by Rita Herron
She still might lose Simon.
THROUGH THE PAPER-THIN WALLS, Cain heard Alanna tossing and turning in the other room and grimaced. Part of him wanted to tiptoe inside and comfort her, assure her that everything would be all right, that Simon was hers forever. But he couldn’t.
Because those promises might be lies.
His hand gripped the phone, his mind warring over how to handle the situation. He had to know the truth, and the only way to accomplish that was to investigate the research center. Fear had laced Alanna’s voice when she’d begged him not to call the FBI or the police, but he couldn’t play bodyguard and do all the footwork himself. He had to get in touch with somebody who might have a contact in the medical world. He had to trust someone. Luke Devlin’s name immediately came to mind. His buddy worked for a special unit of the FBI that focused on government projects. Cain had saved his life once; now he’d call in the favor.
He punched in the number. The phone rang four times, then the standard recorded message kicked on. “Luke, this is Cain Caldwell. Give me a call—it’s urgent.” He recited his home number, then his cell, and hung up, his nerves on edge.
Hoping Luke wasn’t out of reach, and would call him back that night, he logged on to the computer and pulled up the articles he’d already downloaded about the Coastal Island Research Park. He spent the next hour reading about the various research companies and projects that had become public knowledge.
He couldn’t access the confidential files, and wondered if he’d missed something the first go-around. He even checked out the Web site, studied the layout of the buildings and the center, noting the smaller facilities on Whistlestop Island and the more mysterious facility on Nighthawk Island. The cabins Alanna had told him about on Catcall Island were spread out across the facility just as she’d described.
Was she telling the truth about everything else, too?
Cain paced to the window and stared out at the endless dark night. The dim glow of lit the inky distance, coming from the nearby cove. Probably that fisherman he’d spotted earlier. The man had been out there all day—should he check him out?
The phone suddenly trilled, startling him from his anxious thoughts and he crossed the room and grabbed it. “Caldwell here.”
“Hey, it’s Luke.” His old friend hesitated, his voice low. “Sorry to hear about your brother, man.”
Cain grimaced. “Thanks.”
“You said it was urgent?”
“Yeah, I have a favor to ask, but it has to be kept confidential.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is. And I mean it, Luke. This can’t go any further than you. No one at the agency can know you’re checking into this.”
“What’s going on, Cain?”
“I need you to dig up all the information you can find on the Coastal Island Research Park. See if there are any government projects under investigation, what the latest controversial research is all about. Focus on gene therapy and a Dr. Paul Polenta.”
“The doctor with the missing baby? Why the sudden interest?”
“Let’s just say it might lead back to Eric’s killer.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I can’t explain everything right now, but most importantly, see what you can find on a project entitled Project Simon.”
“Wait a minute, isn’t that the missing baby’s name?”
“Yeah.”
Indecision laced Luke’s voice. “You can’t give me any more than that?”
“I’m afraid not.” Cain glanced at the bedroom where Simon and Alanna slept. Guilt weighed on his conscience for going against her wishes and consulting his friend. But he couldn’t continue hiding her whereabouts without a thorough understanding of the case.
He thanked Luke, then hung up and went back to the computer, logging on to the central database at the police department. First he checked for reports on any recent explosions on Catcall Island. An empty warehouse had burned, supposedly due to a chemical fire.
Was that the warehouse where they’d held Alanna?
He accessed birth records, searching for a birth certificate filed on baby Simon. Odd, he found no baby-boy listing by the name of Simon or any other name on or around the date Alanna said Simon was born.
Curiosity prickled at him. On the off chance that Simon’s mother might have died during childbirth, he scrolled through a listing of death certificates from the same date but found nothing.
Weary, he walked back to the door and scanned the lake for the fisherman but didn’t see him, so he finally forced himself to go to bed. Not that he would sleep with Alanna next door and his brother gone. And so many unanswered questions.
