Read the book: «Heir to Secret Memories»

“Will you help me?” she pleaded

Paige’s voice broke then. “They told me they’d kill her. They’re keeping her in the dark. Katie hates the dark.”

“How do you think I can help? I don’t know you and I sure don’t know them. What do you want me to do, offer myself to them?” Jay asked.

She met his gaze. “The Johnny I knew would have done anything in his power to protect a child.”

Jay’s heart slammed into his chest with the force of a blow. The Johnny she’d known. “And you think I’m that man?” he asked, the effort of holding hope at bay inside him too much.

She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes wide and haunted. If he wasn’t careful, she could make him believe it himself….

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Happy Valentine’s Day! We are so pleased you’ve come back to Harlequin Intrigue for another exciting month of breathtaking romantic suspense.

And our February lineup is sure to please, starting with another installment in Debra Webb’s trilogy about the most covert agents around: THE SPECIALISTS. Her Hidden Truth is a truly innovative story about what could happen if an undercover agent had a little help from a memory device to ensure her cover. But what if said implant malfunctioned and past, present and future were all mixed up? Fortunately this lucky lady has a very sexy recovery Specialist to extract her from the clutches of a group of dangerous terrorists.

Next we have another title in our TOP SECRET BABIES promotion by Mallory Kane, called Heir to Secret Memories. Though a bachelor heir to a family fortune is stricken with amnesia, he can’t forget one very beautiful woman. And when she comes to him in desperation to locate her child, he’s doubly astonished to find out he is the missing girl’s father.

Julie Miller returns to her ongoing series THE TAYLOR CLAN with The Rookie. If you go for those younger guys, well, hold on to your hats, because Josh Taylor is one dynamite lawman.

Finally, Amanda Stevens takes up the holiday baton with Confessions of the Heart. In this unique story, a woman receives a heart transplant and is inexorably drawn to the original owner’s husband. Find out why in this exceptional story.

Enjoy all four!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Heir to Secret Memories
Mallory Kane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mallory Kane took early retirement from her position as assistant chief of pharmacy at a large metropolitan medical center to pursue her other loves: writing and art. She has published and won awards for science fiction and fantasy, as well as romance. Mallory credits her love of books to her mother, who taught her that books are a precious resource and should be treated with loving respect. Her grandfather and her father were both steeped in the Southern tradition of oral history, and could hold an audience spellbound with their storytelling skills. Mallory aspires to be as good a storyteller as her father. She loves romantic suspense with dangerous heroes and dauntless heroines. She is also fascinated by story ideas that explore the infinite capacity of the brain to adapt and develop higher skills. Mallory lives in Mississippi with her husband and their dauntless cat. She would be delighted to hear from readers. You can write to her c/o Harlequin Books, 300 East 42nd Street, Sixth Floor, New York, NY 10017.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Paige Reynolds—When her daughter is kidnapped, she must enlist the help of the lover who deserted her years ago, or her daughter will die.

Johnny Yarbrough—Heir to the Yarbrough fortune, he was kidnapped and presumed dead three years ago.

Jay Wellcome—Three years ago he woke with a bullet wound and no memories. Now a woman he recognizes only from nightmarish visions is asking him to help her find a child she says is his.

Katie Yarbrough—Seven years old, she’s the image of her mother, with her father’s dark blue eyes. She’s a courageous little girl, if she can just hold on until her mom can find her.

Serena Yarbrough—She married Johnny’s father for money, and her scheme to control the Yarbrough fortune worked. But now her past is catching up with her. Can she succeed in eliminating the rightful heirs this time?

Leonard Lynch—Serena’s brother. If he’s clever enough to find Paige and Johnny, they may never live to rescue their child.

Sally McGowan—Paige’s entrepreneurial friend. She invited Serena to her art exhibit, but she would never harm Katie, would she?

For Joyce, who kept me sane.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Prologue

Summer, seven years ago

Paige Reynolds woke up the way she had since the day her mother died, scared, lonely, praying it was all a dream and her mom was in their tiny kitchen, making coffee. But a deep breath yielded no delicious aroma of coffee, just an ache of grief in her heart.

Then through the haze of sleep she heard the comforting scratch of pencil against paper.

