Without a Doubt
The investigators had explained a fire as intense and long-burning as the one that had destroyed Becca’s home could have easily destroyed a baby’s body and bones. But what if someone had saved Robin from the flames?
What if?
The image of Ally Alexander’s unique birthmark flashed through Sophie’s mind, and she scrambled for the album she kept safely tucked in her nightstand drawer. Robin’s baby album.
She lifted the small object from the drawer, tracing a finger across the yellow duck that graced the cover. Sophie cracked open the treasured collection of snapshots and smiled down at the luminous face that met her gaze. The navy-blue eyes. The dark brown hair. The pert little nose.
Her throat tightened as she flipped through the images of her niece until she found what she’d been searching for. The close-up of Robin’s birthmark.
A perfect butterfly.
Sophie inhaled sharply, squinting at the photo.
Could two children possibly have such an identical mark? Of course, it might be possible. But Ally Alexander not only had the identical mark, she also had the same coloring and was similar in age to what Robin would be were she alive.
And she’d been adopted.
Was it possible?
Sophie swallowed hard, thinking of the series of articles Gary Barksdale had written for the Philadelphia Inquirer on the kidnapping and recovery of a local girl. The child had been six months old when she’d been kidnapped and four years old when she’d been reunited with her family.
He’d be the perfect person to help her sort through her suspicions and questions about identification, aside from the fact she’d be talking about his cherished niece.
Anxiety battled for its place among the tangle of emotions in her gut.
Gary Barksdale.
Seeing him tonight had been a reality check.
Since they’d split up, she’d worked with a vengeance, first at graduating college with top honors, then at landing a job with WNJZ.
She’d allowed herself to feel the pain, the joys and the triumphs of the stories she covered, yet she’d never let herself become close to anyone after her sister’s death.
Not a coworker. Not a friend. Not a lover.
Thoughts of the brief romance she’d shared with Gary rushed into her brain and she warmed instinctively. Her involvement with him had been heady, wonderful and foolish.
Breaking it off had been the smartest move she’d ever made. Watching her sister’s abusive relationship a short while later had convinced her she’d made the right move.
Once Robin had been born, Becca had wisely kicked out the man she’d been involved with— Robin’s father. He’d threatened violence on more than one occasion and after Becca had filed a restraining order—at Sophie’s urging—he’d thankfully disappeared from their lives.
Becca had moved back to the Philadelphia region, ready to make a fresh start with her gorgeous daughter. Sophie had been ready to do whatever her sister and niece needed. Anything.
Tears swam in her vision and she blinked them away.
Anything.
Then everything had changed, and the sister and niece who were her world were gone. Forever.
Or so she’d thought.
She might be grasping at the longest shot of her life, but she had to see it through. She owed that much to her sister’s memory.
Her reporter’s instinct wouldn’t rest until she fully explored the possibilities, and as much as she didn’t want to face the man again, she knew exactly where to start.
Chapter Two
Gary pulled open the door to the diner, pausing for a beat to gather himself. He’d been pushing an afternoon deadline when Sophie called. He’d asked her to give him an hour to finish up. He should have asked for two. Maybe then he could have cleaned up a bit.
He ran a hand up through his close-cropped hair then down over the stubble on his jaw, catching himself in the move.
So what if he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all last night? He hadn’t. The news came first. Sophie knew that. Hell, she lived the life as much as he did, only she had to do it live in front of millions of viewers.
She waved from a booth along the far wall of the quaint room and Gary couldn’t help but notice how slender she’d become—not that she’d ever been heavy—but back in the day, the woman had had curves. Serious curves.
He grinned to himself as he crossed the worn linoleum floor, picturing her long brown ponytail shoved up into a baseball cap, her U of D jersey tucked into a pair of tattered jeans, white high-top sneakers on her feet.
What a sight she’d been back then.
Sophie stood and extended her hand.
What a sight she was now.
Gary bypassed the handshake and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. She blinked and a flush of color spread up her face.
