Monster In The Closet (The Baltimore Series Book 5) by Karen Rose
If Taylor hurts my mother, I’ll gut her myself.
Whoa. Ford drew a deep breath and let it out, calming himself. Not everyone who asked questions intended to harm the people he loved. Logically he knew this. But emotionally? Fuck. Kimberly had fucked him up but good. Letting his fear drive his actions meant he was letting Kim win. And that will not happen.
He took another minute to let his fear subside to a point where he could at least think clearly. Taylor Dawson might be Clay’s daughter, Sienna. It wasn’t impossible. But even if she wasn’t, she was asking questions that made Ford uncomfortable. She might still be up to something.
Except . . . He thought about how she’d sagged against the post when Dillon left. Whatever her reasons for her questions, she wasn’t happy about asking them. Maybe she was being coerced.
Clay needed to know that there was someone on the farm asking about him. Someone who had his eyes, background checks be damned.
But if Taylor was Clay’s kid, why didn’t she just talk to him? That didn’t make any sense.
Except that maybe it did. He’d heard understanding in her voice when she’d spoken about Jazzie knowing that her mother’s murderer was still out there. As if she knew what it was like.
To be afraid, she’d said. To always wonder if he’s lurking, waiting to jump out from behind a tree to drag them away.
Ford knew that Clay’s ex-wife had hidden his daughter, but didn’t know much more than Dillon did about why. He’d always wondered. Now he needed to know. He needed to understand exactly why Taylor Dawson was here. If she really was Taylor Dawson. Which sounded paranoid as hell.
Except that he’d learned to trust his paranoia. Kimberly had lied to him and he’d nearly died. His mother had nearly died. Ford couldn’t afford to trust anyone anymore. Even a pretty intern who made him want to comfort and protect her – and that was just for starters.
He slipped out of the barn and into the yard, where his phone got a better signal. He stared at the screen for a long time before dialing Clay’s number. When he did, the phone rang so many times that Ford thought it would go to voicemail, but then Clay picked up, breathing hard.
‘Yeah, Ford? What’s wrong?’
Ford’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but the right words simply wouldn’t come. Everything he wanted to say sounded too crazy. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah,’ Clay said gruffly. ‘Just had to run up the stairs for the phone.’
‘Oh, okay. Um, can you come out here?’ Maybe Taylor’s reaction to meeting Clay would answer his questions without his having to ask them.
‘Why?’ The single word rang with impatience.
Because the new intern is asking questions about you and she has your eyes. And if Taylor was exactly who she said she was and was simply curious? He could be setting Clay up for a huge disappointment. He’d come straight to the campsite from the airport and it had been clear how devastated he was that his latest search had been fruitless. If Ford suggested to Clay that Taylor could be his Sienna and she turned out not to be? He didn’t want to imagine Clay’s pain.
So he lied. ‘One of the cameras in the barn is acting wonky.’
A heartbeat of silence, followed by an equally impatient exhale. ‘Look, Ford, I just got home after being gone for two weeks. I’m beat. And that’s Alec’s job, anyway. He knows how to fix shit like that better than I can. Call him. If the two of you can’t fix it, call me back. We’ll figure it out. All the kids are gone for the day, right?’
Of course Clay would say that the cameras were Alec’s job, because they were. Clay’s IT guy – who was also one of Ford’s best friends – had installed nearly all the technology at the farm. The cameras were Alec’s babies. He should have been Ford’s first call.
‘Right,’ Ford mumbled, calling himself an idiot. He’d botched that one and now he couldn’t come up with another reason without sounding like an even bigger idiot.
‘Then put the alarm on when you close up for the night and I’ll see that this gets fixed first thing tomorrow,’ Clay said. ‘Okay?’
‘Okay. Thanks, Clay.’ He ended the call and stared at the barn, then the farm house. He didn’t live here, but he had a room here and tonight he’d make use of it. Just in case his paranoia was right for a change and Taylor wasn’t what she seemed.
And if he got to spend some time getting to know her better, well, that was just a bonus.
Five
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Saturday 22 August, 4.00 P.M.
Clay Maynard tossed his phone to the nightstand and rolled to his side to study the woman in his bed. Their bed, their house. He’d married Stevie Mazzetti last Christmas Eve, and after New Year’s he’d adopted Cordelia. He finally had a family of his own.
He’d loved Stevie Mazzetti from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, but when he met her she hadn’t yet finished mourning her husband. He’d waited for her to be ready, simply because his heart wouldn’t allow him to do anything else. Now he had it all.
Immediately the bitterness came barreling through. No, not all. He still hadn’t found Sienna, even though he’d started searching for his daughter the moment he’d learned of her existence, twenty years ago. He’d gotten close a few times over those years – he’d found his ex-wife, but Donna had hidden Sienna away and wouldn’t even tell him why. Then a year and a half ago Donna had died and Clay had experienced a flare of hope.
If he’d only been able to get a few minutes with his daughter . . . just a few minutes . . . He wasn’t sure what he could reasonably hope to achieve, but it didn’t matter. He’d redoubled his search efforts since Donna’s death, but had come up completely dry. Sienna was nowhere to be found.
