Her One and Only Hero

by Sharon Hartley

  “In that sweltering hellhole you mean,” she said, noting how easily he could now refer to Bella as his child.

  Dale squeezed her tighter. “She’s a brave kid. I’m proud of her, and you should be, too.”

  “Why are you proud of her?”

  “Because she stood up for herself and the other children. Reminds me of something you would have done in high school.”

  Fran raised her head to see his face. “You thought I was brave?”

  “You were the most fearless girl I ever met,” Dale said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I was in awe of your spirit. I think that’s why I fell in love with you.”

  Confused by his tenderness, Fran stepped away. He thought she was brave? Spirited? Had that really been me? Maybe once in the far distant past, but she’d learned her lessons. These days she spent most of her time hiding from the world in her studio, lost in the creation of her artistic fantasies. No one could hurt her there.

  And now the ability to create beauty had been taken from her as well.

  If she found Bella, maybe she could regain both.

  She shook her head. “I wish I were still brave.”

  “But you are, Frannie.”

  “You do not know me anymore,” she said, looking away. “And you would not like me if you did.”

  “I know you came here to tell me the truth about our daughter. After so much time had passed, that took guts.”

  “Telling you about Bella was the most difficult task I have ever had to face,” she whispered. “If there had been any other way...”

  Dale drew her into his arms again. “And I didn’t make the telling easy, did I?”

  She nodded, her cheek brushing against the soft hair on his chest. “You reacted the way I always knew you would, the way I had always feared.”

  “But that’s what courage is, Frannie. Don’t you see? Real courage is doing something you don’t want to, when you know how hard it will be, how much it will cost you.”

  “I did it for Bella.”

  “I know that. No cop ever wants to run into an active shooter situation. They find the courage to brave the bullets because they want to save a life.”

  She took a deep shuddering breath and released it slowly. Here finally was the Dale she remembered, a sweet boy who could always make her feel good. Even when he got things wrong.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome. Let’s pack up and get out of here. We have a long trip ahead of us, and we need to stop by my apartment before we leave.”

  * * *

  WHEN FRAN ENTERED Agent Rivas’s office, her gaze focused instantly on the bright red backpack encased inside a clear plastic bag on his desk. Dirt stained much of the fabric, but she recognized the yellow and pink ribbons her daughter had tied around its straps. Her school colors.

  No question this was Bella’s pack. Fran flashed to an image of her daughter’s frame bent over, weighed down from all of the supplies and books she carried to class.

  She crumpled into one of the agent’s chairs, staring at the filthy object. Oh, Bella. Where are you?

  “Do you recognize this pack?” Agent Rivas asked.

  “It is Bella’s,” Fran said. “No mistake.”

  The agent nodded.

  “Anything yet from the cell phone?” Dale asked.

  “Too soon,” Rivas said. “By the way, she’d ripped a hole in the inside lining of the pack and secreted her phone in there even though it was dead. Otherwise, Zarco would have taken it away.” Rivas smiled grimly. “Smart kid. She likely hoped to find a way to charge it.”

  “Any leads for us in Tampa from the agents there?”

  Fran stared at Bella’s backpack, unable to concentrate on the discussion between Dale and his friend. She longed to touch Bella’s pack, the next best thing to touching her daughter again. Was this all that was left of Bella? She wanted to cradle the object in her arms as she had once held Bella. She did not care how dirty the pack appeared.

  Had Bella protested when her captors stole her possessions from her? How did she react, knowing she had now lost her precious phone? And her daughter knew how important the medicine was. She must have told her captors how badly she needed it. How severe was the asthma attack that had—

  “Fran?”

  “Yes?” Fran lifted her gaze from the desk to Dale. He extended his arm with an inhaler in his palm. Her breath caught.

  “Do you recognize this?” he asked.

  She nodded. “That is Bella’s inhaler.”

  Dale nodded. “Okay to take one in case we find her?” he asked Rivas.

  “No problem,” Rivas said.

  Dale pocketed the inhaler. “Anything else I need to know?”

  “I’ll call if I hear anything new from Tampa.”

  “Thanks,” Dale said.

  The two shook hands, and Dale nodded at Fran. “You ready to go?”

  “Can we take Bella’s pack?” she asked, piercing Agent Rivas with the most beseeching look she could summon.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Scarpetta,” he said. “We need to keep that for evidence. I’m only letting you take an inhaler because of your daughter’s medical condition.”

  “I understand,” she murmured. Although she did not. She did not understand anything, why Bella had run away, how any human being could treat children with such cruelty, why she could not draw. Nothing made sense anymore.

  And being around Dale twisted her into knots. He confused her, enraged her, and yet this morning he had held her in his arms and made her feel loved again.

  * * *

  AFTER PASSING THROUGH the toll gate on I-75 where the interstate turned into Alligator Alley, a pathway through the Everglades, Dale placed a phone call to his commanding officer. Tampa was four or five hours away, depending on traffic. They’d be lucky if they made it to the downtown FBI office before 5:00 p.m.