Why hadn’t the doctors f a birth certificate on Simon? It was almost as if they didn’t want anyone to know he existed.
And why was he putting himself and his career on the line for this woman?
Because she was the only person he’d connected with besides Eric and his partner?
He had never bucked the system, had thrived on building a stable life, yet now he was going against everything ingrained in him to help Alanna. What would happen if he took the chance and things back-fired in his face?
He’d already lost his brother. Without his job, what would he have left?
PHYLLIS SLUMPED in her car and lit a cigarette, clutching the downy-soft baby blanket to her heart as she stared at the lights in the cabin where her baby slept. Darkness slowly descended over the lake, robbing the sky of its cheerful glow, the night sounds of crickets and frogs and an owl’s low hoot mingling with the rippling water splashing against the bank. A lone fisherman sat in a nearby cove, a small lantern propped beside him, occasionally casting looks at Caldwell’s cabin as if he, too, had some stake on the inhabitants.
She took a long, slow drag of the cigarette, flicked her ashes in the near-empty coffee cup, and pressed the blanket against her cheek. The baby items she’d bought lay in the back seat, the diapers were in the trunk, and the papers…well, she had almost everything she needed to prove that Simon belonged to her. Not quite, but almost… “It won’t be long, Simon. It won’t be long until I hold you in my arms.”
Damn Alanna Hayes for hooking up with this cop. He was a major glitch in her well-laid plans.
So far, Alanna must have kept her mouth shut. No police or feds had shown up. No press. Maybe Alanna was smarter than she’d given her credit.
Still, she wasn’t smart enough to outrun her. Or to keep Simon from her forever.
Phyllis rocked back and forth, stroking the blanket to her cheek while she sang the lullaby she would sing to Simon, “Hush little baby, don’t say a word…”
Sometime soon, she would have the birth certificate and everything else she needed to claim Simon. Caldwell would have to leave Alanna and the baby alone sometime.
Then she would make her move.
And Simon would finally be with her, where he belonged.
SIMON WAS LOCKED in a lab. Confined to the sterile atmosphere and constant company of the scientists who monitored his every movement.
No. She couldn’t let that happen. She and Simon escaped but people followed them. Shooting at them. She ran through the woods. Bullets pinged past her head. She fell to the ground, covering Simon. Smoke curled above them.
Then someone tried to take him. They pried him from her arms.
SMOKE CURLED in a fog above her, and the smell of burning woofilled the room. She’d been dreaming. Alanna opened her eyes. No! She wasn’t in the woods.
The smoke was real. Fire blazed beyond the doorway. Wood splintered and popped. She had to get Simon and get out of there.
She tried to scream but the sound died as a shadowy figure leaned over and grabbed her by the throat.
Chapter Eleven
Cain jerked upright, his senses reeling at the smell of smoke. He raced to the hallway but stopped cold when he saw his den ablaze, the path to the room where Alanna and Simon slept in flames. Wood hissed and popped. Flames lick
ed the floor, slowly building from the front doorway to the bedroom. The fire had been deliberately set. He smelled gasoline and saw the red-hot blaze streaking in a line from the doorway.
“Alanna!” He ran back to his bedroom, grabbed a quilt and wrapped it around himself, then raced through the blaze and slammed his body into the doorway. The door sprang open and he glimpsed a shadowy figure holding Alanna in a choking grip. Her strangled scream tore through the air just as Cain lunged forward. Alanna was kicking the man with her feet and slamming her fists wildly. Fury surged inside Cain, spiking his adrenaline. With one quick motion, he grabbed the hulking man and threw him to the floor. The beefy attacker’s head slammed against the corner of the end table, his head lolled back and he collapsed.
Cain didn’t have time to fool with him. “Come on, let’s get out of here—this old place will go up in seconds.”
