Her Lost and Found Baby

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Chrissy?”

  “We’ll let her know up-front our interest has to do with her business, but that we aren’t comfortable with further discussion unless we can meet face-to-face. I would also emphasize our need for complete confidentiality, but we can’t force her to keep quiet. That’s the risk we take.”

  Her brow furrowed. She nodded. “Do you feel it’s a worthwhile risk?”

  “I do.” Because he’d been thinking about it all afternoon and, after considering every aspect through the eyes of the law, he saw that her plan was their best option. With his last caveat. “I’m going to give Alistair a copy of the picture you have from the daycare and ask him to keep an eye on The Bouncing Ball parking lot, looking for a single man with a child who resembles Jackson in the age-progressed photograph.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “That could mean a couple of hours of surveillance a day, Johnny. I can’t ask you to pay out that much.” And then, “I don’t have a ton of cash, but I’ve got some. And a huge limit on my credit card that I can use for a cash advance. I can also get a line of credit on my house.”

  “I intend to pay for it myself,” he said. “Since it was my idea...” And since he could easily afford it and he knew she couldn’t.

  The quick shake of her head had him reaching deeper.

  “I’m going to be acting as your lawyer, Tabitha. It’s within my realm to do this. I can use it as a tax write-off. And, if you’d like, I can always bill you later.” He congratulated himself with a gulp of beer on that one.

  “For your services, too?”

  She was definitely keeping him on his toes. “If you’ll bill me for design time for the Angel’s logo, and personal-shopper time for my clothes and take the salary I should be paying you for working the truck... Actually, you should be getting a percentage of the proceeds, so, yeah, we can work that up.”

  Tabitha’s chuckle stopped him.

  “You win, Johnny. Alistair’s full bill goes to you.”

  The urge to kiss her right then and there struck again. Kiss her hard. And long enough to last them back to the hotel, where he could get her naked and...

  “So, who makes the call?”

  He blinked. Saw their waitress approaching with her salad and his scrod. Fitting. Apt. He felt like a scrod.

  “You, as my attorney, or me?” she asked. Then, as their dinner arrived, she sat back to allow room for the bowl to be placed in front of her.

  Johnny salted and peppered his dish. “Do you want to call?” he asked when his mind was once again fully focused on her quest. And off her person.

  “I can.”

  The reply, though completely typical for them, frustrated him. “I’m asking what you want.”

  “Oh. Then I want to,” she said. “I’m not helpless.”

  The statement was so out of the blue, he stopped midbite to say, “I never thought you were.”

  “I know.” She hadn’t started to eat yet. “I just need to make sure I remember that, too.”

  Strong, confident, capable Tabitha was insecure. More, she’d exposed a bit of her private self to him. He was glad. And he wasn’t.

  With his completely unexpected attraction to her, coupled with these odd moments of charged conversation between them, things were getting more complicated by the second.

  His brain told him to walk away. He had every right to—and no business continuing down a road that would only lead to a dead end when his sabbatical was over.

  He could do it now. Or later, back at the hotel, which would be the decent thing to do. Let her down someplace that wasn’t in public. Offer to provide an attorney in his stead. Carter Simmons would be good. And owed him a favor.

  Yeah, Tabitha would get her son back and he could be on his way.

  That thought passed all his mental checks. And with not one brain cell did Johnny believe he was really going to walk.

  He was where he was and he was staying.

  He’d just lost all appetite for the food on his plate.

  Chapter Six

  Tabitha called Mallory first thing Wednesday morning. If Jason and his father had been stationary for a year, there was no reason to believe that a few hours would make a difference, but to her, every second she was away from her son mattered.

  The daycare owner wasn’t as openly friendly as she’d been during their previous conversations. When Tabitha explained that Johnny was her lawyer and she had a legal issue to discuss with her, Mallory clearly didn’t appreciate the contact. But, in the end, she agreed to meet with Tabitha and Johnny on Wednesday evening at a pub not far from the professional building that housed The Bouncing Ball. And she’d said she was bringing a man named Braden Harris with her. She didn’t ask, she told.

  More nervous than ever about tipping off Mark, Tabitha had requested that the meeting not be in the one place she really wanted to be—the building where her son spent the majority of his waking hours.

  “I don’t think she trusts us,” Tabitha told Johnny just before eight that night as they waited at a high-top table in a back corner of the room, away from the big front window where they could be seen. Where Jason’s father could recognize Mallory, or worse, Tabitha.

  Not that Mark frequented bars. Or would bring his toddler son to one.

  “The hope is that when she sees my credentials and hears your story, she’ll change her mind about that.”

  Running a hand over her ponytail, letting it fall down her back, Tabitha concentrated on taking slow, even breaths. Johnny had offered to close the food truck early to give them time to shower and change before the eight o’clock meeting, but she’d opted for them to come as they were. They weren’t out to impress, and the food truck was part of their story.

  “I wonder who this guy is that she’s bringing with her,” she said to Johnny, one of several renditions of the same thought she’d shared with him throughout the day.

  “Since they share the same last name, I’d guess Braden Harris is either a brother or a husband,” he said, the same answer he’d given her each time she’d mentioned the unknown man.

