20
THE STREETLIGHTS HUMMED AS CLAY AND EDEN STOOD BELOW THEIR GOLDEN GLOW. RICK would have Brendan in the air by now. Eden turned her face to the night sky, brilliant with stars. Alpine was quiet except for the occasional revving of a car engine on the main street that intersected with this one.
“Ready to go home?” Clay asked, his hand on the small of her back.
Home. How quickly they’d come to think of this starkly beautiful place as home. “Let’s sit for a while in the park.” She settled on a park bench and watched birds nesting on the trees, their heads tucked under wings. That’s how she’d been going through life lately. With her eyes hidden to what was around her. She glanced at Clay. He sat leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. “Thanks for waiting until I was ready to tell them that my father is Hector Santiago. I know he’s a bad man, but it somehow felt terrible to be ratting out my own father.”
He straightened. “I’m proud of you for telling them. They needed to know. Brendan especially. Otherwise he’d be totally in the dark about what might be going on.”
“I had a brother,” she said, her voice trembling. “I always wanted a brother or sister.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t understand why he didn’t just ask for the pendant back. I would have given it to him when I found out it was stolen.”
She held his gaze. “Would you, really? Knowing he was a drug dealer?”
He sighed. “Okay, maybe not. So if he ordered his son to take Brianna, why didn’t he keep her? She was his granddaughter. And why not trade her for the pendant? If he’s the kidnapper, he asked only for a paltry ten thousand. That’s pennies to him.”
“I don’t know, but I think I need to talk to him.”
“You?” He shook his head. “Way too dangerous. What if this has nothing to do with him but your call attracts his attention? And besides, why would he hate you? The kidnapper seems to have a personal vendetta against you.”
She didn’t have an answer for him, but the truth he’d pointed out hurt. What could her father possibly have against her? She’d done nothing to him. “I don’t even care about why he did it. I’ll tell him he can have his pendant if he will go away and leave us in peace.”
He chewed on his lip, and she could tell he wanted to believe it would work. And why not? Such a simple solution. He rose and walked the length of several sections of sidewalk before he came back and sat beside her.
“Okay,” he said. “But I want to do some investigation first. See what he’s up to. I’ll have Brendan get Santiago’s phone number for us.”
“He might oppose our involvement.”
“I don’t think so. What’s it to him if we manage to finally get this madman off our backs?” He pulled out his phone.
“He’ll still be in the air.”
“He’ll have his phone on.” Clay dialed the number.
She listened to him explain the situation. It was clear Brendan wasn’t happy about it. Clay finally hung up.
“He was ticked,” she said.
Clay nodded. “More than I thought he would be. He thinks it’s dangerous to contact him.”
“It’s more dangerous if we don’t,” she pointed out. “Our daughter is still in danger. And maybe we can find out what he has against me.”
“None of us likes it.” He paused. “But Brendan is going to get the number. He’ll have it for us within twenty-four hours.”
And this nightmare might be over. They would identify their daughter and be able to move on with their lives. Clay’s arm pressed against hers, and she suppressed a shiver. What would he say if she told him she’d never stopped loving him? He might chalk it all up to God’s will. He didn’t believe in divorce, he’d said.
Neither did she. But she wanted a man who loved her completely, for herself. Not for some misguided sense of duty. Yes, he’d said he wanted to marry her, that he missed her and was glad when he found out she was pregnant. But how many of his assurances were merely what he thought he was supposed to say?
“Eden?”
His mouth was near her ear, his breath on her neck. If she turned her head, her lips would graze his. But she didn’t succumb to the passion burning through her veins. If she did, the heartbreak to come would be too great.
Tell him you want a future with him.
She turned her head and was lost when he slipped his arm around her and drew her close. His lips touched hers, moved to the curve of her jaw and to her ear.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered into her hair.
She let herself mold to him. “I wish I’d had the courage to stay.”
“I wish I’d never left you. Neither of us was thinking. What happened when you ran off?”
“Daniel was in Wabash, so I went there. I found a job.” She didn’t want him to be angry that she’d run to Daniel, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I spent weeks, months, dreaming that you found me. That you showed up at the door with Brianna in your arms. That was the only way I managed to get by, day by day.”
“I should have followed you. Stupid pride got in the way. Then you were seeing Kent.”
“That was no grand passion. It was survival.”
“I don’t think his emotions were heavily involved either.”
“No, they weren’t. He and I just seemed . . . suitable.”
A train blew its horn a block over. A lonesome sound. “That whistle was like me, Clay. Sounding out a lonely note and hoping someone would hear me so I didn’t have to be alone. Kent heard it and answered. But that’s all it was.”
He held her gaze. “I’m glad.”
All the girls had freshly washed hair and smelled like Eden’s lavender soap, which she’d brought with her. Every female liked fragrance. She’d dried five small heads, then tucked the girls into their beds with a book. Except for Madeline. She sat on the big bed against the wall, as far away from Eden as she could get.
