64
This had to be a first. It was for him, at least. Jake had gathered up a squirming baby Diane, strapped her into her car seat, and fastened the whole thing into the back of his cruiser. There she sat, eyes closed, tiny fingers curled into fists, looking like the smallest suspect ever in Boston Police custody. She’d zonked out the minute the engine started. It broke his heart to see her sleep this profoundly, unaware of the furor around her and no idea how her little life had changed so many others.
You’ll take care of her, Maggie Gunnison had pleaded with him as DeLuca led her away in the arriving BPD van. Jake assured her he would. But what could he do? Baby Diane would go back into foster care. There was no other way. Soon, DeLuca would get the scoop about the lawyer and the whole scheme, whatever it was. They’d find Leonard Perl.
Jake stopped at the light on Wiscasset Street, checked the backseat, carefully hit the gas again. How long had it been going on? How many children had Maggie erased from the system? They’d investigate, see how many families were involved. Discover how many parents would get a life-changing phone call.
Diane made a whimpery noise as the cruiser took the turn onto Hinshaw Street. Jake caught her pink reflection in his rearview. Asleep again. A bad dream? You have no idea, baby girl.
What bugged the hell out of him? Maggie was right, in an impossible way. Diane would probably be better off with the family who’d arranged for the illegal adoption. Problem was, they’d arranged to adopt a kidnapped child.
He punched up his cell. Bethany Sibbach answered before the end of the first ring.
“I see you,” she said.
Jake saw a curtain in her front bay window pull aside, a warm glow from the living room lights behind Bethany’s silhouette. From inside, she raised a hand in salute. “I’ll be right out to help,” she said into the phone.
“She’s asleep,” Jake said. He parked, then twisted around to look through the meshed metal barrier. Diane’s head lolled to one side, her fists open. The floppy ears of her pink stuffed rabbit peeked out from under the blanket.
“No problem,” Bethany said.
A porch light flipped on, and Jake saw Bethany’s front door open.
“Dispatch to Detective Brogan,” the voice cracked over his radio.
Damn. He checked to see if the staticky communication had awakened the baby. As a babysitter he stunk, but Diane Marie would be in Bethany’s hands in a minute. Margaret Gunnison-who, if all went as hoped, was currently at HQ spilling the whole deal to DeLuca and a stenographer-had insisted she’d never heard of Bethany Sibbach. So Jake decided there was no risk in turning the baby over to her. He had to identify Diane and confirm she’d been in the Callaberry apartment, the infant Gunnison and Perl kidnapped from state custody. Would little Phillip recognize her? Would the word of a toddler be ruled credible? He did not want to put Phillip on the stand.
“This is Brogan, I copy,” Jake said. Bethany was hurrying down her front walk, wrapped in a fluttering plaid shawl, carrying a white blanket.
“We have your BOLO on Leonard Perl, Detective,” dispatch said. Jake had called in the lookout so cops could start tracking down the asshole. If he was still in Boston. “Airlines report no one using that name through Logan. Planes are delayed anyway, Detective, no one coming or going. No one at the bus or train station has a record of the name. We’re efforting a photo from the Florida registry.”
“I copy.” There was no reason for Perl to run, since he’d have no idea they had Gunnison. Or baby Diane. No idea they’d be on his trail. Unless he’d heard about Ricker’s death and feared the cops would make the landlord-tenant connection.
Bethany arrived at the cruiser as Jake climbed out and opened the back door.
“Thanks, Dr. Sibbach. Like I told you, this is a new one. But this little girl…” He unclicked the pink webbing and scooped the blanketed infant into his arms. Diane squirmed, then settled, screwing up her eyes as if to cry, then deciding against it. “… might be the answer to Phillip’s question.”
Bethany accepted the blanketed bundle, draping her shawl around both of them, tucking it across the child. It had started to snow, a few gentle flakes. “Where baby, you mean,” she whispered.
Jake nodded. “Is he awake?”
“He might be. Poor thing. It’d be better if he slept through the night, though.”
Jake grabbed the car seat, closed the cruiser door, as softly as he could. He caught up with Bethany as she neared the front door. His cell phone rang.
Damn. “I’ll be right there,” he stage-whispered at Bethany, and put the car seat on the steps in the shelter of the front porch. “Don’t let Phillip see the baby until I get there.” That was a moment he had to witness firsthand.
“Brogan,” he answered.
“News,” DeLuca said.
“You find Perl? Maggie Gunnison give you the scoop on his whereabouts?” Nine o’clock. Jake was starving, freezing, and about to conduct a witness identification session with a toddler. It was time for some good news.
“Nope. But this just in. Kat McMahon is calling a cause on Lillian Finch. She’s about to submit, but she told me-”
“Did she now?”
“Homicide.” D ignored Jake’s sarcasm. “By person or persons unknown. Somebody killed Lillian Finch. Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“You think it was Perl? For some reason?”
Jake needed to get inside. See if Phillip would react to the baby in some way, a way credible enough for Perl to fold when confronted with it. And with Maggie’s confession.
But why would Perl have killed Lillian Finch? He should check Finch’s house. He could let little Phillip sleep now, and come back first thing in the morning.
“You’re thinking the adoption thing connects them?” Jake said. “Well, Perl had to be in Boston on Sunday to kill Brianna Tillson. Lillian Finch was probably killed that same day, so he’d have been available. He can’t know we’ve got Maggie Gunnison, so maybe he’s still in town. That’s the problem. We have no idea of his agenda.”
“Brilliant, Watson,” DeLuca said. “But where the hell is he?”
“I’ll just take a fast look at Finch’s house.” Jake hoped it was the right decision. “Maybe there’s something Hennessey and Kurtz missed.”
“Listen, Harvard? Go home. Maggie Gunnison’s contemplating her future in a cozy jail cell. We’ll start on her again tomorrow. Finch’s house ain’t gonna vanish overnight. It’s after nine o’clock. You’ve been on more than twelve hours. Go home.”
Jake looked at Bethany’s front door. Phillip and Phoebe were asleep inside. Bethany could call him before they woke up so he’d be there for Phillip’s first moment with the baby. Maybe now he could call Jane. Make sure she was safe. Even get a large pepperoni and some wine and see if she’d like to-
“In my dreams.” Jake clicked open his car door. “Assuming Hennessey left the access keys in the usual spot, it won’t take long. I’ll let you know what I find.”
Finally. Traffic had been hellish, the forecast of bad weather inspiring Boston’s already unpredictable drivers into speeding like maniacs or hugging the slow lane. Tuck had called, saying she and Carlyn were having popcorn and watching a movie, and they’d be in touch.
Jane made the turn onto Margolin Street. Most driveways were empty, garage doors closed. Every Bostonian knew this was a night to keep your car inside. She squinted through the dark and mist, scanning under porch lights for house numbers. Almost there.
A blue Accord was parked up the street. Ella? Pulling closer, she could see the empty front seat. And a bumper sticker announcing I HEART ADOPTION.
“Stupid!” Jane said out loud. If Ella had gone inside…