by Karen Young
“Doctor’s. In Orlando.”
“Thanks, Lulu. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Rachel didn’t wait for Jake to hang up before she was out of bed and hurrying down the hall to his room. She pushed the door open and her breath caught at the sight of him with his pajama top unbuttoned.
Looking at Jake had always made her knees weak. He was a beautiful man, tall and powerful. At forty-two he was in better shape than many of his deputies ten years younger.
Rachel’s eyes drank in the sight of him, and she felt the warmth of a blush heat her cheeks. The remark she had ready stuck in her throat.
Jake looked up, then, as he shrugged out of his top and tossed it at the hamper.
She fixed her eyes on his face. “I heard Lulu on the phone,” she said, her voice husky. “I want to go with you.”
“No.” He started digging for clothes.
“Yes. I want to go with you, Jake. You can’t pat me on the head and dismiss me like a good little girl. Scotty is my son. As his mother, I have as much right as you to go to Orlando.”
“It’s for your own good that—”
“Stop it!” She put her hands to her ears. “Don’t say those words to me again, Jake. For the last time, listen to me. I don’t want to be protected. I want to see the boy who’s in the hospital. I pray he turns out to be Scotty. If he doesn’t…”
Jake took a step toward her. “Okay, okay. I’ll take you.” He would have reached for her, but she wrapped her arms around herself before he could.
“When can we leave?”
“As soon as possible.” He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Say, thirty minutes?”
“I’ll be ready.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
RACHEL TRIED not to hope too much that this little boy would be Scotty. Whoever he was, he was sick, sick enough to be in a hospital. Even if his physical injuries weren’t serious, there was always the other. His abductor was a known felon with a lengthy rap sheet. Fear was a deep, dark presence held at bay only by the sheer force of her will. What motivated such individuals? She bent her head, rubbing at her temples. What could parents do when there was so much evil in the world?
Jake gave her a concerned look. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“We can stop for coffee if you’d like a break.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, let’s just keep going. The sooner we know…”
Her life was suddenly so complicated. She’d gone to bed last night determined to straighten it out as much as she could. Starting with Ron Campbell. She wanted the air cleared between them. An explanation would be awkward and difficult, but necessary. He was still her boss, but that was the extent of any relationship she wanted between them. If he was unhappy with her, then so be it. She’d certainly sent out mixed signals. Unconsciously she fingered the wide gold band on her left hand. Not that Ron had needed much encouragement to make a play for her, but with a word or two she could have discouraged him at any time. She felt so embarrassed, so ashamed. She couldn’t feel more like a fallen woman if she actually wore a scarlet letter.
And Michael. She desperately wanted to explain to Michael. She’d planned to speak to him on the way to school this morning, but it was going to be next to impossible to explain what he’d seen. She just hoped he was less judgmental than many people would be. She thought briefly of his open-minded acceptance of the people he brought home. Would his liberal attitude extend to a wayward stepmother?
“What are you thinking about?”
She hesitated only a minute. “Michael.”
“He’ll be all right staying with Jacky Kendall. Don’t worry. As juvenile officer, she’s taken in dozens of kids in all kinds of family emergencies. Mike’ll do okay with her.”
“It isn’t that. Some…things happened yesterday that we needed to talk about.”
“Forget about that ordeal yesterday, Rachel. That kid—”
“Not that. I wasn’t thinking of Kevin.”
“What, then? You and Michael are tight, closer than I ever dared hope for. Nothing’s likely to change that. He likes you and admires you. In fact, I think he fantasizes about having you as his real mother.”
Not anymore.
Her eyes flooded with tears and she turned quickly to hide them from Jake. “I like him, too.”
Actually, I love him, and I pray I’ll have a chance to tell him and that he won’t throw it back in my face.
“Can I ask you something, Jake?”
He glanced at her, smiling. “We’re going seventy miles an hour. Take your best shot.”
“It’s a… It’s something that—that you might not want…”
“C’mon, spit it out.”
“I’m trying!”
“Does it have anything to do with Ron Campbell?”
Startled, she stared at him. “Ron Campbell? Why would you ask that?”
“I thought maybe you had decided you preferred an Ivy-League type to a jaded small-town sheriff.”
“I don’t consider that funny, Jake.”
“Believe me, I don’t joke about some smooth-talker stealing my wife.”
“Then why did you say it?”
He shrugged. “You have to admit it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing with you and me lately.”
“No.”
“So, is this where you ask for a divorce?”
“A divorce? No!”
He met her eyes. “Then what?”
Her gaze fell to her hands as she twisted her wedding ring. “I wanted to ask you about that night.”
“What night?”
“That night in Miami. Fifteen years ago…when you were…with her.”
He shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel. “I told you, Rachel. It was nothing. It was all so long ago. It was nothing.”
“You’re doing it again, Jake.”
“Doing what?”
“Keeping me in the dark. Hiding behind a lot of meaningless words. Insisting that what happened was nothing so that the truth can’t be examined, even though that night resulted in Michael’s birth. Protecting me again. I hate that! I guess I’m just not strong enough to hear the truth, is that it?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then you’re protecting yourself.”
