The Cop's Missing Child

by Karen Whiddon

  Emily felt as if ice had crept into her every pore. Swaying, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her composure. Her sorrow and worry and fear had become a huge, painful knot in her heart.

  “Why didn’t you simply ask me back then?” Emily whispered. “I’m sure Carlos and I could have cleared things up immediately.”

  One muscle worked in his jaw, as if he held his emotions in check. “Because I couldn’t. Due to the nature of his investigation and how close they were to an arrest, I had to wait until the Feds made their move. The night before the sting was supposed to go down, Carlos was murdered.”

  Closing her eyes, Emily struggled to swallow past the ache in her throat. She knew the rest. “And I disappeared,” she whispered.

  “Exactly.”

  They all went silent for a moment, digesting this.

  “What about the pictures of Ryan in the hospital nursery that Emily got from the stalker?” Renee eyed him like a hawk. “Have you ever seen them before?”

  “No,” he admitted. “Though they could have been any infant in any hospital. The little knitted cap on the baby’s head looked familiar.”

  “A lot of hospitals use those for preemies,” Jayne retorted. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t. That’s why I’d like a DNA test to solve this once and for all.”

  “Once you were able to seek out Emily, did you contact the authorities to help you look for her?” Renee asked, her voice still brusque.

  Now Mac looked down. “No, we did not.”

  “Why not?” Her glance clearly said she thought he’d been foolish. “You were a cop. You know we help our own. I’m sure the Albany P.D., hell, the NYPD would have pulled out all the stops to help you.”

  Jaw clenched, he shook his head. “First off, we had no proof. Second, Joe went out on a limb for me. Telling me could have jeopardized the investigation. I couldn’t risk it.”

  “So Emily vanished with the baby you believed was yours. And you had no idea where she’d gone?” Renee asked, her tone sympathetic.

  “Right. No idea whatsoever.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It took me four and a half years to track her down.”

  Shocked, Emily met Renee’s eyes before slanting a look at him. “You were stalking me.”

  “Not like that,” he said, his dark gaze full of pain and regret. “I swear to you that wasn’t me.”

  Before Emily could respond, Renee held up a hand.

  “You moved here because she lived here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

  He didn’t look at Emily when he answered. “Yes.”

  “And befriended her and got her to trust you,” Jayne put in, the accusation in her voice mimicking the way Emily felt.

  Mac didn’t answer. He didn’t have to—his actions spoke for themselves.

  “Was your coming to work for the sheriff’s department part of this plan, too?” Renee asked, her vexation evident in the lines that creased her brow.

  “No, that simply happened. Circumstances. Maybe. What does any of this matter now? Look.” Including them all in his gaze, he gestured. “Despite what you all think of me, I didn’t intend for anyone to get hurt. I have been searching for my son for five years. I don’t expect any of you to understand that, but finding him was—is—the only thing that made life worth living.”

  Watching him, Emily empathized. She should hate this man, not sympathize with him. Yet who was she to say she would have done things any differently had their situations been reversed?

  She might not be Ryan’s birth mother but he was the son of her heart—and would always be, no matter what the outcome of all this...no matter who had biological rights.

  Blinking, she realized someone must have asked her a question.

  “Emily,” Jayne prodded. “Do you want to press charges?”

  “For what?” Dragging her hand across her eyes, Emily pushed away her exhaustion, focusing on the fear. Fear would keep her sharp, help her make sure she didn’t make any mistakes that could potentially endanger her son. “Though he’s been dishonest, Mac hasn’t committed a crime.”

  Jayne looked at Renee, who slowly nodded. “She’s right. As a matter of fact, I’m going to recommend that we shelve this topic for now and focus on catching this wacko who’s been tormenting our Emily.”

  “I’d like to continue to help,” Mac put in, startling Emily, and from the look on Renee’s, Jayne’s and Ed’s faces, them all.

  Then, as Emily opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand. “Hear me out. Who better to protect Ryan than someone who cares about him? I can promise you I’d give my life for him. You can’t ask for much more than that.”