Alanna nodded, pushing hair from her forehead as she scooped Simon into her arms. Simon’s shrill cry pierced the air. The flames clawed at the floor inside the room now, hissing and chewing the faded carpet. Smoke curled like a snake sucking oxygen from the air. He wrapped the quilt around his hand, and rammed his fist through the window, sending glass slivers flying.
“Help!” Simon cried. Smoke choked them all. Alanna coughed, pulled Simon’s blanket over his face and tried to soothe him.
“You go first.” He eased Simon into his arms and helped her crawl through the window, then handed the baby to her and dove headfirst to the ground just as the flames engulfed the bed behind them.
ALANNA CLUTCHED Simon to her chest and slid down onto the ground, watching in horror as fire swallowed the bedroom where she and Simon had just been sleeping. Dear God, they had both almost died. If it hadn’t been for Cain…
Had Simon said help? Or had she misunderstood in the tumult of the fire?
“Are you all right?” Cain cupped her face in his hands and searched her eyes.
Alanna nodded. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I know.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth. “I have to go back in and see if I can save that thug.”
“No.” Alanna reached for him, but he was already running around to the front side of the house. Feared her. She cradled Simon to her, backed away from the scalding heat, then ran to the front to watch for Cain. But fire engulfed the wooden cabin. In the background, her mind registered the sound of a motor mingled with the hissing fire, and a boat puttering away in the distance.
Her heart thumped wildly as she counted the seconds, praying Cain would make it out alive. Seconds later, he emerged, tossing Simon’s bag on the ground and carrying his laptop and cell phone. Sweat poured off his face as he dialed 911.
In spite of the heat from the flames, Alanna shivered as she remembered the intruder in her bedroom.
“Did you find him?”
His expression looked grave as he shook his head. “Too late. He’s dead.”
He came to her then and she fell into his arms, the strength in his embrace a balm to her trembling soul. Simon whimpered and Cain curled a hand over his head, shushing him with sweet words of comfort as they clung together.
TERROR TIGHTENED Phyllis’s muscles as she stared at the burning house.
Those idiots! She had almost lost Simon. If she’d had a gun, she would have shot the thug herself when he’d set the fire. But from her vantage point down the dirt road she hadn’t seen him go inside.
She saw the fire now, had first spotted the smoke spiraling through the trees and drifting toward the black sky from her car. The bright flicker of orange had sent her into a panic. Then she’d set off on foot, running through the woods, slipping behind giant oaks and pines, the fear choking her like the clawing tendrils of a poisonous vine.
Creeping toward the east side of the lake, she stayed in the shadows, hunching low, searching for survivors. To hell with the proof. If she had a chance, she’d take Simon now.
Then she saw them. The Caldwell man wrapped his arms around Alanna Hayes and Simon.
Deep, painful breaths racked Phyllis’s body as she began to sob, but she muffled her cries with her fists.
Thank God her baby was alive.
CAIN WAS SHAKING all over when he heard a siren wailing in the distance. He had to hide Alanna and Simon. If the police saw her, they might recognize her and ask questions. Questions he didn’t know the answer to yet.
He froze, unable to believe he’d just decided to keep information from his own people. The police.
Alanna turned shell-shocked eyes up toward him and he didn’t have a choice. He rubbed her arms. “We have to get you someplace safe while the firemen and police investigate.”
“But where?”
“There’s an empty cabin two doors down. Come on.” Cain pulled her and Simon, rushing across the path through the woods toward the neighboring cabin. An old man named Homer owned the place but rarely came up anymore; Cain kept an eye on it for him. Leaves crunched as the forest swallowed them. Alanna nearly tripped over a rotting tree stump, but he steadied her, well aware his own librium was off-kilter from the smoke.
And from the fear that had nearly stolen his sanity when he’d see that man standing over her bed.
He kicked mud from his boots as he stepped onto the patio, then found the key in the old flowerpot. Darkness bathed the interior as they entered, but he switched on a lamp in the dingy kitchen. The place had been locked up for months and was cold and musty, but Alanna didn’t seem to notice. In fact, she offered a fragile smile of thanks as he stroked her arm.