“No! There’s nothing—”
“Then what is it?”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth and jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you, Rachel.”
“I hurt every time I think of it.”
He sent her an anguished look. “I’m ashamed of it.”
“Then why did you do it!” Rachel’s own pain was in every word.
“It’s hard to explain.” When she said nothing and the silence stretched too long, he took a slow breath. “I was lonely, that was part of it. You’d gone back to Tidewater, and I knew you were thinking seriously about leaving me for good.” He met her gaze and the pain of that time was in her eyes.
“I’ve never told you this, Rachel, but I never felt…sure of you. Even though you said you loved me, I was never sure.”
Her mouth fell gently open. “But why—”
“I was a nobody when we got married. I didn’t have the social connections or the solid family you did. I didn’t have parents, uncles or aunts or cousins, no siblings. I was a rootless, penniless ex-GI, a nobody. But I took one look at you and knew you were the one woman in the world for me.”
“I always felt very lucky,” she said softly.
“Did you? I never knew that.”
“Maybe we should have had this talk a long time ago.”
He grunted. Baring his soul would never come easy to Jake. “Did you feel lucky because I loved you or because of the things I gave you?”
She frowned. “Things?”
“A house in the right neighborhood, a high-profile job, above-average income, a baby. Finally.”
She looked at him, appalled. “I hope you don’t really believe that.”
He s
hrugged. “I believed it that night, all right. Or I feared it, I guess. At the time, we were still living pretty tight. And you had left me,” he reminded her.
“I was confused. I needed some time to think!”
“I know that’s what you said.”
“Every time you left the house to go to work, I was scared to death that you’d be shot and killed.”
“You don’t leave because you care too much about somebody. You leave because you don’t care enough. Your excuses didn’t make a lot of sense to me then. I was pretty depressed the night Anne-Marie sat down beside me in that bar. All you ever talked about was getting pregnant or me changing jobs. If I hadn’t agreed to leave the DEA and you hadn’t eventually gotten pregnant, would we still be together, Rachel?”
“I came back before either one of those things happened, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. And I’d vowed to give you what you wanted.”
“After you’d sampled Anne-Marie’s charms.”
“I warned you it was a complicated thing to explain.” He looked out the driver’s window. “I’d gotten drunk that night. I felt like such a failure. You weren’t pregnant, you hated my job, we fought constantly. In some kind of elemental way, everything I valued was threatened. I can’t tell you how scared I was that I’d lost you forever, that you’d never come back. Anne-Marie offered…sympathy, a sort of mindless understanding with no strings, simple as that. You have to understand my ego was pretty battered. In a kind of stupid, drunken way, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
He looked over and met Rachel’s eyes gravely. “That’s no excuse. I don’t offer it as such. Believe me, I’ve never regretted anything as deeply as I regret leaving that bar with Anne-Marie D’Angelo.”
She could believe that. Now. After coming close to the same kind of folly with Ron Campbell. Rachel leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Something in the way Jake spoke made her think he was still haunted by some of the feelings he had in those days. Had she shortchanged him in the time they’d been married? Had she failed to show him enough love to help him overcome his insecurities? Was that why he’d been so inflexible with her, so afraid to let her seek her own identity? To let her be an individual in her own right as well as his wife?
She gazed out the side window, blind to the wonders of tropical landscape. Was it too late for her and Jake?
THE LITTLE BOY WAS BLOND. He had gray eyes. He was six years old. But he wasn’t Scotty.
Bitterly disappointed, Rachel gripped the foot of the hospital bed. Cheerful, colorful cartoons painted on the walls mocked her despair. A pediatric nurse watched her, obviously worried that the fragile hold she had on her emotions would crumble any moment. Beside her, Jake was oddly tense, too still. She looked into his face and saw grief and despair to equal her own. She fumbled for his hand and their fingers entwined fiercely. And suddenly, wondrously, her pain was bearable.
Jamey Snowden was thin and pathetically small against the snowy hospital white. His right arm was in a cast and he had a few scratches on his face, but otherwise he was in good shape, according to the nurse. He stirred, fixing Rachel with an anxious look.
“Do you know my mommy?”
“No, love, but she’s on her way. You’ll see her just as soon as her airplane gets to Orlando.”
Although she ached to comfort him, Rachel wasn’t certain that he would want to be touched by a stranger. The extent of the abuse he’d suffered hadn’t yet been determined, but in the few minutes Jake and Rachel had been in his room, his apprehension about Jake had been painfully obvious.
“Is this town Orlando?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I live in Atlanta. I want to go home.”
She ventured closer, gently brushing the blond bangs that lay on his forehead. “And you will, Jamey.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
Jamey was one of the lucky ones. Beneath the hospital covers, his slight outline blurred in her vision as Rachel squeezed his hand. He had been abducted from a shopping mall in the few moments that his mother had been distracted when his younger brother toddled down another aisle. That had been less than forty-eight hours before. Barely long enough for the system to publicize his vital statistics, which accounted for the confusion over his identity when the accident occurred. By the time Rachel and Jake arrived, he’d been identified and his parents were on their way from an Atlanta suburb.
