Page 38 of Saved by Him

I inwardly groaned. “I’m sorry, Maggie, I completely forgot to tell you. We’ll be closed all day tomorrow and Christmas Day, as well as all New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.” I felt awful. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to let my lone employee know that she didn’t need to come in on the holidays.

“I think you’ve been justifiably preoccupied,” she said with a smile. “I’ll hold down the fort here. Drive safe.”

I smiled and thanked her before heading out into the wintery morning. She’d found someone to clear the sidewalk and parking lot, and we hadn’t gotten a fresh layer since yesterday afternoon, so the roads were clear as well. It was cold, but probably not cold enough to keep the salt from working. I hoped all of that added together for a pleasant drive. I needed to have my head together when I met with Clay.

* * *

“You want me to do what?”Clay stared at me across the table as if he hadn’t heard my clear and pointed request.

I’d known showing up at work with a lunch offer was a risk, but I’d also known that it’d be harder for him to refuse if we were face-to-face. Harder, however, didn’t mean impossible.

“I need the names of all the US Marshals who had any contact with Marcy Wakefield.”

“You mean Helen Kingston? Jenna’s biological mother.”

I nodded. “You gave me Harry Franklin’s name, and I know he’s the one who took the blame when Helen slipped under the radar and came after Jenna, but I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

Clay drained his coffee and waved the waitress over for another, not speaking again until she walked away. “I’m going to need a little more than that if I’m making that sort of inquiry. The name of the main agent who fucked up, that wasn’t too hard to get. I can make a call and get the information you want, but if I’m going to poke around that case, I need to know what’s on the line.”

Fair enough.

“A little over eight years ago, Helen disappeared for a couple weeks. She was pregnant when she left but wasn’t when she came back. She claimed she’d been visiting friends when she’d gone into labor and delivered a stillborn. She had a death certificate, but said she’d had the baby cremated and scattered the ashes.”

“You don’t think she was pregnant?” He shook his head and changed his stance. “No, you don’t think the baby was stillborn. Right?”

I nodded. “I think she left before she was due and stayed away until she had the baby, which I think she then sold.”

A sick look settled on Clay’s face, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I had at first.

“I don’t think she sold the baby to anyone who’d have hurt it,” I explained further. “I think she was too greedy for that. I’m willing to bet that a desperate couple who wants to adopt but can’t for some reason or another would pay more than a trafficker.”

“That makes sense,” he agreed, “but why do you need to know who else had been in contact with her?”

“Harry never reported that she’d gone missing for a couple weeks. He told me it was because he was worried he’d get in trouble for lax monitoring. Then when she took off a second time to go after Jenna, he finally said something. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he be willing to risk this baby’s life when he’s the one who worked so hard to keep her from hurting the others she gave birth to while in WITSEC?”

“You think he’s protecting someone,” Clay said. “Another agent.”

“Exactly. I think it wasn’t Harry’s fault that Helen left that first time, but he took the blame for someone else.” I popped the last bite of my garlic knot into my mouth.

Clay studied me for a moment before speaking again. “You don’t think it was an accident, do you?”

“I don’t,” I admitted. “I think that Helen had help leaving. I think she had help finding a couple, getting a fake death certificate for herself, maybe even a fake birth certificate and adoption papers for the parents.”

“Shit, Rona, you’re just asking for trouble.” Clay leaned back in his chair. “You’re going to accuse the US Marshals of aiding a known criminal in illegal activities while in witness protection?”

When he said it like that, it sounded a lot worse than how I’d been thinking it. “It’s not my job to police the Marshals,” I said. “I was hired to find people, and that’s all I intend to do. If someone really is guilty, I’ll hope they confess, but I’m not trying to build a case or anything here.”

He rubbed his chin, a gesture I’d come to recognize as one of his tells. He didn’t like what I was doing, and he certainly didn’t like that I’d come to him about it.

“Is there any way you can narrow it down to a smaller timeframe?” he asked finally. “I think making it too broad is going to raise red flags, and I can’t have it looking like the FBI is interfering in Marshal business.”

“Try nine and ten years ago,” I said. “And thank you, Clay.”

He sighed and pushed back from the table. “I did some profiling for the Marshals a couple years ago, helped them with a pretty tough case. I can call in a favor or two. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll know if it’s feasible.”

I thanked him again and ordered a piece of warm apple pie and ice cream to have while I waited. I barely had time to finish it before he was back, his coat dusted with snow and his cheeks red. He shivered as he sat down and called over the waitress. She refilled his coffee, then took his dessert order. After she left, he took a long drink, then turned his attention to me.

“Nine years ago, Harry Franklin was partnered with a twenty-five-year-old newbie named Salome Balk. She wasn’t just any new Marshal though. Balk was the daughter of Franklin’s former mentor and partner who’d been killed in the line of duty ten years before that.”

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