by Barb Han
He thought about the expansion. The problems. The lake house that seemed out of reach.
His work headaches were racking up, but they paled in comparison to the thought of anything happening to his child. Strange, he’d only been a parent for a few hours and his priorities were already shifting.
He wanted to get his bearings as a father. It wouldn’t do any good to demand rights when he had no experience caring for an infant. He didn’t even have friends with kids.
Hell, when he really thought about it he didn’t have any close friends, either. He’d had a few beers with a few of his managers from time to time, called it a meeting. Wyatt had thrown everything he had, including all his time and energy, into making his chain a success. Looking back, he’d always been somewhat of a loner.
Somewhat?
He almost chuckled out loud. He’d preferred his own company to most of the young guys in high school. He never could relate considering he’d had a job since he was old enough to string together enough odd jobs to help out his mother with a few of their bills.
And speaking of money. He’d jumped the gun when he’d accused Meg of wanting to get a hold of Butler money the other day. Her reaction had seemed genuine. He’d hurt her feelings without meaning to. It had been a knee-jerk reaction and he regretted it.
Moving forward, he’d keep a better handle on what he said.
He needed to apologize for being a jerk. “I’ve been way off base and an apology doesn’t begin to cover it, but it’s a good place to start. I’m sorry, Meg. I’ve been acting like a real pain when I should’ve been supportive. I could make excuses, blame my past, but that doesn’t cut it.”
“We’re both working through some intense emotions,” she said. “I think we know better than to go down that road again. Kissing was a mistake.”
Confusion struck him. She’d changed gears on him so fast he hadn’t had time to hit the clutch.
Because that kiss was the first thing that had felt right to Wyatt in a long time. It was a dangerous sentiment considering he and Meg would have to figure out how to care for a child and stay on good terms.
Leading with his emotions would be a bullet through his chest when she pushed him away again. And she would.
For that little girl’s sake, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. No matter how much he wanted to haul Meg against his chest and kiss her again.
Chapter Ten
Aubrey was fed and burped. Wyatt had just arrived at Meg’s house in order to drive the three of them to the sheriff’s office.
The little girl made a face—the face—and Meg frowned. “She’s going to need a diaper change.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Wyatt looked a little uncertain.
“It’s no problem. It’ll take me two seconds,” she said, holding on to Aubrey a little defensively.
“I have to learn to do it sooner or later,” he countered, holding his arms out awkwardly.
Meg took a fortifying breath. He was right about one thing. He needed to learn how to take care of Aubrey, and diaper changing was a big part of the deal. At least she could stand over his shoulder and guide him through the process.
Reluctantly, she handed over Aubrey and Meg half expected her little angel to cry. Her doctor had said something about babies being sensitive to their environments and able to pick up on the emotions of others. For as awkward as Wyatt looked holding their daughter, he must be steady as steel on the inside because Aubrey didn’t so much as flinch during the exchange. Of course, she was busy doing something else. The product of which wrinkled Meg’s nose. Okay, buddy. Here goes full-force fatherhood.
“Diapers are in her bag and—”
Wyatt waved her off.
“Don’t you think you should let me help you?”
“I can figure it out,” he said dismissively before disappearing into the next room.
Meg wanted to chase after him and tell him that he’d been a father all of twenty-four hours and that diaper changing wasn’t easy with a squirmy baby. Plus, as soon as that diaper came off Aubrey had a tendency to finish her business. She stopped herself. He wanted to do this on his own. So be it. Far be it from her to stop him.
Impatient, she tapped her toe on the carpeting while standing by the door. What was taking so long?
Meg knew better than to poke the bear and especially while he was handling their daughter. Plus, she really didn’t want Aubrey to pick up on the tension between her parents. Parents? The word still seemed like Meg was talking about someone else and not her and Wyatt.
The proof was in the other room, most likely giving her father a hard time.
Under different circumstances, it might be funny. But then if she and Wyatt had met again without a baby in the picture she was pretty certain a whole lot of other things would be occurring in the bedroom instead of diaper changing. Things that had started her down a bad path a year ago.
For Aubrey’s sake, Meg needed to find middle ground with Wyatt. The thought of someone else being in her daughter’s life was a little jarring. Did he deserve to know his daughter? No question. Did Aubrey have a right to know her father? Absolutely. It was the shared custody, the part about spending every other Christmas away from her little girl that broke Meg’s heart. She had never envisioned having a family like this. But, then, Aubrey hadn’t been exactly planned. And Meg had never seen herself as the house, minivan and two-point-five-kids type.
She glanced at her watch. If this diaper changing process dragged on much longer it would be time for Aubrey to feed again. “Everything okay in there?”
“Of course,” came the slightly too-urgent response. It was the sound of someone who was most likely drowning trying to play it cool.
Okay, Wyatt. Let’s see what happens.
Wyatt reemerged, almost immediately handing Aubrey over. He looked like he’d just been through a CrossFit class at the gym as he raked his hand through his hair—the sure sign he wasn’t as in control as he pretended to be.
