Colton's Covert Baby

by Lara Lacombe

  The dog yawned widely, then grudgingly hopped down. Max clipped a leash to his collar and grabbed his jacket. As they set off down the path to the main building of The Lodge, he pulled out his phone and called for a cab. Blaine wouldn’t mind giving him a ride, but Max didn’t want to involve his friend in his personal troubles, especially since Molly was the man’s cousin. He’d just have the taxi drop him at Molly’s house and call the guy back when he needed to leave.

  Now if he could just figure out what to say...

  Chapter 13

  The car jerked to a stop, causing the back of Molly’s head to crash against the seat. She jumped as Elaine grabbed her hands.

  “Hold still,” Elaine snapped.

  Something cold touched Molly’s wrists—handcuffs, she realized, just as the metal rings snapped into place. She felt the car move as Elaine got out, and a few seconds later, a chilly gust of air blew across her when her door was opened.

  “Let’s go.” The other woman grabbed her arm, half pulling, half dragging her from the car. Molly started walking, stumbling a bit over the uneven ground. Based on the crunch of their footsteps and the feel of the ground beneath her feet, Molly guessed they were in a gravel parking lot.

  The fact did nothing to help her narrow down their location. There were a lot of places in Roaring Springs and the surrounding area that were unpaved. She couldn’t use their travel time as a marker, either; even though she hadn’t been able to see where they were going, Molly had registered the many turns Elaine had taken. Unless she missed her guess, they hadn’t left Roaring Springs at all.

  She felt a flicker of hope at the possibility she wasn’t far from home. That meant help was nearby. All she had to do was escape.

  They stopped; Molly heard the jingle of keys, followed by the squeak of door hinges. Elaine pushed her forward, her tight grip on Molly’s arm the only thing keeping her upright as she stumbled over the threshold.

  Their footsteps echoed as they walked, giving Molly the impression they were in a large, empty space. The air was still and cold; she couldn’t smell anything but blood right now, but she was willing to bet the place had a musty scent to it.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Elaine pushed her down. Molly felt an instant of panic as she fell, only to land on a thin mattress. While she caught her breath, Elaine fumbled at her ankles, snapping restraints into place. Suddenly, the pillowcase was yanked off her head.

  Molly squinted as light flooded her eyes. After a few blinks, her vision cleared enough for her to register her surroundings.

  She was in a warehouse office, a small room in an otherwise cavernous space. A pane of glass looked out on the warehouse proper, presumably so the boss could keep an eye on things from the comfort of his chair. There was a rusty metal desk shoved against the wall opposite her, and a matching file cabinet to her left. She sat on a metal bed, the kind that were used in hospitals back in the day. The thin mattress was a poor cushion for the springs that held the bed frame together—Molly’s butt already hurt from sitting there.

  She glanced down to find that Elaine had hooked her ankle to one ring of a set of handcuffs. The other ring was attached to a chain that was anchored to the floor. There was a bucket next to the desk, but no other furnishings.

  “Home sweet home,” Elaine trilled.

  “You can’t be serious,” Molly rasped. “You can’t possibly mean to keep me here.”

  Elaine looked around. “Why not? You’re inside, out of the elements.”

  “I’ll freeze!” It was already decidedly chilly inside the office; the temperature would plummet once the sun set.

  Elaine stepped to the file cabinet and tugged on a drawer. It opened with a metallic squeal of protest. She reached inside, then threw a blanket on the mattress. “Here you go.”

  Molly eyed the dingy fabric with alarm. “That won’t be enough to keep me warm!”

  “You’ll be fine,” Elaine said dismissively. “It’ll be summer soon; you won’t even need it then.”

  Panic began to claw up Molly’s throat. “What about food? Water? Or do you mean to starve me to death?”

  Elaine tapped the other drawers. “There are provisions in here. Water bottles, some rations. Prenatal vitamins.” She laughed. “We need to make sure the baby gets everything it needs.”

  “Please,” Molly said, her eyes welling with tears. “Please don’t do this.”

  “I’ll visit you, of course.” Elaine carried on as if she hadn’t heard a word of Molly’s plea. “I’ll restock your food and water every couple of days. And I have a handheld Doppler, so we can listen to the baby’s heartbeat together.”

  She sounded excited, as if it was going to be a bonding activity for the two of them.

  “You can’t leave me here.” Molly sniffed, the action sending a fresh jolt of pain through her nose. “What if something happens to you and you can’t get back to me? I’ll die, and so will the baby!” She knew Elaine didn’t give a damn about her, but maybe she would reconsider this crazy plan for the sake of the baby?

  Elaine’s smile slipped, and for a second, Molly thought she might have actually gotten through to her. Then she shook her head slightly and took a step toward the office door. “I’ll leave you to settle in now. Try to get some rest—I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

  She stepped out of the office, her boot heels making a clipped sound on the cement floor of the warehouse. Molly stood and tried to follow, but drew up short as the handcuff bit into her ankle. “Elaine!” she called. “Please, don’t leave me here!”

