Chapter 41

Brogan tossed his phone onto the cluttered desk. He’d spent the last hour trying to track down the whereabouts of John Smith, but the man was as elusive as his reputation indicated. Even though the police had issued a BOLO for his vehicle, there had been no sightings. Senator Johnston, who’d retired from public life two years ago, had been unable to shed any light on his former employee, who was indeed legally named John Smith. “John’s a man who likes to live off the grid,” was how the senator had put it. “If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.”

Maybe Seth had more luck on his end. Brogan rose and headed to his colleague’s desk.

Seth had the desk phone handset tucked under his ear while he made notations on a stickie pad. “Thank you very much.” He replaced the receiver and grinned at Brogan.

“Tell me you have good news.” Brogan needed some. Every minute Melender stayed missing was like a stab in his heart. He could tell himself it was all about the story, but the anxiety flooding his veins told a different tale.

“I have very good news.” Seth stood and held out the note. “I found an address for Smith.”

Brogan bit back a sigh of disappointment. “I’ve found six addresses for Smith, and none of them panned out.”

“Ah, but this one is different.” Seth raised his eyebrows. “This one is the property he inherited from a cousin, so it didn’t pop up as directly related to Smith.”

Brogan straightened, his senses tingling. This could be the break they needed. “Where is it?”

Seth rattled off an address in Fairfax County. “It’s in one of those five-acre estate subdivisions, but get this—it’s only fifteen minutes from the Thompson house.”

“Let’s go. We’ll call Livingston on the road.” As Brogan hustled to the elevator with Seth at his heels, he prayed Smith had taken Melender to the house.

And that they would be in time.

* * *

On the benchat the foot of the bed, Ruby rocked her sobbing daughter, ignoring the presence of the detective, who hovered just inside the room. Somehow, she’d found the strength to offer comfort, when all Ruby wanted to do was sink into the four-poster bed and sleep away the nightmare unfolding around her. “Shh. It will be okay, Jilly.”

Jillian shoved back, her face splotchy and wet. “No, it won’t.”

“I think you’d better start at the beginning,” Collier suggested, her tone gentler than Ruby expected from a cop.

Jillian hiccupped. “I can’t.”

Ruby’s heart constricted even tighter at the pain behind her daughter’s words. In her grief over losing Jesse, had she failed to see the hurt Jillian hid from the world? “Yes, you can.”

Jillian jumped to her feet, moving several steps away from Ruby and Collier, who had stayed near the door. “No, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Collier interjected.

Jillian whirled to face her mother. The anguish in her eyes sent another stab to Ruby’s heart. “Because if I do, you’ll hate me like you’ve hated Melender all these years.”

“No, my darling. I won’t.” But even as she said the words, Ruby latched onto the implication behind them. What had Jillian done? No matter what happened, Jillian was her flesh and blood, her only living link to being a mother. “You’re my daughter. Whatever happened couldn’t have been your fault. You were only three years old.”

“I think I killed Jesse.” Sobs overtook Jillian, doubling her over. She dropped to her knees on the plush, white carpet away from the shattered picture frames, her arms wrapped around her middle.

Her words froze Ruby to the bench, unable to move or process what Jillian had said. She could only watch her daughter cry for several long moments. The detective hadn’t jumped in with questions, for which Ruby was grateful. Surely Jillian would continue when she could and explain what she meant.

Jillian finally straightened and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then blew her nose from a tissue she pulled from her pocket. She locked eyes with Ruby, the pleading in them for understanding nearly breaking Ruby’s fragile composure. “Jared was watching us while you and Dad were at that charity event,” she whispered, her words carrying clearly through the otherwise silent room.

Her daughter drew in a breath. “Melender wasn’t at home. She was at a graduation party down the street for the evening.”

Ruby listened quietly, not wanting to interrupt the flow of truth from Jillian’s lips. Strange how unreal the true events of that night sounded after nearly two decades of clinging to the alternative version they had told themselves—and the police, the FBI, and a jury.

“Jesse was fussy. Isadora had given him a dose of Tylenol before she left to help you at the country club, but I guess it had worn off because he wouldn’t stop coughing and crying.” Jillian’s fingers shredded the tissue into confetti as she continued. “Jared gave Jesse some medicine, then he told me to play peek-a-boo with Blue Bunny to calm him down. So I did. Only I was tired too. It was late, really late. Jared left to meet Snake, so he wasn’t there any longer. I stopped playing when Jesse calmed down and left Blue Bunny in the crib.”

Ruby drew in a ragged breath as Jillian paused. Pain sliced through her at the thought of her baby boy, lying helpless in his crib, sick. She should have been there. She should have ditched the charity event and stayed home with her precious children. She certainly should not have left them in the care of Jared, who at nineteen, was already a disappointment to Quentin. But the lure of adoration from all their friends as they oohed and ahhed over the event she’d organized had been too strong for her to stay home.

“I didn’t realize anything was wrong until voices in Jesse’s room woke me up. I tiptoed through the bathroom to see a man picking up Jesse from his crib.” Jillian started crying again. “And Dad was there too.”

The revelation shocked Ruby. She’d figured Melender had buried Jesse in her rose garden. But hadn’t the police searched the freshly planted area after Jesse disappeared and found nothing? That would mean her son’s body had been kept elsewhere, then moved to the garden. Her niece had been in custody awaiting trial, then immediately sent to prison.

Collier questioned Jillian, their voices a soft murmur in the background as more questions swirled in Ruby’s mind. The mist of grief cleared enough for one thought to come to the forefront. Whatever had happened that night, her niece had had nothing to do with it. And that meant coming to grips with her part in sending an innocent woman to jail for seventeen years.

* * *

“Let’s go!”Brogan snapped his seatbelt into place. “Take I-66 to the Beltway.”

“Got it.” Seth threw the car into gear and squealed out of the Herald’s parking lot.

Brogan speed-dialed Livingston’s number. “Detective, it’s Brogan. I think we have a lead on Smith.”

“Go on.”

Brogan recapped Seth’s detective work in locating the McLean property, giving Livingston the address on Jarvis Court. “I know it’s a long shot, but since the other leads haven’t panned out, Seth and I think it’s worth taking a look. Google Earth shows the house and grounds are fairly isolated, one of those large estates with lots of privacy. We’re thinking Smith might believe no one would be able to connect him to that property, and it’s only fifteen minutes from the Thompson house.”

“You could be right. Hang on a second. I’ve got another call coming in.”

“Take I-495 toward Tyson’s Corner,” Brogan directed Seth while he waited for the detective to come back on the line.

“Brogan?” Livingston didn’t wait for a response. “Quentin’s no longer at the house.”

“I thought you’d assigned someone to keep an eye on him after the discovery in the backyard.” Brogan wasn’t sure what Quentin’s absence meant. He only cared about finding Melender before Smith hurt her.

“We did, but Quentin managed to slip away without anyone noticing. Where are you now?”

“With Seth.” Brogan hesitated about telling him they were en route to check out the property.

Livingston sighed. “What’s your ETA to Jarvis Court?”

So much for pulling a fast one on the detective. “Let me check GPS.” Brogan toggled between screens to view the navigation app. “About seven minutes.”

“I’ll meet you there. I’ll request backup. Wait until an officer arrives before exploring. From what we’ve gathered about Smith so far, he’s not a man who likes to leave loose ends.”

Brogan tamped down the fear that rose in his throat. “Melender’s a loose end.”

“Exactly. Don’t try to be a hero. Wait for backup.”

“We’ll be careful.” Brogan ended the call. Dear God, please keep her safe. If Melender was on that property being held captive by Smith, no way was he waiting for the police to arrive.