A small part of Meg was relieved because those first few weeks with her little angel had been hard. Getting the hang of diapering and every other duty that came with the role wasn’t exactly second nature to Meg. She’d grown up alone, without younger siblings or cousins to learn the ropes with. The nurses had had to teach her all the basics before leaving the hospital and she’d watched what felt like a hundred videos on the internet for reference. Then there were the mommy blogs she frequented. Becoming a mother felt like showing up to a job interview in her underwear. But, a few weeks in, Meg had started to get the hang of things. It was amazing what twenty-four-hours-a-day on-the-job training did to bring a person up to speed.
Meg cradled her daughter and stared at the sweet face cooing up at her. Her stress levels calmed enough for her to say to Wyatt, “Ready?”
She didn’t want to look at the diaper because it was pretty haphazard and she could only imagine what waited underneath that blanket. Besides, he’d get the hang of it in time, and the look on his face was priceless, no matter how much he tried to cover. He was stressed. Under any other circumstance, they’d be laughing right now. Maybe even enjoying the fact they’d brought this little miracle into the world.
But the circumstances they faced were far from funny.
* * *
WYATT PUT HIS considerable size between the members of the media and Meg and the baby as soon as the trio arrived at the sheriff’s office. He knew full well the extra attention wasn’t going to help matters for them. His high profile could place Meg and the baby in worse jeopardy, but walking away and leaving them to fend for themselves wasn’t an option.
Thinking of Aubrey, another pang of regret filled him that his mother wasn’t around to meet her granddaughter. When his child had looked up at him and smiled out of the right side of her mouth, it was his mother’s smile. Renee Jackson’s life had been tough. She’d don
e the best she could. If Wyatt’s no-account father had been around or had sent even a little support her life would’ve been so much better. Since Wyatt wasn’t the lick-his-wounds type, he was grateful that he’d been shown the bad side of humanity. It had caused him to learn early on that he was the only person who could dig himself out of his own circumstances.
And he’d done pretty well for himself.
The sheriff looked as tired and overworked as the last time Wyatt had seen the man.
“Thank you for coming in,” Sawmill said. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Instead of pointing toward the chairs opposite his desk, he motioned toward the sofa on the other side of the room.
The little girl in Meg’s arms started balling her fists and punching some unseen object in the air. She looked like she was about to cry and Meg seemed distressed. She checked her bottom and then pulled her hand from the baby’s bottom, soaked.
Meg stood and her blouse was wet, too. To make matters worse, the diaper practically fell off.
Now the baby was crying. Her mother was shaken. And Wyatt only had himself to blame. Diapering his daughter turned out to be trickier than he’d expected, and his damn pride had kept him from asking for help. He’d wanted to show her he could figure it out for himself and instead had made a literal mess of things. Damn.
Wyatt could see that he was going to have to make some changes if he wanted to coparent the right way. He apologized to Meg. He would’ve been frustrated if the shoe were on the other foot. It was a good lesson in humility. He was starting to see that he didn’t have to take everything on alone when it came to Aubrey.
Ten minutes later, the baby was dry and secured in her mother’s arms sucking on her fingers. Meg looked natural holding a baby. Or maybe that primal part of him thought she looked natural holding his baby.
Once everyone was settled again, the sheriff continued, “Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Water?”
“No, thanks,” Meg said.
Sawmill folded his hands and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Forensics was able to pick up a DNA sample from the hair ribbon.”
Meg gasped and her face paled. “And?”
“I have a name. Clayton Glass.” The sheriff paused before showing a photo.
It looked as though Meg was searching her memory for recognition. Seconds stretched on as she seemed to come up empty. She shrugged with a helpless-sounding sigh.
“I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t recognize him,” Sawmill conceded. “He isn’t from around here. He said that he happened to be driving through the city that afternoon eighteen years ago when he saw the two of you. He denied having any previous interaction with either of you prior to that day and it seems as though we can take him on his word.”
Tears streamed down Meg’s cheeks as looked at the photo of the man who’d taken her friend’s life and devastated so many others. Wyatt took the baby from her and when Meg made eye contact, a fireball swirled in his chest. Intense emotion churned behind those blue eyes of hers. An urgent need to protect her, to take away her pain, ripped through his chest. His muscles pulled taut and hot anger licked through his veins.
The baby cooed and he had to force a sense of calm even though what he really wanted to do was show Clayton Glass what it was like to take on someone his own size instead of preying on innocent children. The damage he’d done to Mary Jane’s family was irrevocable. As a new father holding an innocent little girl in his arms, Wyatt’s heart clenched thinking about what had happened.
“Did he say what he did to her?” Meg asked, and Wyatt picked up on the devastation in her voice.
The sheriff bowed his head as though steeling his resolve. “According to his confession, she’s been gone for quite some time.”
“I could’ve stopped him,” she said through a sob.
“No, you couldn’t have.” The sheriff didn’t miss a beat. “He confessed to watching and waiting for you to climb the tree. He baited Mary Jane to get her across the street without alerting you. You were reading a book and seemed absorbed by it. In the interview, he bragged about being able to slip her out from underneath everyone’s noses.”
