If he were being honest with himself, he had wondered about Tricia Bowers, too. She’d seemed a little too eager to fill him with beer that night at the fish fry. Or maybe he was being paranoid.

  He wanted to trust Ruth, to believe in her intentions, but something nagged at the back of his mind. He took another sip of his wine.

  “You’re right, my friend. Maybe just for a moment,” Cornelius said.

  Ruth moved closer, her body pressing against his. Her breasts were firm for a woman of her age. She’d taken good care of herself. Cornelius was aroused.

  “You know,” she said seductively, “we could be more than friends. Just let go. Let go of the worries, the fears. I’m here with you.”

  He felt his tension ease slightly, the wine and her touch working together to further dull his senses. He was tired from the drive and the stress of having been on high alert all day. As they sat together, he tried to push away his doubts and focus on the present.

  It would soon be dark outside, and it felt like time to settle down and cozy up. Cornelius had nowhere else to go for the night. Not unless he contacted whoever was filling in for Jimmy and asked to be taken to a new safe house. That didn’t seem wise because someone was clearly leaking information about his whereabouts. Perhaps it had something to do with Victor Garton and the threat to expose him. Cornelius wasn’t sure, and his senses weren’t sharp enough to make sense of it.

  Suddenly, a faint sound broke the silence—a baby’s cry, distant but unmistakable. Cornelius froze, his eyes widening in shock.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Ruth’s expression didn’t change. “Hear what?”

  He stood up, his head spinning slightly. Was he imagining things? He didn’t think so.

  “A baby. I heard a baby crying.”

  Ruth shook her head, her eyes narrowing.

  “Cornelius, you’ve been under so much stress. Maybe you’re just imagining things,” she said, reading his mind.

  But Cornelius knew what he had heard. He moved towards the source of the sound, his heart pounding. As he reached the back of the house, the crying grew louder, more distinct.

  “It sounds like it’s coming from the barn,” he said, his words beginning to slur.

  His head felt heavy. His eyes drooped. He shook in an attempt to stay awake and alert.

  Grabbing his coat this time, he exited the back door of Ruth’s humble home and stepped out into the snow on the back deck. As he looked toward the barn, he saw the unmistakable glow of a warm light.

  “That wasn’t on before,” he said to himself.

  He stumbled forward, the sounds of the baby’s cries growing louder. He walked as quickly as he could, making his way to the barn. He reached for his gun, but it was no longer tucked into the back of his waistband.

  “Shit,” he said. Then “Who’s there?”

  There was no answer except for the hoot of an owl. He turned to face it, remembering the heron and the cardinal. Were these birds some kind of sign?

  It took a moment, but he finally spotted the snowy owl perched on a wooden fence a short distance away. Its white feathers blended in with the snow, making Cornelius wonder if it was really there or if he was hallucinating. He remembered hearing that some cultures believe an owl visits shortly before a person is to die. Was it a Native American tribe who thought so? Was it true? Or had that come from another novel he’d read?

  He certainly hoped this owl wasn’t a sign of impending doom. He had so much more to do in life. He looked into the animal’s eyes, saying a silent prayer for protection. The owl hooted once more in response, offering a small comfort.

  Cornelius steeled himself and moved on. If this was his day to die, at least, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  When he arrived at the barn, he opened a door, revealing a staircase leading down to a basement. It looked creepy, like something out of a horror movie. Was his mind playing tricks? The baby’s cries continued.

  Ruth’s voice was suddenly behind him, cold and sharp. Gone was the warmth and friendliness of a short time prior.

  “Cornelius, stop,” she said.

  He turned to see her standing at the top of the stairs, her face a mix of concern and something else—something darker.

  “Ruth, what’s going on? Why is there a baby down here?”

  Ruth stepped forward, her demeanor shifting.

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “You need to leave it alone. Trust me.”

  He shook his head, determined to find the truth.

  “I can’t do that. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  As he descended the stairs, stumbling along the way, the baby’s cries grew louder, echoing off the walls. Cornelius’ mind raced. His instincts screamed that he was walking into a trap. Ruth followed, her footsteps echoing ominously.

  “Please. Just come back upstairs. We can talk about this. I wanted us to have a nice meal and … some intimate time.”

  “What do you mean? You didn’t know I was coming until I showed up at your door. Did you?” he asked.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a small, dimly lit room. In the corner, a makeshift crib held a tiny, crying baby with rich brown skin and big brown eyes. She couldn’t have been more than a week old. Cornelius’ heart broke at the sight.

  He turned to Ruth, his voice trembling with anger and confusion. He didn’t think Ruth had ever had children, which meant no grandchildren, either.

  “What is this, Ruth? Whose baby is this?”

  “I tried to protect you,” Ruth said, her face twisting. “But you had to keep digging.”

  Before he could react, the effects of the drugged wine hit him full force. His vision blurred, his limbs felt heavy, and he stumbled, barely able to keep his balance. He heard the door at the top of the stairs creak open and the sound of footsteps approaching. Whoever was coming sounded big.

  Cornelius tried to reach for his gun, remembering that it wasn’t there. Ruth must have taken it when he was distracted. His movements were sluggish.