  This time, rather than keeping his emotions locked inside, he let her hear the anguish in his deep voice, see the torment in his eyes. Guilt and anger and fear and...all the same emotions she had tumbling inside her. They shared this, if nothing else.

  Actually trembling, a tear slipped silently down her cheek as she watched him, aching.

  Renee glanced from one to the other. “I’ll leave that up to Emily. Honey, what do you want to do?”

  Emily slowly nodded. “I’d like him to help.”

  “All right.” Renee turned to face Mac. “I’m going to let you stay on the payroll but only because we need to catch this stalker. That is your only duty, understand?”

  “I understand,” he said. “I want that stalker caught as badly as anyone here.”

  “I doubt that,” Emily said, before she thought better of it. “Thank you,” she told Renee, turning away from Mac, unable to keep looking at him. “I’ll be going now.”

  Then, giving Jayne’s arm a squeeze in gratitude and nodding at Ed, she went to collect her son and head on home before she shattered into a thousand pieces.

  Chapter 11

  Mac watched her go. The instant she’d disappeared from view, everyone turned to stare at him: Jayne, as if he was something distasteful she’d found under a rock; Ed with curiosity; and Renee with a drained sort of compassion.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Riordan?” Renee asked. “Do you have any clue?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Not really,” he admitted. “I’m sure that must be really apparent to the rest of you.”

  “It’s okay, man.” Ed came forward, earning a death glare from his wife. “I would have done the same thing if someone had stolen Eva or Charlie.”

  Despite her obvious desire to side with her friend, even Jayne had to nod in agreement. Regardless of that, she stepped forward, poking him in the chest, her gaze shooting daggers at him.

  “Don’t you hurt Emily,” she said, drawing out the words so he’d understand they were important. “I don’t care what you feel you have to do. I even understand some of it. But Emily loves her boy, and he loves her. She’d do anything for him. Get that? Don’t you do anything to mess that up.”

  “I won’t,” he promised, realizing he meant it. “I’m going to catch this stalker. You wait and see. Once I do, then we’ll find out the truth about Ryan’s parentage.”

  “But—” Jayne began, until Ed squeezed her shoulder in warning.

  “A man has a right to know the truth about his son,” Ed growled. “Don’t begrudge him that.”

  Ridiculously grateful, Mac tried to summon up a smile. When he couldn’t even manage that, he nodded, knowing the other man would understand.

  As he turned to go, his cell phone rang. Joe’s number showed on the caller ID. Immensely grateful that his friend—rather through some sort of cosmic connection or mere coincidence—had chosen to call just when Mac needed him most, he answered.

  “What’s up?” Joe asked, his cheerful voice somehow easing a bit of the knot in Mac’s chest.

  As he hurried outside, Mac filled his best friend in.

  “You need me?” Joe asked, the seriousness in his tone telling Mac he only needed to say the word.

  “I’m okay.” Even though he wasn’t.


  “Listen, I have some vacation time coming. I’ll book a plane ticket and head on down there,” Joe said, as though he knew everything Mac hadn’t put into words.

  “I don’t know....” The protest was only a token, and both of them knew it.

  “I’ll call you with my flight information,” Joe said firmly. “You can pick me up at the airport.”

  Capitulating, Mac ended the call. He should have talked to Joe sooner. Now that he had, he felt better than he had in days. Having someone on his side—not just anyone but a savvy criminal investigator—would definitely go a long way toward helping him learn the identity of Emily’s stalker.

  * * *

  Driving home, listening as Ryan chatted happily in the backseat, Emily felt utterly and completely depleted. As though by his actions, Mac had stripped all the vitality out of her, laying her inner soul bare and exposed to the unfriendly elements. She’d come to think of him as a friend. No, she’d come to think of him as more than that....

  Ruthlessly, she cut off the thought. It was too dangerous and completely and utterly foolish. But Mac was right about one thing. If she was going to protect Ryan, she had to find out the truth about his parentage.