Johnny.

She was safe and warm and loved. Johnny was here and he was doing what he did so often. Drawing her while she slept.

She opened her eyes to meet his sapphire-blue gaze.

“Morning, Tiger,” he said softly.

He had on faded jeans and no shirt. His brown hair was tousled and that cowlick stuck up in the back.

Her heart filled to bursting with love. She’d never been as happy in the entire seventeen years of her life as during these past six weeks.

“You’re up early.” She didn’t want to get up yet.

They’d spent most of the night making love. Johnny had been quiet, more intense than usual. He’d held her and loved her and pressed kisses along every inch of her as if she were some precious icon and he were an obsessed worshiper. He’d acted as though he were memorizing her, body and soul, so he’d never forget her.

His fierce passion had been a little scary. But he’d whispered “I love you” a thousand times, and finally, as dawn reddened the sky, she’d fallen asleep feeling safe and sheltered in his warm, strong arms.

Just thinking about the night made her body thrill. She sat up in bed, letting the sheet fall behind her. Looking over her shoulder at him, she smiled. “You sure you’re ready to get up?”

He made a low, growling sound in his throat, threw the sketchpad aside and dove into bed with her.

Afterward, she lay in the crook of his arm while his fingers brushed lightly through her hair.

“Paige?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Her hazy glow faded a bit. “What do you mean?”

He kissed her cheek. “It’s been over three months since your mother died. What are you planning? Can you afford to go back to school in September?”

His question sent her heart hammering against her chest. Claws of panic began to tear at her insides, just like they had each week since her mother had succumbed to ovarian cancer as she counted her waitressing tips, praying there was enough money to pay the rent one more time. She sat up, pulling the sheet protectively against her.

“I thought we…” she started, but as soon as she said the words, as soon as she brought her gaze up to meet his, she knew.

“You’re leaving.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Paige, no. Wait.” Johnny sat up too, and grabbed her arms. “Listen to me.”

But she was already withdrawing into her protective shell. It had always just been her and her mother. Then when her mother died, her whole focus had been on survival.

But that was before Johnny had seen her in Jackson Square and asked if he could sketch her. Before he’d brought love and sunshine back into her life.

She’d believed Johnny’s words of love, just like her mother had believed her father. But when her mother had gotten pregnant, her father had revealed that he already had a wife and family. He had abandoned her mother when she needed him most. And now Johnny was leaving her.

Her breath caught in a sob.

“Paige!” He shook her, gently but firmly. “I love you. Weren’t you listening last night? I love you. Wait a minute.” He jumped up, his naked body pale and beautifully lit by the sunlight shining through the apartment windows. He got something from his backpack and came back to the bed.

“Give me your left hand.”

Hesitantly, Paige held out her hand, which shook. Don’t leave me, her heart screamed. I love you.

She watched his face as he took her hand in his.

“God, you’re shaking,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I did it all wrong.”

She felt something cool slip onto her finger.

“What…”

Johnny pulled her hand to his chest and placed his hand over it. She felt his heart beating fast, felt the warm familiar comfort of his hand over hers. “This was my mother’s ring. Father had it made especially for her. She wore it till the day she died. I want you to wear it.”

He looked at her solemnly. “I love you. I will love you forever. Will you marry me?”

A sharp pain pierced her breast. “M-marry?”

He nodded, and a lock of hair fell over his forehead. “I have to go back to school too, now that summer’s over. Come with me to Boston. We can live together. Be married. You could go to school up there.”

“M-married?”

Johnny laughed and kissed her. “M-m-m-married. Now stop stuttering and say yes.”

Paige’s eyes burned with tears. When her mother had died, she’d been left to face a world she wasn’t prepared for. In the weeks that followed, she had learned the meaning of the word alone.

“Oh, Johnny. I thought you were leaving me.”

A shadow crossed Johnny’s face. “I’m never going to leave you. I love you. I just have to take care of one thing. My father’s not going to be very happy about this.” His mouth twisted. “He’s never happy about anything I do these days.”

He jumped up and pulled on his jeans. “So I just need to run home and talk to him. I want him to meet you. He’ll love you once he meets you.”

