by Elle Kennedy
In one, Sarah had her arms up high, Lucy dangling from above, while Sarah gazed up at the child in adoration. The next one featured Lucy on her lap, her chubby hands reaching to snag a lock of Sarah’s hair. Lucy loved tugging on her hair. It hurt sometimes, but she always indulged her daughter, who was so sweet, so curious and sunny and—gone.
God, Lucy was gone.
The sound of quiet footsteps had her lifting her head, just as Finn’s deputy, Max Patton, appeared in the doorway. Apprehension lined his brown eyes and the slouch of his shoulders made him appear younger. She’d always thought Max was a cute guy, with his floppy brown hair and dimpled cheeks. And he was unfailingly nice to her when they ran into each other in town.
Right now, though, she didn’t want him here. She didn’t want anyone. Only Lucy.
“Ms. Connelly,” Max started, shifting awkwardly, “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your baby.”
Her throat clogged. “I appreciate that, Max.”
“I mean it,” he went on. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now, but I assure you, we’re doing everything we can to get Lucy back.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He hesitated in the doorway for a few more seconds, then gave her a sad smile and disappeared, leaving her to her photographs.
The last one Martha had taken that day hurt the most to look at. Lucy was smiling. Not just smiling, but beaming. Looking at Sarah with sheer, unconditional love in her big, perceptive eyes.
“I can’t lose you,” Sarah whispered, running her thumb over Lucy’s tiny face. “I can’t do this again.”
She tipped her head, her gaze moving to the ceiling as agony seized her stomach and tore her insides apart. “Don’t make me go through this again,” she begged, hoping someone was listening to her.
Perhaps the higher power that hadn’t listened before.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this to me again.”
After the federal agents finally cleared out of Sarah’s house, Finn released a breath heavy with relief. Lord, he couldn’t stand this. There was nothing worse than a child going missing. Not knowing if she was safe. If she was cold or hungry or suffering. He didn’t even blame Sarah for hiding away in the study. She hadn’t come out since the confrontation with Parsons, and Finn hadn’t had the heart to drag her back into the midst.
There was nothing she could do, anyway. Except wait.
And pray.
“I hope one of those leads pans out,” Jamie murmured as she stood in the hallway, wringing her hands together.
It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about. Right, the leads. Anna had just phoned from the station, informing him that a dozen calls had come in from people claiming to have seen Lucy, or insisting they had information about the abduction. That’s why the FBI agents had hightailed it out of here, to follow-up on the incoming stream of tips.
But Finn wasn’t convinced the so-called leads would amount to anything. He’d never handled a kidnapping before, but he knew from other law enforcement colleagues just how many false alarms came in during these types of cases. With the media putting a spotlight on the abduction, attention-hungry lowlifes crept from the gutters, hoping to get their fifteen minutes of fame.
Maybe this time, though… He prayed that this time one of those phone calls actually led to Lucy’s safe return.
“I should get going,” Jamie said, sounding reluctant. “Cole’s probably pacing the house, going crazy that he can’t help. He called his investigator, though, so we’ve got another person on board, determined to find Lucy.”
“Thank Cole when you see him.” Finn was about to offer to pay the P.I.’s tab, then thought twice. Cole Donovan was a millionaire, for chrissake. He probably had a whole slew of investigators on retainer.
“Give Sarah a hug for me,” Jamie said as she left.
Finn closed the door after her, then turned to Max, who was leaning against the wall in the corridor. “What now, boss?” Max asked.
Finn sighed. “Now you go back to the station and help Anna field calls. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Sarah.”
“You got it, Sheriff.”
Once Max was gone, Finn headed upstairs, a bit fearful of what he’d find when he entered the study. He still couldn’t believe Parsons had had the gall to accuse Sarah of arranging to kidnap her own child. Jamie was right—that jerk had tunnel vision, and right now, his narrow sights were set on Sarah.
But Finn knew better. He would never forget the day Sarah came back to Serenade, after spending a month in Raleigh awaiting the birth of her daughter. He’d been coming out of the diner just as she walked in with Lucy on her hip, and the joy he’d seen in her eyes had been so strong and all-consuming he was surprised it hadn’t infected the rest of the town. She loved that baby. He’d been overwhelmed by the force of that love, the tenderness as she’d introduced him to Lucy.
In that moment, their rocky past had ceased to exist. Sarah had been so wrapped up in the child, swept away by a wave of maternal love, that she’d forgotten everything. She’d even smiled at him.
No way was she faking any of this. If she’d had someone take Lucy, that meant her pain, her terror, was all make-believe. And nobody was that good of an actor.
He reached the study, took a breath, and knocked. There was no answer.
“Sarah?” he said cautiously. “Can I come in?”
Silence.
Sighing, he pushed open the door, expecting to find her curled up in the corner of the room, crying over the photo album, but the study was empty. With a frown, he strode out, heading down the hall toward Sarah’s bedroom. The door was ajar, and when he walked in, he found that empty, too.
His pulse sped up. Where the hell was she?
