by Joanna Wayne
“Let him sleep. I’ll come back and carry him in once I check the house. This is just a precaution. I’m not expecting trouble, but if it arises, lock the car and call Cutter.”
Hawk had his doubts about immediate response to a 911 call. He had none about Cutter, and he was only minutes away. He went back for his rifle, then walked past Carne and onto the porch.
The front of the house was secure, locked and closed tight. He fit the key in the lock and opened the door cautiously, waiting and listening before stepping inside. Carne stopped barking and followed him in, his tail wagging as if they’d crossed the danger zone and all was safe again.
A few minutes inside the house and Hawk agreed with that assessment. As far as he could tell, nothing was amiss and there were no burglars or troublemakers lurking about.
He stooped and gave Carne a few solid pats. “Good job, but next time try to let me know it’s just a visit from a four-legged creature you’re warning us about.”
“All’s clear,” he announced as he approached the car. “I’ll get Brandon and come back for your luggage.”
“Thanks.”
She grabbed her makeup bag and purse from the front seat while he unlatched the booster seat and lifted Brandon. The kid opened his eyes for a second, saw it was Hawk and let his head fall back to Hawk’s shoulder.
A knot swelled inside Hawk’s throat, choking him so that he could barely swallow. He wasn’t sure he’d ever held a kid this size before. In fact, he couldn’t remember holding a kid of any size before.
Alonsa stopped at the mailbox. He walked past her and into the house, the knot growing larger while his thoughts drifted into a dark mire of memories.
He wondered if his father had ever carried him like this. If so, how could he go from this feeling of protectiveness to the way he’d treated Hawk? How could he go so far as to—
He stiffened and felt the burn of acid in the pit of his belly. He would not go there. It was all in the past.
He pushed Brandon’s bedroom door open with his foot and crossed the room, stepping over blocks and a toy tractor before reaching the bed. A picture of Brandon as a baby in Todd’s arms sat on the bedside table. He studied it as he lay Brandon on the bed so that his head rested on the plump pillow.
He wondered what thoughts and feelings had flooded Todd’s mind when he’d held his baby son and if he would have done things differently with Alonsa if he’d known he had so little time.
Brandon was a good kid. He’d need a dad equal to the task of loving him the way his own father never got a chance to do. Hawk was not fool enough to believe he was that man.
A low cry echoed in his ears. The kind of agonizing cry a man who’d seen men die never forgot. He heard it again, only this time he knew it wasn’t just in his head.
Alonsa.
Panic and adrenaline collided inside him and he hit the stairs at a dead run.
Chapter Twelve
Alonsa was standing at the kitchen table gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Taut blue lines corded her neck and forehead. Hawk scanned the area quickly. There was no blood, no sign of injury or of an intruder.
It could have been another call, except that he hadn’t heard the phone ring. He stepped behind Alonsa and circled her waist, pulling her close.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“This.” She let go of the table and picked up a snapshot from the top of a stack of mostly unopened mail.
He took the picture from her shaking fingers. His stomach rolled, and he understood the agony he’d heard in Alonsa’s cry.
The picture was of Lucy, older than she’d been in the pictures that filled Alonsa’s house, but there was no doubt in his mind it was her. She was sitting in a field of flowers, smiling.
Only the flowers weren’t really flowers, he noted upon closer inspection. They were splatters of blood falling from what appeared to be the mangled body of a dead baby that Lucy was cradling in her arms. A message had been scribbled across the bottom of the picture.
Help me, Mommy!
This was as sick as anything Hawk had ever seen and he’d seen a lot.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was inside that manila envelope. There was no note, just the picture. It was stuffed into the box with the regular mail.”
He picked up the envelope, touching only one corner on the chance it held fingerprints. Alonsa’s name was on the front in what looked like a child’s printing. There was no address and no return address. No other marks of any kind.
It had to have been hand delivered. It must have been the sender’s scent that Carne had picked up, suggesting the intruder had at least been on the porch. There had been no sign she or he had tried to break in to the house.
Alonsa started to shake. “It’s Lucy. She must be alive. But what kind of hell is she living in?”
He placed the envelope on the table and studied the photograph. “She may not be living in any kind of hell.”
“How can you look at that picture and say that? She’s holding a dead baby.” Her voice bordered on hysterical.
“She’s smiling,” Hawk said.
“That makes it worse. My Lucy. My poor Lucy. What has this monster turned her into?” Shudders shook her body and she broke into heaving sobs.
He held her, comforting her as best he could while he analyzed every aspect of the photograph. When the worst of the sobs had subsided, he let go of her long enough to grab a paper towel and wipe the smeared tears from her face.
She took it from him and blew her nose.
“It may not be nearly as bad as you think, Alonsa.”
She jerked away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Hawk. I’m not stupid. I know what I see.”
“Then sit down and take another look.”
She didn’t sit and when her gaze fastened on the snapshot, tears again welled in her eyes. She held her stomach and gagged. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“How long after the abduction do you think this picture was taken?” he asked, trying to get her to reach past the horror to a semblance of objectivity.