Paige felt as if she were on a merry-go-round that had gone out of control. Her head was spinning. She put her hand over her fluttering heart.

He wanted to marry her. Marry! She was seventeen and all alone in the world. He was probably twenty and…. She suddenly realized she didn’t know much about him, except that he wanted to be an artist, but his father disapproved.

But he loved her. He wanted to marry her.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” she asked, grabbing one of his white monogrammed shirts and pulling it on, pushing the long sleeves back so she could fasten the buttons.

Johnny was gathering up stuff and throwing it in his backpack. He shrugged. “From the first time I saw you in Jackson Square. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I knew I had to draw that classic face.”

He turned and threw his arms wide. “Then you smiled and stole my heart.”

She giggled. “I didn’t know you were in school. Where’d you say?”

Johnny shot her a sharp glance. “Harvard.”

Paige flopped down on the bed. Harvard? They’d been together six weeks and she’d never known he went to Harvard. A tiny hummingbird of fear began to flutter in her breast. “Harvard? Are you rich or something?”

He shook his head as he slid his sketchpad into a pocket of his backpack. “Something,” he muttered.

He was avoiding her eyes. She wanted to stop him, make him look at her. She wanted him to promise her everything was going to be perfect. That he would love her forever and never leave her.

After spending a few seconds adjusting the zippers on his pack, he came over and cupped her face in his two hands.

“Come on, Tiger, don’t look so scared. We’re going to have a wonderful life, I promise.” He kissed her, then murmured something and pulled her tightly to him and deepened the kiss, his warm body hard against her. Her body molded to his and her insides grew liquid with yearning.

Oh, she loved him.

Moaning in frustration, he pulled away reluctantly. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

Paige bit her lip and tried to think clearly. He was leaving, and that scared her, but then he was coming back. “Where does your father live?”

“Up the Mississippi Coast,” he said as he set his backpack near the door. “Not far.”

Paige still felt like that merry-go-round was out of control. “Johnny, stop for a minute and talk to me. How will you get there?”

“My car.”

“You have a car?”

He turned around, smiling wryly. “Sure. A Mustang Cobra. Now listen. I’ll spend the night at home, and then by tomorrow I’ll have the old man convinced. He’ll be dying to meet you. So wait for me here.”

That hummingbird’s wings sped up in her breast, stirring up the memories of her mother alone in her room, night after night, crying over a man who had never loved her. She tried to ignore them, rubbing her thumb over the ring as if it could create magic. As if it would bring him back to her.

“Maybe I should go with you now,” she suggested.

His face shut down and he pushed his fingers through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a good idea. Like I said, my father will take some convincing. And trust me, you don’t want to hear what my stepmother will have to say. I’ll be back here no later than three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I promise.”

Then he grinned and grabbed her, hugging her tight, and bent his head to give her another mind-drugging kiss.

“I love you, Paige Reynolds. Soon to be Mrs. Yarbrough.”

Paige smiled a little shakily. “I love you, too. More than you can imagine. Don’t be late. I’ll wait for you, right here.”

“You’d better.” He took her left hand and kissed her palm, then turned it over and kissed the ring.

“And don’t take off this ring. Not for anything. It’s magic.” He grinned and his blue eyes sparkled. “It’ll bring me back to you.”

He picked up his pack and left, closing her apartment door behind him.

Paige stared at the door for a moment, bringing the ring up to her lips as he had.

Magic. He’d said what she’d been thinking. It must be true.

She ran to the window.

Down on Urselines Street, he slung his pack over his shoulder and looked up. He waved, then walked away toward the levee, his loose-limbed, graceful stride as familiar to her as his face.

Paige watched until he disappeared around the corner. As soon as he was out of sight, panic grabbed at her heart again. She pushed it away.

“I’m going to be married,” she whispered in awe, sitting down on the bed. “Married.” She flung her arms wide and flopped down on her back.

“Mrs. John Yarbrough.” Her thumb caressed the ring. Her life was never going to be the same again.

Chapter One

Today

Edging a bit closer to the front door of Sally McGowan’s chic Garden District home, Paige smiled sadly at the irony. Seven years ago she’d been an orphaned, pregnant teenager, scared and alone, forced to accept the grudging, disapproving charity of her aunt.