Admiration for her courage kicked in. “Wait here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Alanna raised Simon to her shoulder and patted his back as Cain ran outside. Seconds later, Cain stood in front of his smoldering cabin, explaining to the firemen that he had woken to the smell of smoke.
A police car careened up the driveway and screeched to a halt. His partner, Neil Wakefield, jumped out and ran toward him. His captain, Bobby Flack, lumbered up the graveled driveway on his heels.
“What the hell happened?” Flack asked.
Wakefield’s relieved gaze swept over him. “Are you all right, Caldwell?”
“Yeah.” Cain rammed a sweaty smoke-scented hand through his hair. “All things considered.”
“How’d it start?” Flack asked, eyes narrowing.
Cain watched the firemen douse the last of the flames, smoke spewing into the heavens, only the shell of his home still standing. “Someone broke in and set it.”
Wakefield seemed shocked. “Arson?”
Cain nodded. Everything he’d owned had been inside. But none of it mattered. Except for the cross. His hand automatically went to the gold chain in his pocket, one of the reasons he’d had to go back inside. That and his gun and cell phone. He’d also managed to retrieve Polenta’s gun.
Flack cocked his jaw sideways. “Do you know who set it?”
Cain shook his head. “No, but the man who broke in is lying in the ashes.”
Wakefield winced. His captain chewed his cheek. “Someone have it in for you, or do you think it’s related to Eric’s death?”
“A lot of possibilities,” Cain said, falling back on the fact that all cops made enemies and that his brother had a dozen as well. At least the excuse would buy him time.
Wakefield took charge. “We’ll get an ID on the man, find out why he tried to kill you or if he’s working for someone.”
Cain’s mind raced. If they found evidence of Alanna… “Thanks. I want to get to the bottom of this.”
“We will, Cain.”
Cain turned to his partner. Could he trust Neil to keep Alanna’s identity a secret?
ALANNA SNUGGLED Simon to her, quieting his cries with a lullaby as she looked out the wind
“Fire.”
“What did you say, sweetie?”
Simon’s pudgy cheeks ballooned as he chomped out the words again. “Ma…ma. Fire.”
A smile lifted Alanna’s lips. At four and a
half months, he was ahead of himself, a sure sign that his intelligence might be above normal. She stroked his baby-soft hair, her heart tugging painfully as his lips worked into a smile. “You are a strong little guy, you know that? I keep dragging you all over the place, but you bounce right back.”
Despair threatened to overcome her. Even if she escaped these thugs, would their lives always be like this? Would they always be on the run? Never able to stay in one place for long or make a home?
Simon seemed oblivious to her turmoil. As if he trusted her to take care of things.
“I love you, Simon,” she whispered. “I wish I could give you a normal family with a mama and a daddy and a house with a yard and a dog.”
Or a cabin by the lake. Only now Cain’s cabin was gone. He’d not only lost his brother but his home because she’d asked for his help.
Simon sucked his thumb until he fell asleep, his blind trust, intelligence and resiliency amazing her.
“Is that why they want you so badly? Do you have some kind of superintelligence?” A tree limb scraped the window and shadows hugged the spider-coated glass panes. Was someone outside?
Panic gripped her. At the graveyard there had been two men. Had the other one been watching when they’d run from the burning house and followed her here?
“YOU THINK the intruder could have something to do with your brother’s death?” Wakefield asked as the firemen rolled up the water hose. A team of investigators had shown up to examine the crime scene, taking photos and shuffling through the debris that had once been Cain’s home.
He and Wakefield had already donned gloves and trudged over broken glass, charred furniture and smoldering wood to get to the body of the man who’d broken in. “I guess it’s a possibility.” A distinct one, but he didn’t want to say too much.
“But if the guys after Palmer killed Eric to get at Palmer, why come after you? Unless they thought you’re hiding the feds’ witness?”