Blue Baby

by Arnold, Carolyn

  “Why are you so sad? Trevor’s a jerk,” I said.

  Her gray eyes glistened with tears, and a few fell down her cheeks. Her gaze was unsteady with her attention easily straying from me, but she pressed her lips together. Her chin quivered, and I could see she was holding back an outright bawl.

  “You’ll get a new boyfriend. It’s not the end of the world.”

  A mixture of laughter and sobs gurgled in her throat as she ran her hand over my head, mussing my hair. Mom would be none too pleased when she saw me.

  Jeanine dropped to her knees in front of me. She was so beautiful sitting there in her white gown. She looked like an angel, like the ones in the stained-glass windows of church. The church Mother insisted we attend every Sunday, even though the Bible teachings were ignored the rest of the week.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She kissed my forehead and then pressed hers to mine. I felt her warm tears wet my skin. “I love you, little brother. I always will.” She broke down crying and squeezed me tight. She didn’t hold me for long, but I was suffocating in her embrace and happily resumed breathing once she let go.

  Rising to her feet, she said, “You have to leave.”

  “But Jean—”

  She ushered me out of the room, obviously not wanting to talk any longer, and when she got like this, I couldn’t refuse her wishes. Once I was in the hall, she latched the door, and I heard her whisper something from inside the room.

  “I just want to be happy.”

  That was the last thing she ever said.

  He pinched his eyes shut, tears pooling in the corners. He did all he had done for her, in her memory. He knew there were others in pain as she had been, who had faced loss and experienced similar heartbreak. That day had changed him. It had provided him purpose and direction. But he hadn’t been aware of his true path until last year. It had been at this point when he no longer thought of the Big Event in terms of the wedding itself, but rather the prepping and culmination of bringing happiness to heartbroken women.

  Forcing his eyes open, he worked at calming his breath. His gaze fell on Chantal, who was out cold on the motel bed. Her breathing was so deep at times that she snored. She was beautiful to watch in slumber. Any stress lines on her face had softened, and there was the trace of a smile on her lips.

  He tried to let the serene nature of her rest soothe him, but his insides were jittery. Doing what he did—he still despised the term killing—had become necessary. And because of Penny, he had wrongs to make right. He needed to prove he still possessed the gift of making others happy.

  With all these thoughts, grief over his parents washed over him. The intense heartbreak of losing his sister had catapulted back at him when the police had stood on his doorstep last year. As next of kin, he was given the news first. And with them gone, he was all alone in this world. There were no blood ties to bond him. Any relatives who had gathered for Jeanine’s wedding were long ago shut out of his life. He was adrift and severed from what had once existed. It was up to him to be strong and stand tall.

  He’d learned that from his mother, from watching her reaction to the loss of her daughter. She had retreated for days into her craft room, knitting sweaters, slippers, and dishcloths in greater abundance than one family and their friends could need in a lifetime. That had been her way of finding happiness in a world otherwise destroyed.

  He’d watched his father grow distant. Cain had been aware of the affairs, certain his mother was, too, but she’d looked the other way. Maybe she’d had her own trysts, but if she had, she’d been more discreet than her husband.

  Apparently the promise to be faithful had been one cast aside and excused in light of what they had undergone, and they’d rode out the waves of grief for years. They’d stuck together, honoring their vows through better or worse.

  Cain’s pain at losing them had sliced marrow-deep. But the lesson in all of it was to be happy.

  I just want to be happy.

  That’s what his sister had done. She had taken the power into her own hands.

  That’s what his mother had done. She had indulged in crafts.

  That’s what his father had done. He had bedded cheap women.

  Now it was his turn. And for the first time in seventeen years, he had to face the question of what brought him happiness. That field had remained blank until Cheryl. To witness heartbreak in a woman who used to be so cheerful had torn at him.

  It had also been around the same time that he’d buried his parents. He’d been sorting through their belongings and came across his sister’s wedding dress. It, along with the ring, had been at the top of his parents’ closet in the back corner.

  Yes, he finally had his answer. What made him happy was making others happy.

  He rose from the chair he was seated in and headed toward the bed. He would do this for Chantal.

  -

  Chapter 68

  CAIN’S VOLKSWAGEN WAS PARKED IN front of the door labeled ROOM 121. We had the son of a bitch.

  The curtains in the room were drawn shut and any efforts to call were ignored. I wanted to run in there. Heavens knew we had to be short on time. Hell, the sick bastard could be sketching her picture as we stood around discussing our approach.

  We were assembled in a neighboring parking lot. Officers from Grand Folks PD were also there, including Powers and Barber.

  “We’ve got to get in there, Jack,” Paige said. “He could be killing her right now.”

  “He could have already,” I added.

  Paige glanced at me. Sorrow filled her eyes.

  “Jack?” I hoped to urge him to action.

  He let his gaze slide over his team. The fewer than ten seconds it took him to analyze us felt like minutes. “All right, we’re going in.”

