by Amber Lynn
“Of course you don’t understand. He took you when you were just a kid, so I’ll spell it out in way that should sink into that thick skull of yours. You know about biology, so you’ll understand this. My husband wants to get you pregnant.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Willow could’ve remained silent, but that path to logic needed to be disproved. How she went from Greg gratifying himself to wanting to impregnate Willow made no sense. Seeking pleasure didn’t mean procreation. Willow understood people could find pleasure in procreation, but nothing in what Gayle said led her to believe that’s what Greg wanted.
Not to mention most of the times she looked in his direction there was disgust on his face. She never understood that, but she never spent time pondering it either.
Gayle laughed. “Oh really? You think you know what my husband wants? Let me spell out the hell my life has been since you grew up.”
The car jerked as she turned a corner. Willow had no idea where they were, but it still seemed like they were going the wrong way.
“I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t until after you turned eighteen that things changed, but right around the time you became legal, he started accidently letting your name slip when we had sex. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he made me carry that brat to term, so he could give you a child. When I asked him to see my son, he told me the kid was yours.”
She stopped speaking for a few seconds, probably waiting for some kind of reaction, but Willow didn’t have one. She still didn’t believe anything Gayle said. Since the other woman seemed to want to talk, she’d let her get all the lunacy out. It didn’t take long for her to continue.
“I told him that was crazy. I carried the baby nine months and had the uterus the size of a watermelon to prove that little boy was mine. He laughed at me, like I was the crazy one. I’d just gone through twenty hours of labor, and he thought I didn’t know what was going on.”
Willow remembered the day and the hours of labor, but she hadn’t been part of any conversations. Greg had walked around the room nervously as Willow saw to the delivery. She didn’t see anything but concern for his screaming wife.
Once Connor had finally made it into the world, he’d instructed Willow to clean him up and deal with him. She’d seen no emotion as he finished cleaning Gayle up and escorting her upstairs. The whole ordeal after the birth had taken about an hour. She never heard Gayle ask for the baby and was left alone with Connor.
“He spelled it out for me. I didn’t believe him at first, but eventually I managed to get some of the baby’s hair and got tests done that verified the baby wasn’t mine. He used me as an incubator for your child.”
Her voice trailed off. Willow was surprised to hear a small sob. She looked over to see Gayle’s hand put the gun down for a second to wipe at her face. Her voice hadn’t indicated she was crying but retelling her crazy view of events evidently got to her.
Willow thought about reaching for the knife, but the calculations in her head told her it still wasn’t the right time. As if to prove that point, Gayle’s hand went back to the gun.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” When Willow remained silent, Gayle screamed and jabbed her with the gun. “Answer me. Do you understand?”
“That you didn’t want to claim your son, so you’ve made up some convoluted story that he isn’t really yours?”
The backhand that flashed across Willow’s face told her that wasn’t the answer Gayle wanted. It was the only answer she could come up with, so she shouldn’t have asked if she didn’t want to hear the truth.
“No, you idiot. My husband drugged you and took some of your eggs to fertilize with his semen. Then he drugged me and planted them inside me. He said you weren’t ready to carry his babies yet, so I had to. He wanted to do it again, but he didn’t think my body would cooperate. I have no idea how he came to that decision, but I know he wants more of your kids.”
The idea was absurd. If Willow didn’t remember waking up groggier than usual a few times, she’d dismiss the whole idea. Her memory didn’t let her forget things and the cotton mouth she’d experienced with the grogginess came back in full force. She moved her tongue in her mouth trying to gather saliva. She knew it was her own mind that caused the reaction, but she got lost in working to solve the problem.
Another slap to her face and the cocking of a gun made her forget the fact her tongue felt swollen. She hated the sensation and wanted a glass of water.
“Did you zone out?”
“No,” Willow answered truthfully.
She was preoccupied, but not zoned out. If Gayle had said anything, she would have continued to follow the conversation.
“Good, because we’re almost there, and you need to be ready.”
Gayle’s eyes turned to Willow, but Willow didn’t acknowledge she could feel them on her. Her mind was divided by the words she still worked to process and the fact her lip had been cut open with that last hit. She could taste an iron flavor in her mouth as she sucked her lower lip to gauge how deep it was.
“Greg wanted to divorce me, so I wasn’t in the way of you two. He said that when he finally had you, he didn’t want me around. You have to understand that I love my husband. He saved my life when I was given a death sentence, and I would do anything for him. I thought you were in the way of our lives, but when you left, he went after you. A week later, he came home a different man. I have to force him to eat anything and all he does is stare at recordings he’s made of you.”
There was no response that wouldn’t end in Willow getting hit again. She was pretty sure the huge diamond ring on Gayle’s finger had cut deep enough in her lip that a stitch would be needed to close it up. So, provoking her wasn’t a high priority. It didn’t matter, because Gayle pulled into a hotel parking lot. It seemed Willow would be getting answers, or maybe just more insanity thrown in her face soon enough.
