by Gina Wilkins
“Oh.” Dallas reached toward the box. “Mind if I look at it?”
“No, go ahead,” Polly said, though Dallas noted she’d stiffened a bit.
Dallas held the little romper up in front of her. “It’s so soft,” she murmured. “So tiny.”
Polly looked away, but not before Dallas had seen the flash of pain that crossed her face. “You’d better put it back in the box,” Polly muttered. “Don’t want to get it dirty.”
Dallas carefully folded the garment and tucked it back into the box. And then she rested a gentle hand on Polly’s stiff shoulder. “Polly? You don’t really want to give your baby up, do you?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not being stupid. I’m being a friend. And I can see that you’re hurting.”
Polly shook her head fiercely, her face still averted. “You’re nuts. I never wanted this kid. Certainly didn’t plan it. I should have gotten rid of it as soon as I found out about it, but I went temporarily crazy, I guess, and then it was too late. But that don’t mean I’m not smart enough to get something out of it.”
“You really think you can be happy living on money you received from selling your own child?”
Polly gasped at the question. She stood so fast her chair clattered against the floor. “What the hell—? I thought you said you were my friend!”
“I am,” Dallas insisted. “I like you. Quite a bit, actually. And I think you’re making a horrible mistake.”
Polly reached out for the gift box. “I’m getting out of here,” she mumbled. “If you feel like this, there’s nothing more for us to say.”
“Polly,” Dallas said quickly, hoping she hadn’t just ruined everything. “I won’t say any more about it. If you can look at me and tell me without hesitation that it won’t tear you apart to hand your baby over to Blivens and Myra.”
Polly looked sullen. “I don’t have to tell you nothing.”
“No. But why shouldn’t you tell me—if it’s true? Unless you’re afraid to admit the real truth?”
Polly jerked her head. “I ain’t afraid of nothing.”
Dallas didn’t respond, just looked at her.
Polly sighed. “You can be a real pain in the butt, Pulaski.”
Dallas’s lips twitched just a bit. “That’s what Sam tells me.”
Polly’s scowl deepened even further at the comparison to the man she detested. “Okay,” she said flatly. “Maybe it won’t be so easy giving Myra the baby. I wish the whole thing could be arranged a little different—you know, where I’d never have to see the kid. But this is the way it has to work. And it ain’t like I got any other choices, remember?”
“You could keep the baby.”
Polly snorted. “Yeah, right. Me, raising a kid? I wouldn’t know what to feed it, what to do if it got sick—hell, I couldn’t even help it with homework.”
“There are people who can help you with all of that.”
“I can’t be nobody’s mother, Dallas,” Polly repeated miserably. “You don’t understand.”
“You think not?”
Polly shook her head. “It’s what I am, you see. What I’ve been. I mean, I’m planning to change everything once I start over in Michigan. Get a real job, maybe. But I can’t start over with a baby to worry about.”
“Of course you can, if you want.”
“How? By going back on the streets? Just the kind of mom the kid needs, right?”
“You don’t have to go back on the streets.”
Polly shrugged. “You don’t understand,” she repeated. “Hell, you probably never even met a hooker before.”
“What does that have to do with it? I don’t have to approve of your past to be your friend now.”
Defensive again, Polly crossed her arms over her swollen stomach. “I never asked for your approval. Or nobody else’s.”
“I know that. It’s your life. Your choices. And now you have another choice. You can sell your baby to these people who care more about money than human life—or you can keep it. Raise it. Do something worthwhile with the rest of your life.”
For a quick, revealing moment, Polly looked terrified.
“Even if you decide you don’t want that responsibility, you can still do the right thing by your child,” Dallas persisted. “You can give it to a legitimate adoption agency, people who will carefully screen the potential parents. Who’ll make sure that your baby goes to the people who are most qualified to raise it—not to the ones with the most cash available to buy a child.”
“You really are naive, aren’t you?” Polly whispered. “You believe an ex-hooker can be a good mother—and that so-called legitimate adoption guarantees a happy, safe home for a kid. And you really think Myra’s going to stand back and let me change my mind about doing business with her. I guess you’re going to tell me there’s no way I’d end up floating in the river.”
“I’m not quite as naive as you think,” Dallas argued, though the words stung a bit, especially since Sam had thrown them at her recently. She wasn’t naive—life had seen to that. But was there anything wrong with learning to hope for the best? With being determined to succeed, no matter how hard it might be?
She knew life didn’t always work out for the best. In her job, she’d seen the worst it had to offer—and occasionally caught glimpses of the best. She’d seen the rare acts of heroism amid the carnage, had met those few who’d triumphed over seemingly insurmountable odds to make a real difference in the often-ugly world around them. She’d made the conscious decision at the age of eighteen that she wanted to be one of the good guys; one of the ones who tried to make a difference, even if her efforts were thwarted more often than they succeeded. She still had to try.
“I just want you to be happy,” she said, busily making plans.
Polly shrugged and looked away. “I’ll settle for having enough money to get by for a while,” she muttered. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, you hear? Not now, not ever. I’m starting to worry about trying to help you. You ain’t careful, you’re going to get both of us tossed in the river.”