  When her sister-in-law didn’t answer, Molly screamed her name. But the other woman kept walking, her form growing smaller as she got closer to the door. Through her tears, Molly saw a blurry rectangle of bright light flash at the end of the warehouse. Then the door slammed shut, casting the space in dim grays once more.

  She sank back onto the thin mattress, her chest heaving as she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, baby.” She whispered the words over and over again as she held her belly between her hands. “I will get us out of here.”

  But...how?

  * * *

  She wasn’t home.

  Max frowned and knocked on the door one last time. But just like his previous knocks, this one went unanswered.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Molly’s number. Maybe she was out running errands? If that was the case, he’d happily sit on the porch steps until she got back home.

  The phone rang and rang, but Molly didn’t answer.

  Hmm. It wasn’t like her to ignore his calls. Then again, she’d never been so angry with him before.

  Worry tickled the base of his spine. He dialed Blaine.

  “Have you heard from Molly today?”

  “I don’t even rate a proper greeting anymore?” Blaine joked.

  Max tamped down his impatience. “Sorry. Hello. Have you heard from Molly recently?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I’m at her house, and she’s not answering her door.”

  “Maybe she’s not home.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you, Sherlock. But she’s not answering her phone, either. Can you call her?”

  “Why do you need me to call her? If she’s not picking up, she’s not picking up.”

  Max sighed. Why couldn’t Blaine just do what he asked without making a federal case about it? “We had a fight yesterday. I don’t know if she’s not answering the phone because it’s me calling, or if she’s not answering it at all.”

  “Ah.” There was a world of knowing in Blaine’s tone. “Gotcha. Stand by a minute... I’ll give her a ring from my office phone.”

  Max heard his friend punching buttons. Then he spoke again. “So...what’d you fight about?”

  “Star Wars versus Star Trek,” Max drawled.

  “Really?” Blaine sounded genuinel
y surprised.

  “No,” Max growled. “Of course not. What do you think we argued about?”

  “I can guess,” Blaine said. He was quiet for a second, then said, “Nope, she’s not picking up. It went to voice mail.”

  His stomach flip-flopped as his concern for her grew. “Listen, I know you probably think I’m overreacting, but do you have a spare key for her house, or know someone who does?”

  “You think something’s wrong?” Blaine’s tone was serious now, and he knew his friend was paying attention.

  “I’m not sure,” Max said. “I just have a gut feeling that things aren’t right. What if she’s sick and can’t reach the phone? What if that bump on her head is more serious than the doctor thought?” Visions of Molly lying unconscious on the floor danced through his head, feeding his worry for her. “I guess I’m being extra paranoid now that I know about the baby, but I want to make sure they’re both okay.”

  “I can understand that. Tell you what—if anyone has an extra key to her place, it’s her brother Mason. I’ll give him a call, tell him to head your way. You mind waiting there for him?”

  “Nope. I’ll park it on the porch steps until he gets here.”

  “All right. I’ll call him now and text you his ETA.”

  “Thanks, man.” Max felt a small measure of relief knowing Blaine was taking his concerns seriously. “I appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it,” the other man said. “Sit tight. We’ll get to the bottom of this little mystery soon.”

  * * *

  It was a good twenty minutes before Mason arrived at Molly’s house. Max had long since given up sitting quietly on the porch steps and was pacing back and forth, wearing a rut in the floorboards in front of Molly’s door. Furbert sat on the welcome mat, watching him patiently.

  Molly’s brother climbed down from the cab of his pickup truck and glared at him. The man looked like hell—his hair was disheveled, there were dark circles under his eyes, and it was clear he hadn’t shaved in days. As he approached, Max noted the lines of strain around Mason’s eyes and lips. When was the last time the man had slept?

  “Thanks for meeting me here,” he said.

  Mason stopped a few feet away from Max. “So you’re the one who got my sister pregnant.” It wasn’t a question. Mason’s gaze traveled from the top of Max’s head down to his shoes, clearly taking his measure.

  “Ah, yes, that’s me.” This wasn’t exactly how Max had envisioned meeting Molly’s family. The disappointment in Mason’s voice was evident; he didn’t imagine her parents would be any more excited. Furbert moved to sit at his feet, a show of solidarity that Max appreciated under the circumstances.

  “What are your intentions regarding my sister?”

  “That’s actually what I came to discuss with her,” Max said, hoping to steer her brother to the issue at hand. “But Molly isn’t answering her phone or the door.”

  “I know. Blaine told me.” Mason’s lips tightened. “That’s not like her.” He walked over to the door, rapped hard on the wood. When she didn’t respond, he took his keys from his pocket.

  “I’m only doing this because I want to make sure she’s okay,” he said, tossing the words over his shoulder as he fit the key into the lock. “I’m not here to do you any favors.”

  “I understand,” Max assured him. All he cared about was making sure Molly and the baby were fine. He and Mason could work on their differences later.

  Mason pushed the door open. “Molly?” he called out loudly. There was no response, so the two men and dog entered the house.

  Max knew right away she wasn’t there. The space had an empty feel to it, and the air was still. Mason called her name a few more times, but it was clear she wasn’t going to respond.