  Today was the last day of his personal leave. He had no choice but to request more time.

  “Who are you calling?” Fran asked when the ringing sounded over the hands-free technology. He also had no choice but to let her listen to the conversation unless he wanted to drive a two-ton bomb at seventy-five miles an hour one-handed. So not happening.

  “My boss,” Dale said.

  “Marshall.” His lieutenant’s grainy voice floated into the interior of the SUV.

  “LT, it’s Officer Baldwin.”

  “Yeah, Baldwin. How’s that personal business coming along?”

  Dale gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Not well, sir. I need to request more time.”

  A long pause stretched out. Finally LT said, “Sorry to hear that, son.”

  “I have the time coming to me, sir.”

  “Maybe so, but brass has canceled all leave because of the suspensions.” The sound of shuffling papers filled the silence. “You were my first choice for the new joint task force. Is something going on that I need to rethink that decision?”

  Next to him, Fran strangled an outraged noise. Dale shot her a quelling look.

  “No, sir. I’m still the right man for the job,” he said. “That op doesn’t gear up for another three weeks.” Of course Marhsall knew that.

  “You going to need three weeks, Baldwin?”

  “I hope not, sir. But this is family business, and it’s gotten complicated. More so than I anticipated.”

  “Where are you? Sounds like you’re on the road.”

  “I’m driving to Tampa.”

  A staccato noise came across the speaker that sounded as if Marshall drummed a pencil or a pen on his desk. “Very well. You’ve got two more days.”

  “Could we make it three, sir? Tampa is a long drive.”

  “Two days.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “We’ll have a convers
ation about your focus when you report for duty, Officer Baldwin.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And whatever the hell you’re up to, be careful.” Marshall disconnected.

  Dale released a breath and relaxed against the headrest. Had he screwed his chances for appointment to the terrorist task force? He’d known Marshall would give him a hard time about the additional leave. That’s just who the man was, but would he really take away that plum job?

  Damn, but he wanted that assignment. He’d lost too many buddies in the desert, wanted to stop the assholes hell-bent on destroying the American way of life. Plus, he liked working with the feds. He’d worked his butt off to put himself on Marshall’s radar.

  Funny though. Now that he had a daughter, the task force no longer seemed quite so important.

  “Does your boss know you’re looking for your daughter?” Fran asked.

  “My boss doesn’t know I even have a daughter,” Dale said. “I’ve only known it—what? Forty-eight hours?”

  “Maybe if you’d told him, he would be more understanding.”

  Dale shot her a quick look. She might be right about that. He’d been too shell-shocked to tell anyone about the existence of Bella except for Javi. He hadn’t reached out to any of his friends.

  Why was that? Had he been in denial? Uncomfortable about a love child he hadn’t known about?

  Not any longer. Now he wanted to know this girl who was brave enough to stand up to her captors. Even if that bravery had worsened her situation. His little girl needed to learn how to pick her battles. Too bad he hadn’t been around to teach her.

  “Tell me more about Bella,” Dale said.

  “What do you mean?” Fran asked.

  “You told me she likes to hang out with her friends. Does she have a lot of friends?”

  “Yes. She is popular, I guess is the word, but a year younger than most because she skipped a grade.”

  “You told me that. So she’s smart?”

  “Very. She makes excellent grades.”

  Dale nodded, wanting to learn everything he could about the daughter he’d never met. Yesterday he’d been making a profile of a subject. Today she was his little girl.

  “You said she’s an artist like you?”

  “Bella exhibited talent as soon as she could hold a pencil.”

  “Do you have any of her drawings with you?”

  “Yes, in my suitcase. Would you like to see them?”

  “Very much. Now about boyfriends...”

  “No special boy that is more than a friend,” Fran said. “Not like you and me in high school.”

  “I should hope not,” Dale said, affronted at the thought that his twelve-year-old daughter would be having sex. Shit. And where had that outrage come from?

  He glanced at Fran and found her smiling at him. “You are thinking like a father now.”

  He nodded. But Bella had a father in Italy who had helped raise her, a man he wanted to hate but had to admire if he’d cared for another man’s child. My child. Had Fran been keeping him up to date on her search?

  “There are two or three boys in the group she hangs out with,” Fran said. “Friends.”

  “Do you know their families?”

  “They are nice boys, if that is what you mean. She attends a private school.”

  “Expensive tuition?”

  Fran shrugged in her graceful Italian manner. Money meant little to her. It never had, probably because she’d always had all she needed. Was the husband as filthy rich as her parents?

  “Tell me about Bella’s relationship with your husband,” Dale said.

  “My ex-husband.”

  Dale almost slammed on the brakes. He hadn’t thought Fran could ever surprise him again. He’d been wrong.

  “You’re divorced?” he demanded.

  “Why are you shouting?”

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  “Yes, we are divorced,” she said, sounding surprised that he hadn’t known. “For many years.”