“I’ll be careful,” Dallas promised.
“Then just keep your mouth shut from now on, okay? You do whatever you want about your kid, and let me take care of mine. If you don’t want to deal with Myra, then you’d better disappear. Find another place to stay. It ain’t safe for you here.”
“Thank you for caring.”
Pushed to the edge, Polly rubbed a weary hand at the small of her back and shook her head. “You’re too much, Pulaski.” She snatched up the box. “See you around.”
“Will you still go with me to the clinic in the morning? You promised you would.”
Polly grimaced. “I don’t know—”
“Please, Polly. I’m afraid of doctors. Sam always went with me before. He didn’t like it, either, but he went.”
“Oh, hell. All right, I’ll go. Damn it, Pulaski, sometimes I wish you’d never shown up around here.”
“I know.” And you haven’t heard anything, yet, she could have added, thinking ruefully of her plan for the next day.
Polly left without saying anything else. Dallas knew she’d done all she could to convince Polly of the harmful path she’d set out on.
Now it was up to Polly to decide whether she wanted to willingly cooperate with Dallas’s next request.
* * *
THE FREE CLINIC WAS A madhouse, as always. Pregnant women crowded into an undersize waiting area, several of them accompanied by small children who ripped through the room, whooping and squealing. Computers hummed, names were shouted, babies screamed from the indignities of examinations or the pain of immunizations. Dallas wondered how the woman working behind the reception desk managed to look so calm and unruffled. “I’m Dallas Pulaski,” she said, making sure Polly was close by. “I believe I’m expected.”
The woman didn’t even blink. “Down the hallway, third door on the left,” she said.
&nb
sp; Dallas turned to Polly, who looked a bit surprised by the exchange. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?”
“Into the exam room? C’mon, Dallas, give me a break.”
“Please? I really don’t want to go in there alone. You’re used to this by now.”
Polly grimaced and rubbed her stomach. “Yeah, but—”
“Would you rather stay out here? With all this?” Dallas asked, nearly stumbling when a small child barreled into her from behind, leaving sticky handprints on Dallas’s maternity jeans.
Polly took one look around and turned back to Dallas. “Okay, I’ll come with you. If the doctor don’t mind.”
“He won’t mind,” Dallas assured her, and led the way down the hallway. When she reached the third door on the left, she paused, took a deep breath, said a quick, mental prayer and reached for the doorknob. “Okay, here goes.”
Dallas motioned Polly to precede her into the room. She followed, closing the door firmly behind her. The room was already occupied; the man stood with his back to the door, apparently absorbed in studying some complex-looking medical equipment arranged on a wall behind the paper-covered exam table. He looked around when they entered.
Polly stiffened, stopping in her tracks.
Dallas swallowed, and mentally crossed her fingers. “Hi, Sam.”
He walked around the end of the table, then leaned comfortably against it. “Hi,” he said, his watchful eyes never leaving Polly’s frowning face. “Hello, Polly.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Polly demanded, and turned to Dallas. “If you knew he was going to be here, what did you want me for?”
“Sam and I want to talk to you, Polly,” Dallas said quietly. “It’s about your baby. We want to help you. We can help you, if you’ll let us.”
Polly’s eyes narrowed—and then suddenly widened. “Oh, hell,” she muttered, stumbling back a step. “Oh, damn.”
Sam moved quickly, blocking Polly’s path to the door.
Dallas reached out, afraid Polly would fall over the stool so close behind her. “Be careful,” she warned.
Polly had backed almost against a wall. “You’re a cop,” she said, her whispered voice dripping with accusation. “You’re a goddamned cop.”
“I’m afraid so. We both are.”
“Oh, hell,” Polly said again, her eyes flaming with betrayed fury. “So much for friendship.”
Dallas winced. “I’d like to think we have become friends, Polly. But I don’t blame you for being angry.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“You aren’t under arrest,” Dallas assured her. “You haven’t really done anything wrong—not yet. We’re here to offer you immunity and assistance. In exchange for your cooperation, of course.”
Polly’s reply was pithy and succinct.
Dallas sighed. “I figured you’d react that way. At first.”
Polly stood like a sullen statue during the next fifteen minutes while Dallas outlined what they wanted her to do in exchange for the immunity they’d promised. Sam wisely stayed out of it, his back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, certainly aware, as Dallas was, that Polly was more likely to be persuaded by Dallas.
“And if I say no?” Polly demanded.
Dallas looked sympathetic. “Then we spread a few rumors that you’ve been talking with the police. Even if they have no proof, Myra and her friends can’t take the risk that it’s true. They’ll either disappear—or you will.”
“And if I choose to do that, anyway?” Polly challenged. “If I walk out of here and get on a bus to somewhere?”
“You could do that, of course,” Dallas admitted. “We can’t legally stop you. But you’ll only end up alone in a strange town, with a baby due at any time and no one to care about you.”
“No one cares about me now,” Polly said bitterly. “You only want me to help you bust Myra and Blivens.”
