by Rita Herron
Cain walked toward her, uncertainty still tainting his eyes. She handed Simon the tiny stuffed puppy he liked to cuddle and forced a smile when Cain handed her a cup of coffee. He also had a package of blueberry muffins and offered her one. “Thanks.” Her stomach growled and she took one, chewing slowly to stall for time. She inhaled the scent of his soap-cleaned masculine body, which reminded her that he was all male. Big and hard and lean. And sexy as hell with his black hair still damp and combed back from his forehead. Things she shouldn’t be noticing.
But he was still angry.
“I…I was afraid you’d called and turned me in.”
“I almost did.”
His honesty surprised her. Maybe because she’d been lied to by so many men. “Why didn’t you?”
“Let’s just say the verdict’s still out.” He wolfed down the muffin, then licked his fingers clean. She averted her gaze, shocked that her body reacted to him. He didn’t like her or trust her and she wasn’t sure she liked him, either. She certainly didn’t trust him.
Or anyone else.
At least not completely. But she did trust that he would keep her and Simon safe from physical harm. That is, if she could convince him to believe her.
“I want the whole story.”
Their gazes locked. “I told you—”
“You told me bits and pieces. I want it from beginning to end. How you came to care for Simon. Everything you know about this geneticist and his work at the research center. Why you ran.”
She nodded, although the research involving Simon still had gaping holes that she had yet to fill in. Simon tried to stuff the puppy’s ear in his mouth, so she handed him a plastic teething ring to chew on instead. “I heard about innovative fertility treatments at CIRP—”
“CIRP?”
“The Coastal Island Research Park on Catcall Island near Savannah. They have facilities on Catcall, more planned on Whistlestop Island, and some highly classified government projects out on Nighthawk Island.”
He gestured for her to continue, his gaze softening when he looked at Simon gumming the teething toy.
“Anyway, I worked as a nurse at the hospital in Macon and had heard of the facility, so I went there for fertility treatments.”
“They weren’t successf
She had to look away. The painful memories taunted her. “No.”
He leaned back against the tree, studying her. “Go on.”
“I met Dr. Polenta there. He was consulting on another case. We struck up a conversation in the elevator.”
“Was that when you started taking care of Simon?”
“No.” The memory of leaving the clinic in defeat settled around her. She remembered the fight with her ex-husband, his callous remarks. Their divorce. “I returned to Macon, and my marriage ended.”
“Your husband left you because you couldn’t have a baby?”
Alanna nodded, her throat too thick to speak.
“Jerk.”
She bit down on her lip but let his comment slide, although his assessment soothed her somewhat. All this time she’d blamed herself, had told herself Donald had every right to be disappointed in her, yet she’d secretly hoped that if he’d loved her, he would understand and want her anyway. Of course, he hadn’t loved her at all….
“What happened after that, Alanna?”
His voice had lowered now, his tone less harsh. She took a deep breath. “About three months later, Paul— Dr. Polenta—called and asked me if I’d consider becoming a private nurse. He said a baby had been born premature and he needed special care.” That phone call had been a lifesaver. Or so she’d thought at the time. “It seemed like the perfect answer for me. I needed to get out of Macon, away from my ex. And…I thought my prayers had been answered. I was all alone, and so was this helpless little baby. He needed me.”
A long silence descended between them. Her comment could provide the motivation to frame her as a kidnapper.
“What about his birth mother and father? Where did they fit into the picture?”
She stroked Simon’s soft cheek as he slowly nodded off to sleep. “Dr. Polenta told me that Simon’s mother abandoned him. As a preemie, Simon had complications that freaked her out. She said she couldn’t afford to take care of a sick child.” Alanna paused, steadying her voice, knowing that her anger at the woman had filtered through. “So, I went to Catcall Island. I took care of Simon in the hospital for the first two weeks, then brought him home.”
“He lived with you?”
“Yes, the research facility built several cabins on their grounds. We lived in one of them.”
“Why wasn’t Simon turned over to the mother’s nearest relatives or to the state?”
“I asked Paul the same question,” Alanna said, remembering the awkward conversation. “He claimed the mother was an orphan herself and had no family. That was one reason she wanted a child of her own.” A breeze ruffled the leaves, and she tucked another blanket over Simon.
“But she signed away her rights?”
Alanna nodded.
“ about the state?”
“Paul said the head of the clinic was working with the state, but Simon needed special monitoring in the beginning, and they couldn’t place him until they resolved his health issues.”
“What kinds of problems did he have?”
“Nothing visible. But his birth weight was low, and his lungs weren’t completely developed. Dr. Polenta said he might have a gene abnormality and needed further testing.”
Cain folded his arms across his chest. “How much do you know about Polenta’s work?”
Alanna shrugged. “He focuses on using genetic engineering to develop cancer and AIDS vaccines.”
“You’re sure Polenta isn’t Simon’s father?”
Alanna squeezed the puppy to her chest. “I suppose it’s possible he was the sperm donor, but if he was, he never told me.”
“Then you two were close?”