  She wasn’t thinking so much about the man’s relationship to Mallory as her reason for bringing him. “You think he’s a cop?” she asked now. Throughout the day, she’d suggested lawyer, business partner, bodyguard.

  “It wouldn’t be horrible if he was a cop. It could work in our favor.”

  Our. Warmth spread through her. Other than Jackson, she’d never felt as close to anyone in her adult life as she did to Johnny. He was on loan from his real life; she understood that.

  But for the time she had him...

  His cell phone rang—a somewhat unusual occurrence as the few people who had his current cell number knew not to call him unless it was important. It took Tabitha about ten seconds to figure out that the caller was Alistair Montgomery.

  Johnny mouthed the man’s name to her almost immediately, but she would’ve known the identity from the way he assured the caller that no time was inappropriate to call. That he welcomed news any hour of the day or night.

  He really and truly had her back. Just like she had his.

  * * *

  “Alistair is passing off his other cases to a peer so that he can be on this full-time,” Johnny said, phone in hand as his call ended. Tabitha nodded, still nervous as she glanced toward the door. Mallory was due in less than five minutes.

  “You don’t think she’s going to be a no-show, do you?”

  “I suspect she’d have called if that was the case.”

  It wasn’t the end of the world, either way. Tabitha had tipped her hand to the daycare owner in that Mallory now knew she didn’t just have a daughter to enroll, but she hadn’t said a word about Mark or Jackson, so they were safe there. “Don’t you want to hear Alistair’s news?” Johnny asked, drawing her attention back to their table.

 
; “I assumed it’s that he’s working the case himself.”

  “He’s got Mark in his sights, Tabitha. Or rather Matt, Jason’s father.” His gaze didn’t leave her face. “As soon as he can get a clear head shot, he’s going to be sending over some photos to see if you recognize him.”

  Heart pounding, she stared right back at him. “Matt, Mark. Jason, Jackson. That’s too much to be a coincidence.”

  His shrug wasn’t a nod, but he didn’t disagree with her, either. “And Jackson?” she asked. “He’s seen him? He knows he’s okay?”

  “He has and he does, as far as he can tell from a distance.”

  Johnny leaned toward her and looked for a second as if he was going to touch her. But then he picked up the glass of soda he’d ordered when they first came in. She wrapped her fingers around her tea glass, wishing he had touched her. Wishing he was holding the hand currently soaking up condensation.

  “Matt’s a personal trainer,” he said. “He has a small gym in the same building that houses The Bouncing Ball.”

  “A personal trainer.” Keeping her gaze locked on his, she tried to envision Mark in that line of business. He’d been in decent shape, not overweight, but she’d never known him to exercise. Or watch his diet. “His medical training would give him a basic mastery of anatomy, muscles and metabolism and how they work together,” she said, refusing to get discouraged. It wasn’t as though the man was stupid enough to try to find work in his own field.

  “He would’ve needed some capital to rent the gym space and buy his equipment.”

  He’d walked away from the house his mother had owned and everything in it. “His mother had just died. It’s possible she left him some money that didn’t make it to his bank account.” They knew from Detective Bentley that he’d withdrawn everything from his own account, but there hadn’t been enough to open a new business.

  Johnny nodded, but said nothing. She’d have felt better if he’d expressed his agreement verbally.

  “Alistair saw him pick up Jason,” Johnny said, and it irritated her that he didn’t use Jackson’s real name. Or it scared her. One of the two.

  “And?”

  “He said the little boy ran up to him with a grin, handed him a piece of paper, presumably something he’d made that day, and held out his arms to be picked up.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled over. She couldn’t help it. Couldn’t find the emotional boundary that allowed her to function at work, to tend to the members of a family who’d just lost a baby. Or to help with a procedure that caused terrible pain to a small child. She cried each and every time. But she could always hold it until she was alone.

  Focus on others. She reminded herself of the coping skills she’d learned in nursing school. Taking the focus off oneself also took the focus off one’s own feelings.

  Johnny’s hand covered hers. Wanting to turn hers over, to interlock her fingers with his, she just sat there, afraid to move. Afraid he’d take his touch away.

  Before she could have another thought, Mallory Harris was there, pulling out the stool on the other side and looking at Tabitha and Johnny’s hands. Slipping her fingers from beneath his, Tabitha swiped quickly under her lashes and ignored how bereft she felt.

  * * *

  Braden Harris was Mallory’s ex-husband—and the owner of the building that housed Mallory’s daycare. Johnny hadn’t seen that one coming. The two of them had somehow made the situation work even after their marriage disintegrated.

  Not his business. Or concern. Didn’t stop him from being mildly curious, but they had more important things to deal with at the moment.

  “Since you didn’t say how your business involves my daycare, I felt Braden should be here. If it’s a structural problem, or I’m going to be hit with a lawsuit—”

  “No!” Tabitha blurted before Johnny could give his prepared speech. “I’m so sorry... I would’ve said more on the phone, but when you hear the purpose of our visit, I think you’ll understand. I hope so, anyway.”