It stung, but Dallas didn’t try to argue. When it came right down to it, Polly was right, in some ways. If Dallas were forced to choose between her fondness for Polly and her job, she would choose the job. It would sadden her to have to arrest Polly—but she would do it, should it become necessary for any reason. “We can help you,” was all she could say. “You and your baby.”
Polly touched her stomach. Fleetingly. And then she glanced down at Dallas’s middle. “So where did they find a pregnant cop, anyway?” she grumbled.
Dallas smiled. “They didn’t,” she replied, and lifted the hem of her blouse.
Polly took one look at the harness and swore. Fluently. At length. Dallas waited patiently.
When Polly had vented until she’d run out of breath, Dallas stepped forward. She didn’t touch Polly, knew her touch wouldn’t be welcome just now, but she tried to express her concern with her eyes, her voice. “You don’t want to sell your baby to these people, Polly. We know about people like them—about the ones they do business with. Don’t you realize the buyers are usually people who have been turned down by legitimate agencies—for good reason? Do you really want to put your defenseless baby in their hands?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Polly muttered, her dark eyes overly bright. “The only thing I knew to do.”
“I know. You didn’t realize you had any other choice. But you do. You can keep your baby, take advantage of the programs that would help you raise it—or you can make sure it goes to a good home. One that you choose, if you like. You don’t have to sell it like a piece of merchandise.” The way you’ve so often sold yourself, Dallas could have added, but didn’t. The unspoken words hung in the air, anyway.
Polly took a deep breath. “They’ll kill me.”
“No,” Sam said, speaking for the first time since greeting Polly. “They won’t hurt you. Not if you’re willing to cooperate.”
“I’ve heard of other people who cooperated with the cops and ended up dead.”
Sam inclined his head. “It’s happened,” he admitted. “But it won’t this time. For one thing, we’re dealing with a small-potatoes organization, here. We’ve traced this Myra, and she’s a storefront attorney who’s been investigated more than once for shady business practices. She’s probably working with her boyfriend, who’s got a record for running scams. Blivens is probably the only other person they’ve brought in to help them with this. We don’t have enough evidence to prosecute any of them, but with your help we can bust them. They don’t have enough clout to be any danger to you after that. We’ll keep you safe.”
“I’d step in front of a bullet myself to keep you and your baby out of danger,” Dallas said evenly.
Polly took a quick breath. “Big words,” she accused, sounding disbelieving. But Dallas could see that she wasn’t entirely unaffected by the rash promise.
“That won’t be necessary,” Sam said sharply, shooting a frown at Dallas.
She smiled at him. “No. I’m sure it won’t.” But she’d meant it, anyway, and they both knew it.
Sam might as well know now that she would always perform her job with everything she had. She wouldn’t take unnecessary risks; she didn’t want to die, even heroically. But the danger would always be there. The last man she’d dated hadn’t been able to handle it. She didn’t know if Sam’s personal experience with the job would make it easier for him to accept the risks—or harder.
Polly was looking from Dallas to Sam, watching the silent exchange between them. “You two really are a couple, aren’t you?” she asked curiously.
Dallas cleared her throat and felt her cheeks warm. Sam seemed suddenly fascinated by the array of wrapped tongue depressors and cotton swabs scattered across the countertop beside him. “We, uh, we’re partners,” Dallas said, then quickly changed the subject. “Are you going to help us?”
“Why should I?” Polly demanded, holding Dallas’s gaze.
“For your baby,” Dallas replied, risking everything on her instincts about Polly’s true nature.
Polly inhaled deeply. “Damn.”
Dallas only waited.
Polly finally sighed. “All right, I’ll do it,” she muttered. “I’ll probably end up dead, but I’ll do it. It ain’t like you two have given me any other choice,” she added resentfully.
“You will end up dead if you aren’t very careful,” Sam warned. “You’ve got to play this straight, Polly. You’ve got to watch what you say and how you say it. Blivens and her friends can’t even get a hint that anything has changed.”
Polly cocked one hip and tossed back her hair. “I know how to run a scam.”
“I’m sure you do,” Sam murmured, making no effort to hide his amusement.
The look Polly gave him should have singed his hair. Dallas shot him a repressive frown.
Sam held up both hands in surrender. “All right, it’s up to you two now. Good luck.”
“Something tells me we’re going to need it,” Polly mumbled.
Dallas silently agreed.
“Am I free to leave now?” Polly asked, her voice still laced with defiant sarcasm, her only pretense at control now that her choices seemed to have been made for her.
“We’ll leave together, the way we came in,” Dallas answered.
Sam touched her arm. “Polly, would you wait in the reception area for just a few minutes? I need to talk to Dallas, but I’ll make it quick.”
Polly gave a long-suffering sigh, rolled her eyes, then glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes,” she said. “Then I’m out of here, with you or without you,” she told Dallas flatly.
Dallas nodded agreement. She waited until Polly had closed the door behind her before turning to Sam in question.
He tilted her chin up with two fingers and studied her face. “You look tired.”
She shrugged, self-conscious beneath his scrutiny. “I’ve slept better,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure how this would go down with her.” She didn’t see any need to add that her concerns about her tenuous relationship with him had caused her more restless hours than the assignment had.
“Is she going to help us?”