Pale Wings Protecting Page 9

  At Daryl’s tone, Blythe shifted closer. She brushed her fingers over Daryl’s knuckles and then placed her hand on Daryl’s thigh. She squeezed her gently in reassurance.

  “Don’t get me wrong, any find is a result. But that doesn’t stop me from hating the fact that I can be too late to truly help.”

  “You can’t be everywhere at once, Daryl.”

  “I know. But sometimes I wish I could be in the right place at the right time a lot more.” She lifted her head up at the sound of the school bell ringing. “School’s out. Let’s see if Heather is among them.”

  She began searching the faces of the little children that spilled out of the building. The sound of their high-pitched voices carried in the air. A familiar weight pressed down on her shoulders. Finally. Her sight focused in on a tiny child dressed in a bright pink T-shirt. She was skipping around a woman who was laughing at her exuberance. Once the pressure was removed, Daryl lifted up her phone and snapped off a volley of pictures.

  “You’ve found her?” Blythe sat up straighter.

  Daryl showed her an image she’d captured. She rose and reached to help Blythe to her feet. “Care to take a stroll?”

  They followed Heather at a respectable distance, easily mixing in among the mass of toddlers and their harried parents. Heather and her mother headed toward a car and Daryl tugged at Blythe’s hand to slow their pace to give the woman ample time to get Heather fastened in her car seat. Before the door closed, Heather’s pacifier fell out onto the road. When the car pulled away, Daryl wandered over to the curb and knelt to fiddle with her shoelace. Unobtrusively, she picked up the pacifier and palmed it. She and Blythe hastened across the road and circled back toward the park. Once away from the crowd, Blythe opened her handbag and drew out a small brown bag that Daryl dropped their evidence into.

  “It’s a good thing you came prepared.”

  “Force of habit,” Blythe admitted.

  “And you try so hard to get the cop out of me.” Daryl was so giddy at their good luck that she was hard-pressed not to gather Blythe up in her arms and kiss her. It must have shown on her face because Blythe’s eyes flared. Daryl knew she was fighting a losing battle trying to stifle her feelings toward Blythe. She forced herself to just take Blythe’s hand and tug her forward. “We need to contact the courier Lake set up for us just in case this eventuality occurred.”

  “Ah yes, the DDU’s version of FedEx.”

  Daryl made a face. “Please, don’t mention fed,” she joked, delighted when Blythe laughed.

  “I’d say you’ve just proved how wrong they were to dismiss you.”

  “Here’s hoping that pacifier validates everything I believe so you can believe it too.”

  Blythe cuddled into Daryl’s side. “Oh, honey, I’ve never doubted you from the start.”

  It did Daryl’s heart good to hear the quiet sincerity in Blythe’s voice.

  “I can’t say I truly understand you or what exactly it is you do, but I can appreciate an air of mystery in a woman!” Blythe bumped Daryl’s shoulder and favored her with such a wicked smile that it brought a rush of blood to Daryl’s cheeks.

  Daryl could only hope Blythe wouldn’t live to regret those words.

  Chapter Ten

  Daryl stood before the huge closet and just stared at the clothing hanging there. What do you wear when going to an adoption agency for the first time? She reached for one shirt, discarded it, and then reached for another.

  Blythe walked in looking very chic in her dark skirt and soft cream blouse. She chuckled at Daryl’s harried demeanor.

  “This is the one occasion you can wear your cop clothes, Daryl.” She pulled out a plain blue shirt, holding it up against Daryl’s chest, then picked out a pair of dark blue chinos to match. “There you go. Smart yet casual. We want to show we can be serious and professional in this endeavor, but we’re also young and vibrant.”

  “I don’t feel very vibrant. I feel queasy and more than likely to puke.” Daryl accepted the clothes gratefully. She was glad she had one less thing to worry about. Blythe patted her on the shoulder.

  “You’ll do fine. And if they see you clinging to my hand with a death grip, they’ll just think you’re nervous and very sweet.”

  “Sweet?”

