In The Arms of a Stranger

by Kristen Robinette

  Stay calm, she mentally repeated the command in her head. You can do this.

  She searched for the automatic door-lock button, fighting the half-deflated airbag in the process. Finally she found it, the resonating click telling her that she’d succeeded in unlocking all the doors. She searched to the left of the steering wheel until she located the hatchback release. Her fingers curled around the lever and she pulled until she heard the telling thump of its release.

  Dana scrambled back to Daniel and unbuckled him from the car seat. Lifting him, she cradled his trembling body against her shoulder, feeling the telltale relaxing of his muscles as their bodies came together in a hug and his cries subsided.

  She could do this. She had to.

  Dana secured Daniel’s head with one hand and used the other for balance as she threw one leg over the back seat. Finally she threw the other leg over and dropped to the carpeted floor of the hatchback, her heart pounding in her chest.

  Indecision poured over her. Seconds could mean life or death and timing was everything. But all she could see out the tinted back windshield was muted sky. Without sensory clues, her instincts were in neutral. She cocked her head, listening.

  Oh, my God…

  Someone was coming, their footsteps crackling against the underbrush that surrounded the vehicle. She pulled Daniel tighter against her chest and prayed. Please, God, please don’t let anyone harm this child. He’s been through so much already. Help me get him to safety.

  The hatchback’s latch jiggled. Someone was coming in. If only she hadn’t unlatched it…

  The hatchback groaned on its hinges, lifting a fraction of an inch.

  “Dana…” Luke’s voice slid inside the interior of the vehicle like a friend.

  “Luke!” Her voice was somewhere between a whisper and a cry. “Oh, Luke, thank God it’s you. What’s happening?”

  “I’m getting you out of here, that’s what’s happening. Are you and Daniel okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God,” Luke sighed.

  “Vivian’s unconscious.” She felt rising panic. “The air is so thick. It’s hard to breathe. We’ve got to get her out of here, too.”

  “We will. But you and Daniel first. In just a minute I’ll let go of this hatchback door and it will lift. Vivian will get fresh air when that happens. For now I want you to concentrate on getting yourself and the baby out of there as fast as you can. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s about a four-foot drop. Are you hurt? Can you make it?”

  Dana considered her trembling legs. They were suffering from an overload of adrenaline, but nothing more. “I can make it.”

  “Good.” There was a slight pause. “I’ll take your arm as soon as you hit the ground. Stay on my right side at all times. There’s an old abandoned gas station up ahead.”

  “I know. We were trying…we—”

  “Dana, listen.” Luke’s voice was dead calm, commanding. “We’re going to run to the building. No stopping. Not for anything. Not even if you hear shots. Not even if I go down. Do you understand?”

  “No!” Dana felt her chest tighten. “No, Luke, I don’t understand what’s happening. Gonzalez is supposed to be behind bars!”

  “Shh, Dana. Listen to me.”

  She longed to see Luke’s face, wanted more than his voice with her.

  “That’s not Gonzalez out there,” he whispered. “I promise I’ll explain everything after I get you and Daniel out of here. All you need to know right now is that I’m sorry. I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life if you don’t forgive me.”

  Dana’s heart began beating double time. A tear slid down her cheek. “I forgive you.”

  “Then let’s get you two out of there. On the count of three. One, two, three!”

  The hatchback raised, the hydraulic hinges hissing as it automatically lifted. Dana scrambled to the bumper, half-blinded by the sunlight as she held on to Daniel for dear life and dropped to the ground. The jump temporarily knocked the breath from her lungs but there was little time to recover before Luke hauled her to her feet and positioned her on his right side.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered against her ear.

  Dana held Daniel against her right shoulder, away from the direction of the bullets, and steadied his head as she ran. They’d made it about ten yards when the first shot rang out. Dana felt the bullet vibrate the air around them and stole a glance in Luke’s direction. The momentary loss of focus made her stumble, but Luke’s firm grip on her arm held, pushing her in the direction of the gas station.

