by Mallory Kane
She touched his shoulder, but he shrugged off her hand. “Talk to me,” she said softly.
But he turned away. He walked over to the window and looked out on the darkness. “I had a tough mission, that was all. It was long and hard and lonely.”
“Come on, Travis. I know it was more than that.”
He turned back around and his face was expressionless. “You might be a shrink, but you’re not my shrink. I left Walter Reed because I didn’t want to hear all this. I’m sure not going to accept hearing it from you.” The words were cutting, but Travis’s tone was neutral, maybe even bordering on kind. Then, with no change in his expression or his tone, he asked, “How are you doing?”
Tears stung her eyes again. She massaged her temples with her fingertips. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice thickening with the urge to cry. “I’m not sure if I’m going to ever stop crying, though.” She gave a slight laugh. “Not until Max is home—” A little hiccup cut her sentence short and she felt what little resolve she had left crumble.
“You need to go to bed,” Travis said, eyeing her closely. “You’re exhausted. I know for a fact you were restless all last night. Between you and the wooden car sticking into my back, I didn’t sleep very well, either. This stress is eating you up inside.”
“I can’t sleep,” she said dismissively.
“Come on,” he said with a smile. “Don’t try to tell me that a physician doesn’t have some kind of sleeping tablet or tranquilizer around the house.” His voice went from neutral to gently amused.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to take anything. What if something happens during the night?”
“Nothing’s going to happen during the night. Besides, I’m here.” His shoulders moved in a small shrug.
Kate started to protest again, but Travis spoke first. “I’ll bet you haven’t eaten all day, have you? Want some soup?”
She shook her head. She didn’t think she could swallow anything.
“Okay. I know. I’ll make you some hot chocolate while you go put on your pajamas and climb into bed.”
“I should—” she began. “I need to—” But suddenly, her insides felt as though they’d run out of steam. Maybe she should have hot chocolate in bed and take something mild, just for tonight, just this one time, while Travis was here to take care of anything that might happen during the night. She felt guilty—for wanting to sleep while Max was being held by strangers, for allowing Travis to take over all her responsibilities.
He stepped close to her and lifted her chin with his finger. “You won’t be any good to Max if you walk around in a fog,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “You need rest so you can work out what you’re going to say in your evaluation of Stamps.”
“You’re right.” She sighed. “I’ll go to bed. I’m going to set my alarm for seven, so I can get into the office and work on the evaluation. I’ve got to schedule Stamps’s interview, too. I haven’t talked to him yet.” Kate went into her bedroom and changed into a cami top and pajama bottoms, then went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. There was a bottle of children’s cough medicine. She checked the label. Sure enough, it contained a mild antihistamine that was often used as a sleep aid. Reluctantly, she swallowed one child’s dose and washed it down with a few sips of water from her bathroom glass. Then she got into bed and picked up the Nero Wolfe mystery she’d been reading, and stared at it as she waited for Travis to bring her a cup of hot chocolate.
She thought about Max and wondered if he’d had anything warm to drink before he went to bed. That set her eyes to burning and called up a nasty little headache at the base of her skull. She closed her eyes.
Some time later, she was aware of the lamp being turned off and Travis lying down on the bed next to her. In a sleepy haze, she turned and snuggled next to his warm body, resting her head on his shoulder.
“You awake?” he whispered, hardly more than mouthing the words.
“Kind of,” she whispered back.
“Have you slept any?” he asked, pressing his face into her hair.
He felt her nod. “A little,” she said. “I dreamed about Max.”
“Good dreams?”
A tiny sob escaped from her throat. “Yes. Very good dreams.” She snuggled closer to him. “Travis?”
“Yeah, hon?” The way she said his name, hesitantly, tentatively, he was sure she was going to ask him to get up. To sleep in the living room on the couch. That she wanted to be alone.
“Stay here.”
That surprised him. “Here? You mean here, in bed?”
Her head moved up and down. “I need you close to me. I’m afraid if I’m alone I’ll fall apart.”
“Hey,” he said, turning his head toward her, “I told you, I’m here for you. Anything you want, you just tell me and you got it.”
She moved, pulling herself up and leaning over to kiss the side of his face. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know how you showed up at the exact moment I needed you.”
He turned his head and pressed a kiss against her cheek. “I don’t, either, but I’m—” His words were cut off by her lips, soft and tentative on his. He was afraid to move, afraid he’d break whatever spell had been cast between them. He closed his eyes and breathed in the strawberry scent of her hair and kissed her back, as softly and sweetly as she was kissing him. Despite the gentle sweetness, he began to become aroused. He suppressed a moan of frustration.
“Travis?” she whispered drowsily, her lips moving against his.
His pulse sped up. But he knew she was not only drowsy from the medication but exhausted. He set his jaw and forced himself to ignore the tantalizing feel of her soft, full mouth on his.
“I think I’m getting sleepy now....” Her words faded at the end and he felt the tension in her body relax as she fell asleep.
Now he did moan, low in his throat, then closed his eyes and listened to her soft, even breathing.
