by Jaycee Clark
A beep went off behind him and he looked over to see more Isolettes. More babies. The one next to them was much, much tinier than their own daughter. The little baby would have fit into his hand and she—he?—was buried under tubes and wires, an eye patch thing covered its eyes. He really looked around then and noticed that in comparison, his daughter looked healthy.
He looked up, blinked, blinked again, but it didn’t do any good.
Then Ella started to sing. An old Irish lullaby he vaguely remembered from childhood, from Grammy. Grammy who’d always told him that the good kind Lord worked things out. He smiled even as tears streamed down his own face.
His daughter moved at her mother’s voice, soft and lilting in the old words.
The doctor stepped up to them. “I’ll leave you in the nurse’s hands.”
“She’ll . . .” He cleared his throat. “Sh-she’ll be all right?” he finally managed to ask.
The doctor clapped him on the back. “Considering all that little girl has been through, to be born before thirty-six or seven weeks, I’d say she’s doing wonderfully well. Her O2 levels aren’t exactly where I want them to read, but I know they’ll get there. We’ve got her on meds and she’s doing wonderfully with them. When she’s a bit more stable, when her numbers are closer to where I want them, you can hold her. Might be a few hours.”
He nodded.
The doctor left and Ella continued to sing, her voice soft, breaking, and still hoarse as she cried. “Look at her, Quinlan. Look.”
Quinlan stepped closer to his wife and kissed her on the head as he looked down at that amazing little bundle.
“She’s really ours?” he whispered.
Ella nodded.
“You can both touch her, if you want,” a soft voice said beside them. “She’s okay and will only get stronger. Babies like to hear their parents’ voices.”
But his daughter had never heard his.
Ella’s hands immediately went into the holes on the side of the Isolette. “It’s warm inside.”
The nurse nodded. “We need to keep the babies warm. They can get cold really quickly. They’re used to a different environment, aren’t they? Mommas’ tummies are nice warm places.” The nurse said to him, “You won’t hurt her, Dad. You can touch her too.”
For a moment, he could only stand there. Dad. He was a dad.
He looked at his wife’s small capable hands, one lightly resting on the baby’s little chest, her other caressing the little head. Bright red hair.
That alone made him smile. He put his hands in the lower entrance and touched the softest skin he’d ever felt in his life. Her feet were perfect and he counted the toes, noticing that her heels were small and narrow, all her toes stubby and curled tight. He cupped the tiny, tiny foot and could only marvel. “Look at her, Ella. She’s beautiful.”
She looked up at him and they laughed together, crying together.
He leaned over and kissed her. “Look at our girl.”
“I love you,” she whispered. Then back to the baby, “I love you. Momma and Daddy are here and we’re not going anywhere.”
“This I’ll defend,” he whispered.
“What?” she asked him, looking up at him.
He swallowed and then swallowed again. “Our family motto. It’s This I’ll defend.” He shrugged and tried to think how to explain. “Did I ever tell you that?”
She shook her head.
He ran a finger over the miniature fist, seeing how perfectly trimmed the nails were. “In our family, things like that are . . . well, we learn them young. Until you, I didn’t get it. I did in theory, but in reality?” He took a deep breath. “This last week’s been hell. I’m supposed to protect my wife, my family, that’s what we do, and to see you—what they did.” He felt his eyes fill again.
“Quinlan, you didn’t fail me, or us, you know that, right? You did defend me, this afternoon, in fact.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or have you forgotten the bullet wound in your arm?”
He waved her off. “You scared the hell out of me this last week, and then today . . . Today I was pissed at that man, irritated at you for not running.” The tiny fist opened under his caress and the miniscule fingers wrapped around his pointer finger, squeezing slightly. He grinned. “Defending you, us, that’s huge and scary. But she’s so little, Ella. Kids . . . protecting a child is monumental. What if I screw up? Hell, I’ve already screwed it up. What if . . .”
She reached over their daughter and wrapped her hand around their joined ones. “Together, Quinlan. Didn’t we just promise that today?”
He nodded.
“Together we’ll defend her and protect her and just . . . love her.”
His watery chuckle had him wiping his eyes. “This we’ll defend,” he amended. To his daughter he said, “Your mommy is very stubborn, but I love her. I love you too, little one.”
• • •
He checked his watch. Just a few more minutes and he’d be able to board. He’d taken care of all the loose ends. Lisa was dead; he’d heard on the news they’d found her body late last night. Kevin’s body would be found eventually near Espanola. Charred remains were in the burnt car.
He’d heard on the news as well that remains had been found under the rosebushes up at the Retreat. They’d announced that earlier today. That should keep the authorities busy.
He had a new identity, a passport. He’d be home free in just one more flight.
LAX was horribly packed and a madhouse, as always. Just a few more minutes. He wondered if they’d found the body of Kevin yet. He hadn’t heard of anyone finding the charred remains, but he knew they would. Probably.
Not his worry anymore.
He watched one of the airline personnel answer a phone behind the desk.