He checked the bathroom next, the guest rooms, and after he’d searched the second floor twice, he raced down the stairs, panic blowing around in his gut like street litter. Every room he peered in was deserted. No Sarah. She was gone.
“Damn it,” he mumbled to himself.
She’d taken off. Must have sneaked out while everyone had been in the living room, discussing her missing daughter. Was Parsons right? Had Sarah somehow been involved in— He halted in the hallway. The ankle bracelet. There was a GPS in it, and both he and the D.A. had a unit that could monitor Sarah’s movements.
As anger and frustration boiled inside of him, he raced outside and flung open the back door of the Jeep, grabbing the duffel bag he’d left in the backseat. He unzipped it and rummaged around until he found the GPS locator. It was the size of a BlackBerry, with a screen that displayed a map featuring a red dot.
The dot wasn’t moving.
He peered at the screen, then felt the blood drain from his face. He recognized the location on the map. It was less than a mile from here and the red blip remained static, indicating that Sarah was staying put. He knew why she’d gone there. Hell, it should have been the first place he’d thought to look.
A headache formed between his eyes. Gulping hard, he reached up to rub away the ache, then unclipped his car keys from his belt and slid into the driver’s seat of the Jeep.
God, Sarah, why did you have to go there?
It was hard to drive in the condition he was in. Along with the throbbing temples, his heart thudded erratically in his chest, each beat sending a streak of grief through him. He couldn’t do this, he realized as he steered the Jeep toward the turnoff. He couldn’t do this. He hadn’t been there in years.
Three minutes later, the wrought-iron gates came into view, and his pulse sped up even more. His mouth was totally dry. He couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t even park the car; his hands were shaking that badly.
Sucking in a burst of oxygen, he forced himself to calm down. Sarah was here, right beyond those gates. He might not want to walk through them, but he had no choice. Steadying his hands, he parked in the tiny gravel lot next to the gate and staggered out of the vehicle.
; “You can do this,” he muttered to himself.
Christ, could he?
The metal creaked as he parted the heavy gates and stepped onto the damp grass beyond the entrance. He made a conscious effort not to look around. Look straight ahead. Walk deeper into the cemetery. He was just climbing a gentle grassy slope when the rain began to fall and cool droplets stained his face. He wiped them away, reaching the top of the slope. He took a breath, then turned his head to the right, knowing exactly what he’d find.
And there she was, on her knees, huddled by a simple, blue-granite tombstone, her thick brown hair blown around by the wet breeze.
You can do this.
His legs shook with each step he took, but he soldiered on, getting closer. Closer. Until he was directly behind her. Until his suddenly moist eyes honed in on the headstone that Sarah was kneeling in front of, the headstone that had her shuddering with silent sobs.
Jason Finnegan
Beloved son of Patrick and Sarah.
Here for a short time, but forever in our hearts.
Chapter 8
Sarah whirled around as she heard footsteps from behind. She quickly swiped her sleeve over her wet eyes, then dropped her arm when she saw it was Finn. No point hiding her tears from him. He knew better than anyone what she was going through right now.
As he moved closer, the wind plastered his dark blue Windbreaker against his chest and raindrops slid down his proud forehead. He looked incredibly handsome, and incredibly sad. She suddenly remembered the day of the funeral, the way he’d looked in his black suit and tie, with the hair he’d neglected to cut for months curling under his chin and shining in the morning sunlight. That was when their relationship had begun to deteriorate.
No, that wasn’t true, she realized. It happened after she’d discovered she was pregnant with Jason. That’s when everything had changed.
“You shouldn’t have run off like that without telling anyone,” Finn said roughly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. “I just… I couldn’t sit there anymore. It was too quiet.”
He didn’t answer. From the corner of her eye, she saw that his gaze was focused on the tiny headstone. The grief slashing across his rugged features made her breathless. At the funeral he’d donned a shuttered expression, stood there in stoic silence. A part of her had wondered if he even cared about the loss of their son.
She slowly stood up, ignoring the grass stains on her denim-clad knees. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she turned to Finn, tears shimmering in her eyes and blurring her vision. “You didn’t want him,” she found herself whispering.
His jaw tensed for a second, then relaxed, a cloud of defeat moving across his face. “Not at first,” he said hoarsely.
No, he definitely hadn’t been pleased when she’d told him about the pregnancy. It hadn’t been planned—she’d been twenty-three at the time, Finn only twenty-six. Neither of them had wanted a baby, not then, but although Sarah was surprised, she’d quickly adjusted to the pregnancy. Jason might have been an accident, but she’d loved him from the second she knew he existed.
Not Finn, though. She cringed as she remembered his shocked reaction. They’d been having breakfast in the kitchen of his farmhouse, where they’d lived for nearly a year. At first, he hadn’t even reacted, hadn’t even blinked.
And then he’d asked her if she wanted to terminate the pregnancy.
She hadn’t wanted to, but in that moment, she’d realized that he did.
“I was always up-front with you about it,” Finn said, his husky voice bringing her back to the present. “I never wanted children. I never wanted to be a husband or father.”