Chapter 28
Steam likely escaped Brayden’s ears as he sat in the police station waiting for any word about Willow. It had been over two hours since Connor showed up to tell them she was gone. At first, Brayden hadn’t believed him. He’d walked around the parking lot for fifteen minutes looking for her.
Trevor’s first thought wasn’t denial. He called the cops while Brayden performed his search. He’d been ready to keep searching when they caught up to him and started asking him questions. Even though Trevor had questioned her story, he’d quickly told the police Willow Jamison had been there with them, but one of her kidnappers got to her.
They were pretty sure that was what happened. Connor had been incoherent talking about a gun and his mommy. Brayden had never heard him call Willow that, but it wouldn’t surprise him if he did.
It made more sense than the woman kidnapper being there to grab Willow. They hadn’t spoken much about her, but Willow claimed she was only in the background. It was the guy who ran things, and the guy who would want her back.
Brayden felt the door open behind him. Detectives had been in and out of the room a few times since they’d stored him there. Child protective services had been called in to check on Connor, so the little boy had been taken from him not long after the police showed up.
Connor had cried, saying he was sorry over and over. He reached for Brayden as the pulled him away, making the man want to say screw it and snatch the kid back. He knew it was better to follow the rules, but he vowed Connor would be back with him before the day was over.
He’d called Chris and put him to work on that. His lawyer thought making sure Brayden wasn’t facing charges was more important, but Brayden had been adamant. Connor came first. Brayden had already told the police they needed to look for whoever taught Willow’s AP biology class. She’d never spoken his name, but he remembered when she told him about the class and why she was taken.
Brayden looked up when he saw movement cross his vision. He’d expected one or two of the detectives, who seemed to think he knew more than what he’d shared. The woman in the
room wasn’t with the police, and he’d never met her before, but he knew instantly who she was.
Pauline Jamison stopped across the table directly in front of him. He’d seen her on television, saying her daughter would be home before her next birthday. If the cops would stop focusing on him, maybe she’d get her wish.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked softly.
She wasn’t a keen observer like her daughter if she had to ask the question. Willow didn’t understand all facial gestures or why people made them, but she’d see the way his face softened and know he recognized her.
Pauline looked like her daughter in a way, but at the same time not. She was plumper than Willow, with her cheeks naturally filled over the years. Not at all like the sunken look Willow had. Her eyes reminded him of her daughter’s. Not the color, even though the blue eyes staring at him reminded him of Willow’s with her contacts in. The sadness etched in them was a close match.
“You’re Willow’s mother.”
There was no reason to pretend he didn’t know that fact. He was sure the police had given her some information about him before letting her in the room. He wanted to let her know they were on at least somewhat equal ground.
She nodded. Unlike Willow, who always wore her hair down, her mother’s hair was sleeked back into a bun. Altogether, with the hair and the makeup, which looked almost professionally done, Brayden was surprised at her appearance. He knew from living with Megan for years what the difference between professional makeup and someone doing it home could be. If Pauline had put all that on herself, it would’ve taken hours, something Brayden didn’t think a woman searching for her lost child had time for.
“I am. Apparently, the police think you have something to do with my daughter’s disappearance.”
Brayden opened his mouth to fight that claim, but she held out her hand to stop him.
“After they told me who you were, I looked you up, Brayden. You’re only a few years older than her and you were thousands of miles away when she disappeared as a child. Thankfully, they aren’t hanging all their hopes on you breaking and telling them where to find her.”
Her relaying that information and not the police wasn’t exactly reassuring. He wanted out of the room, so he could track Willow down himself and strangle whoever took her.
“Why are you in here and not out there demanding the police find her?”
The option hadn’t been given to Brayden, but he bet she was free to come and go as she pleased. She even managed to get in to see him, which he didn’t think was standard procedure.
“Because my grandson keeps calling out your name. He won’t settle for anyone else coming near him.”
What were the idiots out there telling this lady? She thought Connor was Willow’s? He’d made it perfectly clear to the police that Willow said he wasn’t. While Brayden’s heart ached to hear Connor was still upset, he couldn’t let Pauline think whatever story she’d been told. When things settled, he wanted Willow to keep Connor, but he didn’t feel the need to make promises to her mom about that.
“Connor isn’t Willow’s son.”
She smiled and pulled out the chair. Her settling in for a conversation didn’t ease the restless energy running through his body.
“If you’re saying that to comfort me, don’t bother. She has been missing for fifteen years. I’m not naïve about why she was taken or what probably happened while she was gone. We thought for years she could be dead. Knowing she’s alive and has a child is the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”
“You don’t understand,” Brayden said, dropping his voice. “Connor isn’t Willow’s son. She wasn’t taken by some sicko who had a fetish with children.”
For as much as he cared about Willow, he found it hard to talk to her mom. Something about her seemed fake. Not so much her concern for her daughter, which he hadn’t really felt, so maybe that was part of it. The overall front she presented was too ready for her close up and not enough mom finally reunited with her missing child.
