Random Acts of Greed: Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries, Book 4

by Christy Barritt

  As he did, Chase pulled me back into the house and out of the cold. I braced myself for whatever conversation might happen, unsure why I felt so much tension. But I did.

  Chase led me to a corner and lowered his voice. “Did anything else happen that you need to tell me about?”

  He was using his detective tone with me, and I didn’t really appreciate it. “Did anything else happen? What do you mean?”

  He sighed. “I know you like to look into things on your own. Is there anything I should know that you didn’t mention earlier?”

  I shook my head, trying to shove down my frustration. Did he really think I’d bypassed his award banquet in order to look for more answers? “No, I’ve told you everything. You think someone was trying to grab Sweet Pea?”

  His hands went to his hips as he looked off into the distance. “That’s my best guess.”

  “Why? If it’s a family member, shouldn’t this person just fight for custody? Why do things under the cover of darkness?” I tried to think it through. I’d assumed Sweet Pea was an innocent bystander who’d had the unfortunate opportunity to be present at a crime scene where blood spatter was left on his carrier. Maybe I needed to look outside that theory.

  Why would someone try to snatch the baby?

  Black market baby sales? That seemed extreme.

  Heir to a fortune? That also seemed unlikely.

  Could the boy’s biological father want him back? Again, why wouldn’t he just come forward and claim relation? That seemed a lot simpler than being sneaky.

  Unless he was involved in a crime.

  What other reason would someone want to grab a baby?

  The answer hit me like a slap in the face. As leverage.

  Could someone be using this baby as a way to wield power over someone else? Was that why someone—the baby’s mom, most likely—had dropped him here for safekeeping?

  I didn’t know the answer. But the theory scared me and kicked my sense of justice into overdrive.

  Chapter 8

  An hour later, Officers Truman and Mclean had left, along with the forensic team. My mom had fallen asleep in my bed, and Sweet Pea still dozed in the Pack ’n Play, unaware that anything had happened.

  Unfortunately, I was wide awake. Awake enough that I’d thrown on some black leggings with little, pink umbrellas on them—a gift from Jamie at Christmas—and my favorite pink T-shirt. Chase had made some coffee, and we sat beside each other on the couch downstairs.

  A glance at the clock beneath the TV told me it was 4:30 a.m.

  “Let’s start over. I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.” Chase stroked my arm. “How are you holding up?”

  I shrugged and hugged my cup of coffee with my fingers. “I’m doing fine. At least, I was until tonight.”

  “The crime scene techs got a print off the windowsill. We’ll run it and see what turns up. Maybe this isn’t related at all to the baby.”

  “I’m just thankful we have the alarm system we do. Thanks for encouraging that.” Encouraging would be putting it mildly. Chase had strongly suggested it and practically set up the security company to come and install it. He’d also taught me some self-defense moves and bought me pepper spray.

  “The way trouble keeps popping in and out of your life, it was the only logical choice.” He smiled.

  I put my coffee down and rested my hand on his chest, remembering my earlier guilt. “How was your banquet?”

  He nodded. “It was nice. No big deal, really—”

  “Of course, it was a big deal.”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. It wasn’t false humility, either. The hard knocks of life had humbled him and changed his priorities.

  “It’s an award,” he said. “You can’t take it with you one day.”

  “That’s true. But it’s still an honor—an honor that you deserved. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” My voice cracked.

  He pushed a hair behind my ear, his eyes penetrating mine. “It’s okay, Holly.”

  “It doesn’t feel okay.”

  “It’s just a glimpse into what life would be like with kids.”

  I smiled at the thought. “Yeah, I guess it is. It’s like a test run.”

  His smile dimmed before he said, “Sure.”

  I suppressed a frown. We weren’t on the same page, were we? He saw that as a negative, while I saw it as a positive. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

  He shifted. “Who said I was uncomfortable?”

  “It’s written all over your face.”

  He rubbed his thumb over my jaw, his gaze at once sad, regretful, and something else I couldn’t read. “I just hope I can give you what you want—what you deserve—one day, Holly.”

  A knot lodged in my throat. He made it sound doubtful, and that made warning lights begin flashing in my mind.

  I glanced down at where my hand rested on his chest, trying to slow down my thoughts before they reached Jump-to-Conclusionville. “You’re uncertain, huh?”

  “You know we’ve had these talks,” he started, his voice husky. “You know I love you, right, Holly? I'm just . . . well, not at the forever stage. I want to be, because you're everything I could want in a forever kind of relationship. There's just something . . . I don't know. Holding me back?”

  “Maybe that something is . . . me?” I suggested.

  “You’re too good for me. I’m lucky to have you.” He stroked my cheek. “Maybe we should talk more about this at a different time. It’s late, and we’re both tired and . . . I’m not sure we’ll accomplish anything that we haven’t already talked about.”

  I nodded, my throat still tight. In one way, he was right. We had been over this. I suppose all of that was just Chase’s way of saying that nothing had changed since we’d last spoken. He wasn’t ready to settle down. Didn’t think he was ready. Thought he still had issues.

  I didn’t know why that thought left me uneasy. I mean, I should be happy he at least knew this in advance. It was better that way, right? Better to know that before diving into a lifelong commitment.