  Was he Mac’s son? Or, as she’d long suspected, Carlos’s with one of his mistresses? After all, Carlos had always claimed that Emily had been the reason they couldn’t have a child of their own, even though neither of them had ever been tested. His refusal to allow not only tests but also in vitro fertilization told her she would never have the child she craved. She’d labeled herself barren, in her darkest moments, when she’d despaired of ever having the children she craved. Adoption had been the only option Carlos would consider.

  And then Ryan had come along, like the brightest, shiniest gift, the greatest blessing Carlos could have given her. Her son was her world, the family she’d never had, her heart. She could no more lose him than she could live without breathing.

  Could she risk this? How could she not?

  Reluctantly, she faced the fact that the time had come for her to know the truth. First up was to find the stalker, which, since no one appeared to be having any luck, she’d have to do on her own.

  She had a plan. Despite Desiree’s denial, Emily was willing to bet Carlos’s old mistress was the stalker, which meant if she’d been the one to birth Ryan, Mac had the wrong baby. And since Desiree must have signed away her rights—no doubt in exchange for cash—she wouldn’t have as much of a chance of gaining full custody. That was assuming the documents could be found. No doubt they were among the boxes of paperwork the FBI had seized after Carlos’s death.

  That was it. Emily actually smiled to herself the first time all day. If she could get Desiree to admit to being the stalker, she could take the first step to end this craziness once and for all. The DNA test would just be icing on the cake. Her life would go back to normal, and her future with Ryan would be safe and secure.

  Her plan had only one flaw: Desiree’s repeated denial. What did the other woman hope to gain? And where did Franco come in on all of this? His arrival—with Desiree—was too much of a coincidence. That meant the two of them were concocting some sort of plan.

  What a mess. Briefly, she closed her eyes, wondering what had happened to her cherished dreams of a life in a clapboard house with a white-picket fence, playing in the sprinklers on a warm summer day.

  Now she was embroiled up to her elbows with two people—one known and the other not—who believed themselves to be Ryan’s rightful parent.

  The truth of it was—no matter the biology or genes—she was Ryan’s mother. And if she had any say in things, no one could ever take that away from them.

  Glancing at her watch, aware her rather shaky plan hinged on the hope that the stalker would call her personally this time, she began to mentally rehearse exactly what she would say. And she still had to decide if she should let Mac in on her plan.

  * * *

  Sunday passed in a blur of indecision. Mac must have picked up the phone to call Emily at least half a dozen times, always reconsidering. Joe’s flight would be in around nine that evening, so until then, he was just killing time.

  He puttered around the house, restless as a caged lion but unwilling to go into town and risk running into Emily or any of her friends.

  Finally, Mac made the two-hour drive to the airport. He parked outside in the arrival area of Terminal C and waited.

  When Joe finally emerged, striding across the pavement, several women did double takes, making Mac grin. “New haircut?” he asked, as Joe pulled open the passenger door and, after tossing his carry-on in the backseat, climbed inside.

  “Yep.” Joe grinned back, shaking Mac’s hand. “Ladies seem to like it.” Shrugging, he settled back. “Tell me everything.”

  So Mac did, starting at the beginning. Joe listened without interruption. With every word, Mac felt more and more at ease, as if unburdening himself to his best friend had removed a huge pile of rocks from his chest.

  When Mac wound down, finishing with his declaration to Emily and the meeting at the sheriff’s department, Joe winced. “Ouch,” he said. “Maybe not the best move.”

  Concentrating on driving, Mac glanced at Joe and grimaced. “I know, but I couldn’t keep lying to her.”

  “You have feelings for her?” Joe sounded incredulous. “We’re talking about Carlos Cavell’s widow? The woman who stole your son?”

  “We don’t know that,” Mac protested, aware that by doing so he was answering in the affirmative.

  “We don’t?”

  “We’re not a hundred percent certain.”

