With a shaky laugh, Mel dried her eyes. “I suppose. Would you mind terribly getting me a drink of water before I try to repair the damage?”

“Sit right there.”

Mel figured she had twenty seconds at best, so she moved fast. She flipped open Linda’s beaded evening bag, pushed through past lipstick and perfume and gripped the penthouse key. She was slipping it into the pocket of her evening pants when Linda came back with a cup.

“Thanks.” Mel smiled up at her. “Thanks a lot.”

*  *  *

The next step was to get away from the group for at least twenty minutes without being detected. She suggested a celebratory dinner, with a little gambling as an appetizer. Always the gracious host, Gumm insisted on making the arrangements in the dining room himself. Marking time, Mel managed to slip away from Sebastian and Linda in the crowd at the crap table.

She took the express elevator, keeping well to the back of the glass walls. The top floor was silent as she stepped out. Mel checked her watch, then fit the key into the lock of the penthouse.

She didn’t need much. With the evidence they already had, she needed only enough to link Gumm and Linda with Silbey or the Breezeports. She judged Gumm as a man who kept records on everything—and kept them cleverly.

Maybe it was rash, she thought as she headed straight for a huge ebony desk. But the idea of them even now plotting to steal a baby fired her blood. She wasn’t going to stand by while someone else went through what Rose and Stan had experienced. Not while there was a chance she could make a difference.

She found nothing in the desk of interest and used up five of her allotted twenty minutes in the search. Undaunted, she moved on, checking tables for false bottoms, locating a wall safe behind a section of books. She would have loved to have the time and the talent to lift that lock, but she had to admit defeat. With less than three minutes to go, she found what she was looking for in plain sight.

The second bedroom of the suite served as a fussily decorated office that Linda used as a convenience. There, on top of her French provincial desk, was a leather-bound account book.

At first glance, it seemed like nothing more than it purported to be, a daily record of deliveries for the hotel shops. Mel had nearly put it down again in disgust when she noted the dates.

Merchandise acquired 1/21. Tampa. Picked up 1/22. Little Rock. Delivered 1/23. Louisville. Accepted COD 1/25. Detroit. Commission 10,000.

Breathing shallowly, Mel flipped pages.

Merchandise acquired 5/5. Monterey. Picked up 5/6. Scuttlefield. 5/7. Delivered 5/8. Lubbock. Accepted COD 5/11. Atlanta. Commission 12,000.

David, she thought, and didn’t bother to hold back a string of oaths. It was right there, all the dates and cities. And more. Babies listed like packages to be shipped and paid for on delivery.