“If I’d been paying attention,” she continued, unwilling or unable to accept that she wasn’t at fault, “she would still be here.”
“He saw an opportunity and took it,” Sawmill said, his voice even. “That wasn’t anyone else’s fault but Glass’s. He’s evil through and through. And he’ll never see the light of day again.”
“So, you have him in custody?” Meg’s apprehension mirrored Wyatt’s own. “It’s over?”
“We do.” Sawmill nodded. “And we have had for some time.”
“Meaning?” Meg pressed.
“He’s been in lockup at Huntsville prison for a little more than ten years. I’m sorry,” Sawmill said with sincerity.
“What about the ribbon? How’d that turn up the other day?” she asked.
“We lost evidence to several cold cases last year. One of my deputies believed the boxes had been marked wrong and were destroyed,” Sawmill admitted.
“I need a minute,” Meg said, looking as though she was fighting a breakdown.
“Take all the time you need,” Wyatt said.
She excused herself and disappeared down the hall toward the restroom.
It took a full fifteen minutes for her to return, and Wyatt’s heart squeezed when he saw her red-rimmed eyes. The boogeyman who’d haunted her for most of her life had a name. The truth was out. Wyatt could only imagine what that might feel like.
Meg reclaimed her seat but kept her head down.
“Are you okay to move forward?” the sheriff asked, after offering more sympathy. “We can do this another time.”
“Enough time has passed and I need to know who’s after my little girl if not him.” She’d pulled the baby’s burping cloth from her diaper bag and held on to it so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Has anyone from the Fjord family reached out to you in the past six months?” he asked.
“Me? No. Not officially. I bumped into Jonathon at the grocery store over the summer, but we didn’t speak. Besides, I’m pretty sure that I’m the last person anyone in that family wants to see, let alone talk to,” Meg admitted. She seemed caught off guard by the suggestion. “Why?”
“I spoke to Mrs. Fjord,” he supplied. “I’d like to speak to the entire family again more in depth. Time can sometimes offer perspective, and there might’ve been something missed on the initial round of investigations.”
“Like what? You have a name. What more could you want?” she asked.
“He might’ve been working with a partner. Someone who is still out there,” he said.
Wyatt noticed the sheriff didn’t mention that would be the person trying to taunt Meg now. But what would be the motive?
“If not for Mary Jane’s crime, why is Glass in prison?” Meg’s voice shook but she seemed determined to finish the interview.
“He had a laundry list of charges. The biggest was armed robbery, and that’s what he’s currently serving time for,” he supplied.
Wyatt glanced from Meg to the sheriff. “If the guy responsible for murdering Mary Jane is in prison, then who had access to the evidence room?”
“We’re checking into the logs from around that time as we speak, which, unfortunately, takes us back to square one with this investigation.” Sawmill looked at Meg. “I’d like a list of acquaintances and anyone you’ve had a disagreement with recently. It could be a coworker or client. If anyone so much as cut you off in traffic and you have a name I want it.”
“As far as coworkers go, you already know Stephanie. We have a receptionist, Amy Sharp. I can write down her contact information for you,” she started.
“Does she have any reason to have a grievance with you?” he asked.
“No.” Meg rocked back and forth a little faster as the questions continued, and he could tell that she was getting worked up. She was working the cloth in her hands pretty hard.
“Did you check into the name she already gave?” Wyatt asked, referring to the Garza case.
“He was coaching a team in a holiday tournament in Houston at the time of the attempted abduction. There are twenty witnesses,” the sheriff supplied. “We broke up the list and each person was contacted by one of my deputies.”
Wyatt appreciated the thoroughness.
Under the circumstances, he couldn’t blame Meg for being unsettled. He wanted to be there for her and shield the baby, which seemed an impossible task. Since he wasn’t capable of caring for the eight-week-old on his own, he resigned himself to the fact she’d have to go everywhere with them.
The sheriff turned to Wyatt. “How are you connected to this case?”
Wyatt glanced at Meg, who seemed to catch on because she nodded slightly, and he took that as permission to keep talking. “I’m Aubrey’s father.”
Sawmill’s eyebrow arched. “How many people knew you were a Butler before you came to town?”
“Only the Butlers and their lawyer as far as I know,” Wyatt admitted.
An emotion flickered behind the sheriff’s eyes that took a second to discern. He remembered the articles about Cadence Butler trying to run Madelyn Kensington off when she’d first come to Cattle Barge. Cadence had pulled a stunt to try to scare the former reporter so she’d leave town and the Butler family—along with her inheritance—alone.
“You think one of them would get involved with something like this? To what end?” Wyatt asked.
The sheriff’s gaze bounced from Wyatt to Meg, but to his credit he didn’t comment. Wyatt didn’t care if the man was in law enforcement, if he made Meg uncomfortable over their situation the two of them would have words. His and Meg’s relationship might be complicated, but judgment was off-limits to outsiders.
“As to your question about who knew Maverick Mike was my sperm donor, you’re asking the wrong person.” The sheriff needed to talk to the people at the ranch. “My last name is and always will be Jackson.”