Made to Be Broken (Nadia Stafford 2)

"Wouldn't say that."

"Maybe, but I don't like them."

"I know."

I looked over. "I never get that with you. We have our disagreements and our misunderstandings, but I never get the sense you have a bigger agenda, or that you want anything from me except exactly what you ask for up front. I appreciate that."

He nodded and bent to scratch his foot as I turned on the cruise control.

At eleven, I was slowing the car in front of the house where Destiny Ernst now lived. Or where we hoped she did. This sprawling two-story matched the Troy address where Fenniger said he'd delivered her. Whether Destiny was here remained to be seen.

Fenniger had no reason to lie, but just because he'd brought Destiny here in the dead of night didn't mean she'd stayed. Still, we were dealing with ordinary citizens, the kind of people so far removed from the criminal mindset that if they bought a hot stereo, they'd drive five blocks out of their way to pick it up... but would call the seller using their personal cell phone.

My research had shown that the house was owned by Kenneth and Leslie Keyes, a systems analyst and his advertising executive wife. A childless couple, but still within their childbearing years. A call to Leslie's workplace revealed she'd quit about a month ago, shortly before Sammi's death. Rearranging her life to accommodate her new baby? We couldn't jump to conclusions.

Getting proof wasn't going to be easy. It was a tough neighborhood to stake out. Our small rental, so inconspicuous in an urban setting, stood out here in the land of SUVs, Volvos, and Audis. I pulled in behind some weird SUV station wagon cross, then stretched a map over the steering wheel.

"Can you see the house okay?" I asked without looking up.

"Yeah."

"If anyone walks by, start bickering."

"Bickering?"

"You know. 'I told you to make a left back there.' 'Well, you're the idiot who wouldn't ask for directions.' ' I don't need directions.' "

"Got it."

"We've got about fifteen minutes before someone peering out a window makes us for private investigators. What can you see?"

"Car in the lane," Jack said. "Sedan. Foreign make. Got one of those... baby signs in the back."

"Baby on board?"

"Yeah. Yard's clear. No toys, strollers, shit like that. Got a light on. Looks like - " A pause. "Someone just passed the window. Woman, I think. Probably living room. Where the light is. Upstairs? Got curtains in the left window. Bright yellow. Frilly."

"A nursery... or someone with god-awful decorating tastes."

"Yeah."

He continued to watch.

"So are we going to execute phase two when Quinn gets here?" I asked.

"Yeah. Otherwise? Never gonna be sure."

"Will he be okay with the acting gig?"

"Playing cop? Better be. Seemed fine with it. Anything changes? You're in. Rather not, though."

"It'll work better with you two, and it's better to mix it up now that the Byrony Agency has seen you and me together."

I checked my prepaid cell for the umpteenth time, still hoping we might get a call from the Byrony Agency, with a special adoption offer for Debbie and Wayne Abbott. It was a long shot, but if it panned out, it would be better than the avenues we were pursuing now.

"Anything?" Jack asked.

"No."