The Baby Contract

by Barbara Dunlop

  A yellow taxi passed by, but it already had a passenger.

  “What are you looking for?” asked Hank Meyer.

  “None of your business.”

  “I’m only trying to help you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He had an angle. She just hadn’t figured out what it was yet. An internet café was public, so she’d be in no physical danger. And using cash protected her identity and credit cards—his most likely scam. Perhaps this was bait and switch. It started out with cash, but then a credit card was ultimately required.

  Another cab came into view, and she waved at it.

  “You don’t like what I have to offer, you can walk away at any time.”

  She sighed in exasperation as the cab passed by. “You’re wasting your time, Mr. Meyer. I’m not falling for it.”

  “What were you after?”

  She frowned at him.

  “Just in broad strokes. Birth, death, divorce? I can tell you’re on the job.”

  “On the job?”

  “A private investigator.”

  “I’m not... Okay, I am investigating.”

  “Then you’re either young or new. You look like you’re both. We walk across the street. You give me the name. Fifty bucks, you’re in, you’re out. It’s not exactly legal, but nobody’s throwing anybody in jail if you’re caught. Scratch that. If I’m caught, maybe I get a fine. You’re just an innocent bystander.”

  “Or maybe you’re law enforcement and, by the way, this is entrapment.”

  He laughed at that. “Yeah. Plainclothes detectives deployed to the public records center to entrap otherwise law-abiding document thieves. Now that’s a good use of public resources.”

  Mila hated to admit that he had a point. She also hated to admit she was tempted. Fifty dollars. For fifty dollars could she get a sneak peek at Drake’s birth certificate?

  “This is Jersey, ma’am. Believe me when I tell you law enforcement has way better things to do.”

  Another cab sailed past. Mila couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sign. She couldn’t see any genuine dangers in the man’s offer. He was likely just trying to make quick money.

  “Have you been doing this long?” she asked.

  “Two years. Never had a problem. What kind of a record?”

  “Birth certificate.”

  “Recent?”

  “This year.”

  “Piece of cake.” He gestured to the crosswalk.

  She took a bracing breath. “All right, Mr. Meyer. But I should tell you I have a black belt in Krav Maga and a permit to carry concealed.”

  “I don’t expect the computer to fight back,” he said easily. “But good to know.”

  The walk signal changed, and Mila quickly stepped up. If she was going to do this, she’d rather get it over with.

  She gave Drake’s name, birth date and the hospital information to Meyer. Then she waited on the sidewalk, feeling like a convenience store robber. Thankfully, he was back quickly.

  “Start walking,” he told her.

  “Did you get caught?”

  He grinned. “No. I’m done, that’s all. Do you need a copy? It’s safer if you just look at it on my phone, then there’s no digital link between us. But if you need me to send it—”

  “I’ll just look,” she said.

  “Smart.” He handed her his phone.

  She looked at the photo, and her heart stopped.

  She looked up at him, wondering if this could be some colossal con or sick joke.

  “What?” He looked genuinely concerned. “Are you okay?”

  “This is it?”

  “Absolutely.” He pointed to Drake’s name and then to his birthdate.

  “It’s...” She didn’t know what to say.

  “Fifty bucks,” he reminded her.

  “Yes. Yes.” She dug into her pocket, extracting the fifty she’d placed there while he was in the internet café. “Thank you.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you.” He took his phone and sauntered away.

  Mila moved down the sidewalk, gripping an iron fence at the edge of a small park.

  It was Troy.

  Troy was Drake’s biological father.

  She had to call Kassidy. And Kassidy had to talk to Troy.

  What on earth was the woman doing? And who was out there stalking her?

  * * *

  “Kassidy is shopping with Mila,” said Troy. He was on his way up from the Pinion garage, back from a working lunch with the Bulgarian planning team. “I told her she could turn the extra bedroom into a nursery.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “She was really excited.”

  “Mila’s car is still here,” said Vegas.

  “That’s weird.” Troy had assumed Mila would grab a cab back to the office once she woke up.

  Again, he smiled, remembering how peaceful she’d looked when he’d left her, remembering how she had felt sleeping in his arms. He knew he was going to have to figure this all out, and soon. But for a moment he just wanted to enjoy how close he felt to her.

  “The nanny’s here, and Kassidy’s late.”

  “So call her.”

  “Gabby tried, but she kept getting voice mail.”

  “Did you try?”

  “For the past hour. Same thing.”

  Troy paused, for the first time hearing the worry in Vegas’s voice. “You think something’s going on?”

  “I think we can’t locate Kassidy, and she’s been out of touch for a few hours.”

  “Call Mila.”

  The women had to be together. It was the only thing that made sense. Kassidy wanted to decorate the nursery right away. She couldn’t wait to pick out wallpaper and furniture.

  “I’ve tried Mila,” said Vegas.

  “Where are you?”

  “The office.”

  “On my way up. I’ll try Mila myself.” Troy stabbed the end button as he mounted the stairs.

