Molly answered before Logan could speak, “I saw Dulcy MacMillan alive and well long after you told Mr. MacMillan she was dead, Mr. Youngman,” she said. “Her mother was with her.”
“You can’t have!” Youngman squawked and shoved his chair back so hard it crashed into the wall behind him. He jumped up and held on to the chair, his fingers working against the leather.
“Sit down, please, Mr. Youngman,” Logan said sternly.
“You must have realized that someone who knew her might see her alive one day,” Molly said.
“I don’t have to listen to this!” Youngman darted around the corner of the desk.
“Yes, you do.” Logan blocked his way, his quiet voice forcing the man back. “My granddaughter is alive, isn’t she?”
“No!” Youngman snarled. He made a futile attempt to push by Logan, thought better of it and moved to the other side of the desk where Logan couldn’t reach him so easily. He began to deflate. “At least I don’t think she is.” He raised his hand as though to ward off a blow. “Swear to God, Mr. MacMillan, your daughter-in-law told me Dulcy was dead.” Youngman frowned at Molly. “Heck, she is dead. You saw some other kid who looked like her.”
Logan ignored Youngman’s last statement. “Tiffany paid you to lie to me.” .
Youngman shook his head. “No way. You got to believe me. All she did was tell me which nurse to show the picture to. If the kid’s alive, I got conned same as you did.”
“That nurse. What was her name?” Logan asked. His voice was dangerously quiet.
Youngman’s eyes shifted and he gulped. The fleshy rolls that covered his Adam’s apple quivered. “I don’t remember.”
“You have the files. Look it up!” Logan snapped.
Youngman shook his head. “I dump all my inactive files after a year, unless it’s something about pending litigation.” He swung a hand at the file cabinets in the corner of the room and said plaintively, “I run out of space, as it is.”
“Why didn’t you give me the nurse’s name at the time? And why did Tiffany call you, not me or my daughter?” Logan asked.
Sweat gleamed on Youngman’s upper lip. His head swiveled from Molly to Logan. “She said somebody told her you’d hired me. Said you was one of them sex abusers. After the kid’s money. She didn’t want to talk to you.” Youngman hunched his shoulders. “She was crying and screaming fit to burst. Said Dulcy was dead. Told me to go on out to Moundhill and show that nurse the kid’s picture. Told me a bunch of other stuff, too, about how much better off Dulcy was dead than with you and your family. How you’d paid off the lawyers to get custody of her for her money.”
“And you believed her?” Molly snapped.
“I don’t see what was in it for you, Youngman,” Logan said, “unless Tiffany paid you more than I could. You had a good thing going with me. Even if the dead child had been Dulcy, you’d have done better to string me along a while longer, wouldn’t you?”
Youngman drew himself up. “I am an honest man, Mr. MacMillan. I wouldn’t take advantage of anybody like that.”
Logan shook his head. “So you took the word of a convicted felon that her child was dead and got the hospital to corroborate her story. All because you’re an honest man.”
“She’s the kid’s mother.”
“Where is Tiffany now, Youngman?”
“I don’t know, swear to God! You told me to drop it after that! You said you didn’t care if Tiffany got away once you found out Dulcy was dead. You said that.”
Logan stood and reached a hand down to Molly. “Yes, I said that.”
“Did you tell the police about her call?” Molly asked.
Youngman gulped. “Well, no. Wouldn’t do any good. She’d ‘a been long gone before they got there.”
Logan took Molly’s arm. “I have to get out of here now.” He glared at Youngman. “I have to call my lawyer, the man who sent me to you. He needs to know what a consummate professional he recommended.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Youngman squawked.
“Except to keep facts from a client and conceal the whereabouts of a convicted felon.”
Youngman called after them. “I could make it up to you. I could maybe trace the kid for you now.”
Logan spun round. “So you admit you know she’s alive?”
Youngman took a couple of steps backward. “I don’t admit nothing. But if she is, I mean, I’m good at finding lost kids.”
Molly knew it was time to get Logan out of there. “Thank you, Mr. Youngman,” she said. “I don’t believe we need your services.” Then she grabbed Logan and dragged him out of the office.
Molly took the keys from Logan’s hand without a protest from him. His face looked like thunder. If he planned to take out his anger on something, she didn’t want him using a couple of tons of BMW to do it with. She climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for him to get in beside her, then pulled out into traffic.
“I owe you an apology,” he said after half-a-dozen blocks. He sounded rational. Bad sign.
They were passing Overton Park. Molly swung in and stopped beside the fourth fairway of the golf course. Logan stared straight ahead, his jaw set, his eyes seemingly focused on some faraway object.
Molly studied his profile. “Logan,” she said, “let’s talk about what happened. You seem to be taking things so calmly.”
Logan shook his head like a punch-drunk boxer. “I’m anything but calm. I feel so damned guilty.”
“Whatever for?”
“Tiffany read me perfectly. She must have realized instinctively that I would have no problem believing she could leave her sick child to die alone. She counted on me to call off the search once I thought Dulcy was dead.” He ran his hand over his hair and closed his eyes. “I’ve been refusing to admit even to myself how angry I was at Tiffany when Jeremy was killed.”
Molly laid her hand on his arm. She could feel his muscles bunched tightly under the wool of his jacket. “Of course you were angry. You can’t help your feelings, Logan. But, cut yourself a little slack. You stood by her, tried to help her.”
“She must have seen how I felt, how Zoe felt. Being around us must have been like heaping salt on a wound.”
“Are you excusing what she did?”
He shook his head. “Not for a minute. But I’m beginning to understand her reasons for running away.” He placed his hand over Molly’s and turned to her with a faint smile on his face. “All that matters at the moment is that I believe you. The child you saw, the child you modeled, was Dulcy.” He stared at her in awe. “If it hadn’t been for you and that doll, I might never have known that my granddaughter is still alive. Tiffany would have gotten away with it because I allowed a fake death certificate, a sketchy description of a dead child and a detective I knew nothing about to convince me of a lie.”
“Come on, Logan. Youngman’s story was plausible. He had the child’s death certificate and the identification of a nurse at the hospital where she supposedly died. As you said, he had no reason to lie to you about Dulcy’s death. You were paying him a bunch of money to keep looking for her—money that he’d lose the minute you called him off. Besides, your son had just been killed, your daughter-in-law had disappeared with your grandbaby and your wife was dying. You shouldn’t feel guilty.”
“Zoe wouldn’t agree with you.”
“Zoe would be wrong.”
“She’s