Mommy Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  “You can always blame it on the hormones,” he said drily.

  “So true.”

  Their trip to the clinic wasn’t going to be all fun and games. Carol Rainer was the clinic’s new receptionist, and Olivia wasn’t sure what would happen when they met again. The last time she’d seen Carol was in the hospital while she was recovering from the accident. They’d only spoken for a few moments. Carol had been too drugged up to make sense, and Olivia had been so devastated that all she could do was apologize again and again.

  Almost nine months had passed, and Olivia had changed. She rested her hand on her belly. Her life was different now. And Carol? The fact that she was working at a clinic for the homeless meant that she’d made changes, too.

  The clinic was located in a converted warehouse that was less than a mile away from the fashionable LoDo area of Denver. Though the windows on the dark brick building were washed and the sidewalk swept, there was nothing chic about this small health care facility. This wasn’t an emergency room, and they had no drugs on the premises. In this dodgy neighborhood, having anything stronger than aspirin was an invitation to robbery.

  The purpose of the clinic was to diagnose, handle small problems, give free flu shots and refer patients to low-cost options for treatment. When Olivia was coming to Denver on a regular, twice-a-month basis, she offered prenatal and postnatal classes for moms in addition to giving exams. Once, she had delivered a baby here, but that had been an emergency.

  Troy parked the Range Rover in a slanted space in front of a plumbing supply warehouse down the block from the clinic. Before opening his door, he checked the mirrors and looked over his shoulder. “We weren’t followed.”

  She’d almost forgotten the danger. “Are you sure?”

  “If we’d picked up a tail, I’d know.” He reached across the console and took her hand. “Are you okay with seeing Carol again?”

  Her big, tough marine hated when she cried. “There might be tears.”

  “Copy that.”

  “I don’t know what else to expect.”

  The trauma and tragedy of the accident had been so intense that she might never find closure. To tell the absolute truth, she didn’t really want to face Carol Rainer, but she couldn’t turn her back and walk away when Carol had made an effort to contact her. As she left the Range Rover and went into the clinic, Olivia braced herself.

  The receptionist desk in the front waiting room was empty, but Carol squatted on the floor, refereeing a game between two toddlers in saggy diapers. She looked up when the door opened. When she saw Olivia, she stared for a few seconds until recognition set in.

  Like a shot, Carol bounced to her feet and flew across the dingy tile floor. She wrapped Olivia in a tight hug and whispered, “I’ve thought about you so many times.”

  “Me, too.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. Holding Carol brought back images. Olivia remembered the blood, the horror and the desperation as she fought to save the lifeless infant. But there were other times, better times. She remembered Carol laughing with her auburn hair pulled up in a ponytail and her pregnant belly bulging. There had been a day in Carol’s spacious kitchen when they talked about prenatal vitamins and baked cinnamon snickerdoodles.

  Reluctantly, Olivia ended the hug and swabbed the tears from her cheeks. Carol did the same.

  “You’ve got to tell me,” Olivia said. “How did you end up working here?”

  “Because of you.”

  “Me?”

  In spite of her smile, Carol’s green eyes held a dark edge of pain that Olivia had seen in other parents who had lost children. “I wanted to get together with you, but there’s no chance that I’m ever going back to Dillon. I remembered you talking about the clinic in Denver, and I came here.”

  “That explains how you got there, but why did you stay?”

  “When I walked in the door, the place was total chaos. There were a dozen people waiting to be seen, and the receptionist had to leave. I offered to help out, and she gladly handed over the reins. Very gladly, I must say. She couldn’t wait to get out of here. But I liked the idea of doing something useful. And I was totally convinced when Alex came racing out of the back examination area, gave me one of his killer smiles and asked if I wanted a job.”

  “That’s my bro.” Troy shook her hand. “I’m Troy Weathers.”

  “I should have known. You look a lot alike.” Carol’s gaze focused on Olivia’s left hand. “Is he your fiancé?”

  Explaining seemed too complicated. Olivia forced a smile. “You could say that.”

  “Congratulations. You’re getting married. Having a baby. I’m happy for you.”

  Olivia wished she could say the same. Carol had lost her baby, and it sounded like her marriage was no longer intact. Though Olivia could have dismissed the memories of the accident and pretended that she and Carol were nothing more than old friends, she didn’t want to bury those feelings. Taking Carol’s hand, she led her behind the reception desk, leaving Troy to entertain the two toddlers.

  “After the accident,” Olivia said, “tell me what happened.”

  “I was in bad shape, physically and emotionally. There were moments when I just wanted to die. As soon as I could get around in a wheelchair, we had a funeral. My son’s name was Arthur James Rainer. I buried him in a tiny white coffin.”

  As she spoke, her shoulders slumped but her eyes were dry. This woman had been through the worst nightmare a parent could endure but it hadn’t destroyed her. She continued, “I’ll always love Arthur James. I don’t understand why he’s gone, but he is. It was an accident. I don’t blame Jarvis or myself, and I certainly don’t blame you, Olivia. That was why I wanted to see you. I needed to tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I share your grief, Carol.”

  “I know you do.” She gazed at Olivia’s belly. “I hope we can share in good times, too. I want you to consider me your friend.”