Please, not a delay. Not a damned delay.
She scanned the area and then nodded. Finally she hung up and picked up the mike. “We’re going to have a delay, folks. Not to worry, we’ll be boarding momentarily. Please . . .” The rest of what she said was drowned out by groans and complaints of passengers.
Why the delay?
Again he checked his watch. Maybe he should grab a bite. He stood up and turned and saw them.
Cops and suits. Suits were feds.
Were they looking for him?
One of them made eye contact and he knew.
Damn it.
He could run. But to where? He turned and saw another group approach from the other direction.
Could he make the exit? No, he’d have to dart by one of the groups and he’d probably get caught. Better to go peacefully and hope his lawyer would know what to do. He raised his hands and met one of the suits’ eyes.
“Dr. Merchant,” the man said.
“Yes?”
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping, human trafficking, and murder. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
He let the words wash over him as they took his carry-on and laptop case, and cuffed him.
So damned close.
He should have killed that bitch months ago and then all this would have been averted. He’d be free. His family would never know.
And now?
Now it would all come crashing down. They’d have his computer; if they didn’t already have it all figured out, they’d find his files. He’d tried to shred everything he could, tried to delete files that he knew would implicate him. But it all happened so fast. So damned fast . . .
As they walked him through the airport, he wished he’d never heard of Ella Ferguson . . . No. Kinncaid. Ella Kinncaid.
She’d brought the whole operation down.
He tried not to panic—after all, panic never did anyone any damned good. Not a bit. He didn’t like to be confined but he wouldn’t think about that.
One secret had to remain a secret. Had to. He’d do anything to make sure his wife and daughter never learned the truth.
His palms were damp as they helped him into an unmarked car parked at the curb of the ter
minal.
“I want my lawyer,” he told the feds as they both buckled up.
“Don’t worry, Dr. Merchant. You’ll get him, I’m sure,” one of them said.
He stared out the window and wondered what would happen if the whole truth ever did come out.
He’d helped people, damn it. He’d given people hope when they didn’t have any. He’d provided wonderful loving homes for kids who would otherwise not have had them. He’d saved children and given them bright, promising futures.
Nothing else could be proven, he thought, nothing.
Chapter 38
The waiting room was full to bursting with Kinncaids and law enforcement officials. The Richardsons were even there, so someone had contacted them about her baby being found. Sadly, she hadn’t thought of it.
Ella didn’t want to leave, but Quinlan had finally made her go get some water at least.
“How is she?” Ian asked, leaning against the wall.
She stopped and could only look at him. “She’s . . . she’s fine. She’ll be fine, or so they tell us. Her oxygen levels are better and she responds to our voices.”
“Of course she does, you’re her mother,” he told her. An older couple had stood up when she’d come in. Quin’s parents. She looked back at Ian. “She knows her father’s voice. I saved all his voice messages to my sim card, so I still had them when I got my new phone. I played them to her. And a video I made of him back in New Orleans when he came to see me and he was singing,” she admitted quietly.
“You’re smiling.”
“Just remembering.”
“Does he know you played his voice for her?”
She shook her head. “No, I haven’t told him yet. One day I will.”
Her hands started to shake and she rubbed her forehead. “I’m not dreaming, am I? Please say I’m not.”
Ian, always so serious, laughed. “No. You’re here, she’s here, he’s here. You’re all here together. With most of our interfering asses as well, and I’m told the others will be arriving later tonight.”
Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer to him, noticed when he stiffened and then quickly leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
“I really didn’t do much, you know.”
“You were there for him when I couldn’t be.”
“I’ll figure out a way you can pay me back,” he told her, grinning. “Maybe babysitting sometime.”
She laughed.
The older couple stepped forward. The woman had graying red hair and looked familiar.
Quinlan, Ella realized. The woman resembled Quinlan.
“Welcome to the family, Ella. I’m Kaitlyn.”
Ella swallowed, looked from the woman who was neatly dressed to the man beside her with his bushy white hair, back to Ian.
“Yeah, they made it, were actually at the hotel when the excitement happened in the parking lot. We’ve all been waiting to hear about the baby, and I’ll warn you now, they’re dying to see the newest addition to the family.” Ian nodded behind. “Where’s Quin?”
“We don’t want to leave her alone and he said I needed to get some water or something. He’s being bossy.”
Kaitlyn handed her a water bottle. “Here. We’ve all had the water bottles for a while. Jock keeps shoving them on me. I told him I’m not thirsty, but he doesn’t listen.”
“That’s what I told Quin.”
Kaitlyn stepped forward and hugged her. For a moment, Ella stiffened and then slowly hugged her back.
“Yes, well, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, dear, Kinncaid men like to get their way.”
For the first time in way too long, she laughed. “I’ve sort of noticed that about them. All of them, or at least the ones I’ve spent time with, and I honestly thought Quinlan was the most laid-back of the bunch.”