  Dale released a breath. Damn. Frannie was divorced? Why did that change everything yet changed nothing at all?

  “Funny how you never mentioned that,” he muttered.

  “I am sorry. I thought I did.”

  “Oh, I think I would have remembered that minor detail.”

  They drove in silence for several long minutes.

  “My marriage to Paolo was not a real marriage,” she said breaking the silence. “Surely you realize that.”

  Dale didn’t answer. What did that mean? That they’d never had sex? Doubtful. All he knew was this Paolo character had been with Fran and his daughter for more than a decade while he’d been on the other side of the world.

  “Did your ex and Bella get along?”

  “Bella loved Paolo, was devastated when we separated. But you read the note. She obviously noticed we were not in love.”

  “Did you ever love him?”

  When Fran didn’t reply, Dale shot her a look. She stared out the side window, her arms wrapped around herself protectively.

  “Not like I loved you,” she said.

  Dale released a breath at her soft words, which made him feel one hell of a lot better. What kind of a jerk did that make him?

  “He was a friend,” Fran said. “A good friend eventually. He treated Bella as if she were his own child.”

  He ought to be grateful to the man instead of hating his guts. “Was he in love with you?”

  “No.”

  “So why did he agree to marry you?”

  “My father made it worth his while.”

  “What does that mean?” Dale demanded. “Your father paid a man to marry his pregnant daughter? That’s nuts. I’d have married you for free.”

  “You, however, were not an acceptable match,” Fran said. “Not in my parents’ opinion.”

  “Because I’m an American?”

  “More because you had no assets.”

  “But you said your parents paid this Paolo to marry you? If he had his own assets, what was his motivation?”

  “Our marriage was a political alliance,” Fran said. “Not uncommon in European history.”

  “Come on, Fran. Not in today’s world.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Yeah, well color me surprised. So why did you divorce?”

  She sucked in a breath and released it quickly. “Because he fell in love with someone else.”

  “There was another woman?” Now, that was a surprise. How could any man choose another woman over someone as talented and drop-dead gorgeous as his Frannie?

  “No,” Fran said. “Another man.”

  * * *

  “WHAT?” DALE’S QUESTION exploded into the car.

  Fran pushed away a ridiculous sense of guilt. She had never before told anyone that Paolo was gay. She had always believed it was his secret to share.

  But she wanted Dale to understand. No matter how much it hurt, how humiliating, he deserved to know the truth.

  She stared at the scenery rushing past the car, catching the occasional glimpse of a large white bird with long skinny legs standing in the shallow water of the Everglades, flat land that extended forever. Bella had been fascinated by photos of the Everglades.

  “Paolo was involved in a political battle, and rumors were circulating about his sexual orientation. He agreed to marry me because a pregnant wife provided a perfect cover for him and quickly put the rumors to rest.”

  Dale muttered a vicious curse. “Your parents chose that life for you over marrying someone you loved?”

  “My father was politically allied with Paolo. His vote was important to my father’s cause, so he did not want him to lose the election and his position.”

  “So you and our baby became a pawn in a polit
ical game?”

  “I never thought of it that way, but yes.”

  “Whose brilliant idea was it?”

  “My father’s. My mother did not know Paolo was gay until we divorced. She was horrified, but demanded I stay with him for appearances.”

  “Damn, Fran.”

  “She cares very much about appearances,” Fran added, trying to keep the bitter tone out of her voice. “I refused. By then, she no longer had any power over me.”

  They rode in silence for several minutes. “I still don’t understand how you could go along with that whole crazy scheme.”

  “I was seventeen,” Fran said.

  “So what? Your parents couldn’t force you to marry. Not even in Italy.”

  “Okay,” Fran shouted, wanting Dale to stop asking his questions. She wasn’t a criminal, not like that pervert Morales who had killed little children. “Okay. You’re right. They wore me down.”

  Dale shot her a look. “Hey, take it easy.”

  “You were not there, damn you.” She pointed a finger at him. “I was pregnant, vomiting my brains out every morning, weak, hormonal, lonely, and, yes, I gave in. Your brave, spirited Francesca is a pitiful coward. She agreed to marry a man she didn’t love to provide your baby a home.”

  “Okay. I get it. Calm down.”

  Realizing, as usual, that she was waving her arms in the air for emphasis, Fran hugged herself and looked out the window. They were slowing down.

  “No matter what you think, Paolo is a good man,” she said. “He was a good father to Bella, but he could not love me the way a man loves a woman.” She closed her eyes. “The way you once loved me. The way I wanted you to love me last night.”

  When Dale didn’t answer, she opened her eyes. They had exited the road and entered an area marked as a rest stop. She remained quiet until the vehicle came to a stop. Dale stared out the front window.

  “This is why I was so certain Paolo would never molest Bella,” she told him.

  Shaking his head, Dale released his seat belt and moved to her side of the vehicle. He opened the door, helped her down, and wrapped his arms around her. With a sob, Fran hugged him tightly. If only, if only.