It was the husband who answered the door. Zoe'd expected that, but what made her heart catch in her throat was the red rimming his eyes, making him look older than his thirty-six years. Making him look ill as well.
"Mr. McCormick, I'm Traci Malone. The caseworker for United Hospital. We spoke on the phone."
Recognition flashed through his eyes at her name, but it didn't brighten them. The guy looked like he'd been extinguished inside.
"Can we come in?" she asked, inching forward. The physical suggestion wasn't as powerful now that she was mortal, but he did take a small step back. "It's about your daughter."
And now the pain followed. He shook himself as if from a dream, and began to shut the door. "You haven't heard, then. We don't have a daughter."
"Ashlyn's alive, Mr. McCormick," Phaedre said, from behind Zoe.
The child's name was what stopped him. Zoe saw that. The rest took a moment to sink in.
"Honey? Who is it?" Andria McCormick must've been crying all night. She appeared, pale skin blotchy, hair falling out if its loose ponytail, and wearing the same rumpled clothes she'd been in the night before.
"These… these people…" But Dennis couldn't finish. Fresh worry sprung into his wife's face as she studied his reaction. Then it iced over with protectiveness. Zoe knew then that she'd chosen right. This couple—their love and home—would've been perfect for her granddaughter. Would be perfect, she corrected, and straightened her shoulders.
"Mrs. McCormick, we have reason to believe your daughter was abducted from the hospital last night by a couple posing as you and—" Andie gasped as Dennis's head reared up, "—your husband. They were assisted by a nurse named Nancy Allen. May we please come in?"
By the time the McCormicks had led them through the living and dining rooms, Dennis had regained his wits enough to ask to see their credentials. Zoe handed him one of her social services cards, her eyes catching on a Welcome Home, Ashlyn banner draped over the glossy dining room table, while Gregor and Phaedre flashed detective badges. Andie then settled them in the cozy kitchen nook while she put on a fresh pot of coffee, and Dennis opened the shades, the morning light invading the darkened house in unrelenting streams. Zoe let her eyes pass over all the baby gear and followed Andie's movements as she pushed aside the preparations for the following day's Thanksgiving celebration, making way for a tray and five cups and saucers. Her attention, however, never strayed from her visitors.
Damn, but Zoe wanted this woman as Ashlyn's mother.
"What we need from you," she said, ten minutes later after telling them all she could about the previous night's events, "is to tell us everything you remember about the nurse who called you last night. Even the smallest detail might help us find her."
The McCormicks looked at one another desperately.
"Nothing stands out," Dennis finally admitted, running his hands over his chin. He looked more composed now Zoe thought. He'd recovered fast and concern had replaced his grief, anger superseding his worry. "We wouldn't have noticed another couple, and the birth mother didn't want to meet us, so we never met any of her nurses before either."
Gregor glanced up from where he was pretending to take notes. "Did she try to convince you to have the child moved to another facility? A clinic… a private practice?"
Dennis shook his head, glancing at his wife again. She did the same. "Nobody expected the baby to be born so early, though there was clearly a chance of that. Because of the birth mother's… trauma."
"Poor thing," Andie murmured, pouring more coffee all around. Zoe lifted her cup to hide her expression, knowing Phaedre and Gregor would've scented the bump in her nerves. This woman's life had just been ripped at the seams and she still had sympathy to spare for her Jo-baby. Sometimes, she thought sighing, she really wondered who was superhuman.
Dennis ignored his coffee, rising instead to pace. "We got the call around eleven last night telling us the baby was coming. We rushed right down, but by the time we arrived it was… she said it was too late. I—I don't remember anything after that."
Zoe nearly wept.
"I do."
Four pair of eyes fastened firmly on Andie's pretty, determined face, and she rewarded them with a tight smile, "The nurse, Nancy, gave me a card. Said I could call her next week to find out the exact cause of death… or if I just needed to talk." The smile turned bitter. "I hugged her and thanked her for her kindness."
"Mrs. McCormick," Gregor said, while everyone else held their breath. "Do you still have that card?"
She pushed her chair back and stood with a small, victorious toss of her head. "You bet I do."