“What will happen to the man who kidnapped him?” Rachel asked Jake, fumbling in her purse for her sunglasses as they stepped from the cool, dim interior of the hospital into bright Orlando sun.
“He was killed in the accident,” Jake said, giving her a long look.”
“Oh.” With unsteady hands, she put the sunglasses on.
He took her arm and shepherded her gently toward their car. “But if he’d lived, he would have been arrested and tried on a variety of charges.”
“But would he have been punished?”
He stopped at the car, realizing that she was trembling all over. “Yes, definitely. Kidnapping carries a serious penalty. That, on top of his previous record as a pedophile, would have insured the maximum. He would probably have been sentenced to life without parole.”
“Good.” She stared over the sea of cars to the gently swaying palm trees that dotted the grounds of the hospital. “Good,” she repeated.
Jake caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face so he was looking directly into her eyes. “Are we talking about Jamey’s kidnapper, Rachel, or someone else?”
“I hate him, Jake,” she said in a low, shaking voice. “I despise him. He’s scum, too vile to walk this earth with innocent children. I hope he rots. I hope he wakes up every day wondering if today is the day you’ll find him and make him pay. I hope he gets run over by a truck. I hope he gets an incurable disease and dies slowly and painfully!”
“Ah, sweetheart, I know. I understand.” He pulled her close and for a few minutes stood gently rocking her back and forth, feeling the tremors coursing through her as her pain and anguish and grief flowed out in heart-wrenching sobs. He knew she was talking about Scotty’s abductor. Deep in his gut, he echoed her anger and hatred and frustration, even welcomed it. If they’d shared these feelings when Scotty had first disappeared, they both might have been better able to cope with the loss of their son.
“Are you okay?” he asked when her sobs had dwindled to a few soft sniffles.
She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. Jake caught her face between his hands, and without giving her a chance to object, kissed her once. Then he opened the car door and hustled her into her seat. When he was behind the wheel, he started the car. With a burst of air, the heat inside began to cool.
“Are you hungry?”
She plucked idly at lint on her navy slacks. “Not really.” They’d had a light lunch in the hospital cafeteria, which she’d just picked at, but that had been hours ago. “You go ahead. We can stop somewhere before we get on the interstate.”
“Tell you what…” He shifted to face her, resting his arm on the back of his seat. His fingers toyed with her hair, tangling in the silky curls. “By the time we do that, it’ll be dark. Then it’s another four-hour drive home. You’ve had a tough day, and so have I.” His tone dropped, became coaxing. “Why don’t we have a decent meal, find a motel, get a good night’s sleep and then head on home tomorrow morning.”
He met Rachel’s solemn look squarely. Crying had left her makeup ravaged, her mouth soft and vulnerable. The skin at her nape was as smooth and soft as a baby’s to his touch. It had been a long time since Jake had felt free to caress her. He was swamped with a longing so strong that it left him stunned. He removed his hand, turned and looked straight ahead while he waited for her decision.
She studied a distant palm tree. “You’ll have to call Michael. He’ll be wondering about…about the little boy.”
“Yeah. I will.” Jake reached for the ignition with a hand that wasn’t quite stea
dy, then started the car with a roar of horsepower. “Buckle up.”
IN THE BATHROOM, Rachel stood a long time in front of the mirror. She’d taken a lengthy shower, standing under the warm spray until Jake had knocked on the door wanting to know if she was all right. She wasn’t all right. She hadn’t been all right since she’d entered the hospital and looked into the eyes of six-year-old Jamey Snowden and seen bewilderment and fear where there should only have been wonder and innocence. She knew she was subconsciously substituting Jamey for Scotty, but it was one thing to recognize an irrational thought and another to banish it.
She was so tired. They’d had wine with dinner. She hoped it would help her sleep. It seemed forever since she had slept a whole night through, deeply and dreamlessly. But there was another way to forget.
She rested a hand on the towel wrapped sarong-like around her as she thought of Jake’s warning last night: he would stay away from her until she said the words. The room had two double beds. Unless she said something, they would each take one. She covered her face with her hands. She needed Jake’s strength and warmth, she needed to have him beside her tonight.
He tapped on the door. “You okay in there?”
She straightened quickly and gave herself a last look in the mirror, then opened the door. “I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
He held out a glass with something pink in it. “Here.”
She took it. “What is it?”
“A little more wine.”
“Where’d you get it?”
Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, he gazed at her features lazily. “I went out while you were in the shower.”
“Oh.” She sipped at it, found it crisp and cool. “It’s good.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s not exactly vintage stuff, but I figured it might help you sleep.”
She darted a look at the beds.
“I like your outfit,” he said, smiling at her over the rim of his glass.
She held in one hand the towel she’d wrapped around herself and reached for his wrist with the other, giving him a penetrating look. “Are you drunk?”