Chapter Seven
Kate woke up from a pleasant dream that she didn’t remember. She opened her eyes and saw that it was light outside. She checked the clock on her bedside table. It was almost eight o’clock. How had she slept so late?
Then she remembered. Travis had talked her into taking a dose of Max’s cough syrup last night. Plus the blue-gray color of the light seeping in at the edge of the blinds told her that it was cloudy, maybe even raining, outside.
Travis. She glanced at the pillow next to hers. There was an indentation there. A contented, safe feeling enveloped her as she remembered him turning off the light and lying down next to her. She remembered wanting to kiss him. Wanting to do more than kiss him. But she’d been so sleepy after her shower and the tiny dose of antihistamine. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift back to last night. She had kissed him. She’d almost asked him to make love to her.
Then, with the swiftness of a blade cutting the air, her thoughts turned to Max and her safe, sexy, comfortable feelings dissolved. Her little boy wasn’t safe or contented. He was in a cold, unfamiliar bed, and when he woke up, he’d want his mommy.
“Oh, Max,” she whispered and pressed her palm against her chest. How much longer could she stand it without him? It had been two days. Before today, she’d have believed she couldn’t survive for two hours without knowing where he was.
Now she faced the knowledge that it would be days until the trial started, and who knew how many days before the court ruled on whether Myron Stamps had been temporarily insane when he’d shot Paul Guillame. Her eyes filled with hot tears that scalded her tender skin as they slid down her cheeks.
She threw back the covers and got up. In the hall, she glanced into Max’s room, half expecting to see Travis on the bed asleep, but he wasn’t there. The couch in the living room was empty, as well.
“Travis?” She glanced back down the hall toward the bathroom, but its door was open and the light was out. “Travis?” she called again. Her gaze snapped to the coffee table, where she’d left the phone l
ast night, but it wasn’t there.
Her hand pressed against her chest again as rising panic stole her breath. Where had he gone? To see his cousin again? The hand clutching her chest clenched into a fist and rose to her mouth. She pressed her knuckles against her teeth as a heavy emptiness settled deep in her heart.
For the first time in her life she understood what a patient meant when he or she said they were tempted to take a handful of tranquilizers and climb into bed. She was so tempted to sleep until all this was over and Max was home again. The realization that she could even consider putting her child’s safety into someone else’s hands while she withdrew from the world surprised and terrified her. She paced back and forth from the front door to the far wall of the living room and back again, wringing her hands as more tears coursed down her cheeks.
Her carefully constructed life was falling apart. She’d worked hard to make this house into a home for herself and Max. The two of them were a family. They’d been happy and contented and safe, until the kidnapper had snatched her little boy—her world—away from her. She paced, unaware of the time, her mind so scattered with fear and helplessness that she couldn’t compose a rational thought.
Then, on one of her turns away from the front door, she heard it swing open. She whirled without thinking, her reaction an instinctive one, responding to the sound and nothing more.
Travis stepped inside. He was in sweatpants and a T-shirt and running shoes, and he was soaking wet. He stood on the tile floor just inside the door and wiped his face with a small towel, then rubbed it across his dripping, tousled hair.
“Travis,” Kate whispered and flung herself into his arms.
“Hey—” Travis said, staggering backward. He caught himself and held his hands up and out. “I’m wet. Kate, what’s the matter?” he asked, grasping her upper arms and setting her away enough so that he could look into her eyes.
“I woke up and didn’t know where you were,” she said.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a run—well, actually it was a short walk, around the block. I was sure I’d be back before you woke up,” he finished with a shrug.
Kate stared into his eyes and saw herself as he saw her. Immediately, she shook off the sleepy haze. What was the matter with her? She remembered the classic definition of insanity. Performing the same actions over and over and expecting different results.
How many times was she going to fall apart when he left? Granted, he hadn’t been gone at all—this time. But she had enough anguish, enough heartache, just dealing with Max being abducted. There was no way she could survive getting sucked into missing Travis again.
“Sorry,” she said coolly, not wanting to tell him the whole truth. “I woke up dreaming about Max.” She shrugged. “I got upset.” She did her best to hold Travis’s gaze when his eyes narrowed. She knew that look. He knew she wasn’t telling him the whole truth.
After a moment, he nodded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “I’m okay.”
He looked down at his wet clothes. “I’m dripping all over the floor. I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay.”
Kate nodded.
Travis stood there for another second or two, then headed for Max’s bedroom, where he’d stowed his duffel bag.
“Travis?” she called.
“Yeah?” he said, stopping at the door.
“Where’s the phone?”
“Oh.” He fished in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Here. I took it with me, in a plastic bag so it wouldn’t get wet. I didn’t want you to have to answer it alone.”
She took the baggie with the phone inside it and stared at it as he headed into the hall bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Didn’t want you to have to answer it alone. Kate grimaced as his words replayed in her head. “Don’t be nice to me,” she muttered.
She was still holding the phone, encased in its plastic bag, when it rang. She jumped, almost dropping it, and her heart leaped into her throat. It had to be the kidnapper. She glanced down the hall, but the bathroom door was still closed and she could hear the shower running. The phone rang for the third time. One more ring and it might go to voice mail. She couldn’t take that chance. The kidnapper had warned her that she’d better be the one answering the phone the next time he called.
