by Rita Herron
She caught her lip with her teeth and slowly pulled away from his grasp. What exactly did he mean? If she had another nightmare? If she wanted comfort? No, she wouldn’t fall into that trap again.
Not tonight. Not ever.
“Lindsey?”
“The only thing I need from you is to find our baby.” Then she disappeared into the safety of her bedroom and tried not to think about the fact that her words had sparked hurt in his sad, dark eyes.
GAVIN KICKED OFF his boots and tossed his shirt onto the rocking chair in the corner of the room, an image of Lindsey rocking their baby sharp in his mind. Determination filled him and he picked up the phone and tried the P.I. again, breathing a relieved sigh when the man answered.
“Collier Investigative Services. Frank Collier speaking.”
“This is Detective Gavin McCord of the Raleigh Police Department.”
“Yeah, what can I do for you?”
Gavin immediately explained the situation, stating his interest in the Faulkners and detailing the history of Lindsey’s marriage, subsequent divorce and testimony against her ex-husband.
“I’m aware of their relationship, but I don’t discuss my clients with anyone,” Collier stated baldly.
“You’ll either discuss it with me or I’ll bring you in on charges of interfering with a kidnapping investigation.” Gavin’s gut clenched. “Possibly a murder.”
“Look, I don’t know anything about a kidnapping or murder—”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I know you investigated Miss Payne and followed her to Maple Hollow. I need to know what information you passed on to the Faulkners, exactly what they wanted from you.”
“Why do you think the Faulkners—”
“They hated Lindsey for putting their son in jail,” Gavin said. “Now, are you going to cooperate or should I haul you in, see about getting that license revoked?”
The man sucked in air sharply, bowing to the threat. “I’ll admit that a few months ago, right after the trial, Mr. Faulkner contacted me and asked me to follow his son’s ex-wife. He wanted to keep track of her, make sure she stayed out of his son’s life. I was to report back anything I learned on her.”
“And what did this report include?”
“Where she moved, who her friends were, about…about the—”
“About her pregnancy?”
“Well, yeah, I told them she was pregnant. It was pretty obvious after watching her a few months.”
“Were they interested in the baby?”
The man hesitated, his voice cracking, “The old man got upset at first, called her a bunch of names—”
“I get the picture,” Gavin said, cutting him off. “Then what?”
“They wanted to know about her doctor, about the clinic where she received prenatal care.”
“And you told them?”
“Yes, but Faulkner never mentioned kidnapping or taking the baby. In fact, I got the impression he disliked the woman so much he wouldn’t want a grandson by her, even if the baby belonged to his son.”
As if he would have told the man his plans.
“He implied Miss Payne was probably fooling around with a dozen different men so the kid most likely wasn’t his son’s.”
Gavin clenched his teeth. “Were you near Maple Hollow Clinic the night Lindsey delivered?”
“No. About two months earlier, Faulkner terminated me. Said he had all the information he wanted, sent me the rest of my fee, I haven’t heard from him since.”
“You know I can subpoena your phone records—”
“I’m telling you the truth,” Collier said emphatically. “I swear. The last time I talked to Faulkner was over three months ago. He said he was through with the Payne woman and wanted to forget she’d ever been in their lives.”
Gavin gave him another warning, told him he might call back later with more questions and hung up.
Exhausted but troubled, he stretched out on Lindsey’s small sofa. So, the Faulkners had known about Lindsey’s pregnancy. But the family wasn’t convinced the baby was their grandson. He’d thought that they might assume the baby was Jim’s and want to raise the child themselves.
From Collier’s assessment, the idea seemed off base.
Frustrated, Gavin closed his eyes, knowing he would have to tell Lindsey. In his mind, he saw her cuddling their baby to her breast. He could almost hear the creak of the rocker, the soft sound of her singing in that whispery, loving voice. He could almost imagine their son, a little tow-headed boy with Lindsey’s brown eyes, toddling across the room, pushing a toy train.