She bristled. “It’s not like I got pregnant on purpose.”
“I know you didn’t. But I still wasn’t pleased about it,” he confessed. “And then, when you told me you were keeping the baby, I let myself, I don’t know, hope. I hoped that maybe everything would work out. That maybe my mother hadn’t messed me up as bad as I thought and I could truly be the man you wanted me to be.”
Sarah held her breath. He’d never said any of this to her before. A part of her wondered if he even realized what he was doing. His blue eyes were fixed on that little grave, his voice sounding faraway to her ears.
“Seeing you carrying him…watching your belly swell…feeling him kick against my palm.” Finn let out a choked sound, his despair echoing in the air, mingling with the soft spattering of raindrops against the grass. “I wanted him, Sarah. I wanted him so damn badly it hurt to look at you.”
As her heart pounded in her chest, she took a step toward him and reached up to touch the stubble coating his jaw. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”
“I couldn’t,” he blurted out. “When we went to the doctor and saw that ultrasound…when he told us that Jason was…”
To her shock, tears filled his eyes. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never once seen him cry. He certainly hadn’t cried during the doctor’s visit he was describing, yet she now realized he’d been just as affected that day.
Back then, she’d believed he was relieved by the news. It was the only way to explain his lack of…lack of everything.
I’m sorry, but your baby’s gone.
At eight-and-a-half-months pregnant, finding out her child died in utero had been like dying herself. Sarah had felt as though someone had taken a baseball bat and pounded the living hell out of her. She’d sat there, numb, paralyzed, as the doctor threw out words like stillborn and undiagnosed preeclampsia and needing to induce labor.
And the entire time, Finn hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t comforted her. Held her. Brushed away her tears. He’d simply shut down, leaving her to battle the grief and shock all by herself.
“I wanted to die that day,” Finn said in a ravaged voice. “I kept asking myself if maybe it was my fault. If maybe God was punishing me for not wanting Jason when you first told me about him.”
His heart-wrenching words brought tears to her eyes. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him with everything she had. She felt his sorrow and shame vibrating from his body, his heartbeat thudding irregularly against her chest.
“God, Sarah, I blamed myself for what happened,” he whispered, his breath fanning over the top of her head. “And then you fell apart, and I couldn’t think straight. I’d already been through all that with my mother, all the memories just reared their ugly heads, and I couldn’t be there for you. I just couldn’t.”
His arms tightened around her and she nearly drowned in his strong embrace. “You never told me you blamed yourself,” she said, tipping her head up to meet his tormented gaze.
“You were going through a tough time. I didn’t want to drop my own issues on you and make it worse.”
Her heart constricted, sending a jolt of pain through her body. Why hadn’t he said this to her four years ago? Why had he let her face the depression alone, pretending he didn’t give a damn about the son they’d lost? She pressed her cheek into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of him, spicy, masculine, soothing.
She didn’t know how long they stood there, holding each other as the rain gently fell over them, but when they finally pulled apart, something changed between them. Something shifted inside her.
“Come on,” Finn said, reaching for her hand. “I’ll take you home.”
Finn felt as though he’d run a marathon followed by two triathlons as he trailed upstairs after Sarah. They’d returned to her house just as the rain became a downpour, and they’d both been drenched during the walk from the car to the porch. He was chilled to the bone, though he suspected it had more to do with his graveyard confession than the rain.
When he’d found Sarah kneeling in front of their son’s grave, something had broken inside of him. For four years, he’d tried desperately to block out any thoughts of Jason, to pretend that the loss had been for the best.
He hadn’t wanted to be a father, hadn’t wanted to settle down. That’s what he’d told himself whenever the memory of his tiny son breached the shield he’d constructed around himself.
But the lies he’d clung to had unraveled like an old sweater back at the cemetery. He’d loved his son. Loved him in a fierce, protective way that only a father could feel.
Why hadn’t he been there for Sarah? She’d been suffering just as much as he was, if not more so, and instead of sharing her pain, he’d abandoned her. But it had been too much for him. Growing up with a bipolar mother had been difficult, especially since his mom refused to take her meds most of the time. He’d been a caretaker for his entire childhood and adolescence, and when his mother committed suicide when Finn was eighteen, he’d felt such overwhelming relief it still shamed him to remember it. He’d finally been free of his responsibilities, able to live his life without worrying about cleaning up other people’s messes.
He hadn’t lied to Sarah—he didn’t want to settle down, or be a husband, have kids. All he’d wanted was his independence, and an unplanned pregnancy hadn’t meshed with the life he’d envisioned for himself. That changed, though, when he felt Jason kick for the first time. At that moment, feeling the little flutter against his hand, he’d vowed to be the best father and husband he could be.
And then Jason had died, and Finn had not only destroyed Sarah, but himself.
“Why don’t you hop in the shower and I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer?” Sarah offered.
He was about to refuse, but the wet denim clinging to his legs made him reconsider. “Sure. That sounds good.”