  “Of course. You’re right.” My hand slipped down into my lap.

  He raised my chin, which I hadn’t realized I’d lowered. “You know I care about you, right?”

  I forced myself to nod and pull back my emotions as the room went still around us. “Of course.”

  “You make me want to be a better man, Holly.”

  Something about his words caused my heart to soften. No one could deny that we were good together. We had the whole ying-yang thing down pat.

  The truth was that Chase made me a better person also. He was my rock. My first kiss. The man I wanted to marry.

  His eyes went to my lips.

  My throat tightened at the smoky look in his eyes.

  His hand went to my hair, and he stroked my locks back. I found myself leaning toward him, almost as if a magnet was pulling me.

  His lips met mine, and no part of me wanted to stop it. I reached my arms up and wrapped them around his neck, closing the space between us.

  Being with him like this still took my breath away and made my insides turn to jelly.

  We pulled away, and my lips burned. I touched them. Felt my cheeks flush. Listened to the erratic pounding of my heart.

  There was something about the late-night hour. About the dim room around us. The elusion of privacy.

  It made me feel more vulnerable than I wanted. Than I should. Than I could afford.

  Our faces still touched. Our arms remained around each other. I could feel his heartbeat, his deep breaths.

  The tension in the air seized me, made me not want to move.

  I wanted to kiss him more. I could tell he wanted to kiss me more.

  But, if we did, I knew it wouldn’t be a good thing. There was too much temptation. Too much room for error.

  Neither of us moved, though.

  He kissed my neck, and I fought a groan.

  I needed to get up. To put distance between us. W
hy wasn’t I?

  “Chase.” My voice sounded scratchy and wrought with emotion.

  He kissed my neck again. “Hmm?”

  I forced my hands to his shoulders. “Chase.”

  He paused and brought his head up. His gaze was filled with heat and longing that threw me off guard.

  He’d lived a different life than I had. He’d been married. Before he’d been married, he hadn’t exactly been a good boy. In other words: he was experienced.

  I was not. And I didn’t plan on becoming that way until I was married.

  I looked up and saw the look in his eyes. My resolve began to melt. Just one more kiss couldn’t hurt . . .

  His lips met mine again, this time hungrier. His hands went to my hips and he pulled me closer. The kiss deepened. Swept me away even more. Made all of my senses feel haywire.

  Chase’s fingers brushed at the edge of my shirt, causing my heart to race. My thoughts went places they didn’t usually go.

  Places they shouldn’t go.

  Stop, Holly!

  Just then, a noise made me freeze. Chase must have heard it also because he slowed.

  It was a cry.

  Sweet Pea was awake.

  I leaned back, feeling breathless and off-balance.

  And thankful.

  Thankful for Sweet Pea.

  Because for a moment—and just a moment—I’d gotten carried away. I knew better.

  “I’ve . . . I’ve got to go,” I mumbled.

  Before he could stop me, I hurried upstairs.

  I’d managed to get Baby Sweet Pea back to sleep, and he’d remained asleep until nine a.m. That was the good news. The bad news was that I had some kind of mom brain going on, even though I hadn’t actually given birth.

  Whenever I thought about my kiss with Chase last night . . . my cheeks flushed with heat. What had I been thinking? I usually prided myself on being in control.

  Chase had been gone when I came downstairs this morning. He’d left a note that read, “Call me if you need me.”

  We were definitely going to have to talk and put some boundaries in place. I didn’t want to put myself in that position again. I’d been in a place—spiritually, physically, and mentally—where I could have done something I would have deeply regretted.

  Sweet Pea smiled at me from the high chair as I fed him another bite of smushed apples from a jar. His sweet smile pulled me from my mangled thoughts. My heart warmed at the sight of his toothless grin. The doctor said I could try feeding him some rice cereal and apples, though his primary nourishment would be from formula.

  This boy was just so precious.

  I couldn’t imagine a mom being so desperate that she’d give him up, even temporarily. If that was what had happened. There was so much we didn’t know still.

  “Good morning,” my mom called, practically floating downstairs. Mom always floated. It was just the way she moved—with grace and style and elegance.

  “Good morning.”

  She paused at Baby Sweet Pea long enough to stroke his cheek and offer a smile. “Good morning to you too, little one. I didn’t hear anything out of you last night, even during all the craziness.”

  “He slept pretty well.” I stifled a yawn. “Especially considering.”

  “But you didn’t? Even after the police left?”

  My cheeks flamed. “Not really. I kept waiting for him to wake up. And then I started thinking about his mom and wondering about all the possibilities.”

  “I see. Being a mom isn’t an easy job.” She grinned and tapped the tip of his nose.

  “Maybe I should have thanked you more.”

  She flashed another grin before straightening and grabbing a coffee mug. “Would you like some?”

  “I’d love a refill.” I’d already had three cups.

  Normally I’d wake up, fix a homemade breakfast of some sort—nothing premade or processed—and then I’d read my Bible and get dressed.

  Today I’d be lucky to get out of my pajamas.

  I was just adjusting, I told myself. This wasn’t a permanent reflection of me. I could still pull myself together. I only needed some time.

