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heirloom. It might be the very clue he needed to track down the baby’s parents.
    He fished out a plastic bag and dropped the cameo into it, fastening it and sticking it in his inside jacket pocket. It was too small to search for prints, and it had been handled by too many people to be of value in that respect. Hensley had checked all these things yesterday when the baby was found. The bottle had been wiped clean of prints, although not by anybody at the Kincaid home. Apparently the child’s parents weren’t anxious to be found. The puzzling thing was that brooch. Why wipe fingerprints off and then include a probably identifiable piece of heirloom jewelry?
    He was still frowning when he turned back to Jessica. She was just putting the child into its crib and straightening. The look on her face was all too easy to read, but she quickly concealed her thoughts with a businesslike expression.
    “We’ll have to settle her with a child-care provider until the court determines placement,” Jessica told the nurse. “I’ll take care of that immediately when I get back to the office. I’ll need to speak to the attending physician, as well.”
    “Of course, Miss Larson. If you’ll come with me?”
    McCallum fell into step beside her, down the long hall to Dr. Henderson’s office. They spoke with him about the child’s condition and were satisfied that she could be released the next morning.
    “I’ll send over the necessary forms,” Jessica assured him, shaking hands.
    “Pity, isn’t it?” the doctor said sadly. “Throwing away a baby, like a used paper plate.”
    “She wasn’t exactly thrown away,” Jessica reminded him. “At least she was left where people would find her. We’ve had babies who weren’t so fortunate.”
    McCallum pursed his lips. “Has anyone called to check on the baby?” he asked suddenly.
    “Why, yes,” the doctor replied curiously. “As a matter of fact, a woman from the Whitehorn Journal office called. She wanted to do a story, but I said she must first check with you.”
    McCallum lifted an eyebrow. “The Whitehorn Journal doesn’t have a woman reporter.”
    He frowned. “I understood her to say the Journal. I may have been mistaken.”
    “I doubt it,” McCallum said thoughtfully. “It was probably the child’s mother, making sure the baby had been found.”
    “If she calls again, I’ll get in touch with you.”
    “Thanks,” McCallum said.
    He and Jessica walked back down the hall toward the hospital exit. He glanced down at her. “How old are you?”
    She started. “I’m twenty-five,” she said. “Why?”
    He looked ahead instead of at her, his hands stuck deep in his jean pockets. “These modern attitudes may work for some women, but they won’t work for you. Why don’t you get married and have babies of your own, instead of mooning over someone else’s?”
    She didn’t answer him. Rage boiled up inside her, quickening her steps as she made her way out the door toward his car.
    He held the door open for her. She didn’t even bother to comment on the courtesy or question it, she was so angry. He had no right to make such remarks to her. Her private life was none of his business!
    He got in beside her, but he didn’t start the engine. He turned toward her, his keen eyes cutting into her face. “You cried,” he said shortly.
    She grasped her briefcase like a lifeline, staring straight ahead, ignoring him.
    He hit the steering wheel with his hand in impotent anger. He shouldn’t let her get to him this way.
    “How can you be in law enforcement with a temper like that?” she demanded icily.
    He stared at her levelly. “I don’t hit people.”
    “You do, too!” she raged. “You hit that man who threatened to pull a gun on you. I heard all about it!”
    “Did you hear that he kicked me in the… Well, never mind, but he damned near unmanned me before I laid a finger on him!” he said harshly.
    She clutched the briefcase like a shield. “McCallum, you are