A collection of pictures sat atop a pine sofa table. One was of her mother, the others a hodgepodge of children she’d obviously taught. Yet there were none of their own child as there should have been.
The loneliness of the past few months played through his head, but he pushed the images away as he did the unbidden images of Lindsey preparing for bed. Sweeping her long silky hair into a ponytail as she scrubbed her face, stripping her clothes and soaking in a hot bubble-bath, lying naked and sleepy beneath the sheets. Her sweet fragrance filling the room, her soft fingertips caressing his bare chest, her delectable lips moving across him…
He bolted upright and jammed his hands through his hair. Now was not the time to indulge in a bout of self-pity or pointless dreams or lust. Nothing had changed since the day he’d sent Lindsey away.
He was still a cop. His job placed him and anyone he cared about in danger. He remembered the terror of being carted off in the night to safe houses, not knowing if his dad would return or if some faceless demon who against his father would attack him in the night.
No child should have to live like that.
Especially his own. He wanted better…he wanted, hell, right now he simply wanted to bring him home to his mother.
The image of the Johnson boy materialized and he shuddered, the familiar guilt welling inside him again like a hundred knives piercing through his skin. Then came the image of the bleak but furious father of the boy, standing over his grave, damning Gavin for interfering, blaming him for his son’s death. Gavin had tried to play big brother to the boy and he’d failed. And because he’d hurt Lindsey so badly she’d been afraid to confide in him, he’d also failed to protect his own son.
He sighed and ran a hand over his face, then closed his eyes, praying Simon would have some answers tomorrow. If somehow the Johnson man or that Swain creep had orchestrated a kidnapping to seek revenge on him, he’d find out. And if the other woman in the delivery room had kidnapped his boy—he’d find her.
He contemplated the other possibility—Lindsey’s ex.
Tomorrow he’d call first thing and arrange special visitation—he’d confront Faulkner himself, go to the jail and look into his cold-gray eyes and find out the truth. And he wouldn’t give up until he brought his baby home and lay him in Lindsey’s arms.
Frustrated and suddenly on edge as he remembered that someone had been in Lindsey’s house and tampered with the gas line, he paced across to the window. His breath hitching in his chest, he slowly drew the curtain back and stared out the window into the darkness. Was someone out there watching Lindsey? Watching him?
Someone who had their baby?
HE MOVED beneath the canopy of trees off to the side of the mountain house, camouflaging himself in the shadows of the ancient pines. A curtain from one of the front windows slid sideways and he ducked his head behind the tree trunk. What were they up to now? They’d been asking questions all over town, probing and picking at all the hospital staff and that dimwit sheriff. Why couldn’t they leave things alone?
The baby was safe. Sleeping like the saints, all nestled in the comfort of his newfound home and in the arms of his new mother. He was changing every day, changing so much the Payne woman wouldn’t even recognize him. He’d adjusted to his new home without so much as a whimper. He didn’t miss the woman who’d given him birth. Hell, he didn’t even know her.
No, the only mother he wo
uld ever know was the one who’d bathed him and tucked him in bed earlier that evening. The one who’d already begun to form a bond with him. The one he’d call Mama when he finally learned to talk.
A pine cone hissed beneath his feet as he inched around the side of the tree again, his gaze darting across the lawn as he remembered the wail of the siren the other day. Too bad she’d called in her cop friend. And that the gas leak hadn’t killed her.
An owl hooted somewhere in the distance and twigs snapped as deer scampered for food in the woods. God, how he loved the mountains. A perfect place to raise his new son. Yes, he was already thinking of him as his son. Amazing how quickly the infant had become a part of their lives. He was a strong man and he might have survived. But she wasn’t strong. She needed the baby more than Lindsey Payne did. More than his boss.
Suddenly he had the urge to finish the couple off tonight. To rid himself of their nosy poking. The boss would be relieved, too. The curtain slid farther open though, and he knew the cop was watching. He tossed his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it with his boot. No, he’d have to wait until the time was right, when he could catch them off guard. The next time he made his move the job would go off smooth as silk. And he’d damn well cover his tracks.
