“Well, ma’am.” The older man scratched a hand along his graying buzz cut. “No disrespect meant, but it wasn’t a given without some kind of confirmation. We have a saying around here. ‘In God we trust—’”
“‘But everyone else is suspect,’” Jacob finished.
Dee glanced from one to the other, both so confident, both with hundred-year-old cynical eyes. She needed to be more like them to survive. “What a way to live.”
The detective clicked the keys and a new image emerged. “Your husband, ma’am?”
Unable to scrounge enough spit to speak, Dee stared at the photo of Blane, blond, wiry and too handsome for words even in a mug shot.
The corner of Jacob’s eye twitched. “Her ex-husband?”
She nodded. Part of her wanted to tell them all this wasn’t happening, deny she’d even met that traitorous toad. She would simply ditch her Deirdre Lambert self. Except she’d already learned the past couldn’t simply be ignored. The past had happened, as she remembered clearly now. Her child’s father would have a criminal record.
What a heritage for her son to carry.
She grieved for Evan that she hadn’t chosen more wisely. Yet without Blane, she wouldn’t have Evan.
The chair creaked as the cop leaned back. “We’re monitoring his accounts, tracking for any credit card activity, keeping a watch on his cell phone account and his girlfriend’s telephone. If he’s found over the border, a Canadian arrest warrant will have to be issued, along with a request for extradition.”
Jacob nodded through the steps, but Dee’s head was reeling. “Even if we find Blane, I’ll have to wait for a bunch of diplomatic mumbo jumbo to clear before they can arrest him.”
“Ma’am, I know it sounds—”
“It sounds like he’ll have enough warning to run with my son again—” She forced her breathing to even out. “Sorry. I just want him back.”
“Of course you do.” The older officer clicked through a series of codes and the screen changed again. “This came through just before you arrived.”
A child’s face appeared. Evan’s face. She bit back a cry.
Jacob braced a hand low on her back. “Other than the hair color, he looks just like you.”
She nodded, unable to speak without letting loose a flood of tears.
The detective pivoted back to the screen, the chair squeaking a low keen. “He will be logged into the data base for the NCMEC—National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.”
She twisted her hands together, but they still shook. Her child was on his way to appearing on a milk carton.
Her hand gravitated toward the computer screen as if she could somehow touch Evan. The silky blond hair. The gap between his front teeth that showed when he smiled, which he did often. Her shy but happy child.
“He’s so little, only three—” She pressed the back of her wrist to her mouth. “No wait. He had his fourth birthday a week ago, and I missed it.” Anger kicked through her, steeling her spine. “Damn Blane for taking that away from me, too—”
She stopped short as two police officers with snow on their shoulders approached the cubicle, both with sober expressions.
Anxiety gripped her stomach. The cops both looked at Jacob, who promptly slid a bracing arm around her shoulders.
Her spine stiffened. “Don’t try to break the news gently. I want to know what’s going on.”
The older of the two policemen stepped closer, his expression shifting to one of total sympathy. “Ma’am, we checked the highway location you gave the officer last night and we found the spot where you struggled with your husband. The road was clear enough for us to see tread marks. So we blocked off the lane and swept away the rest of the snow.”
Tread marks? What was the worry over some leftover rubber? She stifled hysterical laughter. “He sped away. Of course he skidded for a moment.”
“Ma’am, the tread marks lead into the river.”
Jacob’s arm tightened around her even as he remained silent.
She blinked fast, unable to process what she was hearing. “I saw him leave. I saw it.”
The policeman fidgeted with his hat in his hands. “They’ve already uncovered the vehicle—” he paused, then gentled his voice further “—and a man’s body.”