Alanna hesitated. “We were friends. He enjoyed visiting Simon.” And she’d sensed he enjoyed seeing her, too, but she’d been so broken up over her divorce that she hadn’t encouraged him.
Now he was lying comatose in a hospital, possibly dying. All because he’d helped her escape with Simon. He had wanted to save Simon, too, she reminded herself.
She couldn’t let his sacrifice go for nothing.
CAIN FOCUSED on Alanna, determined to read every nuance of her body language for lies, but so far, her story sounded rational. “So, you took care of Simon while the doctors continued to run tests?”
“Yes.” Alanna thought back to that Monday two weeks ago. “Finally I approached Paul about adopting Simon. I figured he might have an in with Dr. Peterson, the head of the fertility clinic.”
“What did he say?”
“He got really nervous and started avoiding me. He even suggested that if I pushed the matter or asked too many questions about Simon, I would lose my job. Then I saw Paul and Peterson having several hushed conversations and heard tidbits of talk about the tests Britain was doing with embryo cloning to create stem cells. That’s when I started wondering if everything they’d told me was true.”
Simon squirmed as he slept, and Alanna patted his back. “What exactly was it that bothered you?”
“By then, Simon was starting to gain weight and seemed healthy. I didn’t understand why they wouldn’t let me adopt him. Paul became angry with me, and Peterson, the head of the fertility clinic, gave me a flat-out no.”
“That does seem odd. It’s unusual for a hospital to keep an infant so long.”
“Exactly. It was almost as if they felt Simon belonged to them. And I heard they were petitioning the government for approval for embryo cloning themselves.”
“You said earlier that you were snooping around in the f”
Alanna nodded. “Yes, I overheard Peterson and Dr. Forrester, the OB-GYN who delivered Simon, talking about Simon’s mother.”
“And?”
“Th
ey made it sound as if she’d died during childbirth, but Paul had told me she’d abandoned him.”
“Hmm.”
Alanna hugged her arms around herself and turned her face upward toward the sun as if she needed its warmth. Sunshine splintered through the trees. At least she looked more rested today, the purple bruises beneath her eyes beginning to fade. “I wanted to find out more, so I went snooping in Dr. Peterson’s office. I found Simon’s medical records in his computer, but they were password protected.”
“Is that unusual?”
Alanna shivered again. “For a normal pregnancy, yes. But that wasn’t the strangest part.”
“What?”
“His file was listed as Project Simon.”
“DID YOU FIND HER?”
“Not yet.”
His boss released a string of expletives that singed his ear through the phone. He’d been pissed the night before when he’d had to report that they’d lost the Hayes broad at the graveyard. Now he’d moved past pissed into livid.
“Why the hell not?”
“Atlanta’s a big area. We will find her, though.” And that creep who’d shot at them. Caldwell’s brother.
“Keep looking. Meanwhile, we’ve gone to Plan B. Polenta went public.”
“I saw the report on the news this morning. What if the police pick her up and she squeals?”
“She doesn’t know enough to give them anything concrete. Besides, she’s on the defensive now. The last thing she wants is to end up in jail and lose Simon to the authorities.” He coughed into the phone. “Now, find Simon and bring him back to me.”
“What do I do if the woman is with Caldwell?”
“Kill them both. We don’t want any loose ends that might come back to haunt us.”
Chapter Nine
Project Simon?
Cain’s skin crawled—could that innocent little baby be part of a cloning experiment? He was fairly certain American scientists weren’t able to clone humans yet, although they were close. Animals were a different story. The University of Georgia led the field in cloning cattle. Mice, cats, sheep and pigs had also been successfully cloned, though problems still existed.
Alanna studied him warily as if she anticipated he might bolt and phone the authorities any
He still didn’t know why he hadn’t. Maybe he felt he owed Eric something for all the times he hadn’t supported him in his efforts to help troubled women. Maybe he owed his own mother for not saving her from their abusive father.
Maybe he just found Alanna so damn appealing and, if her story were true, downright courageous, that he couldn’t stand to see the baby she loved so much torn from her arms.
But if her story weren’t true…well, hell, at least she wouldn’t harm Simon, not like those thugs who’d come after her with guns. He sure as hell didn’t want them to get their hands on the baby. Waiting a little longer before letting the authorities know Alanna’s whereabouts wouldn’t hurt anything. But he absolutely wouldn’t let her out of his sight.
If Simon was the result of a secret study, it made sense that the scientists would want to monitor him. But would scientists try to shoot Alanna in order to get him back? Would Simon’s own father hire someone to find them? Would they kill Eric to prevent him from helping her?
Cain shoved his hands through his hair, unable to fathom why he almost believed Alanna’s story.
A baby’s life depended on the choices he made right now.
“I have a friend in the FBI—”
“No, Cain, you can’t tell anyone.” Alanna grabbed his hand, her slender fingers curling over his larger ones.
“He can help me check out the research center. If what you told me is true, I have to know what kind of project we’re talking about so we know how to proceed.”
Panic flared in Alanna’s huge eyes. “You believe me?”
“I’m not sure what I believe, but I will find out the truth. If Eric died because of Simon, I want to know.”