Because this time he wouldn’t fail. And he’d get rid of them forever.
Chapter Eight
The next morning storm clouds brewed, casting the sky in shades of gray and black, mirroring Lindsey’s bleak mood. All night she’d felt as if someone were watching her. Shadows had jumped at her from the dark windows, leaves had rustled as if footsteps were approaching. She’d thought she’d heard someone outside her window, tapping against the glass ever so softly, so she’d lain still and quiet, listening for an intruder, grateful Gavin had been in the other room. Now fatigue clawed at her and the dismal sky magnified her exhaustion. But she summoned her courage and reminded herself that Gavin would find some answers.
Maybe she’d be holding her baby in her arms soon.
She puttered around the kitchen, making coffee while Gavin showered, the images of him standing naked with water droplets glistening on his dark chest tormenting. Her house suddenly seemed way too small, the situation too intimate for her already frayed nerves. Sharing a bathroom. Preparing breakfast. Waking to the soft rumble of his slight snoring. Gavin’s scent lingered in the hall, his presence filling the tiny kitchen as he emerged from the bathroom.
She tried to avoid his dark gaze but her eyes landed on his chest and she felt the breath being sucked from her lungs. His shirt hung open, revealing broad shoulders and a muscular chest, bronzed and dotted with damp hair. He hadn’t yet bothered to button the top button of his fly so his jeans rode low on those narrow, muscular hips. She remembered the touch of that washboard-flat stomach, the hard muscles and planes of his thighs, the…
The room suddenly seemed stifling. She steered her mind to breakfast, placed a plate of hotcakes and fresh fruit on the table, her hands trembling.
He spoke without preamble. “We need to talk.”
Lindsey nodded and sank into a chair, bracing herself for bad news, her earlier reverie forgotten in the wake of his husky, troubled voice.
The oak chair creaked as he slid his big body into the seat beside her. “I’ve been going over all the possibilities in my head,” he said, stabbing a stack of pancakes with his fork. Lindsey watched as he slathered butter on the top, then poured enough syrup for an entire family over the meal.
“My partner’s checking out a couple of men who might be suspects.”
She raised a brow, waiting him to explain.
He licked syrup from the tip of his finger, then regarded her through veiled eyes. “One is the guy I testified against the day you came to see me at the courthouse. Name was Swain.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long shot, but he threatened revenge on me. I want to make sure he’s locked up tight.”
Lindsey nodded. He pushed the hotcakes toward her and she took one, wincing when her stomach rebelled. Still, she forced herself to go through the motions, well aware Gavin would fuss at her if she completely skipped a meal.
“The other man’s son died in a crossfire when a bust of mine went down.” Gavin chewed thoughtfully, his gaze landing somewhere past her. His expression seemed desolate, as if he were so alone. Lindsey instinctively sensed there was more to his story, that whatever had happened had impacted his life. She toyed with her food, hoping he’d elaborate. He didn’t.
“Then there’s Faulkner.”
Her fork clattered onto her plate. “But I told you I haven’t been in contact with him.” Her ex-husband’s angry face flashed into her mind along with the hateful words he’d muttered when she’d taken the witness stand. “The baby’s not even his.”
He cradled her hand in his. “I talked to a P.I. last night. Old man Faulkner hired him to follow you after the trial.”
Lindsey gasped and Gavin rubbed slow circles around her palm to relax her.
“He told the Faulkners you’d moved here, that you were pregnant. He even told them about the clinic.”
Lindsey’s face paled. “So…Jim knows I had a baby?”
“And he may think the child is his.”
“But the timing—”
“You said the baby was premature.”
Lindsey nodded. “Oh, God, what if he…”
Gavin gently squeezed her hands. “The P.I. claimed the Faulkners didn’t act as if they wanted the child. They even insinuated that…that the baby might not be their son’s. I don’t know what your ex thought.”