Eden picked up a brush and went to join her. “Want me to brush your hair?” she asked. Madeline had loved having her hair brushed until the day Eden disciplined her. Maybe some cuddle time would end the tension. Eden longed to restore their good relationship. The pain in the child’s eyes tore at her.
Madeline didn’t look at her, but after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “If you want.” She presented her stiff back to Eden.
“Let’s sit at the dressing table.” Eden led her to the stool. She wanted to watch Madeline’s expressions in the mirror.
Eden released the braids and ran her fingers through to loosen the strands before she began to run the brush through the long blond tresses. “You have such pretty hair. Why do you like so much to have it brushed?”
“Brushing makes it stay pretty.”
“It’s lovely. Brushing is good for it?”
“My mother used to do it.”
Eden slowed the brush, then started again. “When did you see your mother last?”
“I don’t know.” Madeline closed her eyes, the expression of bliss on her face reflected in the mirror. “I guess I saw her for a minute the other day. She came when she wasn’t supposed to. Mr. Clay made her go away.”
“How old were you when she . . . went away?”
“I don’t remember. Maybe three? I was little.”
Eden nodded gravely, smothering her smile. “What do you remember about her?”
“She smelled good. Like flowers. And her hands were soft.”
“What color was her hair?”
“It was blond. Like mine.”
The blond hair on the woman who had visited the other day might have been dyed. And it wouldn’t do any good to ask Madeline how old her mother was. A child had no concept of a parent’s age. But Madeline had recognized her mother the other day—unless the person she thought was her mother really wasn’t. It was all a muddle.
“She had a little spot right here.” Madeline indicated a spot beside her mouth. “She said it was a beauty spot. I liked to touch i
t.”
Eden would have to ask Clay if the woman claiming to be Madeline’s mother had a mole by her mouth. “What else do you remember?”
“I had her eyes.”
“So, blue eyes?”
Madeline nodded. “She used to sing to me too. She used to sing in the choir in Mexico.”
“Mexico?”
Madeline nodded. “That’s what she said.”
The longer Eden brushed the little girl’s hair, the more relaxed she became. Maybe things would be back to normal tomorrow. “Want me to braid your hair for sleep?” she asked, putting down the brush. When Madeline shook her head, Eden smiled. “Time for bed, then. Scoot.”
Madeline slid from the chair and Eden patted her behind as she passed. Such darling girls. She felt fulfilled and necessary here. Like what she did mattered. She kissed each of the girls, turned on the CD of hymns, then flipped off the light and shut the door, leaving a crack that let in a tiny sliver of light.
The heady scent of coffee hung in the air and she followed her nose to the kitchen. “Decaf?”
Clay turned from the pot with two cups in his hand. “Yep. I made it strong, though. And it’s freshly ground.”
“Smells good.” Their hands touched when she took the coffee from him. “I talked to Madeline.”
He led her to the living room and plopped onto the sofa. “And?”
She sank beside him on the cushion he’d patted invitingly. “She says her mother had a mole by her mouth. Did you notice a mole?”
He frowned silently for a moment, then shook his head. “No mole. I’m positive.”
“She could’ve had it removed.”
“Maybe. But I didn’t see a scar either.”
“She might have covered it with makeup.”
“We can probably get a photo of her.”
She took a sip of her coffee. Nice and strong. “I wondered if the woman she remembers from when she was little is different from the older one who came. Madeline seems fond of the memories but frightened of the woman in the yard.”
He propped his feet on the battered coffee table. “The kits are on their way.”
“It will be such a relief to know. Then we can begin to delve into the background of how Brianna came to be here. That might tell us who is terrorizing us now. I want that man behind bars.”
“No more than I do,” he said grimly.
She sipped her coffee and studied his expression over the rim of her cup. His comment last night had haunted her. He’d been glad she was pregnant. Glad! When the very thought had terrified her. And her misperception had set the tone of their entire marriage. She’d been sure he felt compelled to marry her, that if he’d had his choice, they never would have seen each other after Hawaii.
What if she hadn’t seen anything right?
The DNA kits had been unpacked and spread out on the table. Clay eyed the swabs. “I guess we have to get the samples the way they want them. What do we tell the girls?” He glanced through the window at the children playing in the yard. They were catching lizards.
She took the pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and poured a glass over ice, then handed it to him. “We could just tell them we have tests we need to send in. I’m sure they’ve been to the doctor before. I doubt they’ll think anything about it.”
“I suppose. One at a time or bring them all in?”
“We’ll make it a game with all of them.” She shoved open the window. “Girls, would you come in here for a minute?”
The girls left the hapless lizard they’d been chasing and trooped into the kitchen.
“What’s that?” Lacie eyed the swabs on the table.
“We’re going to see who can do the best job with these swabs,” Eden said. She picked one up and held it aloft. “We want you to stick it in your mouth and turn it against your cheek. Like this.” She demonstrated, turning the swab against the inside of her cheek. “See if you can get it all wet without sucking on it. You need to push it against your cheek kind of hard but not hard enough to hurt.” She finished the sample for herself and popped it into the plastic bag and labeled it with her name.