She glanced down at the table, apparently waiting for him to slide into his side of the booth. Her close-cropped, dark hair feathered impeccably around the sharp angles of her cheekbones. Small diamond studs sparkled from each earlobe.
Her crisp white blouse looked as though it had been made for her, the seams perfectly hugging her slender shoulders, the sleeves falling smoothly to the shirt’s precise cuffs. A rich brown jacket lay folded on the bench seat next to her, a perfect match for the slim, classic skirt that sheathed her lean hips and thighs.
“I guess you’re wondering why I called.” Sophie’s voice cut through the visual inventory Gary had been taking.
He nodded. She was absolutely right. He was wondering why she’d called. Certainly it hadn’t been for old time’s sake.
Gary knew she had no interest in picking up where they’d left off seven years earlier. She’d made her feelings crystal clear when they’d parted ways, and Gary had no desire to set himself up for that kind of hurt again. Ever.
He inhaled deeply, shoving the old disappointment out of his head. He’d truly loved her back then, but her heart had been cold and sharp-edged when she’d walked away—as cold and sharp-edged as the rest of her body appeared now.
Maybe she’d done him a favor way back when. Since their breakup, he’d avoided personal entanglements, focusing on honing his reporting skills. His stories had progressively grown bigger and broader, and now he’d attracted the interest of the L.A. paper.
Not bad.
Gary dropped onto the bench seat and Sophie mirrored the move.
“What’s up?” he asked, realizing he’d taken far too long to speak.
Her throat worked, and she stared at him as if studying every line and shadow of his face. “It’s been a long time.”
Her voice was soft, bringing memories of the tender times they’d shared rushing back.
Gary nodded, but kept his features expressionless. “You’ve certainly changed.”
Her solemn features broke into a smile, and for an instant he flashed back on the younger, softer Sophie.
The skin around her eyes crinkled. “Can’t say the same for you.”
He glanced down at the creases in his denim shirt and the coffee stain on his rolled-up sleeve. He met her gaze and arched his brows, rubbing a hand across his day-old beard. “We don’t all have to be live at five.”
“I guess we don’t,” she said softly.
“Speaking of which—” Gary took a long sip of the coffee the waitress had poured into his cup “—don’t you have a broadcast to get ready for?”
Sophie nodded, then splayed her hands on the glass tabletop. “I’ve got a little time first. How about you?” She lifted her gaze to his. “Can you give me a half hour or so?”
He could. The question was whether or not he wanted to. “Sure,” he answered, wondering what the woman was up to.
“I wanted to talk to you about the Hernandez story.”
Even though he’d mulled over the possible reasons she might want to see him since her call, it was safe to say the Hernandez case hadn’t appeared anywhere on his mental list.
He narrowed his gaze, his curiosity beginning to percolate. “Go on.”
“How did they work the identification?”
It was a simple question. Too simple for someone like Sophie. She knew the ropes. Hell, she’d covered the story. Gary’s investigative nose began to itch.
“I thought you knew the case.”
“I do.” Her features brightened and she ran the fingers of one hand across the table. To the left, then to the right. To the left. To the right.
She stilled suddenly, catching herself in the nervous move.
“I want to hear it from you. Step by step. Just in case there’s anything I’ve forgotten.”
He frowned, not believing her motivation for a second. “Why?”
“I have a source who’s wondering about a child’s parentage.”
“A kidnapping?” He straightened now, wanting to know every detail.
Sophie shook her head and tucked her wispy brown hair behind her ears. “Not necessarily. Could be mistaken identity.”
He leaned forward, close enough that Sophie sat back, pressing herself against the padded bench seat.
“I’m not following you.”
She measured his expression, her eyes reading his face. She tipped her head and pressed her lips together, her stare never leaving his. “Off the record?”
Now she had his full attention. “Sure.”
“What if a child was presumed dead, but there might be a possibility that child was alive? Where would you start?”
Now Gary was the one who straightened against his seat. “What about the body?”
“No body.” Her features tensed.
Gary pursed his lips. “How?”
“Fire.”