“You’d turn him in to get revenge?”
Anger sharpened his voice. “That’s not what I meant. I just want the truth.” He stood, facing the lake, a thousand emotions warring in his head. “I’m a cop, Alanna. I’ve always lived by the law. That’s who I am.”
Her shaky breathing filled the silence. “If you contact the police and tell them about Simon, they’ll give him back to those doctors who will put him in a lab. He’ll never have a normal life.”
“If evidence proves he’s not Polenta’s son, and that he has no parents, the state will find him a home.” He lowered his eyes, stared at his boots. “Maybe you can adopt him, then.”
“You don’t understand.” Alanna stood and gripped his arm, forcing him to look at her. “The people at CIRP will never let that happen.”
“If he is different—some kind of project—and the police find that’s true, the media will make the public aware, then the researchers will be held accountable.”
Her fingers dug into his arm, her voice rising near hysteria. “But if Simon is a part of a project and the press get wind of it, they’ll turn his life into a nightmare. Th’s the reason I didn’t go to them when I left with Simon in the first place.”
In spite of his reservations, Cain placed a comforting hand over Alanna’s. She was right. But the question remained—what exactly was Project Simon?
And was Simon’s mother dead or alive?
ALANNA HAD TO THINK of a plan.
Thankfully, she’d bought herself some time with Cain, but she didn’t trust that he still wouldn’t turn her in.
When Simon had awakened, they called a truce. She fed the baby while Cain fixed them sandwiches and they ate by the lake. Simon giggled and looked at the rippling water as if he recognized the peace and beauty of it. Once again Alanna had wondered if he had some special sense. Could his early language development be related to the research?
Finally the temperature started to drop and they went inside. Cain turned sullen again and seemed obsessed with researching CIRP on his computer. Simon fell asleep in her arms.
While Simon napped, she borrowed Cain’s shower, contemplating her next step. If Eric had used a monastery to help abused women go underground, perhaps she’d gone to the wrong one. There were others listed in the phone book in a different area. She’d try every one of them until she could find someone who had known him and would help her.
As much as she wanted to believe that Cain was her savior, she knew better than to count on him. Or most other men. But a priest might just be the answer.
CAIN TRIED TO IGNORE the reaction his body had when he heard Alanna in his shower, the thoughts of her delicate body covered in soapy bubbles, water licking and trickling over skin that had seen more brutality than a fragile woman like her deserved. Or was she fragile?
Could she be a cunning liar trying to manipulate him into believing her story?
Other women had tried to do so in the past.
But none of them had affected him the way Alanna did.
Shaking off the lingering memory of her fingers digging into his arm, he downloaded everything he could find on CIRP, hoping to gain some insight on the fertility clinic and the genetics department. And Project Simon.
Several minutes later, he scrolled over the newspaper clippings detailing events of the last year and a half.
The latest story covered the experimental memory transplant his partner had mentioned earlier. A local Savannah cop, Clayton Fox, had been investigating the research park and had gone to meet one of the scientists, a man named Tom Wells. Wells had apparently grown a conscience over a project he’d undertaken and had decided to give Fox the inside scoop, but Wells had been killed. Hoping to cover their tracks, the scientists decided to get rid of Fox by erasing his memory and replacing it with memory cells from Tom Wells. They had hoped to isolate the memory cells and keep Wells’s knowledge of his work but hadn’t counted on the fact that Fox might also gain Wells’s personal memories. The experiment had been a disaster in t
he minds of the researchers and had led to several ar
Cain stood and poured himself another cup of coffee, shaking his head. Good God, what were those researchers thinking? Playing with people’s lives like that, transferring memories from one man to another.
His curiosity piqued, he sat back down and searched for more.
Arnold Hughes, the former CEO and a co-founder of the Coastal Island Research Park had supposedly died when his boat exploded following the death of his partner, Sol Santenelli. But if Hughes’s body hadn’t been recovered, he could still be alive. Apparently he was ruthless—he’d even tried to kill Santenelli’s goddaughter.
Cain scratched his head. Denise Harley, a research scientist at CIRP, had been working on a project to alter cognitive growth through gene therapy. Her research was inconclusive. She destroyed the files because the genetic engineering was faulty and posed ethical questions which could be even more controversial if they fell into the wrong hands.
Cain glanced toward the bedroom. Could Simon be the product of a similar research experiment?
The shower water went silent just as the phone rang.
“Caldwell here.”
“It’s Wakefield.”
His adrenaline shot up. “What’s going on?”
“Atlanta P.D. had a John Doe burn victim turn up at Grady Hospital. Burned so badly they haven’t been able to ID him, but the feds are hoping he’s their witness, Palmer.”
That would be a relief. “Doing DNA?”
“Yeah, but it’ll take time.”
“I know. Any news on the Banks murder? They found his killer?” Then Eric would be off the hook for that one.
“Afraid not.” Silence ticked between them.
Cain gritted his teeth. His partner was holding back. “What else, Wakefield?”
“So far, all trails lead back to your brother.”
Cain hissed, “What trails?”