Now she was a well-respected social worker. The road had been hard, the hours of studying and working and taking care of her daughter brutal, but she had done what her mother had never been able to do. She’d put her heartbreak behind her and concentrated all her love and energy on her career and on Kate, her beloved child.

Tonight she found herself in a roomful of over-dressed, snobbish people who were here to pay inflated prices for mediocre art to raise money for other sad young girls. And by the same token, make themselves feel generous and altruistic.

Paige took another step and smiled at a young man who was watching her curiously. Several people had looked at her that way this evening. She touched her cheek. Was there something wrong with her hair or makeup?

Someone bumped into her. It was a short, plump man dressed in white tie and tails with an honest to goodness monocle that popped off his eye and dangled by its silver chain.

“Excuse me,” she said automatically, biting her lip to keep from laughing. He looked just like a penguin. He harumphed and waddled away.

Was it just her or did everyone here tonight look like cartoon characters? Earlier she’d seen a sour-faced woman with a white streak in her coal-black hair and a white wrap with what looked suspiciously like Dalmatian spots on it.

Chuckling to herself, Paige wished her daughter, Katie, was here. Paige had never been good at being pompous and chic, and she and Katie could have a blast matching these folks with their cartoon counterparts.

She looked at her watch. Katie had been indignant when Sally had sprung the last-minute invitation on Paige. Tonight was supposed to be pizza night, plus tomorrow Katie started her second year of swimming lessons.

Paige had promised herself she’d be home by eleven, and it was already eleven-thirty.

Tossing her long blond braid over her shoulder, she threaded her way through the crowd to tell Sally she was leaving, and practically collided with the woman in the Dalmatian-spotted wrap.

Paige hastily apologized. But the woman not only looked like the cartoon villainess, she behaved like her, too. She waved away Paige’s apology as if she were shooing a fly and sucked on the cigarette dangling from her long, shiny holder.

The woman’s hostile gaze swept disdainfully over Paige’s black skirt and silver blouse before she turned her back.

Something about her seemed vaguely familiar—not many women had such a prominent streak in their hair. Maybe Paige had seen her at another charity event.

Just then Sally sailed into the room, her flowing red gown with sleeves that draped to the floor drawing every eye.

“Well?” Stopping in front of Paige, Sally gestured theatrically, sloshing champagne from a crystal flute. “Did you see it?”

“See what?” Paige asked.

“My latest discovery. Haven’t you wondered why people keep staring at you? Remember, I promised you an evening you wouldn’t soon forget.”

A tinge of unease tightened Paige’s belly as her friend ushered her toward the east wall of the room. Sally’s surprises were predictably obscure. “I saw the ice sculpture,” she ventured.

“Not the ice sculpture.” Sally waved her arm. “My newest artist.”

Everything Sally did was dramatic, from her famous charity soirees to the way she scoured the city dressed in her talent-hunting uniform of designer jeans and a shapeless, ancient men’s suit jacket that would do a homeless man proud, topped by an equally disreputable fedora.

Paige smiled indulgently. “Have you been prowling through dusty junk shops again?”

“Of course. It’s the best way in the world to discover new artists. I found this one in a musty little voodoo shop down near the docks. It’s the surprise I promised you.”

A framed drawing hung by itself in the center of an alcove. As Sally stepped aside, the crowd of people seemed to melt back into the paneling.

Paige stiffened as her vision telescoped in on the picture.

“Oh my God,” she choked, shock stealing her breath and tightening like a vise around her throat.

It was a small piece, sketched in charcoal. There wasn’t much to it, just a few perfectly executed lines. Only the eyes were fully drawn, but Paige recognized herself, much younger, looking over her naked shoulder with mischief in her glance.

“Voilà!” She heard Sally’s throaty laugh. She felt all eyes on her.

“Isn’t it stunning? And the resemblance is phenomenal.”

Sally’s voice echoed in her head like music from the next room, heard but not recognized. Her thoughts were on another time. She remembered the very day. It was the day Johnny had asked her to marry him, the day he’d given her his mother’s ring and promised her he would love her forever.

The last time she’d ever seen him.

Paige squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. It couldn’t be Johnny. That was another life. Johnny was dead.