He’d nearly given up a few times, but Stevie wouldn’t let him, and it was one of the things he loved best about her. She knew what finding his daughter meant to him and she’d vowed that they’d succeed, no matter how long it took. He hated having to tell her that he’d been unsuccessful yet again.
Stevie cuddled up against him, lightly running her fingers through the hair on his chest. ‘What was that about?’
He put aside his disappointment at his most recent failure in California. ‘It was Ford. A camera’s gone “wonky” in the barn. I’ll make sure Alec’s fixed it before the kids start arriving in the morning.’
Clay had insisted on full camera coverage of the farm, for the safety of the kids as well as to legally protect Daphne and Healing Hearts. Kids who’d been abused and victimized often struck out, and sometimes they or their guardians even lied. He wanted the kids safe, but he also didn’t want anyone accusing any staff members unjustly. It had already happened once, with one of the guardians making an accusation of inappropriate behavior by a staff member so that they could file a lawsuit. The suit had been quickly dropped when Clay had presented video proof to them and their attorneys. Daphne’s lawyer had threatened a countersuit for defamation, but in the end they’d made it all go quietly away.
‘Can’t Ford fix it?’ Stevie asked, her voice languid. Fully sated.
Which made Clay feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. He’d come straight home from Dillon’s camping trip expecting nine-year-old Cordelia to meet him at the door with a huge hug, but what he’d found instead was Stevie in a little scrap of lace that had him losing his mind on the spot. Cordelia was having ice cream with her aunt Izzy, so he and Stevie had had the whole house to themselves and they’d taken full advantage of that fact. The first time had been up against the front door, and that little scrap of black lace was still on the foyer floor.
They needed to pick it up before Cordelia came home, but they had another hour or more. Izzy could make an ice-cream date last for hours, giving him and Stevie precious time alone, and for that Clay was profoundly grateful.
Their second time had been in their bed, and he’d ta
Ford was damn lucky he hadn’t called a few minutes earlier or Clay wouldn’t have been capable of intelligent thought, much less speech fit for public consumption. Especially to the son of his boss. Daphne was his friend first, but on matters of Healing Hearts, she was his boss and Clay never forgot that. They’d made a pact to keep the business separate from their friendship, and they’d been successful, even when they’d disagreed vehemently.
But Daphne was also a mama bear. Just like Stevie, who’d changed her whole life to protect Cordelia, leaving the Baltimore PD after years of service to become his partner in his private investigation business. Clay and Daphne had had only one major fight that had seriously threatened their friendship, and it had been about Ford. Clay wasn’t going to let that happen again.
Unless the phone had rung when Clay had been deep inside Stevie, busy driving her to scream his name. He didn’t think Daphne would fault him for impoliteness in that case.
‘Don’t know what Ford can or can’t fix,’ he said lazily. ‘Don’t particularly care.’
‘Me either.’ Stevie leaned up and kissed him on the mouth, so gently. ‘Are you okay?’
He put on an aggrieved expression that was all show. ‘Okay enough to make you scream twice in one afternoon.’
Her lips twitched, but her eyes were sober. ‘You know what I mean, Clay. You haven’t said a word about what happened in California. I need to know what’s going on in here.’ She tapped his chest. ‘Don’t shut me out.’
He closed his eyes on a sigh. ‘I’m not. I promise.’ He had to swallow hard against the emotion rising to clog his throat. ‘It’s just hard to say out loud, even to you. It’s . . . Shit. Hell of a PI I am. I can’t even find my own kid. It’s like she vanished into thin air. I don’t know where to look anymore.’
‘Your dad called me when you got in from California,’ Stevie said, in a serious tone that had him opening his eyes to stare up at her. ‘He was worried about you.’
His father had hosted Dillon’s bachelor party, taking the group out on his fishing boat to the campsite on one of the barrier islands along the Virginia coast and then loaning them his – thankfully air-conditioned – RV.
‘Yeah, I know. I hate worrying him like that, but I was kind of low.’
‘I got that.’ Then she added quietly, ‘You didn’t call me.’
‘I wanted to. But you were still with Cordy in Disney World and I didn’t want to spoil your good time.’ Clay had accompanied them the summer before and for a long weekend that spring, but this time he’d declined, his gut telling him that he needed to go to California. That something would have changed.
Something had changed, all right.
‘Donna’s aunt’s house has been sold,’ he murmured. ‘She’s dead and Sienna is . . . nowhere.’ While she’d been alive, Donna had repeatedly ignored his pleas to see his daughter. Her aunt had been slightly kinder after Donna’s death, but had continued to tell him that Sienna didn’t want to see him. Now the aunt was dead, his last link to Sienna broken.
Hearing that his daughter didn’t want to see him had broken his heart each time. Loving Stevie and Cordelia and them loving him in return had gotten him through.
‘The college said Sienna never came back after Donna died. She’s like . . . a ghost. No money trail, no credit card use. Nobody had seen her . . . There was nothing. I might have thought she’d died too, except that I couldn’t find any death certificates or records of unclaimed bodies that met her description.’