  “Yes, sweet, Daryl Chandler. It’s not a bad thing. Now go get dressed. We have our first command performance to go to.”

  Daryl let herself be shooed out of the master bedroom to go get changed in her own. She divested herself of her jeans and T-shirt and put on the more familiar clothing. Daryl hesitated in tying her hair back, instead leaving it loose. No sense in getting too comfortable in what felt like her usual clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror as she finished fastening up the buttons to her shirt. Her hand went to her belt to touch the badge that usually hung there. Force of habit made her reach for it. She was so used to touching it for good luck before she left the house.

  I’ve got to stop that automatic reflex. I’m Daryl Chandler, Web designer. I live with my wife Blythe in our way too expensive home with more rooms than we’ll ever use. I drive an ostentatious car and wave at the neighbors every day as I go for my run around the neighborhood. I’ve been here three weeks, and so far all I’ve done was save a kidnapped child from drowning and helped a clueless computer-phobe not to wipe her entire hard drive clean while playing Farmville on her PC. I’m finally about to try to get an adoption agency to believe that I want the gay American dream—to add a child to our happily ever after. She stared at herself in the eye. And I’m worried if I have the right pants on to do this. She rubbed at her face briskly then shook herself. You can do this. You can play the role, make them believe it. She saw her wedding band and twisted it gently on her finger. Face it, this kind of life, with someone as beautiful and smart as Blythe? Who wouldn’t want it all?

  *

  The medical information that Daryl’s contact had made up for her and Blythe was clinical and sobering in its details. She watched as it was being pored over by a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit and bifocals. Every so often, he’d look over his glasses at them then back at the documents. Daryl knew none of what was written there was true, but there was still a part of her that felt it was an invasion of their privacy, having this man reading about their supposed inability to carry a child of their own. Daryl had a feeling that undercover work might not be a good choice for her again; she took it to heart too much. She didn’t like the way this Thomas Grace kept eyeing Blythe either.

  She willed herself not to fidget and let her eyes instead take in the office they sat in. The walls were lined with awards and legal documents. She wondered at the lack of photos of children anywhere. She also wondered how Blythe could be sitting next to her in what she was sure was as uncomfortable a seat as she was stuck in and remain looking so relaxed. Daryl watched as Grace picked up their financial records and wasn’t surprised to see a small smile creep onto his face. It was there for a brief second, but she caught it. Daryl didn’t jump when Blythe’s hand slipped over her own. She knew Blythe had also seen that telltale pleasure at their supposed combined wealth.

  “I believe I have all the information I need for now,” Grace said, collecting all their paperwork together and pressing a buzzer to call forth his secretary. “Photocopy these.” The young woman slipped out as silently as she had entered. “I’ll just need to run some background checks, verify some details, and then we can set up a home visit so we can ascertain if your home is suitable for a child.” He grinned as he looked up at them both. “But you live in Cranston Heights. I really can’t see there being any problem, but we have to be seen to go through the formalities.” He walked them to the door. “You can get your paperwork back from Anne-Marie when she’s finished taking copies for your file. I’ll be in touch. I have all your numbers.”

  I know you do, and you have our monthly earnings engraved in a special place on your heart. Daryl’s head was full of all the information they’d received. She felt like she
’d just stood on the stand and been judged and tried by a jury without mercy. Judging not whether she could be a fit parent for a child, but could she afford the material upkeep of a dependant that would need college tuition fees and designer labels on everything. She thought about her own upbringing and was thankful her parents had brought her up to value the simple pleasures of life and not be weighed down by the material things. She’d grown up surrounded by love, and even though both parents had worked, she had never felt neglected. Especially as she’d spent so much time at her father’s side in the police station. She followed Blythe to the secretary’s desk and waited while the girl quickly ran their documents through the photocopier. Thankful to be leaving, Daryl escorted Blythe out of the agency and away from the obsequious little man who held their parenting hopes in his damp little hands.