  They checked all the rooms, just to be sure. Max lingered a moment in the doorway of the guest bedroom, which had been taped in preparation for painting. There was a can of paint, a tray and a roller in the center of the room. He saw a pink smudge on the label of the can and realized with a jolt that Molly was starting work on the baby’s nursery.

  She shouldn’t be painting in her condition. He wasn’t an expert, but surely inhaling paint fumes while pregnant was a bad idea. This should be my job.

  Out of nowhere, a sense of longing struck him. He wanted to be the one to help Molly put the nursery together, to assemble the crib, to hang the curtains. He wanted to pick out blankets and stuffed animals and clothes, to compare playpens and swings and car seats and help her shop for all the million things babies seemed to need.

  Mason came to stand next to him, peering into the room. “I guess this is going to be the nursery.” He spied the supplies on the floor. “She probably went to the hardware store for something.”

  “Maybe,” Max said. But he wasn’t convinced. Something about the house felt wrong, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.

  “Come on,” Mason said, walking away. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon, and she won’t be happy to discover we’ve let ourselves in.”

  Max reluctantly began to follow Molly’s brother. “Don’t you find it strange she isn’t answering her phone?”

  Mason shrugged. “Maybe she just doesn’t feel like talking to anyone right now.”

  It was a reasonable explanation, especially given the events of the past few days. Molly had been through the emotional wringer—it was possible she wanted to unplug from the world for a while and recharge her batteries.

  Max wanted to believe that, but his gut kept insisting something was wrong. So instead of joining Mason at the front door, he veered off through the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Mason called, clearly exasperated.

  “Just checking one last thing,” Max replied. He reached the door that led to the garage and swung it open.

  “Are you done yet? I don’t want to be here when she gets home.”

  Max’s stomach churned as he looked into the garage. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

  “How can you be sure?” Mason’s voice was getting closer; he was apparently coming to check on Max.

  Max stepped to the side so Molly’s brother could see what he was looking at.

  “Because her car is still here.”

  Chapter 14

  Molly shivered on the thin mattress, her body curled into a ball in a bid to conserve heat.

  Her earlier assessment was correct—the threadbare blanket Elaine had left her did little to keep her warm. She’d searched the other drawers of the file cabinet, hoping to find another blanket or even a towel, but had come up empty-handed.

  It was shadowy in the office, though a dim gray light shone through the dusty glass panels set high into the walls of the warehouse proper. Molly wasn’t wearing a watch, but if the light was anything to go by, the day was fading away into evening. She was already freezing—how was she going to survive the night, when the temperature dropped even further?

  I have to keep moving. The thought propelled her off the bed. She wrapped the blanket around herself like a cloak and began to pace the confines of the office, as much as her tether would allow. She’d already tested the strength of the chain, finding it frustratingly solid. She’d scoured every inch of the dirty floor for a discarded paper clip or stray staple, anything she could use to try to pick the lock of the handcuffs around her ankle. But she’d found nothing.

  Now, as she walked, she tried not to let her mind wander. She’d learned earlier in the day that if she didn’t control her thoughts she’d wind up thinking about Max, and that would make her cry. Her still-swollen nose couldn’t handle any more tears, so Molly focused on her current situation, trying to come up with a way to break free from her prison cell.

  Four steps forward, turn, four steps back. Over and over again. It wasn’t much of a route, but the movement did make her feel a bit warmer.

&n
bsp; Darkness fell as she walked. There had to be something she could use to get out of here, some tool she had overlooked in her initial panicked search. The desk was empty, but perhaps if she ripped one of the drawers free from its tracks she’d find a screw or a nail or something equally useful...

  Something scuttered along the floor nearby. Molly’s heart jumped into her throat, and she scrambled onto the bed. A soft squeak came from the corner of the office.

  Rats, she realized. Probably here for the crumbs she’d dropped earlier when eating a granola bar.

  Bile rose up the back of her throat. Molly swallowed hard, determined not to throw up. It was bad enough she’d already had to pee in the bucket by the desk. She wasn’t going to make the situation even worse by vomiting all over herself.

  She hugged her knees and began to rock, hoping the movement would help keep her warm. The bedsprings dug painfully into her flesh, making it hard to find a comfortable position. She shifted on the mattress, then gasped as inspiration struck.

  The bedsprings! Maybe she could pry one free and use the end to pick the lock of the handcuffs!

  A surge of adrenaline pushed her to her feet. She knelt by the bed, heedless of any rodents nearby. Feeling blindly in the dark, she shoved her hands under the mattress and encountered a wire mesh secured to the metal bed frame by several tight coils. If she could take it apart, she might be able to make a lock pick!

  Something brushed her leg. She screamed, eliciting a startled squeak from her furry companions. Forgetting her mission, she jumped back onto the mattress. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was a damn sight better than the floor.

  It took a few minutes for her heart rate to return to normal. “Okay,” she told herself. Somehow, the sound of her own voice made her feel less alone. “We obviously can’t do this now. We’ll just wait for the sun to come up, and then we can try again.”