  “What’s happened between you and your husband?”

  “The last time I saw him was at the funeral. Our marriage was rocky before I got pregnant. The accident ended any affection we had for each other. Jarvis actually threatened to sue me for not wearing my seat belt in the accident.”

  “I’m so sorry.” What a horrible thing to do to a grieving mother!

  “Don’t be. For me, that threat was the last straw. My lawyer is going to take Jarvis for a boatload of money, maybe even part of his oil business.” She grinned. “I might be making a nice, juicy donation to the clinic.”

  “Good for you.”

  Across the room, Olivia saw Troy answer his cell phone. He signaled to her. “We need to go. That person we wanted to see last night has some time for us.”

  Matthew Clark. She took Carol’s hand. “I’ll be back later. If I don’t see you then, I’ll call. I want to stay in touch.”

  Olivia wasn’t making an empty promise. There was an important lesson in her contact with Carol, something she needed to learn and to remember.

  * * *

  TROY KNEW HOW difficult it had been for Olivia’s father to get this chance for them to interview Kruger, alias Matthew Clark. Security in the lockdown facility was intense with bomb-proof walls, no windows and armed guards. Several different law enforcement agencies were doing their damnedest to make sure nobody got a second chance to kill this man.

  As Troy watched Olivia with her blond hair tumbling carelessly around her shoulders and her khaki shorts and her cute blue blouse with ruffles, he was struck by how out of place she was in this grim, gray environment. She ought to be posing for a portrait of serenity. Not facing a renowned international spy.

  Two guards escorted them into the room where Kruger/

  Clark was being held. The only furniture in the cell was a table and several hardback chairs, but it didn’t look like Kruger was being treated badly. He wasn’t shackled, and he wore his own clothing.

  He rose from behind the table, nodded a greeting and offered a frie
ndly smile. “I’ve been told that this lovely lady is responsible for my capture.”

  “That’s correct,” she said. Her tone was ice-cold. Her eyes were determined and hard. Troy recognized the velvet-

  and-steel resemblance to her mom.

  “But you’re not the spy in the family, are you?” Kruger/

  Clark sat behind the table and crossed his legs. “I should have known from the first time I met your parents and your sister introduced them as diplomats that they were spies.”

  Troy said, “You should have known a lot of things, Kruger.”

  “Please call me Clark,” he said. “I’ve grown accustomed to the name and the lifestyle. I’m going to miss my home in Aspen. Olivia, dear, you live in the mountains. You know how lovely it is in the autumn.”

  “We’re not here to give you information,” Troy said.

  “I know exactly what you want, Captain Weathers. You’re worried about my friends in Hatari, and you should be. They’re scary, even to me. And, sorry to say, I don’t know their target.”

  Troy knew he’d already been questioned about the terrorist cell and had claimed ignorance of their motives or moves. “That’s the line you’re sticking with?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Clark was a professional liar, clever enough to have hidden his identity for over twenty years. Troy would have welcomed the opportunity to question Clark in depth. But they had only five minutes, and Olivia had first dibs on their time. He pulled a chair away from the table and indicated that she should sit. “Ask your questions.”

  She sat straight in the chair with her shoulders back. Her hands rested on her thighs. “You claimed that you didn’t know my parents worked for the CIA. Is that a lie?”

  “I must say, it’s refreshing to talk to you. No subtlety. None at all.”

  “Did you know my parents were spies?”

  “No.”

  His sly smile was ambiguous. At the party when they’d talked to him, Clark had been scared. Now, he acted with the arrogance of someone who thought he was the smartest guy in the room.

  “Obviously,” she said, “you know Captain Weathers. Were you aware of his relationship to me?”

  “Why on earth would I care?” His mouth curved in a sneer. “The marines were concerned with Hatari. They knew nothing about me.”

  Not true. Though Troy and his team didn’t know that Kruger was Clark, they’d picked up a line on Kruger being the financier for Hatari through computer chatter. Was Clark testing him? Trying to get a rise from him?

  A good interrogator could get a suspect to open up. A great one was better than a shot of truth serum. Troy wasn’t great, but he had some experience, and he only needed one answer from Clark: Where will Hatari strike?

  Olivia asked, “How did you know that I live in the mountains?”

  “You mentioned it when we were chatting at the party.”

  “Oh, I guess I did.”

  Troy could see that she was beginning to be flustered, and he took advantage. His best tactic with Clark was to make him think they were no threat.

  Sitting in the chair beside Olivia, he took his eyes off Clark and focused on her. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “You’re doing fine.”

  “Adorable,” Clark said with a smug grin. “You’re a cute couple. When’s the baby due?”

  Anger tightened Olivia’s jaw. She hated being patronized. “Your men were watching me,” she said. “They followed us into Denver.”

  “Is that what this interview is about?”

  Olivia demanded, “Did you plan to abduct me?”

  “My dear girl, certainly not.”

  Clark’s tone was relaxed. He thought he had this interview in the bag. Therefore, his guard was down. This was the time for Troy to make his move.