“That’s preposterous,” she said as she shook her head. “The test we requested makes it clear that boy is related to me. I don’t know why you think he’s not her son, but a DNA test doesn’t lie.”
Brayden sat in shocked silence for a few minutes. It may not have been that long, but it could’ve been hours for all he knew. His brain couldn’t process the words coming out of her mouth.
“How could you possible have already done a DNA test? We’ve only been here for a couple of hours, and I’m sure you’ve been here even less.”
She shook her head again. “We arrived before you did. An acquaintance alerted us there was news about Willow, so we came here to find out. We’ve been in the city for days, thinking maybe she’d come here after being sighted in a town about seventy miles northwest of here. Of course, you know all about that town, since that’s where the two of you met.”
Her eyes narrowed as she waited for a response. Did she want some kind of apology for not calling her and letting her know her daughter was running for her life? If that was case, she’d be waiting for a while.
“That doesn’t explain the DNA test. Even if you were here waiting, you’d still only have a couple hours to get it done. I’m pretty sure that’s not the way works.”
“It is in my world. I called in some favors and threw money at people until they did what I wanted. I just received the confirmation before I walked in here. Connor, as you like to call him, is my grandson.”
Brayden refused to think Willow lied to him about that fact. A botched test or one that only supplied what Pauline wanted to hear seemed more likely. He’d wondered too many times about how a man could hold back when it came to Willow, but her shy, unpracticed kiss made it clear to him another man hadn’t touched her.
“I call him Connor because that’s his name. If you’re really only in here because he won’t calm down, why didn’t you bring him in?”
He had trouble making sense of her motives. When it came to Willow, her protection was more important than making nice with her mom.
“You don’t like me.”
“What’s that got to do with anything? Right now, those assholes have Willow again, and I’m stuck in here waiting for someone to realize I should be out there looking for her.”
“And how exactly would you find my daughter? The police are already tracking the car she got in. From what I hear, they found out it was a rental and have located it via the GPS in the car. It’s only a matter of time before they bring her here.”
Brayden couldn’t help his mouth from dropping open. Maybe he’d missed the likeness to her daughter. The words were said with the same amount of emotion Willow usually used. He’d seen the woman making a heartfelt plea to bring her daughter home. He understood people could act differently in public and behind closed doors. The problem was he didn’t know which version of the woman to believe.
“Then why are we sitting in here?” The sentiment might as well be the theme for the whole conversation. “Whether the police want to let me out is one thing, but if your daughter is really on her way here, shouldn’t you be out there waiting for her?”
She nodded. “I’ve worked with the police long enough to know they won’t let me at the scene and will take at least an hour to get back here with Willow. I figured it was a good time for us to get to know each other.”
“And why would we need to do that?”
It sounded like Willow wouldn’t need a place to hide. That meant she could go home with her family. The thought of that made his stomach turn, but it was her life, and she deserved to have it back.
“I figured you were someone special to them when Connor insisted on seeing you, and I assume when she gets here, Willow will too. With that in mind, you can understand why I’d want to meet you.”
The way Pauline’s lips curved up was unnerving. He was pretty sure she was purposefully trying to make it impossible to read her. That’s his excuse for being blindsided by her next words.
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“Not to mention the fact that I knew within two minutes of walking in here that you are in love with my daughter. And as nice as that may be, I’m never letting someone take her away from me again.”
Chapter 29
As they made their way out of an elevator and to a door in the hotel Willow assumed the man she hoped to never see again was behind, she played with the knife in her hand. While Gayle made it around the car, she’d grabbed it out of her boot and slid it up her coat sleeve.
She’d heard a click earlier, which she took to mean the gun again in her side was cocked. She didn’t know a lot about guns, so it could have been the safety or something else. Willow wasn’t exactly a gambler, so she hoped finding out for certain wasn’t in her near future. With that uncertainty, she wasn’t ready to start stabbing. Gayle had already given plenty of proof her brain only fired on half the cylinders. Pushing her to pull the trigger probably wouldn’t take much.
Plus, the whole story about how Connor came to be in the world needed some corroboration. Given a lab, Willow could run the tests herself. She doubted one of those existed behind the door Gayle slid a keycard into. As soon as the lock made a noise and Gayle pushed the door open, something flew at the door and hit it with a thunk.
“I told you not to come back, you heartless bitch.”
Willow saw that the object was only a shoe. For as angry as the words that accompanied it sounded, she would’ve thought a knife or glass of some sort more appropriate. She figured the hotel had lamps at the very least. As she heard the door click behind them, she wondered if other objects would join the shoe. Throwing a man’s loafer seemed kind of tame.
Then again, the voice sounded weaker than she remembered. There wasn’t the boom he usually commanded life with.
When she got a look at the man sitting on the bed, eyes glaring daggers at his wife, Willow got a sense why his voice sounded off. Gayle had said he’d stopped eating, and it showed. Greg Anderson had always been a muscular man. He wasn’t at Brayden’s level by any means, but for a forty to fifty-year-old man, he was in great shape.