“Yes, that’s me,” the woman confirmed after a short pause. “Who did you say you were?”
“Sheriff Raines,” he repeated. “I’m calling in connection with an investigation. Do you know a woman named Leah McCord?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I don’t know that name. What’s this about?” Her voice sharpened, still husky from sleep but laced with wariness now.
Raines did not hesitate. “I’m investigating Leah McCord’s death. In the course of the investigation, your name surfaced. I need to ask you a few questions. Did you work for someone named Marion Cole?”
There was another silence, long enough to make Garrett’s pulse hitch. Then Lillian exhaled hard. “Yes. Years ago. I was the nanny for her little boy.”
The words seemed to freeze the room. Garrett felt his chest tighten as Isla’s eyes darted to his, wide with the same unspoken thought.
Raines’ voice stayed even. “The boy’s name?”
“Daniel,” Lillian answered. “Daniel Cole.”
Garrett’s grip on the edge of the counter went tight. Daniel. Not Harris. Not on the surface, at least.
But the truth had just stepped one pace closer.
Garrett’s gaze flicked between Isla’s quick keystrokes and the phone on the counter, the speaker filling the room with Lillian’s husky voice.
“It was a live-in position,” she said. “Marion wanted me there because she traveled, sometimes gone a week or more. I never knew where, just that she’d come back, pick him up, and then return later with him.”
Isla already had her laptop angled toward her, the glow of the screen throwing light across her face. Garrett leaned closer, watching her search parameters scroll down in rapid succession.
That would fit,Garrett thought grimly. If it had been Leah behind the alias, there was no way she’d risk leaving the boy where her wealthy family might stumble across him.
“The routine,” Lillian went on, “if you could call it that, was always the same. Marion arrived, took the boy, and disappeared. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes days.”
On the other end of the line, Raines asked, “Do you know where she went? Anywhere specific?”
Lillian gave a humorless laugh. “No. I always wondered, but she never told me.”
Isla made a low sound under her breath, fingers tapping fast. Garrett shifted so he could see her screen. Multiple results appeared, photos of three different men who fit the name Daniel Cole, all around twenty-two.
“Daniel mentioned going to a ghost town, too,” the woman went on. “Marion took him there, and they’d have picnics.”
“At a ghost town?” the sheriff questioned. “Any idea where or which one?”
“None,” she was quick to say. “But he said he loved running around the old buildings, and there was a stage where he’d pretend he was in a play or something.”
Garrett knew there were several so-called ghost towns in the area, but there were also some old movie sets. He wasn’t sure if it even mattered since the place might not still exist. Added to that, a ghost town wasn’t exactly chock-full of witnesses who might have seen Marion Cole and a little boy.
“How long were you the boy’s nanny?” Raines asked.
“Six years,” Lillian answered. Her voice cracked slightly, as if the years weighed on the word. “When he turned seven, Marion said he was being sent away. Boarding school, up in Vermont.”
“You’re saying you haven’t seen him in sixteen years?” the sheriff pressed.
“That’s right,” Lillian went on, her voice husky with memory. “One day I was putting him to bed, the next I was told my services weren’t needed. Just like that. I never saw him again.”
Garrett felt the frustration surge through him. Sixteen years gone. Sixteen years of silence. Too damn long.
The sheriff’s voice stayed even. “Ms. Markham, would you be willing to give a formal statement? I can come to your place.”
“Yes,” she agreed after a beat. “If it helps, I’ll tell you everything I remember.”
“Good,” Raines replied. “I’ll be in touch soon.” He thanked her and ended the call.