She sniffed and grabbed another paper towel. “At least a year.”
“She looks healthy,” he said. “No sign of malnourishment, visible bruises or scars.”
“She’s holding a dead baby. What if this is part of the baby ring? What if they made her kill it or watch them do it? It’s all my fault. I should have held on to her hand. I should have found her long before now.” She turned away. “I can’t bear it, Hawk. I just can’t.”
“Do you have a magnifying glass in the house?”
“In the drawer beneath the coffeepot, but I don’t want to see more.”
Hawk did. He retrieved the magnifier and studied the minute details. “Take a look at the baby’s face.”
She turned away. “You look. I’ve seen enough.”
“I don’t think that’s a real baby. And even if it is, the hands holding it have been altered. They don’t fit exactly right on Lucy’s wrists.”
“What are you getting at?”
“That may well be an older Lucy in the picture, but someone familiar with computerized photography has doctored everything else you see, right down to the flowers that look like blood.”
Alonsa finally gathered the courage to take the magnifier and see for herself what he was describing.
“Hold the magnifier close, but don’t touch the picture,” he cautioned. “We’ll get it to the FBI for a fingerprint check. They should be able to get a faster turnaround than local authorities.”
“I didn’t think of that. I’ve already touched it and the envelope.”
“They may still be able to get a usable print.”
“It does look altered. Even if that’s a real baby, Lucy may not be holding it.” Her voice was hoarse from the sobs but there was relief there, too. “Whoever took Lucy didn’t kill her, Hawk. If they were going to they wouldn’t have waited a year. And this may be more recent than t
hat.”
The tears spilled down her cheeks again. “Lucy’s alive. I’ve always tried to convince myself of that, but I could never be certain. Now I am.”
It sounded good, but Hawk wasn’t nearly as sure of that as Alonsa. That wasn’t the only concern. If Lucy was alive, she was apparently with the mentally and emotionally unbalanced person who’d orchestrated this photograph. Undoubtedly the same deranged person who’d made the phone calls.
“We have to find her, Hawk. We have to.”
That he agreed with, and soon. The hand delivery of the nightmarish photo indicated not only that the person knew where Alonsa lived but that his or her mental state was likely deteriorating.
Alonsa stepped away from the table and shoved her hair back from her face. “Why? Why do this to me? How can someone want to hurt me like this?”
That was the question they had to answer before her tormentor upped the ante again and with it the danger to Alonsa.
“I’ve thought and thought about this,” Alonsa said. “I’ve never done anything to deserve this and Lucy definitely hasn’t. It just doesn’t make sense.”
She was growing agitated again. With good reason, Hawk noted.
“Do you still have that wine?” he asked.
“In the back of the refrigerator. I chilled it this weekend, but never opened it.”
“I think a glass may be in order now. It will help you unwind before Brandon wakes up from his nap raring to go.”
She nodded. “I’ll get the glasses and the corkscrew.”
They took the wine to the front porch and talked while they sipped the fruity chardonnay. There were no more tears, but Hawk knew Alonsa’s nerves were shot and that she’d see that picture in her mind every time she closed her eyes until Lucy was home again.
Who could do this to Alonsa and to an innocent little girl?
He wouldn’t breathe easy again until he found out. And then he hoped heaven would have mercy on the kidnapper’s perverted soul, because he wouldn’t have any on their life.
Until then, he’d make sure Alonsa and Brandon were never in this house alone.
HAWK KICKED AT THE SHEET and tried to find a way to get comfortable on a bed that was much too soft. He could sleep on the ground or on a hard navy bunk without any problem, but a spongy mattress made him feel as if he was drowning in a thick sea of cotton.
He’d been relegated to the downstairs guest room in Alonsa’s meticulously decorated house. He wasn’t about to leave her alone, and neither he nor Alonsa would have gone along with his sharing her bed whenever Brandon was around to question the arrangement.
Hawk had spent the latter part of the afternoon dealing with the situation. He was driving into Houston tomorrow afternoon to deliver the picture and the manila envelope to an FBI agent there. Craig Dalliers had promised to get in touch with them before then to request an expedited fingerprint check.
Alonsa was spending the day with Linney. When she picked up Brandon from preschool, she’d go back there and stay until Hawk returned from Houston.
The local sheriff and his deputies would be doing regular drive-bys of Alonsa’s house and also watching the road in. Hawk had contacted a security surveillance company that Cutter had used before to install cameras on the gate coming onto Alonsa’s spread and on the outside of her house.
And Cutter was arranging for highly dependable off-duty police protection for Alonsa when Hawk wasn’t available.
As traumatic as receiving the picture was for Alonsa, it had refueled the investigation. Now Hawk just needed to get a few hours of shut-eye so he’d be refueled.
His mind went back to Alonsa. Days ago Cutter had asked if he was falling for her. At this point his answer would have to be no. He’d already fallen and fallen hard.
But it changed nothing.