Consciously relaxing her arms, she forced herself to smile. “It’s not me,” she said tightly. “It’s just one of those amazing coincidences.”

She stepped close to Sally, whose smile was fading a bit. “Where did you get that? You should have warned me,” she whispered.

“I bought it for you. I just wanted to display it first. Do you know the artist?”

Paige shook her head and started to turn away, but Sally pointed and her long red fingernail drew Paige’s eye back toward the sketch.

As sudden as a punch in the stomach, Paige’s diaphragm seized as she focused on the signature. Three letters in a unique stylized script, followed by an anchor in the shape of a Y. It was a design Paige would never forget, one she’d have sworn was embossed on her heart.

A shirt with that monogram on it was stuffed in a box, along with other mementos of a past that seemed like a long-forgotten dream.

For an instant, she ached to touch the letters, trace them with her fingers like she’d done long ago when she’d still believed in dreams. Her hand lifted, her fingers reached and she had to struggle to stop them from caressing the glass over the signature.

It couldn’t be. The dead didn’t come back to life.

Paige clenched her fist and forced her hand back down to her side.

“Paige Reynolds! You’re not going to faint on me, are you? You’re white as a sheet!”

Paige shook her head. “Where did you say you found it?” she asked, trying to lighten her voice.

Sally beamed, her face reflecting triumph. “One of those little streets down by the docks. Isn’t the resemblance phenomenal? It’s almost as if you sat for the artist.”

Paige frowned. Sally’s words sliced into her already aching heart. “Well, that’s impossible,” she replied flatly.

Then, aware of the attention they were receiving from the crowd, she pasted a false smile on her face.

“Thank you so much,” she said through numb lips. “The drawing is beautiful. I must apologize, but I have to go. Katie’s with a new sitter. I don’t want to be late.”

“A new sitter? I can see why you’d be concerned. Well, you must bring her for a visit soon. Maybe I should have a showing of children’s art,” Sally said. “Katie’s six years old now, isn’t she? She’s such a little doll, with those beautiful dark-blue eyes of hers.”

Paige’s face felt stiff. “She was just six in May. I really have to go. I’ll talk to you later this week.”

“Call me tomorrow. We’ll have lunch and you can pick up your drawing,” Sally called as a handsome, elegant man touched her arm. She turned with a flourish, back in perfect hostess mode.

Paige’s hands trembled, her throat hurt and her eyes burned. If she didn’t know better, she might think she was about to cry, but Paige Reynolds never cried. Ever.

As she worked her way toward the door, fielding questions and comments about her resemblance to the drawing, she glanced back at it. The cartoon villainess stood nearby, eyes narrowed against the smoke curling up from her cigarette, watching her.

SERENA YARBROUGH LET cigarette smoke drift out through her nostrils. She’d overheard the little blonde’s conversation with Sally McGowan. She dug her nails into her palms, barely restraining herself from tearing after the woman Sally had called Paige Reynolds.

She turned back to the drawing, adopting a bored expression as she scrutinized the signature that consisted of the letters JAY plus the old Yarbrough shipping logo.

That anchor had been the trademark logo of Yarbrough Shipping until two years ago when Serena had acquired several small and diverse companies, which transformed Yarbrough Shipping into Yarbrough Industries. She’d had the logo redesigned and updated.

Lifting the champagne flute, she managed not to bite into the glass as she sipped delicately. Aware that someone might be watching her, she forced her anger into a cold knot of resolve.

The signature on the drawing was unmistakable, but it was the date that made her want to rip her clothes and scream in anger and frustration.

This year.

Johnny Yarbrough was alive! Her stepson, the true heir to the Yarbrough fortune, had somehow managed to survive her scheme to get rid of him.

Her brother, Leonard, had assured her Johnny was dead when his goons had dumped his body into the river. She’d been outraged at the time. Now she had to force herself to remain calm as fury swirled in her breast.

She couldn’t believe the fool hadn’t known that the body might never be found if it drifted out into the Gulf.

As she’d feared, the body had never turned up. Only the stolen car with Johnny’s bloodstained wallet in the trunk. At least the kidnappers had left no traceable evidence in the car.