  Dana hadn’t realized that Luke carried his gun in his left hand until he fired in the direction of the water tower. The effort was futile, she knew, a ploy to buy time. And it didn’t appear to be working. Another shot rang out, and this time the bullet wasn’t Luke’s. It hit the gas station’s old cinder block building as they ducked behind it, sending chunks of concrete raining down around them.

  But they’d made it.

  They leaned with their backs against the wall, breathing deeply. Luke instantly turned to her, drawing her and the baby into an embrace. His lips sought hers, desperate and breathless. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips moving against hers. “Thank God you’re both safe.”

  Dana touched his face, amazed that she was back in his arms. So much had happened… She looked over her shoulder in the direction of the SUV, horrified that Vivian was still trapped inside.

  “She’ll be okay, I promise.” Luke’s voice was soft yet convincing. “The focus is on us now. I doubt she even knows there’s someone else in the car.”

  “She?”

  “Camille.” Luke faced Dana, his eyes dark with an emotion she couldn’t define. “That’s my stepmother up there, firing at the ghosts of the past.”

  Dana couldn’t grasp Luke’s words. She shook her head. “What?”

  Luke touched the side of Dana’s face, trailing his fingers down her jaw until he reached her shoulder. Then he caressed the baby’s cheek. “Daniel is…Daniel is my son.” He choked the words out.

  Dana felt the world open up and swallow every last piece of sanity.

  Despite herself, she clutched Daniel a little tighter and stepped out of Luke’s embrace. “He’s your son.” The words weren’t a question, but a sort of denial.

  “Daniel is my son and Michelle Alexander was his mother.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know about Daniel.” Luke shook his head. “I barely knew Shelly, and she was injured so badly in the accident that I didn’t recognize her. I didn’t even recognize the name Michelle Alexander. She used the name Shelly Henson when I last knew her.”

  “You barely knew her? Luke, she had your child!” Dana gasped.

  His eyes darkened. “By design. We were together only once. I was drunk and she was obviously forming a plan. I found something after you left. The back side of the lullaby tape had a recorded conversation. Shelly was trying to blackmail my family. If Camille didn’t cooperate, she planned to get to me through Daniel. Lord knows what she had in mind.”

  Dana closed her eyes. The cinder block wall pressed against her back was real, the child she held in her arms was real. Even the bullets that pierced the air around them were all too real. What didn’t seem real was what Luke was trying to tell her.

  Daniel is Luke’s son…. Dana tried to force the other facts into her brain, but one thought kept blocking all others. Daniel is Luke’s son…

  “You’re saying that your stepmother—” the horror she felt was mirrored in her voice “—is trying to kill Daniel?”

  “No.” Luke shook his head and looked away. “She doesn’t know about Daniel. She’s trying to kill his mother.”

  Outrage filled her. “She’s already done that.”

  “But she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t realize Michelle Alexander died in the accident.”

  “What?”

  Luke leaned back against the wall, f
rustration etched on his face. “You bear a striking resemblance to Shelly. When Camille saw you scrambling up the side of the mountain after rescuing Daniel, she thought Shelly had survived.”

  Dana recalled Michelle Alexander’s face, or what had been left of it. The idea that they once resembled each other was sobering. And frightening. She forced the image away by searching for some semblance of logic.

  “No, no,” she argued. “She would have seen me go down the mountain. She would have seen my car.”

  Luke shook his head. “You lowered yourself down the cliff but took the footpath back up. I don’t think Camille saw you go down, but I’m certain she saw you come back up.”

  Memories of that day came crashing down around her like frozen shards of ice. “This is crazy, Luke.” She resisted the urge to start running and never look back.

  “You were in the right place at the wrong time.” Luke’s eyes went to Daniel. “Or the wrong place at the right time. You saved Daniel’s life.”