  His team had consulted with other branches of intelligence. Together, they’d homed in on three possible locations for the terrorist strike. But there was another site—one that Troy had favored based on the Clark connection. This building in Manhattan was the corporate headquarters for one of CRG Energy’s main competitors.

  He looked into Clark’s eyes. “Hazelwood Oil, Ritter Plaza, New York.”

  “Come again?”

  He feigned indifference, but Troy had noticed the

  twitch of a muscle in the corner of his eye and a minuscule

  tremble of his lips. The location meant something to him.

  The door behind them opened, and a guard announced, “Your time is up.”

  Troy stood. “I have what I need.”

  He deliberately turned his back on Clark, a show that the former spy was no longer worthy of his attention. As soon as he left this cell, he’d put in a call to Nelson and tell him that they needed to expand the parameters of their search.

  He and Olivia were almost out the door when Clark spoke again. “One more thing.”

  They both turned to face him.

  Clark’s expression was a mask of disgust. “Olivia, dear, I had no intention of hurting you. But I might know someone who does.”

  “Give me a name,” she demanded.

  “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

  Troy suspected that Clark’s statement was nothing more than a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand. But he couldn’t ignore the threat.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After he made his call to Gunny Sergeant Nelson, Troy’s plan was to take Olivia back to her sister’s house where they would spend the rest of the day being safe and secure. With a little persuasion, he might convince her that the bedroom was the safest room in the house, and they could rest in each other’s arms while he figured out what to do next.

  She had a different idea.

  “Food,” she said as the Range Rover turned onto Colfax Avenue. “I’m starving.”

  “Your sister has food.”

  “Bianca has organic food,” she muttered. “What I want is a hot dog and fries. Really greasy fries.”

  But she was a health nut. The night they’d ordered from room service she’d wanted fish and rice. “Greasy fries? That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Maybe it’s not. Maybe this is a direct request from the uterus. The kid wants a dog. And, lucky us, we’re driving along a street with lots of yummy choices.”

  She sounded too cheerful for someone who’d had her life threatened, and he wasn’t sure what to make of her attitude. With her current tendency toward mood swings, he couldn’t tell if she was trying to cover up her fear or really wasn’t scared or was just plain hungry.

  He needed to protect her. “When we talked to Clark, did—”

  “He was telling the truth,” she said with exasperation. “Good grief, Troy, this must be the twentieth time I’ve told you. Clark isn’t after me, and he never was. I believe him.”

  “And why would you trust that snake?”

  “Call it a gut feeling.” She patted her belly. “And I’ve got quite a gut.”

  Optimism was one thing, but the way she was behaving was almost manically upbeat. “He also claimed to know someone who wanted to hurt you. Is that the truth?”

  “When Clark said that, he was blowing smoke. You rattled him when you mentioned that oil company in New York, and he was trying to get back at you.” She pointed at a hot dog stand. “Deli Dogs. That’s what I want for lunch.”

  He’d rather take her to her sister’s house with the state-of-the-art security system. “We’re not that far from Bianca’s.”

  “Pull over,” she growled.

  He drove into the parking lot, fearful that if he didn’t feed her, she’d rip the steering wheel from his hands or start gnawing on the upholstery. Hopefully, she’d be more cooperative after she’d been fed.

  Deli Dogs was a squat little diner, painted red-and-white. The concrete patio in the front had picnic tables with red umbrellas, but they wouldn’t be sitting there. An open dining area made it too easy for a drive-by assault.

  At the window inside, they ordered two Polish
dogs each and cheese fries. “And pickles,” she said. “Is that too big a pregnancy cliché? Wanting pickles?”

  “Not unless you put them with ice cream.”

  She thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “Not this time.”

  They sat at one of the small tables, waiting for their order. Troy maintained vigilance, watching the people who came through the door and assessing their threat potential, but he was more concerned about Olivia. Her high energy level worried him. She was like a kite soaring into the atmosphere, and it was up to him to rein her in before she crashed into the treetops.

  He took her hand. His thumb brushed across the diamond she was still wearing. “We need to talk about our meeting with Clark.”

  “Again?”

  “It’s important.” He gazed steadily into her eyes. “We don’t have a lot of clues to go on.”

  She had a talent for putting up a brave front, but he sensed her tension. Her pupils darted nervously, and her grin faltered. “Go ahead,” she said. “Talk.”

  Rather than arguing, he decided to accept her so-called gut feeling. “Let’s assume that Clark wasn’t the person who ordered for you to be watched, pursued or abducted.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “We know there’s someone after you. We saw evidence at the cabin. And we were chased.”

  “Right again.”

  “Our problem is to figure out who the hell is after you. I see two possibilities. Either Clark knows of a conspiracy among other spies or there’s some other kind of connection between you and him.”

  “A connection?”

  “He knows somebody who wants to hurt you. Can you think of people you might know in common?”

  “There’s my sister, of course.”

  “Has Bianca introduced you to anybody else from her firm? Or from CRG Energy?”

  “I’ve met a couple of people my sister works with. Once, she tried to fix me up with a blind date, but our schedules were never in sync.”

  “So, nobody from the firm or from CRG,” he concluded. “Think of other people you know. Can we rule out ex-boyfriends?”