  Blythe slipped her arm around Daryl’s and hastened their departure. She shuddered once they were far enough away from the agency’s building. “Please tell me you found him as creepy as I did?” Blythe said, wiping her hand on her skirt as if trying to remove his handshake.

  “Mr. Thomas Grace was indeed a strange little man. But does he fit your profile?”

  “My profile points to someone with an agenda that isn’t dollar oriented as much as he seems to be.”

  “We really need to talk with Liz and Claire, find out how they got Matthew.”

  “Justin,” Blythe corrected her. “He’s Justin to them.”

  Daryl sighed. “I know. It’s just so damn hard when I know who he really is.”

  “I’ll see if I can invite them over for a meal or something. Do the big pretence of wanting to ask them about their experiences with the agencies. Maybe they’ll tell us who they got Justin through. Anything they say might save us time and energy and stop us from having to shake hands with any more sleazy baby brokers.”

  “Did you see the way his secretary acted around him? She made sure she didn’t come into contact with him and never looked at him. I wonder what the story is there.”

  “Maybe he’s got wandering damp hands. I checked out her nameplate on the desk. I’ll have Trace look into an Anne-Marie Stokes. I didn’t see many more people in the office. Looks like Grace’s Adoption Agency is a one-man show.” She started the car up and pulled out into traffic. “I’ll also have her check if we’ve got Thomas Grace in our database. I can’t help think that Ms. Timid’s reaction to him means he has something devious going on in that office. Hopefully, we might be able to find prior proof of that.”

  Daryl leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “God, how do people deal with all the legalities that are set in place to hinder more than help them get a child?” Her head was still spinning from the reams of information imparted to them and the endless stream of questions they had had to answer.

  “You’ll jump through fire if your need is strong enough.”

  “And that little maggot back there knows it too. I swear I saw dollar signs flash in his eyes and a loud ka-ching noise when we walked into his office.”

  “Do you think the two other agencies we have to see will be equally as distasteful and as badly decorated as this one was?”

  Daryl laughed, recalling the severely out of date wallpaper that had decorated the office walls. “I’m hoping that at the next one we’re due to visit alarm bells start ringing so we know who to start investigating.”

  “I didn’t hear alarms bells with this guy, even though he made me uncomfortable in his presence. I hope the guys back at the DDU can dig up something on his record, if he has one. Tomorrow’s appointment is with Criton and Welch Adoptions. They’re the only one of the three with religious affiliations.”

  Daryl groaned. “That can’t be good. Especially when we walk in.”

  “That’s what we need to see. Are they pious and self-righteous in the office but then offer us a child out of office hours that they steal from ungodly folk?”

  “Suffer not the little children, eh?” Daryl said. She wished something had tugged at her Intuitive state where these agencies were concerned. Her cop instincts told her one of them was involved because of how the children had been placed. The children Daryl had found were all in good homes with wealthy parents. Wealthy gay parents. Someone had to have the knowledge that these people wanted a child; a child hadn’t been taken for it just to be given away or left on the street. These abductions were meticulously planned and the recipients were as specific as the mothers whose children were taken.

  “Can we stop somewhere to get ice cream?” Daryl asked. She was in desperate need of something sweet to get rid of the nasty taste in her mouth after their first visit to an agency.

  “Sure.” Blythe sounded a little surprised but switched lanes to take them to the nearest Dairy Queen. “You okay, Daryl?”

  “I just feel the need for ice cream.” Maybe the cold treat will calm the raging fire of uncertainty in my soul. I need to solve these cases, but it’s taking too much time. It’s driving me crazy that I have held one of the missing children in my own hands and can’t hand him back to the mother who is frantic for him to be returned. Why is my Intuitive power dragging its heels on this? How much worse can it get before I finally get the break I need? Or am I losing my touch and my magic is fizzling out?

  “Undercover is a bitch, isn’t it?” Blythe said, reaching over to rub Daryl’s knee.

  And that’s the other problem. Being undercover with you isn’t the hardship I wish it would be.

  *

  “Do you think we sounded desperate enough?”

