The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(86)

“Keep me posted. I have a dinner meeting tonight, but I want to hear from you when you get home.”

“You got it.”

The call ended, and her full attention shifted to the house across the street. She had googled the address but didn’t find much. The place was a new build. She’d searched Cherry’s parents. Both were still alive and listed as living in the Hermitage area. Maybe this had nothing to do with Cherry. Then again, if Finley was right and Lance Legard had been bothering Cherry, she certainly could have asked her brother to take care of the situation.

Finally Keaton exited the house and hurried back to her car. Her face looked red as if she was angry. She got into her car and zoomed away. Yeah, probably angry. Finley considered following her, but she needed to know who lived in this house . . . who Penelope Keaton had just quarreled with.

Finley was out of the car and walking toward the house before she could overanalyze the situation. She knocked on the door. It flew inward, and a woman glowered at her, then blinked in surprise.

“Can . . .” She shook her head. “Can I help you?”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes red from crying. So there had been an exchange of some sort.

“My name is Finley O’Sullivan. I’m an investigator.” She stared directly at the woman. “I need to know who you are and why Penelope Keaton came to see you.”

“I can’t talk about this!” The woman’s face crumpled, and she burst into tears, her body slowly sliding down the doorframe to the floor. “My daughter is missing. Oh my God, she’s missing.”

There was her answer. Had to be Cherry’s mother, no matter that this wasn’t listed as her address. Finley crouched down next to her. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I might be able to help.”

The story flowed out of the woman in great gasping chunks. Her name was Elly Prescott. She and her husband hadn’t been able to have children. They’d lived in Winchester decades ago; her husband had been an ER doctor. Officer Keaton was aware of their situation. One night he had come to them with a newborn little girl. He told them the mother had died of a drug overdose and the father was unknown. He hated to see the baby go into foster care. Elly’s husband and Keaton had made a deal. Cherry was that little girl. Now Keaton’s wife was back to say she needed to reveal what had happened to the baby unless Elly was willing to pay her for her silence. The Keatons had come to them for money time and again over the years. It was never enough. But the Prescotts were so afraid of losing their daughter that they did whatever necessary. Even after they moved from Winchester to Hermitage and then to Nashville, the blackmail continued. It seemed they couldn’t escape or hide from Penelope Keaton. And now Cherry was missing. Elly had been instructed to stay home in case Cherry contacted her. Elly’s husband was with Elton and their son, Brantley.

“Mrs. Prescott, I can assure you,” Finley said, “this blackmail is about to stop.”

Penelope Keaton would not get away with torturing these people any longer.

The older woman wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “I don’t understand why this happened. There’s been no ransom demand.”

This woman had no idea about Cherry’s bio parents. “Ma’am, were you told the names of the parents?”

She shook her head adamantly. “We agreed not to ask any questions, and the Keatons promised to never share our names. No one would ever know she wasn’t ours. We accepted her as our own and never looked back.”

Finley braced herself for a storm. “Do you recognize the name Charles Holmes?”

If possible, Elly Prescott paled to an even lighter shade. “What’re you saying?”

Half an hour later Finley was convinced the Prescotts had had no idea Cherry might be the sister of Charles Holmes. As an adult, their daughter had certainly never mentioned knowing him. Finley gave Prescott her card and told her she would be hearing from her. Until then she was to stay calm and to avoid Keaton. The police were doing everything possible to find Cherry.

Finley left, needing to get to the office ASAP. She wanted to talk to Jack, and then, together, they would go to Detectives Barry and Tanner with this.

Her cell rang, and she answered without taking her eyes off the traffic keeping time with her.

“O’Sullivan.”

“I need your help.”

Finley almost slammed on the brakes. “Cherry?” It was Cherry’s voice, but her contact list told Finley it was Cecelia.

“I don’t know how much time I have,” she whispered.

Finley did slow down then. A horn blared behind her. She ignored it and pulled to the side of the highway. “Where are you?” Her fingers gripped the phone tighter. “I need to know where you are.”

“She’s going to kill me,” she cried softly.

“Cherry, who’s going to kill you? Where are you?” Finley repeated, her pulse pounding in her ears. What the hell was Cecelia doing? Had to be Cecelia. Cherry was calling from her damned phone.

“It’s Cecelia.” Cherry whimpered. “Wait! I think she’s coming back.”

Finley held her breath, and still her heart thundered. She wanted to scream.

“Okay.” A gasp echoed across the line. “She’s still arguing. She forgot about her phone when Olivia arrived. But she could come back any second. Please, please help me. They’re crazy.”