“I’m going to win!” Katie grabbed the first swab and worked it in her mouth.
The other girls were quick to follow her example. Five minutes later they had five carefully labeled samples. She sent the girls back out to play. “Now you,” she told Clay.
He obliged. She labeled his, then slid the samples into the return bag. “Is this even legal?” she asked.
He hesitated. “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. It wouldn’t stand up in a court of law, but I don’t think it’s illegal. Any father could gather DNA and test a child he’s been accused of fathering. I admit, I’d rather do it through the courts, but that will take too much time.”
In a few days this nightmare would be over. They’d be able to tell Brianna that she had parents who loved her and wanted her to live with them forever. Eden’s eyes misted at the thought.
“Have you thought about how we will tell her?” Clay asked as she sealed the envelope.
“I’ve thought of little else now that we’ll know in a few days.”
“And?”
“We have to be careful not to scare her. I’m not sure we should mention the kidnapping. Maybe just say we lost her for a while. Then, when the kidnapper is behind bars, we can tell her the truth.”
He nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same. If Katie happens to be Brianna, she’s already dealing with nightmares. We don’t want to compound them.” Clay’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. “It’s Brendan.”
She sat down. So much of her past was slamming into her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for all of this.
Clay opened a kitchen drawer and rummaged, then produced a pen and paper. “Go ahead,” he said.
Brendan must have gotten her father’s phone number. Her insides were unsettled. What would she even say when she called? Hi, I’m the daughter you never acknowledged. That would go over really well.
Clay disconnected the call. “He got the number.”
“I gathered that.”
“You look nervous.”
She clasped her shaking hands together. “I am.”
“I can call for you.”
She shook her head. “I need to do this. Maybe there is some sliver of compassion left in his soul for me. I can appeal to him to leave us alone.” She didn’t remember much about him—just that he was big with black hair and angry eyes.
Clay slid the paper across the table to her. “Tell him to send someone after that pendant and it’s all his.” He grimaced. “I hate to give it up, though. I liked seeing it on you.”
“We’ll find something similar,” she said.
“All he has to do is leave us alone.”
“And tell us which girl is ours,” she said, picking up the paper.
“I doubt he knows.” He held up the envelope. “This will tell us in a few more days.”
She hoped he didn’t notice the way her hands shook as she punched in the number. Her mouth was dry as she held the phone to her ear.
“Hola.” The man’s curt voice was gruff.
The voice turned her insides to pudding. “Is this Hector Santiago?”
“You should have known that before you called, chica.”
“Don’t hang up. Please.” She wetted her lips. “Th-This is Eden Davidson.” When silence answered her statement, she thought he’d hung up. “Hello?”
“I am here. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. I have information for you.”
“Perhaps I do not want this information. Especially if there are strings attached. I gave your mother all the money she is getting from me.”
“I have something you want.”
“Which is?”
“Your missing pendant. The one with the woman and baby.”
There was a thump on the other end as though his feet had hit the floor. “You have my pendant?”
A fo
reboding touched her spine and she shuddered. “I do.”
“How is it that you are in possession of this item?”
She was tired of dancing around the truth. He had to know. “My husband has it. We didn’t realize its significance in my daughter’s kidnapping until yesterday.”
The tinkle of ice in a glass came through the phone. “I do not understand.”
“I . . . I suspect your son kidnapped my daughter, thinking to get this item back as a ransom once he lured us out for the switch.”
“So you killed my son.” Irony was in the undercurrent of his words.
“It was an accident.” This wasn’t going the way she’d thought it would. “Listen, you can have your pendant. We just want to be left alone now. Which child is my Brianna?”
“I know nothing of this matter other than that my son kidnapped a child and died. I never knew what his plan was.”
Her hope deflated. Was he lying? “Maybe he wanted to bring the pendant to you as a surprise.”
“Perhaps that is so. Thank you for your call. I will send someone to fetch my property.”
The phone clicked in her ear. “He hung up.” She swallowed hard. “He made no promise to leave us alone.”
Clay’s face was grim. “He claims to know nothing about Brianna?”
“So he says.”
“I’m not sure I believe him.”
She chewed her lip. “I don’t know for sure, but he appeared to be telling the truth. His son could have been doing it on his own, hoping to gain some favor with Hector. He sounds like a tough and scary man.”
“So we’re back to square one. But if Hector is the one who has been targeting you, then the harassment will stop.”
“Somehow I don’t think he’s been targeting me. Why scare me? Why not just come and get his property? Kill us if he has to. There is more going on than we know.”
“I mean to find out what it is,” Clay said. He rose. “I’m going to run these to Rita. She’s going to town and can drop them at the post office.”
“In a couple of days we’ll know which girl is Brianna.”
Lonestar Angel Page 15