the increasing sputter of snow, and on how to keep Ella from making the dumbest move imaginable.
“Ella? I’m so glad you called. Very wise of you. We can talk. But listen, don’t do that. Don’t go inside. I know you have a key, and I know she gave it to you.” No harm in letting Ella think she believed it. “Let me ask you. Is there crime scene tape on the door? That would mean the house is sealed, and there’s no way for you to go inside. It would be illegal.”
Silence. The traffic was molasses, headlights and streetlights struggling to illuminate the way.
“I can’t tell about any tape from here,” Ella said. “There’s trees. I’m across the street, in my car, and it’s kind of snowing. I’ve been sitting here kind of a long time. But I don’t care. I’m going in.”
Jane hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. Colossally dumb. Insane. But it wasn’t Jane’s responsibility to-Fine. “Ella? You called to ask me what to do, right?”
“Right. But now I’ve decided. On my own. I’m not leaving. I’m going in.” Her voice sounded taut, almost petulant. Or determined. “With you, or without you. It’s my responsibility. There are families who think they-”
“Ella? Ella? Okay. Stay there. But do not go inside. Wait for me.” If she could stall this girl, she could convince her to drop this ridiculous idea. “It’ll take me a little while to get there, the snow’s getting worse out here. But I’ll come, we’ll talk. But only if you promise.”
Silence.
“Ella?” She imagined Ella breaking through the crime scene tape, the police finding out-Jake!-and poor Ella would wind up needing a very good lawyer. Jane was going to kill Tuck.
“I promise,” Ella whispered. “But hurry.”
62
The baby’s eyes fluttered. Maggie was beginning to fidget on the couch. Jake needed to decide what to do. Now.
“Maggie? Is Diane Marie supposed to be in foster care?” Another thought. “Was she Brianna’s foster child?”
Maybe this was the wrong baby. Maybe not the one from Callaberry Street.
“There are so many unloved children.” Maggie looked down at the infant in her arms, her eyes softening. “It’s not their fault, and there’s no way the system can save them all. I’m supposed to send them to new homes, but how can I be sure they’ll thrive and flourish? They… so often don’t. It began to feel like we could never do enough.”
DeLuca returned. “Clear.”
“Watch the front,” Jake said. Why hadn’t Maggie just run out when she heard them come in? Probably figured they’d never find the connecting door. Safer to stay put. “Did you call anyone, Maggie?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Gotcha, Jake. I’m on it,” DeLuca said.
For now, at least, they were alone. Unless Maggie actually did have reinforcements on the way, no one would get hurt. And possibly he’d get some answers. Jake briefly envisioned the front door he’d smashed through outside. Apparently no neighbors had noticed. You’d think someone would have called 911 by now.
Called 911. The blood drained from Jake’s face. He felt his skin go cold.
“Where were you last Sunday afternoon?” Jake asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know Brianna Tillson?” He paused. “Let me put it another way. How do you know Brianna Tillson?”
“I don’t-”
“Be very careful, now, Maggie. I know you’re a good person. Doing what you think is right. But whatever it is-is over. You know that, don’t you? Little Diane Marie is counting on you to protect her. Relying on you. You’re all she has. You, Maggie. Her only hope.”
Jake could hear the baby breathing, a little snuffly sound.