Stevie laid her hand over his heart and rubbed gently, easing him. ‘That’s good at least.’
‘Yeah.’ He couldn’t think about his daughter being dead. Not when he’d never known her. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think she never existed.’ But he did know better, because he’d seen her. Once. She’d been six years old and playing in the schoolyard. Until she’d turned and seen his face. Then she’d run. Screaming in fear.
His baby had run from him. And that had been the last time he’d laid eyes on her. All because his ex-wife was a spiteful, evil, lying bitch, accusing him of a crime he’d never committed. And he couldn’t even confront Donna about it, because she was dead. That he’d proven. He had the death certificate.
But there was no grave, no obituary. Nothing whatsoever he could use to lead him to his child. Who was now a woman. He’d lost her. Lost her entire childhood. The pain struck again, stabbing him so deep that nothing could heal it. He just had to ignore the pain and keep searching.
‘I thought the same thing,’ Stevie said. ‘That it was like she’d never existed.’ She drew a careful breath. ‘So I did some digging while you were at the camping party.’
Clay sat up, bringing Stevie with him. ‘Digging? What kind of digging?’
‘The kind I would have gotten in trouble for when I worked for Baltimore PD,’ she said dryly. ‘I had an associate search the student records at the college Sienna attended.’
Clay’s brows shot up. ‘By “associate”, you mean that Alec hacked into the college’s files?’
She gave him a look. ‘Do you want to know what he found or not?’
‘Of course, but there was no reason to hack in. The college office gave me her transcripts. She attended for two semesters, then dropped out during her third to take care of Donna.’
‘Which was odd in and of itself, right?’ She tapped his chest thoughtfully. ‘Do colleges normally just hand over transcripts without a pissing match?’
‘Normally no,’ he said warily, ‘but the office secretary had some pity for my “client”.’ Which had been himself, of course, but he’d told the woman that he had a client who was searching for his child who’d been hidden by her mother. All perfectly true except for the name of the client.
‘Which was kind of convenient,’ Stevie said. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘What did your “associate” find?’
‘That there had been three Siennas who’d registered in the past fifteen years, but two are now in their thirties and the third is the right age but African-American. Not your daughter.’
Clay blinked at her, his heart pounding so hard that it was all he could hear. ‘The college gave me a fake record.’
Stevie nodded, her eyes troubled. ‘I believe so.’
Why? he wanted to scream. But he knew why. ‘So I’d go away and stop asking questions. The college was a smokescreen.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Donna created a diversion. Sienna was never there.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Sienna doesn’t want to be found, does she?’
‘That was my take, yes. I’m sorry, Clay. I’m so damn sorry.’
‘You think I should give up,’ he whispered, his voice breaking.
‘No, honey. I don’t think that at all. You owe it to Sienna and to yourself to set the record straight. Donna poisoned her with lies about you for years. You deserve for her to hear your side. To know that you never forgot about her, that you sent her cards on her birthday and for Christmas every damn year, begging her for a few minutes of her time. Just so you could be sure she heard the truth at least once. You deserve those few minutes, Clay. I’m not going to stop until you’ve had them.’
‘And – assuming we ever do find her – if she still hates me? What then?’
‘I’ll want to slap her face, but I won’t. She’s still your child and she’s been victimized too. Lied to, manipulated . . . All because her mother told a lie that grew until she couldn’t control it. But if you don’t find her, you’ll always wonder what might have been if she had listened. If she had believed you. Like I said, you deserve that chance, Clay.’
‘I don’t ev
‘I wondered that too. The woman you spoke with? The clerk in the office? She lives next door to Donna’s aunt. I found photos on the clerk’s FB page of the two women together. They were best friends for years.’
I was played. For all this time. He cleared his throat. ‘That clerk got me good and I never suspected a fucking thing,’ he said roughly. ‘I’ve been chasing shadows.’
‘You’re too close to the case. You’re a father searching for his child. I’m not as close, so I’m seeing things a little differently. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Together.’
He swallowed hard again. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
She kissed his jaw. ‘Too bad. You’re stuck with me for the duration. I love you.’
His heart rattled hard in his chest, just like it did every time he heard her say the words. ‘I love you too. Thank you for sticking with me through all this.’
She smiled at him and he could breathe again. ‘We’ll find her eventually. She can’t hide forever.’ She glanced pointedly at the clock on the nightstand. ‘We have fifty minutes until Izzy brings Cordelia home.’
He shook his head ruefully. ‘The spirit’s willing, babe, but the flesh just ain’t cooperating.’
She slid from their bed, grabbing her cane from where it leaned against the nightstand. The glitter covering the cane’s surface, lovingly applied by Cordelia, sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. Stevie had needed the cane ever since being shot in the line of duty – a critical injury that had almost taken her away from him forever. Her dependence on the cane irritated her, but every time it sparkled he was almost painfully grateful. It was a shiny reminder that she’d lived.
She waggled her brows, giving his groin an exaggerated leer. ‘Because I worked that flesh right down to the bone.’