  He dialed Mila, but it went straight to voice mail. He left a terse message to call him. She shouldn’t be out of touch like this. Did she need call-waiting? They’d buy her call-waiting.

  He strode down the hallway, thinking his way through the situation.

  “Does Mila still have her communications device from last night?” he asked Vegas. “Get Edison to ping it.”

  Vegas immediately called down to Edison.

  Troy greeted Gabby, who was in the office with Vegas. “I take it Kassidy was supposed to be here?”

  “Over an hour ago,” said Gabby. “Usually she calls if plans change.”

  “When did you last talk to her?”

  “Last night.”

  So Troy was probably the last one to see his sister that morning.

  “Do you mind waiting in the apartment?” he asked Gabby. “If she calls or shows up, get her to contact me right away.”

  “Of course,” said Gabby. “If there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “That’s the biggest help you can be.”

  “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”

  “So am I,” said Troy, believing it less and less as the minutes ticked past.

  “Mila’s earwig is in her apartment,” Vegas said as Gabby left the office.

  Troy’s phone buzzed, and he quickly checked the display.

  “Mila,” he said to Vegas, putting it to his ear. “Where are you?” he demanded.

  “Getting in a cab. I’m on my way to the office.”

  “Kassidy’s with you?”

  “No. I haven’t been able to reach her. Why?”

  “You’re not shopping?”

  “I had something I needed to check out.”r />
  Troy swore.

  “What happened?” Mila sounded worried.

  “We don’t know. Kassidy’s out of touch.”

  “How long?” Mila’s voice went on alert.

  “At least an hour, maybe more. We thought she was with you.”

  “I haven’t seen her since last night. Listen, there’s something going on here that we haven’t—”

  “Who on earth is that guy?” Troy had racked his brain to no avail. His fuzzy memory of Jack was the best lead they had. “I have to call Charlie.”

  “Sure.” Mila paused. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Good.”

  Troy wasn’t sure why he felt relieved at the thought of her presence. There wasn’t anything Mila could do to help. Kassidy might still be safe. She might have gone shopping alone and had her phone battery die.

  And if that wasn’t the case, if something had happened to her, there was nothing Mila could do that the Pinion team wouldn’t already have underway.

  “Yes, boss?” came Charlie’s voice on the phone.

  “What did you find out about the numbered company?”

  “Not much. It’s hidden behind a holding company.”

  “Local or offshore?” The thought that this could be an international client made things even more urgent.

  “Pennsylvania.”

  That news was a relief—a small relief. It meant it likely wasn’t a violent enemy based out of South America or the Middle East.

  “Lancaster,” said Charlie. “Didn’t you live there once?”

  “Yes,” said Troy. He’d lived there with his father, Kassidy’s mother and Kassidy. Adrenaline suddenly slammed the truth into his system. “Ronnie Hart.”

  Vegas looked up sharply.

  “Who’s that?” asked Charlie.

  Troy’s hair stood on end. “Find me Ronnie Hart. Anything you can get.” Troy’s brain started to race. “Particularly real estate. Does he own or rent anything in DC, Maryland or Virginia?”

  “On it. That’s our guy?”

  “He’s our guy,” said Troy, ending the call.

  “What?” asked Vegas, coming to his feet.

  “A neighbor.” Troy blew out a breath, not sure whether to be relieved or terrified. “Ronnie Hart was a neighbor on Appleberry Street, a teenager back then. But he played with Kassidy. He really seemed to like her. She was only seven, and it was kind of odd, but I was too self-absorbed to pay any attention. Her mother and my father were in their own worlds. You know, the kid practically raised herself.”

  “He’s got them,” said Vegas, tucking a gun into the back of his pants.

  Troy agreed. “It wasn’t about me.”

  He desperately scrambled for memories. Was Ronnie dangerous or merely deluded? He wasn’t an international criminal bent on revenge. But he sure wasn’t in touch with reality, either.

  Vegas hooked up his earwig, tossing one to Troy. “Let’s go get them.”

  Mila burst through the doorway. “What do we know?”

  “Ronnie Hart,” said Troy, gearing up himself.

  “You have a name?”

  “A former neighbor of Kassidy’s and mine. Looking back, I recognize the seeds of obsession. He must have followed her here. And now he’s probably kidnapped them.”

  Mila moved closer, voice going low. “I need to talk to you.”

  “You armed?”

  “Yes. But, Troy, we need to talk.”

  “Not now. Edison is looking for an address. I want to be in the car when he gets it.”

  “Now,” said Mila. “Right now.”

  Troy glared at her. There was nothing more important than finding Kassidy and Drake. Whatever she wanted to hash out between them could wait.

  “Mila,” Vegas called. He tossed her an earwig. “You’re coming?”

  “I’m coming,” said Mila. “Two minutes,” she said to Troy, her voice implacable.

  “I’ll get Charlie and meet you in the garage,” said Vegas.

  “What is your problem?” Troy demanded as the door closed behind his partner.

  “I’m sorry to do this,” said Mila.