The images crystallized in his mind. The black-and-white of the burned-out home. The photos of the mother and daughter who had perished in the blaze, the child’s remains obliterated by the heat of the inferno.
He’d heard rumor of how crazed Sophie had been after the deaths. Not that he could blame her, but did she really believe anyone could have survived? After five years, hadn’t she let go of the grief and moved on?
“You’re not talking about a source, are you?”
Her eyes widened, as if the fact he’d seen right through her surprised her. She shook her head.
“What brought this on?”
“I saw someone.”
The pain in her voice gripped at his gut and twisted. For a crazy moment, he longed to reach across the table and take her hands. Longed to pull her into his arms and smooth away her heartache. But seven years was a wide void to cover, and he had no intention of bridging that gap.
“Who?”
Sophie shook her head. “No names. Just help me.”
Help her? Words Gary thought he’d never hear uttered from Sophie’s gorgeous lips. She’d never let herself need anyone, had she?
“Please, Gary.” Her eyes pleaded with him now, eradicating any bitter feelings he still held for her. “Tell me where to start.”
And so he detailed every step of the Hernandez case. Every inch of the investigation, the identification, the reunion of the kidnapped child with her mother.
As he walked back toward his car, he found it impossible to quiet the whirling thoughts and questions racing through his brain.
Who had Sophie seen? When? Where?
What had sparked her reporter’s brain to question the validity of her niece’s death?
Then one thought silenced all of the rest.
She’d reached out to him. She’d asked for help.
Maybe Sophie’s sharp edges hadn’t won out yet after all.
“THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T LIKE these fluff pieces,” Cookie said as he drove the WNJZ van across town toward the Alexander home.
“It’s not a fluff piece.” Sophie wondered momentarily if her tone sounded as defensive as it felt. “The powers that be loved the profile angle.”
She glanced out the window, watching as the South Jersey scenery shifted from row house to duplex to suburban chic. “You have to admit Maggie Alexander is the perfect example of an everyday citizen who’s making a difference.”
“Her brother’s not bad either.”
Sophie cringed at her cameraman’s teasing tone. When would she learn never to confide in the man? She’d told him about her connection to Gary on the way back to the station after the fund-raiser. Cookie might be quiet behind the camera, but otherwise, look out.
“All I’m saying is that you could do a lot worse.”
Sophie traced her finger along the edge of the door handle. “I don’t want to do anything at all.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Can it.” She cut him off before he could launch into his standard lecture on love and family and security.
Sophie knew he meant well, but she didn’t need anyone to remind her of how alone she felt in the world, not that she had anyone but herself to blame. She’d had plenty of opportunities for romance. She’d merely chosen not to take them.
She’d watched her mother’s dependency on men spiral out of control during her childhood. After her father had deserted their family, her mother had bounced from one man to another—or rather, the men had bounced in and out of their lives.
No one had stayed around long enough for Sophie and Becca to grow attached. Thankfully.
After the two sisters had grown and left home, their mother had done the unthinkable. She’d taken her own life, choosing to leave this world rather than live alone.
Sophie shuttered her heart to the pain that threatened with the memory. She was not her mother, and she’d never allow herself to be that needy. Never.
As far as she was concerned, being alone was safe.
Being in love was not.
She swallowed down the lump that formed in her throat just at the thought of being in love—at the thought of Gary. She’d seen the look in his eyes during their meeting, felt the question that had hung unspoken over their table.
Why?
Why had she hurt him? Why had she panicked and run when he’d told her he loved her, asked her to marry him?
Why?
She’d asked herself the same question countless times during the past seven years, but the answer had always been the same.
Needing him, loving him, wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
“Here we are.” Cookie pulled the news van to a stop in front of the Alexander home.
Sophie took a quick appraisal of the stately structure, noting the coordinated porch furniture and the oversize pots of flowering perennials still in full bloom, hanging on even though the chilly Philadelphia nights had begun to set in during the past few weeks.
As Sophie climbed the steps, the front door snapped open before she could press the doorbell. Ally Alexander smiled up at her, clutching a pink bunny rabbit in one hand and waving with the other.
