Reid Billings didn’t pull any punches, Emilie would give him that. She sketched on a legal pad as she walked him through what incredibly little he knew about his niece’s status, even as she reeled internally from his blunt challenge. She forced herself to ignore the note, the one that had to have been placed either while she was in court or at the coffeehouse. Neither was a great option, because it meant whoever stalked her could blend in close enough to get right next to her and she’d never notice.
Reid’s challenge rang through her. She had no options. If she didn’t help him, she’d know she was a coward and always wonder if she could have done something that mattered for Kinley. If she did help him, she’d know she was a fool.
But wasting time on Reid’s windmill-tilting agenda didn’t solve the matter of who was stalking her and leaving little messages.
Reid cleared his throat, and she startled.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“Why? I need your help because you knew Kaylene. Without us Kinley goes to her dad, and I have a bad feeling about that.”
The problem was Emilie did too. What she lacked were facts to support that feeling, and she’d learned long ago that feelings didn’t lead to success in a courtroom. Logic and facts would rule the day, though a little emotion and passion could be helpful. But only a little.
“What you’re asking is very complicated. It will also require me to work on it in my off time.”
“You can do it through the Haven.”
“No.” Rhoda would have a fit if she got the agency mixed up in something as messy and likely to fail as this scheme.
“What if Kinley recovers quickly and the doctors send her home tomorrow?”
“Then I can’t help you.” She would not let Reid make his emergency her crisis. “If we’re going to do this, we have to do it deliberately.”
“Let me know in the next day or two. If you won’t help, I’ll have to look for someone else, and they won’t be as good.”
Emilie knew no one else would care like she did. Someone new wouldn’t know Kaylene and be vested in the outcome. Instead, they’d be swayed by everything that had happened last Monday.
Even as the two of them sat there in her living room, Emilie couldn’t stop glancing out the window toward the street, watching for someone, anyone who looked out of place. Was someone watching her house even now? Should she reach out to the police again? Detective Gaines hadn’t returned her call, but maybe if she called again he’d at least connect her with someone. She doubted any other police officer would even listen to her concerns, and she couldn’t stomach the thought of the condescension she’d receive if she ran to them with two anonymous notes.
Way back in March she’d first had the sense someone was watching her. It had been creepy, but something she could brush aside. After all, she lived in a major city and spent a lot of time in places filled with people. Why should a glance from a stranger as she walked down King Street bother her?
The feeling had returned with growing regularity until her car accident along Rock Creek Parkway in April. But she accepted what others said: the accident was exactly that. And the weird feeling, she told herself, was also just that . . . a feeling. Her enforced “vacation” following the accident while her shoulder healed from the accident was what she needed.
Then in May the sensation of being watched started again.
The first time it happened was in a crowded Metro subway. Easy to explain away. Then it occurred in Old Town at Il Porto, but no one except those she celebrated with looked familiar.
She started cataloging people everywhere she went. Seeing shadows where there weren’t any. She’d called the police, and she could almost hear the officer’s eyes rolling over the phone.
Was her preoccupation with the shadows the reasons she had missed signs with Kaylene?
She came back to the present and sighed. “I’ll consider this, Reid. You have to find out Kinley’s status. How long will she be in the hospital? What’s her diagnosis? Does she remember anything?” She paused, almost afraid to say the next words. “She’s the lone eye witness other than Robert.”
A seriousness weighed Reid’s features. “That’s exactly what concerns me. What if she remembers a key detail when she revives—a detail that implicates her father?”
“Then we make sure we’re ready.” Emile glanced at her notepad. No grand revelations hidden in the scrawls and swirls. “Get me what you learn, and I’ll consider grounds for taking custody from a parent. We need to find something that will take our gut reactions to Kaylene’s death and turn them into evidence.” She pulled her gaze from the paper to Reid, and ignored the jolt it gave her. “Time’s not on our side. The sooner we file the better, but right now we don’t have any legal justification for advocating a change in custody.”
“It sounds like you’ve decided to help me.” His grin was mischievous, and she didn’t want to look away.
“Maybe, but you need to understand I still have reservations.”
“We all do.” His phone buzzed, and he slipped it from his pocket. After a quick glance at the screen, he stood. “I almost forgot about this meeting. I’ll work on the hospital angle. See if I can get us a timeline. Will you let me know what else you need from me?”
“Yes.” Emilie placed a hand on his to stall him. “Please understand this is a long shot. I have a feeling there was a lot going on at home that Kaylene didn’t tell anyone.”
“We have to do this.” His words left no room for disagreement.
“I agree, but we have to be realistic. Reid, there’s a good chance we’ll fail.”
“And there’s a chance we won’t. In my line of work, we make our money in those slim chances. We’ll get ’er done.” He gave her a forced smile and then stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
She watched him open the door and walk away, noting the confidence in his movements. She would give anything to have that. Instead, as she glanced back down at her notes, all she saw were the problems.
Reid hurried to his car. He’d almost forgotten the meeting with his investor and Brandon. The investor needed a tax deduction, and Almost Home needed funding.
He wanted this meeting to solve both issues, but Jordan Westfall tended to have strong opinions he didn’t make clear until everyone thought things were settled except for his signature. The two had met thanks to their mutual friend, David Evans, but Reid didn’t know him well. He managed Jordan’s money and that was all. He hoped that the combination of their business relationship and Almost Home’s mission would open Jordan’s checkbook. Brandon was great at what he did in many ways, but asking for money wasn’t his strength. And the big guy didn’t need false hope, so Reid would have to keep Jordan on task and engaged.