  As if in tandem, Mallory and her ex-husband turned to Johnny. Good thing he was used to being Johnny on the spot.

  Pulling out a couple of his official, non-food-truck business cards, he handed them over to the couple. Both Harrises took the time to read them over.

  “Lead corporate attorney?” Braden was frowning now. “So your interest is in my building? Surely you don’t want to take over my wife’s... Mallory’s space, I mean. Because we can end this real quick. She has a twenty-five-year lease and neither of us is interested in breaking that agreement.”

  He might have looked to Mallory to confirm that, but didn’t. She was nodding anyway, giving Johnny the impression that these two were closer divorced than he’d ever been in any relationship. He glanced at Tabitha and had a flash of being that close to her.

  But the idea wasn’t feasible.

  “Wait,” Braden said. “Mal told me the two of you ran a food truck business.” He looked pointedly at the uniform shirts they both wore. “And now you say you’re not only a lawyer, but lead corporate attorney for Alex Brubaker? One of California’s most lucrative private investors?”

  So Braden had recognized his father’s name. Some people did. Some didn’t.

  “I’m technically on sabbatical for a year.” The more truth they told, the better their chances of being believed. “I’m running the food truck this year as a...favor...to someone. Tabitha helps me on her days off.”

  It was really quite simple when you laid it out there. Minus his sudden need to jump the bones of the woman sitting next to him. It was harder and harder to resist touching her. And not just sexually.

  Something he’d think about later.

  “I’m here tonight as an observer,” he said, getting himself and the meeting on track. “To make sure that anything that happens between now and...later will be within the boundaries of the law to protect all parties.”

  “You’re here to protect us?” Braden spoke again. The man, tall, dark haired and still in a suit, was someone Johnny might meet on a normal business day. He seemed likeable enough if you took away the edge of mistrust. Not that Johnny blamed him.

  He understood his need to protect Mallory. Kind of like him and Tabitha.

  Except...no. Not at all. The only similarity—and this was a key point to remember—was that neither women “belonged” to either of the two men sitting at that table.

  “Protect us from what?” Mallory asked.

  “If you’ll let me explain...” Tabitha looked back and forth between them. “If you can just hear me out before you make any judgments...”

  Johnny leaned down to pick up the binder he’d slid under his chair when they came in. Tabitha watched as he set it, unopened, in front of him. He’d been up late the night before, preparing a portfolio with the help of his tablet and the hotel’s printer. She’d looked through it that morning, but hadn’t said much.

  To his relief. The work itself had been no big deal; it had been more for his sake than anything. Because he approached life by understanding its various components and connecting what needed to be connected. Tabitha waited, as though she expected him to present his research. He lifted a hand to her, indicating that she should start. He was there if she needed him.

  Because he wanted to be.

  As she began to speak, he wanted to take her hand again.

  * * *

  Mallory didn’t leave the pub. Tabitha had given her the facts about Jackson’s disappearance, and the woman was still sitting with her ex-husband at the table. Thinking that was a good thing, Tabitha glanced over at Johnny, looking for any sign as to how he thought the meeting was going.

  “Here’s the AMBER Alert for Jackson,” Johnny said, opening the binder in front of him. He turned it and slid it across to the couple, who’d yet to do much but ask a question or two. They both studied the report, however.
Tabitha hadn’t gotten to the part where Mallory’s Jason was her Jackson. She’d been leading up to it, but had stopped just before the big revelation. She couldn’t lose this woman’s support.

  Jackson’s life could depend on it.

  “This is the Mission Viejo police report, which corroborates what Tabitha’s told you.” As before, both of the Harrises focused on the information Johnny had collated the night before. Thank God she didn’t have to handle this without him.

  She hadn’t felt they didn’t believe her, wasn’t sure they’d need the proof, but knew that Johnny’s decision to bring hard evidence had been the right one.

  The timing of his presentation was a gift to her, as well, giving her a chance to calm herself and prepare for the only moment that really mattered that night.

  How did she tell them what she suspected? What she knew? How did she convince them that she was right? She had to get more information. And it wasn’t as if she could become a client of Mark’s new business venture. Or apply for a job cleaning his home. Or be anywhere he’d have a chance of seeing her.

  The thought of how close she’d come, being at the daycare when his business was in the same building... The thought made her shudder.

  “And here,” Johnny said, “is an age-progressed photo of Jackson.”

  Tabitha started. Johnny was pushing them forward to the reveal.

  “Wait.” Mallory pulled the photo closer. Studied it.

  “What?” Braden Harris leaned over his ex-wife’s shoulder. “Have you seen him before?”

  Tabitha’s throat dried up as, at the same time, both of the Harrises stared at her.

  “You think Jackson’s in my daycare,” Mallory said. She sounded horrified, but not as if she thought Tabitha was nuts.

  Holding her breath, Tabitha nodded. And felt Johnny’s knee press against hers under the table. It wasn’t a hand-hold, but it worked. She took a breath. And then another.

  “You acted like you recognized him,” Braden said, glancing from his ex-wife to the photo, to Tabitha and back. “Does he remind you of one of your kids?”