LITMIR.BIZ

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frame and the fact that the term tall, dark and handsome might have been conceived just for him. He had hazel eyes that were like marble, seemed to see far too much, and still...well, in her mind, they were just beautiful.

      “It happened all so fast,” Kieran murmured.

      Craig adjusted the blanket around the baby. Kieran thought she cooed and smiled for him, too, but it was hard to tell.

      Smile...maybe gas. Who knew?

      “Kieran, that woman was trying to save this child. She brought her to you. You aren’t to blame in any way. I have a feeling that she was very heroic—and that she gave her life for the child. She might have stolen the baby from some kind of terrible situation. I don’t know—none of us can even begin to figure out what might have gone down yet. But I believe the minute she took the baby away from whoever had it before, her hours were numbered.” He was quiet for a moment and looked up at her. “This isn’t going to be an FBI case, you know. Whoever your visitor was, she was murdered on the streets of New York. It’s an NYPD matter.”

      “Did you talk to Ralph downstairs?” she asked anxiously. “He should have been on the desk—and you’re supposed to sign in to enter this building.” So it was with most large office buildings in the city. It had been ever since 9/11.

      “Yes, I spoke with him. The police spoke with him. He was a mess. He thinks it’s all his fault. UPS was here with a large shipment for the computer tech firm on the eighteenth floor. He thinks she slipped by him when he ran over to help the courier with the elevator,” Craig said.

      “I can imagine he’s upset. Did he ever get out of here? He was planning on seeing the Danny Boys play tonight, too.”

      “I don’t think he went to see the band,” Craig said. “The cops let him go about an hour or so ago now.”

      “Ah,” Kieran murmured.

      What an end to the week. Ralph Miller was a Monday to Friday, regular hours kind of guy. He looked forward to his Friday nights; he loved music, especially Irish rock bands. He must have been really upset to realize a murder had taken place somewhere just down the street from his front door.

      The murder of a woman who had slipped by him.

      A woman who had left a baby in Kieran’s arms.

      A baby. Alone, in her arms.

      “Craig, I just... I wish I understood. And I’m not sure about the officer handling the case—”

      “Kieran, no matter how long we all work in this, murder is hard to understand. That officer needed everything you could give him.”

      “I know that. I’ve spoken with him. He wants me to figure out why the woman singled me out. He’s more worried about that than the baby!” Kieran said indignantly.

      “He’s a detective, Kieran. Asking you questions is what he’s supposed to do—you know that. Can you think of anything?” Craig asked her.

      Kieran shook her head. “She probably knew about this office. And it’s easy enough to find out all our names.”

      “Maybe, and then...”

      “And then what?”

      Craig smiled at her. During the diamond heists case—when they had first met—she had saved a girl from falling onto the subway tracks when a train was coming. When a reporter had caught up with Kieran, she had impatiently said, “Anyone would lend a helping hand.”

      For quite some time after, she’d been a city heroine.

      So she had a feeling she knew what he was going to say.

      “Maybe they saw you on TV.”

      “That was a long time ago.”

      “Some people have long memories.”

      There was a tap at the door; the officer who had been standing guard held it open for a stocky woman with a round face and gentle, angelic smile. She was in uniform, and Kieran quickly realized that she was from Child Services.

      “Hi, I’m Sandy Cleveland,” the woman told her. “Child—”

      “Services, yes, of course!” Kieran said.

      Kieran realized that she didn’t want to hand over the baby. She didn’t have a “thing” for babies—her primary goal in life had never been to get married and have children. She did want them—somewhere along the line. But not now. She knew that, eventually, yes, she wanted to marry Craig. She was truly, deeply, kind of even madly in love with him.

      But no wedding in the near future. Maybe in a year. They hadn’t even really discussed it yet.

      She didn’t go insane over babies at family picnics, and she was happy for her friends who were pregnant or parents, and she got along fine with kids—little ones and big ones.

      But she wasn’t in any way obsessed.

      Here, now, in the office, holding the precious little bundle—who had so recently been tenderly held by a woman who was now dead with a knife in her back—Kieran was suddenly loath to give her up. And it wasn’t that the woman from Child Services didn’t appear to be just about perfect for her job. No one could fake a face that held that much empathy.

      “It’s okay,” Sandy Cleveland said very softly. “I swear she’ll be okay with me. We take great care of little ones at my office. I won’t just dump her in a crib and let her cry. It’s my job—I’m very good at it,” she added, as if completely aware of every bit of mixed emotion that was racing through Kieran’s heart and mind. She smiled and added, “Miss Finnegan, the street below is teeming with police officers—and reporters. The chief of police is already involved in this situation. This little one will not just have the watchdogs of Child Services looking over her, but a guardian from the police force, as well. She’s going to be fine. I personally promise you.”

      “I’m sure—I’m sure you’re good,” Kieran said. She smiled at Sandy Cleveland.

      “That means you have to give her the baby,” Craig said, but she thought he understood, too, somehow.

      “Yes, yes, of course,” Kieran murmured.

      She managed to make herself move, and she handed over the baby.

      It was so damned hard to do!

      “Miss Cleveland, can you tell me about how old she is?” Kieran asked.

      “I think about six weeks based on her motor function. And, please, just call me Sandy,” the woman told her. “Her eyes are following you—and when you speak, that’s a real smile. It’s usually between about six weeks and three months when they really smile, and I think this is a lovely, smart girl. Don’t worry! I’ll get a smile from her, too, I promise.”

      The baby did seem to be settling down in Sandy Cleveland’s arms.

      Craig set an arm around Kieran’s shoulders.

      “Sandy, I’m with the FBI. Craig Frasier. You won’t mind if we check in on this little one?”

      “Of course not!” Sandy assured them. She shook her head sadly. “I hear that the woman who handed her to you was murdered. There’s no ID on her. I’m just hoping we can find out who this little one is. She’s in good shape, though. Someone has been caring for her. Yes! You’re so sweet!” She said the last words to the baby, wrinkling her nose and making a face—and drawing a sound that wasn’t quite laughter, but darned close to it. “Hopefully, she has a mom or other relatives somewhere. And if not...” She hesitated, studying Kieran and Craig. “Well, if not—a precious little infant like this? People will be jockeying to adopt her. Anyway, let me get her out of here and away from...from what happened.” She held the baby adeptly while using her left hand to dig into her pocket and produce her business card. “Call me anytime,” she told them. “I may not answer, but I will get back to you if you leave me a message.”

      Then

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