As he drove he tried again to get through to the nurses’ desk on Kinley’s floor. They’d stonewalled him so far, but maybe one call would reach someone helpful.
“Rogers.” A harried voice suggested he not waste time.
“This is Reid Billings calling for an update on my niece, Kinley Adams.” Reid could hear beeps and clicks in the background as he switched lanes.
“Reid? I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened.” The compassion in the woman’s voice had him stretching for their connection.
“Melanie Rogers?” He placed her from a Bible study he’d attended at his church.
“Yes.” She sighed. “There’s not much to update, but I’ll check her file.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then Melanie continued. “She’s still in a coma, but the doctors are optimistic.”
“Do you have any estimate of when she can go home?”
“It’s impossible to predict that. I would suggest you ask her father to add you to the list so we can provide you with current information.”
“He told me I could ask for information from the desk.”
“There’s not much change to report. She’s stable.”
“I appreciate the update.” The words felt so empty. “One last thing. Are visitors still restricted? I’d really like to see her.”
“I’m sorry, Reid, but her father is adamant that no one other than medical staff have access to her.”
“Thank you.” He hung up and winged a quick thanks to heaven. It might not be much information, but it was all he was likely to get without Robert’s permission. At least he’d learned they had some time to figure out how to gain custody.
Half an hour later he pulled into the Almost Home parking lot and slid into a slot next to a Porsche. Jordan had beaten him.
The sound of children’s squeals pulled Reid’s attention to the side area between the fourth boys’ home and the community center. A couple basketball goals and a kickball ring were tucked into the space, and when he turned the corner he saw a dozen boys ranging in age from eight to thirteen clustered around Brandon and Jordan. Brandon had so many boys hanging off him he looked like an octopus with appendages of varying lengths.
“There he is.” Brandon stomped toward him, or tried to, dragged down as he was by the kids.
“I see you found Jordan.” Reid clapped Brandon on the lone free spot on his back.
Jordan gave him a self-satisfied, slightly awkward smile. “Can’t come say hi with all these young men surrounding me.”
“I told you there were quite a few.” Reid high-fived a couple of the boys. “If you’ve met these great guys, you’ve seen all you need. Where’s your checkbook?”
“I think I need a little more data.”
Reid turned to the boys. “All right. We need time for a meeting.” As the boys groaned and complained, he held up his hands and clicked the button on his keys. “But if you look in my backseat you’ll find something to do while we’re inside.”
As if he’d told them there was fresh pizza in his car, they abandoned the men in a flash and tore away. If he was lucky, the balls and Frisbees would keep them occupied without causing anyone permanent harm.
Brandon shook his head as he led the way to the community center and his office. “You shouldn’t bribe them.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Not on his salary, especially if helping here served the dual purpose of keeping clients like Jordan satisfied.
“This time.” Brandon snorted and gestured toward the group of boys arguing over the sports items. “They practically expect it.” They reached the door to the community center, and Brandon opened it and stepped to the side to let the other men enter first.
Reid glanced back at his car to make sure the kids had closed the doors. Jordan was already inside the building, hands shoved in his designer khakis, taking in the wide-open, homey space. Tables lined one half of the room. A couple times a week community meals were served, partly to give the houseparents a break and partly to keep sibling groups connected. Several multicolored couches were arranged around a large fireplace. Stacks of games filled a bookshelf on one side of the fireplace, and on the other books appropriate for young kids through tweens. A selection of YA books was on another, higher shelf.
“You should see this place when it’s overflowing with kids . . .” Reid had been here several times during large meals, and the pandemonium was impressive.
“The noise.” Brandon rubbed his head as he glanced around the space, shoulders pulled back and head high. “We’ve worked to make this a place the kids can hang out. It especially helps the sibling groups who may be split among houses.”
Jordan frowned as he glanced at Brandon. “Does that happen often?”
“More than I’d like, but we’re restricted when we have sibling groups of brothers and sisters. Currently we don’t have a facility that allows us to mix genders. That’s in the dream.”
Reid led Jordan to Brandon’s office. It was a Spartan setting; Brandon had kept the focus on the spaces the kids utilized. Reid thought that would play well with Jordan, a man who appreciated the decisive and effective use of funds.
Jordan sank onto one of the folding chairs in front of Brandon’s desk, a battered metal contraption that looked like a leftover from the Cold War. “Let’s get down to business. Why am I here?”
“You need some creative thinking about your finances now that you’ve cashed out, and this is an organization I’ve been involved with for years.” Reid waited for Brandon to plop behind his desk and then settled on the last folding chair. “This is a project you can get behind and know your funds are making a significant impact.”
Brandon launched into an explanation of the purpose and vision for Almost Home. It had started with his background as a kid who bounced through foster care until, as a teenager, he’d landed with a family that made him one of their own. That experience had changed the course of his life, and Almost Home existed to do the same for others.
As he listened to Jordan ask probing questions, Reid hoped this would be the solution to Almost Home’s immediate needs. He needed one area of his life to go well as he figured out what had really happened to Kaylene and whether Kinley needed saving.
If she did, he couldn’t fail.