She walked back up the stairs, and Griff watched her bare feet and slender ankles until they disappeared at the top of the stairs. He swallowed. He’d never paid any attention to a woman’s feet before.
He turned to find a sad smile lighting Lillian’s face.
“She’s been so brave. Emily has been her whole life for the past six months. The courage you see is just a front. Inside, she’s about to fall apart.” Love and worry rang in Lillian’s voice.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Ms. Jackson, what do you know about her cases, her friends, her enemies? Who would want to hurt her?”
Lillian sank deeper into her chair and assessed him keenly.
He waited.
“Most of the people she’s helped send Christmas cards, with pictures of their kids and pets. I could probably count unhappy clients on one hand.”
“Maybe you could do that for me.”
Lillian Jackson brushed a strand of gray hair awayfrom her face. “Lately, there have been some harassing phone calls, a couple of different people—I think.”
“Like your deadbeat piece of scum on the phone just now?”
She nodded. “His ex-wife hired Sunny to find him. He was using his child support to vacation in Jamaica with his girlfriend. When Sunny tracked him down, he told her she’d be sorry she’d meddled in his life.”
Griff flipped his notebook open and skimmed his notes. “Would that be Bob Thomas? He has an alibi for Tuesday night.”
Lillian nodded. “I know.”
“So you just called him to harass him?”
“And to get a record of his voice. We’ve been trying to put all our case files back together since the break-in a month and a half ago. Someone has called a couple of times making vague threats about stopping Sunny’s meddling, but I don’t think it was him.”
His mouth quirked. “Says the IRS investigator?”
She straightened. “That’s right.”
“Then who could it be?”
“The first one that comes to mind, of course, is Burt Means.”
“Means?” Griff flipped pages in his notebook. “The father?”
“Right. Emily’s biological father. Sunny helped prosecute him for statutory rape. He threatened her.”
“And his release from prison fits the timeline. Anyone else?”
“A man who wanted to find the sister he hadn’t seen for ten years. She didn’t want to see him. Got really angry at Sunny.”
“What about others?”
Lillian nodded at his notebook. “Don’t you have them all in there?”
Griff cocked his brow. “Yes, I do, but a written report is never as good as an interview.”
“That’s certainly true.”
Griff held her gaze. “Ms. Jackson, you of all people know the importance of having all the facts.”
Lillian’s gaze turned wary.
Griff leaned over the desk and stared into her eyes. “You know she’s got to give us the notes. She’s putting her baby in grave danger by hiding her contact with the kidnappers. I saw her find the note yesterday.”
He waited, holding his breath, while she assessed him. Did she know about the notes? And if she did, which side would win—her logical investigator side, or the protective, mothering side?
“Sunny’s so tired, and she’s been through so much.”
He didn’t answer.
Finally she sighed. “I’ve tried to reason with her.” Her eyes glistened damply. “She’s not thinking like a private investigator. She’s thinking like a mother.”
Griff nodded and straightened. A strong-willed mother. With more guts than most. He straightened. Maybe now she’d listen to reason. Now that tragedy had struck.
WHEN THE PHONE RANG, Hiram shot straight up in bed. His heart leaped into his throat. It rang again, pumping fear through his veins like blood.
It was the police . He knew it was.
He’d fallen into bed fully clothed after cowering inhis apartment all night, sweating like a pig, hardly able to breathe as he waited for the knock on the door he was sure he’d hear any second.
He’d never moved as fast in his life as when he’d scrambled down those
He turned to find a sad smile lighting Lillian’s face.
“She’s been so brave. Emily has been her whole life for the past six months. The courage you see is just a front. Inside, she’s about to fall apart.” Love and worry rang in Lillian’s voice.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Ms. Jackson, what do you know about her cases, her friends, her enemies? Who would want to hurt her?”
Lillian sank deeper into her chair and assessed him keenly.
He waited.
“Most of the people she’s helped send Christmas cards, with pictures of their kids and pets. I could probably count unhappy clients on one hand.”
“Maybe you could do that for me.”
Lillian Jackson brushed a strand of gray hair awayfrom her face. “Lately, there have been some harassing phone calls, a couple of different people—I think.”
“Like your deadbeat piece of scum on the phone just now?”
She nodded. “His ex-wife hired Sunny to find him. He was using his child support to vacation in Jamaica with his girlfriend. When Sunny tracked him down, he told her she’d be sorry she’d meddled in his life.”
Griff flipped his notebook open and skimmed his notes. “Would that be Bob Thomas? He has an alibi for Tuesday night.”
Lillian nodded. “I know.”
“So you just called him to harass him?”
“And to get a record of his voice. We’ve been trying to put all our case files back together since the break-in a month and a half ago. Someone has called a couple of times making vague threats about stopping Sunny’s meddling, but I don’t think it was him.”
His mouth quirked. “Says the IRS investigator?”
She straightened. “That’s right.”
“Then who could it be?”
“The first one that comes to mind, of course, is Burt Means.”
“Means?” Griff flipped pages in his notebook. “The father?”
“Right. Emily’s biological father. Sunny helped prosecute him for statutory rape. He threatened her.”
“And his release from prison fits the timeline. Anyone else?”
“A man who wanted to find the sister he hadn’t seen for ten years. She didn’t want to see him. Got really angry at Sunny.”
“What about others?”
Lillian nodded at his notebook. “Don’t you have them all in there?”
Griff cocked his brow. “Yes, I do, but a written report is never as good as an interview.”
“That’s certainly true.”
Griff held her gaze. “Ms. Jackson, you of all people know the importance of having all the facts.”
Lillian’s gaze turned wary.
Griff leaned over the desk and stared into her eyes. “You know she’s got to give us the notes. She’s putting her baby in grave danger by hiding her contact with the kidnappers. I saw her find the note yesterday.”
He waited, holding his breath, while she assessed him. Did she know about the notes? And if she did, which side would win—her logical investigator side, or the protective, mothering side?
“Sunny’s so tired, and she’s been through so much.”
He didn’t answer.
Finally she sighed. “I’ve tried to reason with her.” Her eyes glistened damply. “She’s not thinking like a private investigator. She’s thinking like a mother.”
Griff nodded and straightened. A strong-willed mother. With more guts than most. He straightened. Maybe now she’d listen to reason. Now that tragedy had struck.
WHEN THE PHONE RANG, Hiram shot straight up in bed. His heart leaped into his throat. It rang again, pumping fear through his veins like blood.
It was the police . He knew it was.
He’d fallen into bed fully clothed after cowering inhis apartment all night, sweating like a pig, hardly able to breathe as he waited for the knock on the door he was sure he’d hear any second.
He’d never moved as fast in his life as when he’d scrambled down those
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