  He turned to Ruth, betrayal etched on his face. He could no longer trust her, that much was clear.

  “Why, Ruth? Why did you do this?”

  Ruth’s expression hardened.

  “Simple. You were a loose end. The Cradler needed to tie up loose ends. He knew if you were placed anywhere nearby, you’d come to find me. And here you are.”

  As he struggled to stay conscious, Cornelius heard the footsteps draw closer. The baby’s cry was now a haunting backdrop to his growing dread. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the cold, calculating look in Ruth’s eyes.

  Twenty-Five

  The next morning, Laurel returned to her desk in the conference room, ready to start the day.

  She’d worked late the evening before, and she hadn’t mentioned anything to Brad about seeing Jamie at Dr. Stewart’s office. By the time she’d fallen into bed, she’d just wanted to sleep. Baby Alexia needed her full attention.

  Laurel glanced at the pile of files on her desk, feeling the weight of the investigation pressing down on her. She took a deep breath and opened the first file, diving into the details. Every clue, every piece of evidence, was crucial.

  Just as she was getting into the rhythm of her work, the door opened, and Malik walked in. “Morning, Agent Dane,” he said, holding a cup of coffee.

  “Morning,” she replied, grateful for the refreshment, but careful not to drink too much caffeine now that she was pregnant. “Decaf?”

  “Just the way you like it, boss.”

  “Thank you, Agent Washington,” she said. “Anything new?”

  Malik nodded, setting the cup down on her desk. “Actually, yes. We got a hit on the facial recognition. The woman on the business card? It’s definitely Ruth Patterson.”

  Laurel’s eyes widened. Part of her didn’t want it to be true. She’d learned a long time ago that being in law enforcement meant some rude awakenings when it came to people you thought you knew. It was still a jolt to the system when it turned out that someone wasn’t who they seemed.

  “My dad’s old friend. Damn. What do we know about her?”

  “Like we said yesterday, she’s been linked to several suspicious activities across different states,” Malik said, pulling out a file. “And she has multiple aliases. We believe she’s deeply involved in The Cradler’s syndicate.”

  “What makes you think that? Women aren’t usually violent criminals, and they don’t typically harm babies.”

  “I know, but I told you I had a hunch,” Malik said proudly. “Seems like I was right. We’ve tracked communications that show her in contact with The Cradler’s network, dating back several years. She was a science teacher who retired about that long ago. She must have needed something to fill the time.”

  “This is big, Malik. We need to find her and see what she knows about Baby Alexia.”

  Malik nodded. “I agree. We’ve already put out an alert and are coordinating with other agencies. Local police knocked on her door in Buffalo, New York, but no one was home. Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

  “They’d better do more than knock,” Laurel said. “Do we have enough evidence to justify a thorough search?”

  Malik nodded. “Working on it.”

  Just then, Samira walked in, her expression serious. “Agent Dane, Agent Washington, we’ve got another lead. Kanesha and Paul remembered something else. They found a receipt from a hardware store in town. It’s dated the day before Tiana was killed.”

  Laurel stood up, her pulse quickening.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “Let’s get over there and see what we can find,” Samira said. “Maybe Ruth was there, or someone who knows her.”

  Laurel and Malik nodded, grabbing their jackets. As they headed out, Laurel’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Della.

  Update on your dad. Call me ASAP.

  Laurel’s heart sank. She quickly dialed Della’s number as they walked to the parking lot.

  “Della, it’s me. What’s the update?”

  Samira and Malik tried not to eavesdrop, but Laurel knew she needed to stay vigilant about what she said out loud. Neither of the young agents knew that her dad was alive.

  Della’s voice was calm but urgent on the other end of the phone. “Your dad left the safe house Jimmy placed him in.”

  “What? How could that be?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. Laurel could hear the concern in her friend’s voice. “He must have thought he had no other choice. He went completely off grid, leaving no trace. I have agents on the way to do a more thorough search, but as best we can tell, all he left was a note for Jimmy saying he’d had to move and a bucket list of sorts with things he wanted to do before he died.”

  “Aww,” Laurel said, pausing to put a hand over her heart.

  She remembered what her dad had said about feeling like he would die soon, and it terrified her. She had just gotten him back after thinking he’d been dead. She didn’t think she’d make it through the real thing. Especially now that she had a baby on the way. Cornelius Dane needed to meet his grandchild.

  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, friend,” Della said as a dark sedan pulled into the station parking lot and came to a stop.

  Laurel looked up at the car. A beautiful woman with long, dark hair was driving, and she looked awfully familiar. In an instant, recognition settled over Laurel. It was Della, right here in Appleman’s Gap.

  Seeing that Laurel had spotted her, Della ended the call and got out of the car. She rushed forward to hug her friend.

  “You devil, you,” Laurel said with a smile. “I didn’t ask you to come down. What are you doing here?”

  Della shrugged. “I know. But sometimes friends need to do things without being asked. It seemed like you could use a hand down here.”

  Laurel smiled from ear to ear as she wiped a happy tear from her eye. “You’re the best, Della. The very best.”