  “Plans for today?” Mom sat across from me and watched as I gave Sweet Pea his last bite of food.

  He stared at me, as if silently begging for more. Or was he fussing at me because I made everything homemade for myself while feeding him stuff from a jar?

  “You’re right. I should be making this homemade. I’ll do better next week. I just need a little more time.” I wiped his mouth with a burp cloth and leaned back to drink some more coffee.

  “Oh, Holly,” my mom scoffed. “You’re so funny.”

  “What was funny about that?”

  “Cut yourself some slack sometimes, dear. You survived on baby food from a jar just fine.” She let out another chuckle before taking a sip of her coffee. “So . . . plans for today?”

  I thought about it a moment before saying, “I’m not really sure. I guess I’ll just be taking care of Sweet Pea and answering some emails from work. I’ve already told Abraham I won’t be making it into the youth center.” Just for good measure, I threw in, “Maybe I’ll make some baby food . . . You?”

  “I have another scholarship committee meeting. I’m also preparing to list a house on the other side of town. It’s an old fixer-upper that just needs some TLC. You should see it.”

  I should see it? For a brief instant, I imagined myself in my own house. With a baby. Like Sweet Pea. That I’d adopted.

  The problem was I didn’t see Chase in the picture. Not because I didn’t want him there, but because I wasn’t sure he would be ready for a scenario like that.

  The thought settled hard on my chest.

  What was going on with me? One minute I felt madly in love with him, and the next I was doubting the foundation of our relationship. I wasn’t sure if I should attribute this to the natural ups and downs of a relationship or to something more.

  “All right—go take a shower,” Mom said. “I have thirty minutes until I have to leave, and you need to make yourself presentable.”

  “Even if I’m not going anywhere?” Those words didn’t even sound like me. I thrived on looking put together.

  “Yes, even if you’re just working at home. Now go.” She shooed me toward the steps.

  Maybe a shower and wearing a new dress would help clear my thoughts.

  A girl could only hope.

  Chapter 9

  Two hours later, Sweet Pea was snoozing in my arms when my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway—mostly because I was afraid the ringing would wake up the baby.

  Thankfully, it didn’t.

  “Is this Holly?” a female asked.

  “Speaking. Who is this?”

  “My name is Missy. I work at Rhonda’s Fitness. I heard you’re looking for someone.”

  I pushed myself up straighter on the too-soft couch. “That’s right. A woman with a baby boy.”

  “I think I know who you’re looking for. I was helping someone with some personal training. She mentioned she had a baby. I think he’s the right age. And she didn’t show up for our appointment yesterday.”

  “Do you know her name or anything else about her?” Shoving my phone between my shoulder and ear, I grabbed a notebook from the table beside me and fished a pen out of the drawer.

  “Her name’s Katie Edwards. She’s around twenty-five or twenty-six, I’d guess. She works at a pharmaceutical company. I don’t think she likes her job that much, but it pays the bills.”

  My heart raced with excitement. Katie Edwards. Should I know that name? The woman—if this was the right person—obviously seemed to know me. She had used my name on the note when she’d left Sweet Pea.

  “That sounds right,” I said, remembering our cover story. “Anything else you can recall?”

  “Not really. She came in on Friday and seemed fine. She was talking about going out with her boyfriend that Saturday and getting a s
itter for her baby. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Interesting. Had something changed between then and now? That was my best guess. “This has been very helpful. Thank you. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”

  As soon as I hung up, I called Chase, ignoring my natural instinct to begin searching for Katie on my own. Chase answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Holly.” His voice sounded low, intimate, and apologetic.

  “I think I have a lead.” I ignored the need to talk about last night and explained to him the conversation I’d just had.

  “Katie Edwards, you said? I’ll see what I can find out. You don’t recognize the name?”

  I searched my memories another moment. “Part of me thinks it might be vaguely familiar. But maybe it’s because it’s such a typical name. I’m not sure. If I remember anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I hung up and stared at Sweet Pea another moment. He snoozed quietly in my arms, his chest steadily rising and falling.

  “What is your name, Sweet Pea?” I murmured. I knew I should put him down. Some would say I was spoiling him. But I couldn’t help but think that he needed all the love in the world right now. It wasn’t possible to love a baby too much. At least, that was my opinion.

  I rubbed his chubby, little hand. “Do you miss your mama? I bet she misses you.”

  I prayed she was still alive.

  Why me? I asked myself again. Why had Katie Edwards—or someone else—decided to leave this baby with me, of all people?

  Even though I told myself that I was going to let Chase handle it, I pulled up the Internet browser on my tablet and typed in “Katie Edwards Cincinnati.” Various social media sites popped up, and my heart quickened for a moment.

  I held my breath as I pressed a button to check out the first social media profile.

  A picture of a petite woman with a chin-length dark-brown bob filled the screen. I studied her picture a moment.

  Did I know her?

  I didn’t instantly recognize her, which left me feeling puzzled. I’d hoped I might find a connection and, with that connection, answers.

  She did look vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Had she been associated with one of my social-work cases? Maybe not as a parent, but as a sibling or extended family?