  “Mac!” Joe leaned forward, peering up at Mac like he was afraid his best friend had lost his mind.

  “Well, it’s true,” Mac continued. “I’ve asked for a DNA test. Until we do that and I get the results back, there’s no way we can be—”

  “Take me to meet him,” Joe interrupted. “I’ll bet I’d know after one look at him.”

  Mac glanced sideways. “Just like that, huh? You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  Mulling this over, Mac finally shook his head. “Things are too volatile right now. You’ll eventually meet him, I promise.”

  “It’s your call,” Joe said. “You know who else I want to hang out with? Renee. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  Mac nodded. “We’re nearly there. If it’s okay with you, we’ll grab a beer and then make tonight an early one. It’s been a long day.”

  “Sure, no problem,” Joe said easily. “I’m going to be here a week. There’s plenty of time to get everything done.”

  The next morning, Mac got up and, after he and Joe killed a pot of coffee and demolished six fried eggs, drove his friend over to Emily’s house. They stopped at a doughnut shop along the way and picked up a dozen assorted as a sort of peace offering.

  “Are you sure she won’t mind?” Joe asked, for what had to be the third or fourth time.

  “Reasonably,” Mac answered. “Though she has to be at work by nine, if we time this right, it’ll work out. Even if she won’t spend much time with us, at least you’ll get to see Ryan.”

  “Fantastic.” Joe stretched and yawned. “I called Renee while you were in the shower. She and I are having lunch later.”

  Mac nodded, already thinking about Emily. As they pulled up in her driveway and his heart began to pound, he told himself it didn’t matter if she rejected him. If she didn’t want to let him in, he’d hand her the doughnuts and go on about his business.

  Joe got out with him, one hand on Mac’s shoulder in a show of support as Mac rang the bell.

  A moment later, Emily answered the door, looking both frazzled and beautiful. Her short, spiky hair was messier than usual, reminding him of the way she’d looked after they’d made love. His body stirred, though he immediately clamped down on that chain of thought.

  Next to him, Joe made a sound of approval low in his throat.

  “What do you want?” Her gaze locked on his b
efore she deliberately let it slide away to inspect Joe.

  “Truce?” He held out the box of doughnuts.

  Staring at him, unsmiling, she shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m not interested.”

  Joe stepped forward, his brilliant smile in place. “Hi. I’m Joe Stalling, Mac’s friend from Albany.” He held out his hand.

  Taking it, Emily briskly and efficiently dispatched with pleasantries. “Nice to meet you,” she said, before turning back to Mac. “After all this, you think you can show up on my doorstep with a box of doughnuts and expect me to forgive you?”

  He winced, aware of Joe watching silently. “I’d really like to talk.”

  “It’s Monday, and I have to get Ryan to school.” Pointedly, she glanced at her watch. “We’re already running late.”

  “How about after?” Though he hated begging, he supposed he deserved this for what he’d done to her.

  Stepping back, she attempted to close the door on him. “I have to go to work.”

  “Remember I’m still working your case,” he reminded her, grateful when she paused. “Joe has years of experience working in New York. He’s kindly offered his assistance.”

  This, more than anything else, got her attention.

  Finally, she nodded. Leaving the door open, she stepped back, motioning for them to come inside.

  “Wait here,” she ordered, turning her back on him and disappearing into the hallway.

  Standing in the small tile square that marked her foyer, he gazed out at the colorful living room of the house that had once felt like home. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, and he could hear the sounds of Emily helping Ryan get ready for school.

  Mac felt a longing so sharp it was painful, well aware that he might have once stood a chance of being part of this...if only he’d kept his mouth shut...if he’d been willing to build a life based on a lie.

  “Pretty nice,” Joe commented, looking around. When Mac didn’t respond, he slugged his arm. “And now that I’ve seen her, I can understand how you two got involved.”

  Throat aching, Mac could only nod.

  A moment later, Emily returned, a freshly scrubbed and grumbling Ryan at her side. Next to him, Mac felt Joe instantly go on full alert.