  “Aww, it’s no big deal,” Della said. “What is a big deal is this cute baby bump you’re sporting. You look adorable.”

  “You think so?”

  Della nodded. “Abso-freakin-lutely. You’re positively glowing!”

  “You can compliment me more at home tonight,” Laurel said. “You’re staying with Brad and me.”

  “Nonsense. I don’t want to be a bother. I have my eye on an Airbnb with a clawfoot tub. It’s cute as a button,” Della said. “Your little hometown is darling!”

  Laurel started to object, but there was a lot going on. It might be better if Della stayed somewhere else. Jamie was enough of a distraction.

  “Well, if nothing else, you had better come hang out in the evenings,” she said. “I seem to remember being promised your homemade empanadas.”

  “Of course.”

  Samira and Malik were standing awkwardly nearby, trying not to intrude. There was a break in the conversation, so Laurel and Della finally looked their way.

  “Are you going to introduce me to your Agents?” Della asked.

  “Of course,” Laurel said, clearing her throat and getting back to business.

  “Agent Brady, meet Agent Samira Aziz and Agent Malik Washington.”

  They all shook hands.

  “Are they good eggs?” Della asked, her long hair blowing in the breeze.

  Laurel had always thought her friend looked more like a runway model than an F.B.I. agent. Except for the icy stare she could levy when needed, that is.

  “They are,” Laurel said. “They’re green, but they’re good.”

  Samira and Malik smiled like proud kids whose teacher had just complimented them. She had.

  “Can I speak openly in front of them?” Della asked.

  Laurel knew instantly that what Della had to say was about her dad. From the sound of it, Samira and Malik would need to know that he was alive. He might need their help.

  Laurel nodded.

  Della turned to the young agents, looking them straight in the eye. “Let me remind you that the information you’re about to hear is classified. I expect complete confidentiality. Do not breathe a word of it to anyone other than the four of us and Agent Paulson. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Malik said.

  “Yes, I understand,” Samira echoed.

  Della nodded, too, then dove right in.

  “We’ve traced the car Cornelius Dane was driving to a location near Buffalo, New York. He’s off the grid, but we’re closing in. We believe he might be with Ruth Patterson. We’ve learned that there’s a woman involved in The Cradler’s syndicate who’s known as The Midwife. We suspect Ruth might be her.”

  Samira’s eyes went wide. “Wait. Cornelius Dane … who died last year?”

  “One and the same,” Della replied. “We’ve been protecting him while he worked undercover to bring The Cradler’s syndicate down, but he left the safe house yesterday morning without any electronic devices. We think he’s in trouble.”

  The tone became somber as Samira and Malik came to realize the implications for Laurel.

  “Agent Dane, I’m sorry,” Malik said. “We’ll do everything we can to find him.”

  “Yes,” Samira added. “We will.”

  “A team is on the way to Ruth Patterson’s New York property as we speak. If he’s there, we’ll find him,” Della said.

  Laurel felt a surge of determination. She appreciated having three of her fellow Agents working alongside her to find her dad.

  “Keep me posted,” she said to Della. “We need to nail Ruth Patterson, and fast. My dad’s life might depend on it. We’re heading to follow up on a lead now. I’ll check in with you later.”

  Della nodded. “Go. I’ll make myself comfortable in there until you get back. Anyone I should watch out for?”

  Samira piped up before she thought better of it. “Detective Josh Nolan seems to have it out for Agent Dane.”

  Della smiled approvingly. “Noted. Thank you, Agent Aziz.”

  They said quick goodbyes, their resolve strengthening. The short drive was tense, each of them lost in their thoughts, but united in their mission. They had to find Ruth, find Cornelius, find Baby Alexia, and bring everyone home safely.

  As they pulled into the parking lot of the hardware store, Laurel’s phone buzzed again. It was a message from Brad.

  Call me when you get a chance. We need to talk.

  Laurel sighed, knowing she couldn’t avoid the uncomfortable conversation forever. But for now, she had to focus on the task at hand.

  She silenced her phone and stepped out of the car, ready to uncover the truth.

  Twenty-Six

  Cornelius woke to the sound of the baby crying. His head throbbed, and his vision was still blurry, but he could make out the dimly lit room around him. The basement was cold and smelled of damp earth. He was lying on the floor, his hands and feet bound with thick rope.

  He struggled to sit up, his body protesting with every movement. The baby’s cries were louder now, more desperate. The poor child sounded hungry. It had been years since he’d had a newborn, but a parent never forgets what a hungry baby sounds like.

  Cornelius forced himself to focus. He had to save that child, no matter what it took. He had a hunch she was Tiana Sneed Douglas’ baby—the one Laurel had told him about. That meant that she had been brutally ripped from her mother’s womb as Tiana was left for dead. It was hard to imagine a fate more cruel.

  It didn’t make sense how the baby had ended up here, in Buffalo. When Cornelius had rescued his grandson, Baby Jasper, a couple of months prior, the infant had been in Middle Tennessee. All he could think was that The Cradler’s reach must extend far beyond what any of them had realized.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened, and two large men descended. One of them held a gun, while the other carried a duffel bag. They moved with the confidence of men who had done this many times before.

 

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