“Hi. Mommy said you were coming to read a story.”
Maggie Alexander’s laugh rumbled down the hall from behind her daughter. “Do a story, sweetheart. Not read a story.”
She lovingly patted her daughter’s head then shook Sophie’s hand. “Welcome. We’re delighted for this opportunity.”
We?
Sophie’s unspoken question was answered before she could speak it out loud.
A handsome man stepped to Maggie’s side. Sophie squinted, racking her brain for recognition. She knew him from somewhere, but he was most definitely not Maggie’s husband, Robert. So who was he?
“Trevor James. Sophie Markham.” Maggie gestured between the two of them. “Trevor is my life coach, though he prefers the term personal adviser. Did you two get a chance to meet at the party?”
No, they hadn’t. But Sophie recognized him now. Life coach to the rich and famous of the Philadelphia region. The man had made quite a name for himself in the elite circle of the business and social sets. In recent months, his face had been on the news almost as much as her own had been.
Sophie extended her hand. “We didn’t, but it’s a pleasure to meet you now. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope.” James gave her hand a quick pump, but held her gaze a fraction of a second too long, sending a frisson of unease skittering across Sophie’s nerve endings.
“Naturally.” She freed her grip from his.
Tall and lean, he stood at least six foot three. His dark waves fell in a precise cut that Sophie found borderline artificial. He stepped back, allowing Sophie and Maggie to walk ahead of him.
As much as she told herself she was letting her imagination run amok, Sophie swore she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her skull. The tiny hairs at the base of her neck pricked to attention, and she fought the urge to reach back and smooth them.
In a matter of minutes, Cookie completed their setup and locked the necessary lighting into place. Sophie gave silent thanks, not wanting to make small talk with Trevor James any longer than she had to.
She’d lied when she’d thought she hadn’t let herself care for anyone since her breakup with Gary. Cookie’s friendship and grace under pressure were two things she’d be lost without, and she cared for him. Over the years, the gentle soul had become the father she’d never known.
He shot her a wink. “Ready when you are, Ms. Markham.”
She rolled her eyes at his use of formality, knowing he was the only one in the room who could see her, then she turned her attention to Maggie.
Trevor James sat at the woman’s side, his obviously practiced smile glued in place on his chiseled face.
Even though Sophie had done her best to gently suggest the piece would be more genuine if her life coach was not in the shot, Maggie had insisted.
An emotion shone in James’s icy eyes, an emotion Sophie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Smugness? Confidence? A certainty that he’d get his way no matter what?
She shook off her instinctive dislike of the man and began the interview. She’d no sooner begun than Ally popped into the living room, launching herself into her mother’s lap.
“Sorry.” Maggie gripped her daughter’s hand and marched her toward the kitchen. She returned a few moments later. “She’s just excited. If she stays with her coloring books, we’ll be safe.”
But no more than a few minutes passed before Ally repeated her performance.
Each time the girl appeared, Sophie found herself more and more distracted by the assuredness that had begun to settle into her bones.
Ally Alexander was her niece. Professional objectivity be damned. Robin had somehow survived the fire and had been adopted by the Alexanders.
As crazy as the theory sounded, Sophie’s gut knew she was right.
Her head knew.
Her heart knew.
And she’d do whatever it took to get her niece back.
She stifled the gasp that threatened to burst from her lips. Fought the urge to bundle the girl into her arms and bury her face in the baby-soft hair. She battled down her desire to press her lips to the butterfly birthmark, just as she’d done the day Robin had been born.
“Sophie.” Cookie’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Earth to Sophie.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, reaching for the notepad on her lap onto which she’d scribbled her interview questions.
“No, I’m sorry,” Maggie replied. “I’m afraid my daughter’s a bit wound up today. She doesn’t want to miss anything.”
Sophie tipped her head, listening to the sweet notes of Ally’s singing coming from the kitchen. “Would she like to watch us?”
