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“I never knew babies could be so small.” Smiling down, I look at her pixie nose, her rosebud lips… I want her to open her eyes so I can see if they’re blue.
“She’s grown quite a bit,” he says. “You’re coming in at the good part. She’s making eye contact and smiling. Three months is the magic time.”
The magic time was all of it. The pregnancy itself, when she was born. I’d wanted to be there for every moment stolen from me. From us. My stomach tightens, and I glance up at him. “Where’s Lara?”
“Come into the living room.” He ducks out the door, and I follow him, walking slowly as if my footsteps might disturb Jillian.
I scan the wood-paneled room. Leather furnishings are arranged in a way that divides the living area from a compact dining area. The kitchen is through a wide, open doorway in the back. Two doors are to my left, and I assume they lead to bedrooms.
“Is she here?”
Roland sits on the edge of a leather armchair, leaning forward. “Sit on the couch, and we can talk.”
I stop in the center of the room and study him. The house is quiet, and I don’t understand. “Where is she?”
“She left this morning.”
“
Left? Where did she go? Why did she leave the baby with you?” The questions pour out, but as quickly as they form, I know the answers. “She’s doing it again.”
“Sit.” He motions to the couch, but I can’t sit down. My pulse is racing, and holding my daughter has changed everything.
“Okay, don’t sit.” Roland clears his throat and looks at his hands. “I need to fill in the blanks so you’ll understand what’s happening.”
“I think I know what you’re going to say.” Lifting Jilly so her head is against my chest, something shifts inside me in a way I never expected. “Molly was raped, and now Lara feels it’s her duty to help her pursue this vigilante justice.”
His eyebrows rise. “She told you that?”
“I was with her on the train when they found their last… victim.” I’m not even sure what to call those bastards anymore.
Jilly’s head moves, and she emits another little baby sound. I’m already imagining her saying her first words, learning to walk, ride a bike… I remember when Molly was just a sweet kid. I accused Lara of treating her as if she were her daughter.
Putting to words, speaking out loud what happened to Molly provokes a desire for vengeance in me I didn’t have ten minutes ago. I can’t even think of someone hurting Jillian the way Molly was hurt. I don’t know the level of brutality I would inflict upon the man who tried. And in Molly’s case, it was four men.
“They’re going after Guy.” As I say it, my muscles tense. “It’s why she left the baby with you. Molly found him… You have to tell me where they went. It’s not safe.”
“They’re not going after Guy.”
His words pull me up short. “What?”
He shifts in the chair, and I can tell by his body language there’s more to the story I don’t know. “Guy is dead. He died in the fire.”
“There’s no record of his death. I searched all the reports. I searched everywhere—”
“You worked for Gavin. You know he could keep things out of the news.”
“Still, there would have been a police report…”
Dark eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head slowly. “He called in a favor.”
Landry. Gavin had that corrupt cop in his pocket. “But why?”
Roland shrugs. “He didn’t want the publicity. Didn’t want the investigation…”
“So it was foul play.” I’m not surprised by this. “Perhaps he was able to keep the official record sealed, but there is still a record that should include cause of death.”
“Maybe… I never looked.”