  Luke was right. It was one of the few realities that she could grasp.

  Another shot rang out, and Luke instinctively shielded Dana and the baby with his body. Dana screamed. The bullet hit the corner of the cinder block, taking a large section with it this time.

  “Hold on,” he whispered against her ear, his deep voice soothing. “I’ve already called for backup. My men should be here any minute now.”

  She nodded, focusing on Luke instead of the madness that was going on around her. She inhaled the scent of him, the feel of his arms pinning her against the wall, shielding them from harm. Dana repeated his words in her head, struggling to understand. The pieces of information Luke had given her swirled around her like too many snowflakes, each visible yet blinding all together.

  “Why was Michelle Alexander trying to blackmail your family?”

  “Revenge. Money.” He looked in the direction of the water tower. “Michelle Alexander, Shelly as we knew her, lived in Sweetwater as a child. She was the little girl orphaned by the factory fire.”

  A cold wind slapped the side of the building, and Luke pressed closer to them. He slid off his jacket, and Dana accepted it, as much for Daniel as for herself. The baby had grown quiet, and Dana could feel his body trembling through the thin fabric of the sleeper. She slid her arms into the warm leather and snapped the baby inside.

  Dana remained silent, waiting on Luke to continue. “The fire was arson, not an accident. Camille chained the exits and set fire to the building. Shelly witnessed the whole thing.” He shook his head. “She was just a child.”

  “Oh, my God…”

  “She reemerged last year and tried to blackmail my stepmother, threatened to expose the murder if she didn’t pay up.”

  “But you said that Camille’s first husband died in the factory fire. Why would she start a fire that would kill her own husband?”

  “Apparently her first husband was having an affair with Shelly’s mother.” A muscle in Luke’s jaw jumped. “Why she chose to kill him and sixteen other innocent people is a question she’ll have to answer to a much higher authority than me.”

  “And because Shelly threatened to tell…”

  “Camille killed her. She just doesn’t realize that she succeeded.”

  Understanding sank in, and Dana shivered despite the protection of Luke’s jacket. Daniel began to fret as though he understood as well.

  A veil of emotion clouded Luke’s face as he holstered his gun. He held out his arms for his son. “Just for a minute,” he whispered.

  This was how it would end soon, she realized. She would care for Daniel in this space and time, just as she had cared for Michael Gonzalez, then return him to his father. Dana smiled, though her heart ached. This time would be different, though. There was no doubt in her mind that Luke already loved Daniel. They would have a life together, father and son.

  She handed Daniel to his father.

  Luke hugged the baby against him, his arms sheltering Daniel almost as effectively as the jacket had, then kissed his cheek. Dana saw the unshed tears in Luke’s eyes through the moisture in her own.

  She stared at the two of them together and realized what her heart had whispered all along. They belonged together—not only because they loved each other but because the physical connection was undeniable.

  Dana blinked. This was what she’d tried to realize earlier. Her heart had seen it, her mind just refused what seemed illogical. Daniel was a tiny carbon copy of his father, from the shape of his eyes to the dark peach fuzz that covered the top of his head. It was amazing that she hadn’t seen it more clearly before, the biological connection.

  Dana felt something within her whither and die.

  The sound of a car’s engine interrupted. “Vivian,” she whispered as she turned toward the sound.

  A firm grip on her upper arm pulled her back. “That’s not the SUV,” he whispered. “Stay back.”

  Luke immediately returned Daniel to her arms, tucking him back inside the jacket. He pressed his back against the wall and drew his gun, inching slowly until he reached the end. He glanced quickly around the corner and cursed beneath his breath.

  One look at his face and Dana instantly knew something was wrong.

  “It can’t be.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth.

  Dana put her hand against his arm. “What is it, Luke?”

  His eyes met hers. “It’s my father.”

  Chapter 18

  The sight of his father’s Cadillac pulling next to his police cruiser sent chills up Luke’s spine. What did the old man think he was doing? He mentally used every curse word not in the dictionary when he realized he’d unwittingly set his father up to come looking for Camille.