  Daryl filled her mouth with a spoonful of strawberry ice cream and released such an appreciative moan at the taste that Blythe felt her insides clench at the sexy rumble. It took her a long moment before she could answer, too caught up in the look of pleasure on Daryl’s face as she ate.

  “I think we very succinctly put over our desire for a child, in between talking about our backgrounds, relatives, interpersonal relationships, job prospects, and hobbies.” Blythe took a small bite of her own rocky road concoction. “Thank God the first thing that shot out of my mouth for hobbies wasn’t gun range target practice.”

  “I think as long as you mentioned how expensive your gun was I don’t think Grace would have batted an eye.”

  “He did seem rather money-grubbing, didn’t he?”

  “Maybe that’s why he could be the money man. He has ample opportunity to work out who among his clientele are the ones wealthy enough to pay to get the baby they want.” Daryl looked up over her dessert. “Thank you for coming here. I needed to just step away for a while.”

  “Are you finding the actual role-playing difficult?”

  “I’m used to asking the questions, not being expected to have memorized answers that I need to keep front and foremost in my mind. I feel like I should be breaking down doors and dragging information out of suspects. Instead, I’m sitting in offices pretending I have the life this Daryl leads. I’m not used to this softly softly approach.”

  “You’re playing the role well though. Our neighbors love you.” Blythe playfully growled at her. “Some more vocally than others. I was stopped by Jenn yesterday who was extolling the virtues of you running round the block in your underwear.”

  Daryl frowned. “I do not! I wear a very decent pair of shorts and a T-shirt when I run. How on earth can that getup cause comments to fly?”

  “It’s how you fill out those shorts and T-shirt, sweetheart.” She deliberately tagged on the endearment and enjoyed seeing the start of a blush color Daryl’s pale cheeks. “You’re causing quite the stir amid the femmes of Cranston Heights and giving a fair few butches something to think about.”

  “Think about what exactly?”

  “How they can get a body like yours so their wives will stop their eyes from wandering in your direction.”

  Daryl returned to her ice cream. “Don’t they know I’m already spoken for?” She held up her ring finger and flashed her wedding band at Blythe.

  “I
told her that. I think I played the possessive wife quite perfectly too.” Blythe knew she wasn’t exaggerating. She’d made it very clear that women could look, but the only one who’d be touching Daryl was her alone. Blythe acknowledged just how true those words had been. She’d seen Daryl leave the house ready for her daily run and come back suitably sweaty and breathing hard. Some mornings, Blythe had to keep her grip on the kitchen counter to stop herself from reaching out to pull Daryl close and test out her stamina. There was something about Daryl that Blythe found irresistible.

  She told herself it was unprofessional to harbor such thoughts for a work colleague while in the midst of an investigation. She told herself a lot of things, but that didn’t stop her heart from racing when Daryl wore running shorts that showed off the long length of her muscled legs. Or how her T-shirt clinging to her chest made Blythe want to run her fingers across the abs that could be clearly seen through the sweat soaked material. Now, watching Daryl as she finished up the last of her ice cream, Blythe was struck by how much she wanted to kiss the cool strawberry ice cream from Daryl’s lips. She knew her desire must have shown in her eyes because when Daryl looked up she blinked at her in surprise. Slowly, she laid her spoon aside as if any sudden movement might break the charged atmosphere.

  “What?” she asked Blythe quietly, capturing her lower lip between her teeth and driving Blythe’s want a little higher at the unconscious gesture.

  “I wish I’d known you before this assignment. That way I wouldn’t feel so damn insubordinate every time I look at you and think how handsome you are.”

  Daryl reached across the table to take Blythe’s hand. Blythe caught sight of a small droplet of ice cream on her knuckle. Without giving thought to their surroundings or who they were professionally, she lifted Daryl’s hand to her mouth and licked the ice cream away with a warm tongue. Daryl’s grip tightened and Blythe kept her lips brushing across those strong knuckles. She looked up to see intense blue eyes boring into her. When Daryl spoke, her voice was roughened.