Memories assaulted Lindsey—the horrible night her husband had tried to kill her. The night before the trial when she and Gavin had almost been blown up in that explosion.
Gavin sipped on his coffee. “If Faulkner thought the baby was his, he might have wanted his parents to raise it. If he thought the child was mine, he might want revenge.”
“But how would he know about us?”
Gavin shook his head. “That’s the glitch. He can’t. Which puts us back to square one.”
“And he didn’t want a baby. He was adamant, almost obsessive, about birth control when we were married. If he changed his mind when he discovered my pregnancy, why wouldn’t he contact me?” She stood and paced. “He could have asked for visitation rights, so could his p. But stooping to kidnapping when he was already in jail? That doesn’t make sense. And the Faulkners would never risk prison.” Of course, Jim had tried to kill her. But he’d tried to strangle her in a desperate fit of rage. Kidnapping meant he’d been calculating, cold…ruthless.
“Maybe he thought you’d convince the court to rule that he didn’t have rights to the baby.”
Lindsey shook her head, unconvinced.
“I checked with my partner this morning. He said the warden at the pen where Faulkner is confined claimed Faulkner’s been on his best behavior, probably trying to get an early parole, so you may be right—he probably wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his chances.” Lindsey’s hand felt cold and delicate as Gavin pressed it to his thigh. His expression turned grim. “I hate to say this, but I think the only way to find out about Faulkner’s reaction to the baby is to confront him. I arranged special visitation for today.”
Lindsey tried to temper her reaction but she’d never forget the way her ex-husband’s hands had felt clamped around her throat. Jim had begged her not to testify against him for money laundering, but she’d refused. Now she might be forced to beg for her ex-husband’s help. She wondered if he would turn her down as forcefully as she had him.
RAIN SLASHED across the windshield, the foggy conditions forcing Gavin to focus on his driving as he guided the Taurus toward the state pen. The grating, monotonous sound of the windshield wipers should have been a welcome reprieve, but the dull blades simply personified the tension in the air. Lindsey had been suspiciously silent since they’d left her mountain cabin, obviously preparing herself for the upcoming confront
ation with her ex-husband.
Damn. If there was another way, he’d do it. He didn’t want her to have to face the bastard again. But he couldn’t make himself believe the man wasn’t involved unless he saw his face. Faulkner had this cocky grin that probably melted most women’s hearts, this smooth way of talking that enticed listeners into his lies like honey drew flies. But Gavin had seen through him from the first.
Details.
He focused on body language, the little telltale signs. The giveaway for Faulkner—his nostrils flared slightly when he lied. The movement was so small a person would hardly notice, but once Gavin zeroed in on the habit, he’d pegged the man every time, as effective as any lie detector.
“What are we going to say?” Lindsey asked with a shiver. “I thought I’d never see Jim again. I tried to banish his face from my mind.”
Gavin’s hands tightened to a white-knuckled grip. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should question Faulkner by himself. “You don’t have to see him, Linds.”
She swung her gaze to him; her chin went up a notch. “Yes, I do have to see him. I’d never forgive myself if I found out he had something to do with Cory’s disappearance and I’d been too cowardly to face him.”
Gavin released a pent-up breath, reached across the car and squeezed her hand. “You’re a strong lady, Linds.”
Her soft nervous laugh echoed through the car. “I don’t have a choice. I’ll do anything to get our son back.”
He nodded solemnly, watching as she turned to stare out the window. “You asked me what we should say to Faulkner. First, let’s feel him out, see how he reacts to us. Just follow my lead, okay?”
Lindsey fingercombed her hair, pushing a strand away from her pale cheek. “Okay, but are you going to tell him the truth…that the baby’s yours?”
Gavin’s stomach knotted. “I don’t know. If Faulkner believes the baby’s his and thinks he’s been kidnapped, he might help us. If he paid someone to kidnap our baby to hurt you, he’ll still protect him.”