  There was no record that Cain had a gun, but no arrest was predictable. We were all in Kevlar vests. But it wasn’t only our lives at risk; this could become a hostage situation. Our best approach, in this case, was to surprise Cain. We were also wearing communications gear.

  Jack continued. “We’re going to make this quick. There’s no door out back, but there is a window. Paige and Zach, you cover that. Brandon and I will go to the front.” He nodded toward Powers and Barber, and both detectives came closer. “You two back us up. Powers at the rear, Barber at the front.”

  “You got it,” Powers said.

  Less than a minute later, Zach spoke over the comms. “We’re in position.”

  “Confirmed. We’re going in.” Jack kicked in the door. “FBI!”

  Cain was on the bed, positioned over Chantal, his knee in her abdomen.

  I ran over and yanked him away from her. “Get off her, you son of a bitch!”

  “She just wanted to be happy.” His words were his defense and came out with a cool, calm confidence.

  He really was a sicko, and as we’d surmised, he thought he was doing these women a favor.

  I passed Cain off to Barber and focused on Chantal. She was so still. Were we too late? I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and detected a subtle pulse. “She’s alive. Get a paramedic in here!”

  Cain bucked against Barber’s hold. “You stopped me. I was making her happy. You have interfered with something greater than all of you.”

  “Get him the hell out of my face!” I caught eyes with Jack. If I hadn’t said it, he would have.

  -

  Chapter 69

  IT WAS THE DAY AFTER Cain Boynton had been found and arrested at Red River Motel. It had been a long twenty-four hours with little rest. The team had stepped out for coffee, but Paige stayed at the station and worked to clear the case board. The jet would be taking off for Quantico in a couple of hours. She’d catch some sleep on the plane.

  “Are you going to write or call?”

 
; She turned to see Sam coming into the room. He was smiling.

  “I’m not any good with the whole relationship thing.” She thought honesty would be the best route. There was no sense in leading him to believe this was more than what it was.

  “And here I had our wedding planned.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Smart-ass.”

  He shrugged. “It was great getting to know you, Paige.”

  His serious tone made her chuckle.

  “I say that, and you laugh in my face?”

  “It’s not that. But you don’t really know me.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Just because we…” She felt the heat in her cheeks.

  “I have a feeling not many know about your friend, Natasha, but you told me her story.”

  She wanted to withdraw and excuse it, but she couldn’t. Maybe she’d come to the point in her life when she needed to stop being afraid. Maybe even open up and allow a relationship time to grow.

  “Your silence tells me this is the truth.”

  “It’s not something I share with everyone.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. If she did, any strength she had would be gone. Not that she needed him to mention Natasha; she had already been thinking about her a lot. She had some accrued vacation time and she’d go visit her soon. Not that Natasha would likely even know she was there. But Nadia missed her old friend’s face.

  “You know, you might be able to find out more about who those guys are at this point. Maybe wield your FBI magic.”

  She smiled. “I like that you’re trying to be encouraging, but even if we find the guys, a police report was never filed in Cancun.”

  “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the woman who just last night said she wanted to make a point to three guys who were going to rape Penny?”

  “Who allegedly were going to.” Speaking of, she’d never gotten the results from the tox panel.

  “I’d wager they were going to. The results came back and there was a trace of Rohypnol in her bloodstream. So, it’s quite likely those guys did give it to—”

  She had her arms around him faster than she’d thought humanly possible. Tucked into the base of his neck, she breathed him in and then backed up to look him in the eye. “I have a little time before my flight leaves.”

  “You think we should pay those guys a visit? Shake them up a bit?”

  “I sure do,” she said.

  “I’m going to miss you,” he said before loosening his hold on her.

  Her heart sped up. She couldn’t believe it had entered her mind, but if there was anything her job taught her, it was that life was short. Yes, taking chances could sometimes get you killed, but Sam was a safe bet. And maybe he had a point… With her FBI experience, maybe she could get closer to finding justice—or at least restitution—for her friend now. “Have you ever been to—”

  Jack walked in the room, shoulders hunched over. He cupped his jaw with his hand and dropped into a chair.

  “Jack—” Paige let go of Sam and hurried over to her boss “—are you okay?”

  His gaze remained fixed, blank, as he stared at the table.

  “Sam, can you give us a minute?”

  “Sure.” He left and closed the door behind him.

  She sat beside Jack. There had been a bond between them from the beginning, and the pain radiating from him told her bad news was coming. “Is it your mom?”

  He didn’t move to face her, but she witnessed a small crack in his facial features, the downward curvature of his mouth. “They gave her six weeks.”

  She didn’t say anything. She’d let him talk. He had told her this much before. It was why he’d been so distracted during this investigation. There was that sick feeling in the air—grief, loss, immeasurable heartache.

  “She made it a week and a half.”