  “Then do it later.” Troy took his phone in hand, ready to answer the second Edison called.

  “I wanted to talk to Kassidy first.”

  Troy gritted his teeth, his muscles turning to iron with anxiety and frustration.

  “It’s Drake,” said Mila. “I’m sorry to say it like this. But, Troy, he’s your son.”

  The words didn’t make sense. They made absolutely no sense whatsoever. His first thought was that it was a joke. But if Mila was joking right now, he’d throw her out on her ass.

  “Drake’s mother is Julie Fortune.”

  Troy staggered on his feet, and a roar came up in his ears. “Julie?”

  “You knew her?”

  “She was a backup singer. For Kassidy.”

  “And...”

  “It was one night.” He barely remembered it. “In New York last year.”

  His brain scrambled through the memory. The dates were right. And Julie and Kassidy seemed to be close. The pieces became instantly clear. Troy had a son. Drake was his son. His son was in peril.

  “Troy?” Mila touched his arm.

  He forcibly snapped himself out of it. “Let’s go.”

  A million thoughts pounded his brain as he strode through to the garage. But he couldn’t let it mess with his judgment. He had a job to do.

  As he entered the garage, his phone finally rang.

  “Yeah?”

  “Good call, boss,” said Edison. “Ronnie Hart owns a house in Virginia. I just sent the address to your phones and to the vehicle GPS system. It’ll take twenty minutes to get there.”

  “Get our earwigs all up on communications.”

  “Doing that right now.”

  “Over and out,” Troy said, breaking into a run.

  Twelve

  It was an unassuming house, a single-story bungalow, red brick with black shutters on a corner lot of a quiet street. They’d parked two blocks away. Charlie and Vegas took the back, while Mila and Troy approached from the street.

  Brown leaves were scattered on the lawn. Two maple trees and some miniature shrubs offered little in the way of concealment, so they stayed to one side of the building.

  “Hang back,” Troy told her.

  “Yeah, right,” she scoffed.

  Mila was using every ounce of her skill and training to make sure Kassidy and Drake came out of this uninjured.

  “That’s an order.”

  “What are you going to do, fire me?”

  He glared at her.

  “Wait, listen.” Her stomach clenched. “Oh, man.”

  It was a baby crying. Drake was inside that house crying his eyes out in fear, possibly hunger.

  “It’s a good thing,” said Troy, his body taut, eyes steely with concentration.

  “I know.”

  It meant Drake was okay for now.

  They came to a stop, crouched under a window. And Troy stood slowly to look inside.

  “It’s a bedroom,” he whispered to her and to everyone on the communications system. “I can’t see anyone.”

  “They’re not in the kitchen,” said Vegas.

  “Drake sounds like he’s in the living room,” said Mila.

  Nobody disputed the analysis.

  “You want to storm it?” asked Charlie.

  “Too much of a risk,” said Troy.

  “Let me knock on the door,” Mila suggested.

  “Why you?” asked Vegas.

  “I look normal. The rest of you look like mercenaries.”

  “Bad plan,�
� said Troy. “He’ll recognize you from the club.”

  “He didn’t pay that much attention,” she countered. “And I looked pretty different last night.”

  Nobody said anything.

  “Got a better plan?” she asked.

  “Stealth,” said Vegas. “I can pick the lock on the back door.”

  “I’m going to check the living room window,” said Troy.

  He motioned for Mila to stay put, then he crept along the front of the house, below the level of the windows.

  She followed anyway.

  “It’s only a matter of time before the neighbors see us and call the cops,” she said.

  He looked back at her and scowled.

  “She’s right,” said Charlie. “If the cops show up, we could have a bad hostage situation.”

  Troy rose slowly, peeping into the front window. Then he snapped back down. “They’re in there. But they’re too close together. If we storm it, we risk Kassidy and Drake.” He looked at Mila.

  “Stealth’s not an option?” asked Vegas.

  “Any sound and he might grab one of them.”

  “I can do it,” said Mila, making up her mind. “I’ll knock. I’m just a woman with car trouble and a broken cell phone. If I get in, I can separate them and buy you some time.”

  There was another silence.

  “Best we got,” said Vegas.

  Troy stared hard at Mila, looking as though he was trying to see down to her soul. He wanted to know she could pull it off.

  She held her hand out flat, showing him her nerves were steady.

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  He took up a spot between two windows, flattening himself against the wall. “No unnecessary chances.”

  “I’ll only take the necessary ones.” She tucked her gun into the back of her pants, moved her hair so that it covered her earpiece, then marched up the three concrete steps to the front door.

  She boldly pushed the doorbell and knocked loudly, trying to sound like someone who wouldn’t easily go away.

  “Hello?” she called. “Hello? I need some help out here.”

  She glanced at Troy as she waited.

  His mind had to be reeling from both the situation and the revelation about Drake. But he looked stoic, professional, focused. The job was the job, and he was getting it done.

  This was why she admired him, she realized. It was why she wanted to learn from him. It was why she was falling for him.