Maggie’s expression brightened. “She’d love it, but I don’t know how we’d ever get her to sit still or be quiet.”
Sophie reached down into her bag and pulled out a rainbow-colored lollipop. She kept a bag of the sweet treats handy for occasions just like this one.
“I used to be a Girl Scout,” she teased. “Is she allowed to have this?”
“Always prepared.” Maggie nodded and took the offered treat, then called out to Ally. The young girl’s navy-blue eyes grew to the size of saucers as she spied the candy. “You have to sit still and be quiet. Can you do that?” Maggie asked.
Ally grew very serious, nodding her head as if the sight of the lollipop had put her into a trance.
A few moments later, she settled happily across the room, licking her treat and quietly watching her mother’s interview.
Sophie shut out the questions screaming through her mind and immersed herself in the task at hand. She methodically fired questions at Maggie and redirected the interview as necessary to gather enough statements and reactions to edit the final piece.
She was deep in the zone when Ally let out a squeal and dashed across the room to where a newcomer stood, wordlessly watching the scene before him.
Cookie cut the camera light and Sophie turned, her heart lodging in her throat at the sight of Ally bundled into Gary Barksdale’s arms. He’d shaved today and the dimples winking out from his cheeks reawakened long-dead memories of lazy afternoon walks and long talks that had lasted into the wee hours of the morning.
The mental pictures grabbed Sophie’s heart and squeezed.
She swallowed down the unwanted tangle of emotions and plastered on her most professional smile.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Gary said with a wink. “Thought you’d be done by now.”
WHEN MAGGIE HAD PHONED to let Gary know Sophie was on her way over to do a feature spot, he couldn’t resist watching. He knew his sister’s game, but so what? She had designs on putting him in close proximity with Sophie, no doubt wanting to rekindle the spark of what they’d once shared.
The diversion had fit perfectly into his day. His next piece wasn’t due until tomorrow, and after he’d spent the morning reviewing the photos and stories that had covered Rebecca and Robin Markham’s deaths, he had to admit Sophie might be on to something with her theory.
Seeing her again would give him a chance to dig more deeply into just what had awakened her suspicions.
At the time of the fire, the investigators’ determination that the absence of the child’s remains needn’t be questioned had been acceptable. But the case had been unprecedented. Shouldn’t that alone have raised a note of doubt?
The cause of the fire had been ruled accidental. Gary realized that point was crucial. Any sign of foul play would have raised a red flag, but there had been none.
End of story. Closed case.
Closed, at least, until Sophie’s questions had kicked his investigative brain into overdrive. The what-ifs had been rattling around inside his skull all day.
As he watched Sophie now, he took stock of how far she’d come with her career. He remembered the day she’d done her first live report for WNJZ. He’d watched every second, had followed her career from graduation forward. As much as he tried to deny it, Gary had always been sure of one thing.
For him, Sophie Markham would always be the one that got away. Hands down. No matter that she had broken his heart, he’d never been able to shake the depth of what they’d shared for however briefly they’d shared it.
Ally had begun to alternate between licking her lollipop and singing. Maggie shot Gary the evil eye and he smiled. He recognized that nonverbal cue. He held out his hand to his niece and tipped his chin toward the kitchen.
She smiled, tucked her tiny fingers into his hand and skipped all the way down the hall. Ah, the wonders of refined sugar.
Ally settled at the kitchen table and lost herself in her coloring books. Gary absentmindedly nodded encouragement as she showed him page after page of brightly colored scribbles. All the while, however, his brain clicked through everything Sophie had said at their meeting.
She’d seen someone.
So at some point in the recent past, Sophie had seen someone who looked enough like what she thought her niece would look like to raise her suspicions.
A child.
Ally bounced away from the table, having lost interest in her works of art. He watched as she danced around the kitchen, swinging her lollipop as if it were a magic wand, her short brown hair bouncing with the motion. Her blue eyes sparkling with happiness.
A child the right age and coloring.
Gary’s throat tightened as he flashed on the images of Robin Markham’s photos. The little girl who would have been five years old.