“The people who own and manage the club where she worked.”
Ryan’s jaw dropped. “Come on.” The objection slipped out before he could stop it. The woman would resort to anything to get Chloe.
The detective shot him a warning glance. “What club is that?”
“The Satin Cabaret.”
“Why do you believe her employers would want to hurt her?”
“She told me there was something shady going on at the club. She’d seen or heard something. She said if she stumbled on what it was, her life would be in danger.”
“When did she tell you this?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Did she say what she’d seen or heard?”
“No.”
“Could she have been talking about patrons rather than the owners?”
“Possibly, but that wasn’t the impression I got. Since she said something shady was going on at the club, I assume it’s something the owners are involved in. Or know about, anyway.”
He finished his notes, then looked up. “Anything else you can tell me?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Call if you think of anything.” He handed each of them a card with a case number. “Will one of you be taking the child, or shall I call DSHS?”
Shelby jumped in. “I’m taking her.” She looked at Addy. “Will you continue as Chloe’s nanny?”
Addy nodded. “I go wherever Chloe goes.”
“Good.” Shelby returned her attention to the detective. “I’ll file the necessary paperwork to make it legal. Based on what Mia told me, Chloe’s daddy is out of the picture. I’m expecting him to sign away his parental rights.”
Ryan held up a hand. “With all due respect, even though Ms. Adair is Chloe’s aunt, Chloe has seen her only a handful of times. She needs to be with people she knows, people who love her.”
Fire lit Shelby’s eyes. He wasn’t accusing her of not loving Chloe. But based on the glare he was getting, that was how she’d taken it. “His brother manages the club where my sister worked. His father owns it. These are the people my sister was afraid of.”
“According to you.”
Addy frowned. “Mia told me the same thing.”
“That has nothing to do with me.” Ryan struggled to keep his voice level. “I’m almost finished with twenty years in the Navy. I’ve never been involved in my family’s business.”
Shelby spread her arms, palms up. “We don’t even know that Randall McConnell’s name is on Chloe’s birth certificate. According to Mia, they’ve never been in a committed relationship.”
The detective closed his pad. “Until the courts can sort it out, it makes sense for the child to go with the deceased’s sister.”
Ryan sagged against the hallway wall. How was this happening? After he’d spent countless hours bonding with his niece, how could Chloe’s absentee aunt walk in and lay claim to her?
He’d let it go tonight. He’d lost the initial battle, but not the war. Shelby had said she was filing the necessary paperwork. He would, too. He’d fight her every step of the way.
His brother wasn’t going to be any help. The idiot had gotten himself arrested a week ago. It wasn’t the first time. He’d been able to beat the other charges or accept pleas for reduced sentences. Ryan had warned him—one more time and they’d put him under the jail. Randall hadn’t listened. This time he’d sold heroin to an undercover cop. He probably wouldn’t see freedom for the next fifteen years. Or longer.
This weekend, Ryan would visit and tell him about Mia. There wouldn’t be tears. Men didn’t cry, especially McConnell men. At least, that was what he and Randall had been taught from a young age. Over the past twenty years, Ryan had learned his father was wrong. Sometimes men did cry, even McConnell men.
He turned to Shelby. “Can we exchange phone numbers?” He kept the irritation from his tone. Alienating her further wouldn’t do them any good. “I’d like to stay in touch with my niece. I’ll also try to answer any questions you might have.”
After some hesitation, she removed her phone from her purse. “Give me your number.”
As he rattled off the digits, her thumbs flew over her screen. Moments later, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. Time to hand over his niece. He buried his face in her curly copper-colored hair. The faint scent of her shampoo, a combination of strawberries and bananas, wrapped around him. He kissed her again, then tried to untangle her arms from his neck. She tightened her hold.
“Sweetie, you need to go with Aunt Shelby.” The words tasted bitter. Shelby didn’t deserve that title.
Chloe’s eyes filled with tears. “No. Wyan.”
He injected false cheer into his voice. “Uncle Ryan will see you soon.” It was a promise he hoped he could keep.
Chloe began to cry in earnest. As he transferred her into Shelby’s waiting arms, the cries became full-blown wails.
His eyes met Shelby’s. Then he turned and strode toward the elevator. Chloe’s cries followed him, each one shredding his heart.
When he stepped outside, the lingering remnants of daylight had faded to night. He slid into his Equinox and let his head fall back against the seat. In a few minutes, a stranger would walk away with his niece. She’d never be what Chloe needed. When she couldn’t even be bothered to make an occasional visit, how would she make the sacrifices needed to raise an emotionally healthy child?
She wouldn’t.
He heaved a sigh. He should head back to his apartment, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Maybe he wanted to catch one more glimpse of his niece before Shelby took her away. Or if he sat there long enough, maybe he’d somehow make sense of the whole messed-up situation.
Addy walked from the building carrying Chloe. Shelby followed behind. She’d already passed off her parenting responsibility. He wasn’t surprised.
They walked to Addy’s Camaro, where Addy fastened Chloe into her car seat in the back. After a short exchange, Shelby walked toward her own vehicle. Her head was down, her shoulders slumped. Sadness wrapped around her like a cloak.
An unwelcome sense of compassion stirred inside him. He wanted to hate her, to view her as the enemy. But that picture wasn’t right. Because upstairs, in that final moment before he’d turned away, her eyes hadn’t held triumph. They’d held pain.
He reached for his keys, which were hanging in the ignition. Behind him, a vehicle roared down the short road that ran past the apartment complex. Someone was blowing right through the posted 25-mile-per-hour speed limit. As he turned the key, Shelby cast a sudden glance back at Addy. His own engine rumbled to life, blending with the roar of the other one. But there was something else, too—a pop, the sharp crack of a vehicle backfiring.
Or a gunshot.
A short distance away, Shelby dove between two cars. Ryan sprang from his vehicle at the same time Addy slipped into the Camaro and slammed the door behind her.
Now he had no doubt. What he’d heard was a gunshot. Had it come from the vehicle that had just sped past?
He dialed 911, then ran toward Addy’s car. First, he’d see to his niece’s safety. Then he’d check on Shelby. The dispatcher came on as he reached the Camaro. Addy was twisted sideways, her upper body lying over the console. Chloe was watching him from her car seat, apparently oblivious.
He spoke into the phone as he swung open the driver door. “There