After a court order had declared Johnny legally dead, based on the DNA evidence of his blood in the car, Serena’s son Brandon—Madison Yarbrough’s second son—was the sole heir, and Serena controlled the entire Yarbrough fortune.

But now, in the space of an evening her plans were ruined. The evidence that Johnny was still alive was displayed right before her eyes. Almost as if he were taunting her.

Then there was the woman who was obviously the model for the drawing. Sally was right; the resemblance was too close to be coincidence, no matter how much Paige Reynolds denied it. And Serena hadn’t missed the way the woman’s face drained of color when she saw it.

And if all that weren’t enough, she was flaunting Johnny’s mother’s ring. It was a cheap little ring, but unmistakable, with sapphires in the shape of the old anchor logo. Madison had given it to his first wife, then to his son after she died.

One by one, Serena considered all the facts, like pieces of a puzzle and they all fitted into place.

Johnny was alive. And, judging by the conversation she’d overheard between Paige Reynolds and Sally, he had a daughter.

Six years old in May, the little blonde had said. That would put the child’s conception at about the time of Johnny’s rebellious summer bumming around the French Quarter, right after Serena had married his father.

Serena drew on her cigarette. That would make Johnny’s child older than her son. Another heir to dilute the fortune that was rightfully hers. She still hated Madison for refusing to change his will, which named Johnny or his progeny as primary heir to the Yarbrough fortune. But she’d gotten rid of the barriers to Madison Yarbrough’s fortune once, and she could do it again.

She’d taken care of that little problem and now she was in control. She planned to stay in control.

She watched as the young woman worked her way through the crowd toward the door. She nodded in satisfaction.

It was annoying that her stepson had cheated death. But now that Serena knew…

Draining her champagne glass and dropping the half-smoked cigarette into it, Serena pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed a number.

“I have an urgent job for you,” she said quietly, stepping out onto the balcony for privacy. “Well, get out of bed and get down to the office. I have a test case for the new tracking technology.”

As soon as she finished her call, she went looking for Sally. She needed every scrap of information Sally possessed on the artist and on Paige Reynolds.

The promise little Sue Ann Lynch had made to herself the day she ran away from the shabby trailer park and changed her name still festered inside her.

She would never be poor again.

The money was hers. Right now three people stood in her way: Johnny, his child, and the child’s mother.

They all had to die.

DURING THE CAB RIDE HOME, Paige stared out the car window as the dark, colorful streets of New Orleans streaked by. A familiar ache started in the back of her throat, building until it felt like a pair of hands choking her.

It had been seven years since Johnny had walked out of her apartment and her life, over three years since he’d been declared dead, and still she missed him.

She pulled her long braid over her shoulder and played with the ends, her unseeing gaze on the streets outside.

When she’d seen the sketch, for an instant she’d been plunged back into the past, to the time when she still believed Johnny loved her and would come back for her. When she’d been sure she would never end up alone and pregnant like her mother.

The day she’d found out she was pregnant she’d vowed she would keep her daughter, no matter what she had to do.

She knew the pain of abandonment—the hollow, terrifying fear of having no one. Katie would never spend one day frightened and alone, not if Paige were alive to prevent it. She would give her life to keep her daughter safe.

Paige shook her head and tried to concentrate on the awful music from the cabbie’s radio, but her brain wouldn’t let go of the past. She recalled the day six years before when she’d happened to glance at the society page, the day she’d found out who Johnny really was.

He was the son of shipping magnate, Madison Yarbrough, heir to a fortune so vast she couldn’t even imagine it. His family was the Yarbroughs.

Staring at a photograph of Johnny and his father captioned “Son Follows In Father’s Footsteps,” Paige had finally seen her worst nightmare come true.

He had never cared about her or intended to marry her. Their whole relationship had been a lie. He’d just been a rich kid slumming. She’d imagined all sorts of horrible reasons he hadn’t come back for her, but she’d never even considered the simplest one.

He hadn’t wanted to.

Then three years later, she’d seen his photograph in the paper again. This time it was the sensational story of his kidnapping played out on TV. She’d waited with the rest of the city, suffered along with his father, until the police found the bloodstained car and concluded that John Andrew Yarbrough was dead.