  “Oh my God, Jack. I’m so sorry.” She wanted to reach out and hug him, to offer him a soft touch, physical confirmation of how deeply she felt for him and what he was going through. But Jack wasn’t the kind who succumbed to hugs and kisses. She put her hand on his shoulder and moved on to rub his back. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

  He was shaking his head, and a single tear fell down his cheek. For such a proud man, he never moved to wipe it away. He let it fall, let his vulnerability sit out there, exposed between them. “She was all I had left.”

  Screw it. He was taking the hug.

  Paige put her arms around him. He let his eyes meet hers before he returned the embrace. It offered friendship and support. Despite people’s backgrounds and aspirations, this was a core element of humankind. All people faced an inevitable end. But the positive nature that lived within her refused to accept that’s all it was. With endings came beginnings.

  Jack was the first to pull back.

  “You know, you’re not alone, Jack. You have me and the rest of the team. You have Caleb.” Not many knew about Jack’s son. Paige wagered she was the only one on the team who did. And it wasn’t because Jack wasn’t proud of Caleb. It was because of the way he’d come into this world. Jack had summed it up as him being young and stupid. Paige figured the woman had broken his heart. “If you need anything, let me know.”

  He nodded. His eyes were bloodshot, the result of holding back more tears that needed to fall. But it wouldn’t be here, and it might not be today. “Can you keep this from the rest of the team?”

  She scanned his eyes. She knew his level of pride, she knew how he detested displays of weakness, and to Jack, that equated to showing emotion. But Zach and Brandon were also part of his family. The fact that business and personal blended with this job was a certainty Jack obviously had a hard time admitting to, but now wasn’t the time to push the matter.

  She nodded. “Whatever you want, boss.”

  The door burst open, and it was Brandon and Zach.

  “You guys ready to go?” Brandon asked. He was upbeat, but his face fell when he saw Jack.

  She didn’t know how she was supposed to keep this from him or Zach. Brandon had approached her to find out what was going on with Jack a few days ago. And now it was evident that something was going on. The misery in the room was tangible.

  “Jack, is everything all right?” Zach was the one to ask.

  As Paige watched the two of them come to Jack’s side, her mind returned to her thought about the cycle of life. Her mind filtered to Brandon. What they’d had was over, but time would heal those scars. She thought of Sam. It might not have been too far a stretch to think he might be her new beginning.

  When she saw Jack was in good hands, she slipped out of the room. She spotted Sam by a watercooler. She had to get out her question before she lost her nerve. “Have you ever been to Mexico? I know this sounds like a crazy thing to ask, but maybe we could dig into my friend’s case together there. I could use your help.”

  “Is that all?”

  His response could have been playful or coy, but she detected he was doing what he was good at—weaseling his way into her mind.

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’d like to spend some time with you. There, are you happy I said—”

  Sam’s mouth was on hers before she could finish her sentence.

  A catcall came from a fellow cop. “Whoa, way to go, Barber.”

  He stopped kissing her. “Mind your own business.” He put his lips back on hers.

  -

  Chapter 70

  THE NEWS ABOUT JACK’S MOTHER’S death hit us all with a substantial blow. It showed a strong man like Jack was as vulnerable to the facts of life—and death—as the rest of us. He’d managed to keep himself together as he told Zach and me. I was sure I would have been a bawling mess if the roles had been reversed. In fact, I planned on calling my parents the minute we touched down.

  There
was about an hour of the flight to go, and my thoughts went back and forth between Jack and the investigation. It had taken six days to catch our killer, but we had him. The DNA from the dress and the ring Penny had been found wearing had been compared to Cain Boynton’s. They came back as a familial match, along with the DNA on the earrings Cheryl had been wearing at the time of her death. These items had belonged to his sister.

  The veil that had been found on Tara’s head must have come from a thrift store, as there was never a connection discovered between it and the other gowns.

  The DNA from the strand of hair pulled in Gavin’s car didn’t tie into our case as we’d initially thought it would, but Gavin was extradited back to the United States and faced sentencing for fraud and tax evasion.

  I couldn’t help thinking how disillusioned Cain’s view of happiness was.

  When we’d questioned Cain about it, he’d been forthcoming. He’d also been adamant he wasn’t a killer, but a bringer of happiness, a “lightworker” as he called himself. He’d told us how his sister “just wanted to be happy” and expanded on how blissful and at peace she’d seemed on the bed all those years ago. He had placed the women in their tubs because his sister had loved taking long baths. The way his eyes had glazed over as he recalled the story told me his memories were vivid even now.

  Chantal Oaks was going to be fine, save the internal scars. If we had been even seconds later, the outcome might have been different, but she would survive.

  I sighed. For all the elation that came with catching a killer and rescuing someone, the celebration was diluted. Yes, we had saved one woman’s life, but three others had died. And then the exhaustion, the final toll of the investigation, and the weight of Jack’s loss had an effect on us all, too.

  As an agent, it was prudent to focus on the success stories, though, on the people saved and the killers caught. But somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind lurked the inevitable truth. For every one we caught, there were many more out there killing at this very second.