Finally he drifted into the twilight zone where reality blurred with the subconscious. He was back in the B&B, watching as Alonsa stepped out of a slinky black dress and stood in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of see-through lace panties that barely covered her soft triangle of dark hair.
Her body started to sway erotically and she took his hand and coaxed him to dance with her. They were both naked now, their bodies pressed together while hers made moves that were driving him out of his mind.
The music squeaked.
Immediately Hawk jerked to full wakefulness, his body tense and fully alert. The squeak sounded again. Someone was descending the staircase. He slid off the bed and stepped to the door just as Alonsa reached the bottom step.
She was wearing a ruby-red, slip-like nightie that cupped her breasts and then flared out to fall like a silky scarf somewhere above mid thigh. A short robe was thrown over her shoulders but did nothing to detract from the spell-binding view. He stood and stared, not trusting himself to speak.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I thought a glass of milk might help. Did I wake you?”
“No,” he lied. “Milk sounds good. Want company?”
“I’d love some.”
He got the glasses. She filled them and scooted one toward him before curling up in a chair catty-corner to his.
“Do you always sleep in a…”
“A negligee?” she asked, finishing his question for him.
“Yeah, one of those.”
“I have a weakness for provocative lingerie. Not that I’d ever walk around Brandon dressed like this.”
“Hence the robe?”
“Right, though he never gets out of bed during the night. If he wakes from a bad dream or needs something, he calls and I go to him.”
“Nice to know.”
“I’m glad you were up, Hawk. I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for holding me together this afternoon.”
“No need to. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Had you not been here when I opened that envelope, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Had an agonizing few minutes just the way you did and then pulled yourself together.”
“I’m not so sure of that. I don’t seem to be able to do without you these days.”
Hawk grew uneasy. He didn’t like where this conversation seemed to be heading. “You just feel that way because I’m searching for Lucy. Once this is over, you won’t need anyone, especially me.”
“I think maybe I will. I like us together, Hawk. I like the way we fit and the way we make love.”
His chest tightened and his mouth felt like he’d filled it with grit. “I like us together, too. Just don’t read too much into it, Alonsa. I’m not the man you’re making me into.”
Her mood changed in an instant. She exhaled sharply and crossed her legs, swinging the right one furiously. “Why do you withdraw like that every time I try to get close to you? I wasn’t suggesting we move in together or start planning a wedding. I just wanted you to know that I’m crazy about you and I think we’re good together.”
“Then just disregard my statement.”
“We made love,” she said, clearly not disregarding. “Not ‘had sex’ but made love. I know the difference and it takes two to do that.”
“I don’t want to argue with you about this tonight, Alonsa. You’ve had enough to deal with today.” He finished his milk, carried his glass to the sink and rinsed it. “We should both try to get some sleep.”
Her expression softened. “Is there someone else? Did you leave someone behind when you moved here that you’re still in love with?”
“My God, Alonsa. Do you really think I made love to you like that last night when I had feelings for someone else?”
“I had to ask, Hawk. I have to know.”
Exasperation peppered his nerves. “There’s no one else. There hasn’t been for years. Now go to bed. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
He walked off and left her sitting at the table. He didn’t want to hurt her. He should have never let things get this far between them.
He collapsed onto the bed, wide-awake now with no dreams of Alo
nsa dancing though his mind. There were only the harsh truths of reality. He didn’t have what it took to make her happy. He never would.
“This is about your mother, isn’t it?”
He groaned and stared at Alonsa standing in his doorway with her shapely hip propped against it and her breasts peeking out from the red lace. Would this never end?
“This has nothing to do with my mother.”
“Then it’s your father. You always change the subject and pull into yourself when I ask about your life on the ranch.”
The muscles in his stomach clenched. “Let it go, Alonsa.”
“What happened between you and your father, Hawk? What happened on that Oklahoma ranch?”
He sucked in a deep breath. She wasn’t going to give up and go to bed and what did it matter anyway? She probably deserved the truth after he’d come on to her when she was vulnerable and depending on him. And he’d certainly pried into her life enough.
“Okay, Alonsa. You want to know why I’d make a rotten husband and father? I’ll give it to you straight.”
“Not the five-words-or-less routine, Hawk. I won’t settle for that.”
“Twenty or more, with no interruptions from you until I’m done.”
She dropped to the edge of his bed. “I’ll take that.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I don’t remember much about my mother. She left my dad and me the year I started first grade. I got tired of people asking me when she was coming home and finally started telling them she was dead. I never heard from her. No cards or gifts or pictures, so basically she was dead to me.”
“How sad. Have you ever—”
Hawk put up a hand to halt her comment.
“Right,” she said. “No interruptions.”
“Things didn’t change much after she left except that instead of her cooking our meals, an elderly Hispanic woman came in every evening and put a meal on the table. The rest of the time I ate cereal or peanut butter sandwiches.”
Alonsa bit back the sympathy, though she certainly felt enough. The only time Hawk had looked at her since starting the grim explanation was when he’d signaled her to keep quiet. He was staring straight ahead now, talking in a monotone as if the story were a recitation that didn’t affect him at all.