The distraught woman shook her head. “I wish she had stayed with Ian. He was such a nice boy...” Her sentence trailed off into a new outburst of tears.
Her husband shook his head. “You know it wouldn’t have worked out, Julia. They grew up together but they weren’t meant to be together no matter how much we all wanted it to work.” He let out a snort. “I wish she had told us who Liam’s father was. We’d have a place to start.”
“You don’t think it was Ian?” Julia Callendar pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.
Mr. Callendar shrugged. “She said it wasn’t him and I believe her. I don’t know how I’m going to tell him.” He sighed. “I’ll call his dad on the construction site. Maybe that’s the best way to go about this.”
“Until they bring him in for questioning.” His wife sniffled. “You know the police will want every detail, every ex.”
“We’ll give it to them. And let Harrison clear his own name,” Mr. Callendar replied. “It was supposed to be a nice breakup, an amicable deal.” He shook his head. “I’ll kill the bastard.” He swiped at a wayward tear making its way down his cheek. “I’m more worried about Liam. He’s so young, so little—” He buried his face in his wife’s shoulder.
The two wobbled back and forth, leaning on each other for support.
I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned away, giving them their privacy.
I also had another lead in Molly’s murder.
Attersley appeared at my side, startling me. “Who was that?”
“Who?” I blinked, trying to regain my focus. It was always hard to switch back to the present after using my Felis senses.
“The fancy lady bending your ear.” He stabbed a thumb at the stairwell where Bernadette Hanover had gone. “Thought for a second you were about to jump out the window, you looked so terrified.”
“Michael Hanover’s wife.” I tried to sound nonchalant. “Bran’s mum.”
Epic fail.
The pudgy detective let out a low whistle. “I think you’d be better off single than dealing with that barracuda.”
I tilted my head and smiled. “You don’t think I can handle her?”
“Sweetie.” He gave me a sad smile. “My mother-in-law hates my guts. No man would ever be good enough for her daughter and in your case no woman would ever be good enough for her son. There’s nothing you could do, outside of maybe saving the world, that would bring her over to your side.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“No problem.” He grinned. “Why are you still here?”
I jerked a thumb at the elevator. “Waiting for my ride.” I couldn’t help looking back at the Callendars.
He followed my glance toward the mourning parents and shook his head. “Don’t screw with them, Reb. They’re good folks who not only lost their daughter but now they’re worried about having to bury a grandson.”
I paused, weighing my options. I could, in all good faith, walk over and offer my services to help find Liam.
Hank seemed to be reading my mind. “Don’t even think about it. You’re mixed up in this enough as it is, you take those two on as clients and I’ll have the higher-ups demanding I put you in a cage for interfering with an investigation.” His hand landed on my arm—a light touch, more grandfatherly than official cop. “Let us do what we do best. Here.” He shoved a page into my hand. “You want to help out go hit the streets and spread the word about the baby.”
I looked at the information sheet. The color photo showed Liam in all of his glory, his eyes barely open under the red fuzz covering his tiny head. It was a generic hospital photograph taken not long after his birth.
“Go save their world.” Hank nodded at the Callendars.
The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside, leaving him behind.
“I’ll go get my cape,” I replied as the steel shutters closed.
The new cell phone Bran had bought me had all the bells and whistles, including the ability to take photographs. I pressed the paper against the elevator wall and took the shot, making sure to keep the tiny baby face in focus.
It took a few seconds to send the photograph and a few more to dial the number myself.
The elevator doors opened as the connection came through.
“Rebecca. What a surprise.” Jess wasn’t lying, the shock evident in her words. “What’s this picture?”
“I need a favor.” It was like gargling bleach.
“Really.” The curiosity overrode the lack of etiquette. “A favor. From me.”
“You owe me after all the things I’ve done, all the help I’ve given you and the family.” I took a deep breath, feeling the nervous flutters in my stomach threaten to break free. “I need you to call a hunt.” I spoke quickly, afraid what would happen if I sat and thought about the words. “The picture is of Liam Callendar. He was stolen from a hotel room within the last few hours. Punk took the diaper bag and all the supplies but you know how fast babies go through stuff. People would notice a guy being awkward with a baby, unsure how to handle him. I need our people to be on the lookout for someone acting suspicious.”
“What happened to the mother?” I heard tapping on the line—Jess texting to the Pride. The electronic alert was going out even as we spoke. She wasn’t waiting for my reasons.
“Murdered. Shot in the back of the head.” The image of Molly Callendar’s shattered skull popped into my mind’s eye, twisting my stomach into knots.
“And this is a human baby.”
“Yes.”
“Why are we helping you find him? The police have their own informants and systems for this. AMBER Alert and so forth. Children go missing every day and it breaks my heart but what’s so special about this one?”
I drew a deep breath. “He’s Bran’s half brother.”
The silence hung between us for a few seconds.
“I see. Consider it done,” Jess replied in a calm, measured voice. “I’ll be in touch as soon as we have something.” The line went dead. I’d been expecting an interrogation or at least a reprimand for asking for Felis help in a purely human matter.
I wasn’t sure what the price was going to be for asking Jess for this favor but I was willing to pay it.
The lobby was full of hustle and bustle, the usual perp walk of innocent criminals going in and out. But things were different with the news that a baby was missing, an added urgency infecting everyone. People walked faster, phones answered quicker.
Even the hookers looked concerned, one stopping to drag a bright red neon fingernail across the bottom of the brand-new poster of Liam stuck on the bulletin board. She shook her head and mumbled something to the man beside her, who thumped the floor with his walking stick.
It took a lot to piss off a pimp.
The cell phone vibrated against my hip.
I hesitated, not recognizing the number. At least it wasn’t Bran—I wasn’t sure I was up to dealing with him right now.
I hit the button and put it up to my ear. If I was lucky it was a sighting of Liam by one of the family.
“Rebecca.” I froze, recognizing Michael Hanover’s voice.
So much for luck.
“I’m here.” I didn’t want to speak his name aloud. It was sort of like the Bloody Mary urban myth.
“Where are you?”
“About to step out of Division 14 after having a rousing game of canasta with the police.”
Police and civilians flowed around me as I headed for the front doors. I fought against the tide until I got outside.
“We need to talk.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I trotted down the front steps, free of the constraints of the police station. “Just tell me—did you try to set me up for Molly’s death because I love your son? Because if you say yes I’m about to bring down the shit storm of all shit storms on your head.”