She flipped the phone open. The display said Private Number. She pressed the answer button. “Hello?” she said.
“This is Dawson Delancey. Is this Dr. Chalmet?”
Kate felt light-headed with relief. “Y-yes,” she said breathlessly.
“I’m Travis’s cousin. We’ve met a couple times in connection with cases.”
“Yes, Mr. Delancey.”
“Call me Dawson, please. May I speak to Travis?”
“He’s—in the shower,” she told him.
“Okay. I’d told him I’d call last night to find out what the kidnapper said, but I got tied up on a case.”
“He was angry that you answered. He had told me not to tell anybody. He said that if someone else answered this time I would never see—” her breath hitched “—never see Max again.”
“So did he let you talk to Max?”
“Yes, he did.” To her dismay, her eyes filled with tears just thinking about his little voice saying, Come get me, Mommy.
“Did Max seem to be okay?” Dawson’s voice turned gentle.
“I—I think so,” Kate stammered. “He wanted his favorite car, but he said they gave him a stuffed bear and a train. And I heard a woman’s voice in the background talking to him nicely. So I think he’s being cared for. He didn’t sound upset until—”
Just as she smelled the clean, fresh smell of soap and felt the brush of cotton terry cloth, Travis’s hand covered hers. He pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed Speaker. “Dawson, it’s Travis. You’re on speaker with Kate and me.”
“Hey, Trav. Kate was just telling me about how Max is doing. Kate, you were saying?”
“He was telling me about his toys when the man took the phone away from him,” Kate said. “That was when he started getting upset—” Her voice broke. “He started crying and yelling for me. Then the man told the woman to get the kid out of here.”
“I see. I think that sounds promising.”
“What did you find out?” Travis asked.
“Not much. But more than we had. I was right about the accent. Dusty has a program that compares speech patterns and pronunciation.
“The phone he used is a prepaid one and he bought it here, so I’ve sent the serial numbers to every phone store in the greater New Orleans area. Hopefully we’ll get a hit.”
“What about the car?”
“The numbers you got plus the distinctive graphics on the windshield hit. The sticker is a Chicago city sticker. Once we had that, we got the city clerk’s office to run the partial plate for us. The car’s registered to a Shirley Hixon. Lucas contacted his brother-in-law who’s a prosecutor in Chicago. He’ll get the woman checked out for us.”
“You didn’t tell him—” Kate started.
“Nope. Just told him I needed the info. We have a good arrangement,” Dawson said. “He doesn’t ask me any questions when I need a favor, and I don’t ask him any when he needs a favor.”
She sighed in relief.
* * *
“WHAT’S THAT noise in the background?” the man who’d hired Bentley Woods asked him. “Is somebody on TV strangling a cat?”
“Ha,” Bent said with a grimace. “That kid’s a spoiled little brat.”
“Well, you better make sure he stays healthy. I thought you said your wife was taking care of him.”
“My girlfriend.”
“So anyway, like I was saying, one of the Delancey brats confronted Myron yesterday. I was out of the office or he’d have gotten to me, too. He asked Myron about Dr. Chalmet’s kid, and mentioned the abduction.”
“That must be the guy that answered the phone. Probably t
he same guy that’s staying at her house.”
“Staying? There’s a Delancey staying at Dr. Chalmet’s house?”
“Who?”
“Delancey. Didn’t you hear what I just said? One of the Delanceys was nosing around, asking questions. And Stamps doesn’t think he was just helping his little brother Harte with the case. He said the guy was acting like it was personal—and he mentioned the little boy.”
“All I know is what you tell me,” Bent said with exaggerated patience. “What’s so special about these Delanceys?”
“You never heard of Con Delancey?”
“I have not. Who’s Con Delancey?”
“Only one of the biggest, richest politicians ever in Louisiana. Most of his grandkids are cops. We don’t need them snooping around in this.”
“How come if everybody knows these Delanceys so well, nobody knows who went to Stamps’s house?”
“I didn’t see him. Myron did. He recognized him as a Delancey, but he didn’t know which one.”
“Oh. So he doesn’t know and you don’t know. What the hell’s this got to do with me, anyhow? I’m doing the job you’re paying me for. I’m taking care of the kid and making sure the doctor does what she’s supposed to do.”
“I’ll compensate you for the additional work.”
Bent started to ask what additional work, but he knew what the man wanted him to do. And he liked the idea of more money. Besides, he’d already called a buddy of his in the Chicago P.D. to get them to run the Maryland license plate and see who the car was registered to. If he played his cards right, he could bill that to this guy, too. Maybe be could double his money. “Fine,” he said grouchily. “Same fee.”
“Same? You can’t be serious—”
“Hey,” Bent interrupted the man. “You’re the one worried about the information getting out. All I gotta do is pack up and leave. You’ll be stuck with the kid and trying to keep your nose clean at the same time.”
“Okay, okay. But you’d better get back to me with some information and fast. Don’t forget that a whole bunch of the Delanceys are police. Don’t make ’em suspicious.”