“Oh no, dear. That would be Brayden, or maybe Gavin. The twins are more laid-back than the other three. Ian’s too intense and will end up with high blood pressure if he doesn’t slow down. Aiden worries about everyone, like Ian and Quinlan. Quinlan’s always tried to prove . . . well, something.”
She just looked at this woman who was talking to her when she had every right to hate her. “Quinlan has nothing to prove.” She met her mother-in-law’s eyes. “Not a thing to anyone.”
The woman smiled, and it was Quinlan’s single-dimpled smile. “Oh, I know that. I’m glad to see you do as well.”
For a minute they just stared at her. Ella looked at the man behind this lady and sort of nodded to him before she uncapped the water and played with it for a minute. Finally, she asked, “You want to see her? I’ll ask them to raise the blinds so you can see her.”
The older man cleared his throat. “Does she have a name? No one knows it if she does.”
She gave him her attention. Must be where all his sons got their height. Dark blue eyes like Aiden and Ian, intense eyes that he trained on her now. She tried not to squirm. After everything, it wasn’t like this man could hurt her. “We haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, don’t wait too long,” Ian said. “Dad’s likely to give her some deplorable nickname.”
Kaitlyn chuckled. “That’s the truth.”
“I resent that remark.” The older man winked at her. “I only give nicknames that are deserved, Kaitie lass.”
Her look said, See what I mean?
Ella drank some water and said to Ian, “Where are the DeSaros?”
Ian jerked his head to the side, where the gentleman was talking to the cops. Where was the woman?
Ian leaned over and whispered, “She’s in the chapel down the hallway, I believe.”
Nodding, she said, “I’ll be right back, and then you guys can see her, okay?”
Without waiting for anyone to say anything, she asked a nurse at the station where the chapel was and followed the hallway down to a little room. For a moment, she stood staring at the door. Probably a dumb thing to do, but she had to. Inside sat a woman on a pew staring at a stained-glass window. Or she supposed it was supposed to be a window. Merely glass in front of a light so that it gave off a calming effect.
The woman didn’t move, and Ella wondered if she should just leave well enough alone.
She turned around to the door, her hand freezing on the handle. Then she turned back and walked down the little aisle. Ferns stood on either side of the stained-glass angel.
She sat down in the pew beside the woman.
Taking another deep breath, she tried to think of what to say. Finally the woman looked to her.
“Is Sophia okay? Please tell me she’s okay. They won’t tell us anything, won’t tell me any—”
“She’s doing well, they said. Her oxygen levels are climbing and that’s good.”
The woman nodded. “Thank you for that.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve wanted a baby for so long. I thought . . .”
Ella could only nod.
“I know. I know I can’t have Sophia,” she whispered and wiped a tear away. “That’s what we called her, you know. I’ve all her stuff with us too. Or most of it. The diaper bag with her diapers and the formula and the—” She waved the words away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I am sorry for your pain.”
“Are you?” the woman asked, her blonde hair coming out of the ponytail it had been in. Her blue eyes were rimmed red from crying.
“I am. I know what you’re going through.” She looked down at her wrists, the skin red and marred. “I know what it’s like to watch someone take your child and not be able to stop them.”
Neither said a word for a long moment. “How do you get through it?”
Her jaw trembled and finally she reached over and took the woman’s perfectly manicured hand. Mrs. DeSaro jerked away but then slowly placed her hand on top of Ella’s. “What happened to your wrists?”
“They tied me to the bed with zip ties and the plastic cut my wrists when I tried to get away.” She shrugged. “I tried so hard t
o get to her. So that helpless feeling you’re feeling . . . I get that. And I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you’re going through it. That you’re hurting.”
The other woman nodded and wiped a tear away. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but to me, she’s mine. She’s my baby and I’m her mother. That’s what we were told and . . .” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Vincent doesn’t know what to do. He’s always got to protect, to fix things, and this time . . . there’s no way to fix it. To stop it, to protect.”
Ella shook her head. “You’re wrong. You both protected her when I couldn’t. That was the only thing that got me through. I prayed. I prayed and prayed and prayed that whoever had her would know. That God would have someone who really cared watch over her. That if I couldn’t be with her, that someone else could love her just as much. Would feed her if she was hungry.” She swallowed past the tightening in her throat. “I was terrified that whoever had her wouldn’t hold her, wouldn’t care for her, wouldn’t—wouldn’t know if she needed something. Or if she was sick.”
Wiping her own tear away, she looked at this woman who had to hate her. “You saved her. You and your husband kept her safe. You were the answer to my prayers.”
“What’s the answer to mine?” she asked brokenly.
Ella shook her head. “I don’t know.”
The woman started crying, leaned over and cried on Ella’s shoulder, and all she could do was mumble sweet nothings because there was nothing else to do.
• • •
Ian looked down the hallway to the chapel.
Landry walked up to him. “Thought you might be interested in Jareaux.”
“I hear he’s under investigation, and will probably lose his job.”
Landry just cocked a brow. “I probably don’t want to know how you know that, do I?”