  Dammit, where were his men? He’d radioed for backup the minute he’d left his house, and called for medical units when he’d seen Vivian Metcalf’s SUV nose down in the ditch. All available units had been on the other side of the district, assisting traffic as the city began to crawl out from underneath the ice and snow.

  He glanced at his watch. By his estimation, though, they’d had time to respond and to block the north- and southbound lanes of the road, which meant his father had probably bullied his way through.

  Luke felt an illogical surge of pride at his father’s command of authority, a pride he wouldn’t have felt yesterday. Yesterday he’d believed his father a far different person than he really was. Regret tugged at his gut. How would it feel to have your own son believe you capable of murder, to turn his back on you when you needed him most?

  He stole a glance at Daniel and hoped he’d never have to face that scenario.

  “Come on, you stubborn old man,” Luke muttered as he peered around the corner of the building, his gun drawn, “stay in the damn car.”

  The door to the car creaked open, and Luke felt his heart leap into his throat. But when he tried to call out to his father, he couldn’t form the words. He hadn’t called his father “Dad” for decades. He referred to him as “my father” when speaking to others but he had avoided any personal term for so long that his tongue felt numb.

  “Get back in the car!” he finally shouted. “Dad, get back inside the damn car!”

  His father looked confused for a moment, following the sound of Luke’s voice to the building. “Son?”

  A shot rang out, hitting his father’s car with a metallic ping. His father ducked down but didn’t take cover. What was wrong with him? Couldn’t he tell that he was under fire?

  Luke stepped out from around the corner of the building, squinting, searching for any activity on the tank’s spiral walkway. Cloud-cover blocked the sun, causing natural shadows and any silhouette that might have been Camille’s to merge into an indistinguishable mosaic pattern. Finally he glimpsed a small movement near the base and took aim.

  “Dad, it’s Camille,” he shouted. “She’s on the water tank. She’s got a gun. Take cover!”

  He fired in the direction of the movement, and the sound of the bu
llet ricocheting off the water tank echoed through the mountains.

  Everything was still, quiet in the aftermath of the shot.

  Had he hit her?

  Luke tried to reconcile the pampered socialite he’d known for years with someone mentally and physically capable of murder. Though Camille had kept her slim body in top physical condition, and no doubt had a mean streak, he suddenly had a hard time believing it was actually her clinging to the stairs of the water tower and shooting at his father.

  He didn’t have long to doubt himself before she started screaming. “Lawrence, you’d better take care of that little whore yourself or I’ll do it for you.”

  Lawrence? Her first husband.

  Luke’s father stood and Luke felt his blood run cold. “Camille,” he called. “Honey, is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me.” Camille’s voice was childlike this time and, ironically, the tone was more chilling.

  “Camille, it’s me, Lucas. You know me.” He stood and opened his arms wide. “Think about it. I’m not Lawrence. Lawrence died a long time ago, remember?”

  Luke felt glued to the ground. His father had done this before, he realized. How often had he loaned Camille his sanity when hers failed?

  He could hear Camille muttering to herself, hear the metallic sound of her footsteps as she paced the stairs of the water tank. “That whore is back!” she finally shouted. “That whore Janet is back!”

  Janet Alexander. Shelly’s mother. Lawrence’s mistress.

  “No, no, that’s not true.” He took another step in her direction. “Sweetheart, do me a favor. Please. Lay that gun down.”

  Luke listened as his father cajoled and soothed his stepmother. How could Luke have known his stepmother all these years and not seen the madness? Because he’d been too busy blaming his father, that’s why.

  The wail of patrol cars echoed in the distance, and Luke realized his men were almost on the scene. But he felt dread instead of relief. Camille was on the verge of killing his father, and his father seemed oblivious to the danger. The arrival of several screaming cop cars could very well send her over the edge.