Her Baby's Father

by Rebecca York

  They walked back through the darkness to the two-story Morgan building. As they crossed a stretch of open ground where trees were planted, Sara shivered. What if they had to leave in a hurry? Would the trees give them cover?

  The moon was almost full, providing enough light to walk. Still, Sara stumbled on an uneven patch of ground, and Jack grabbed her hand.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes,” she answered, thinking that twisting her ankle would screw up their escape if they had to make a quick getaway.

  As they kept walking, she tested her footing more carefully and was glad when they reached a paved surface again.

  They circled around to the front of the Morgan facility, where Jack used his key to let them in. Then he walked to the keypad and turned off the alarm. At the same time, he disabled the surveillance system and erased images from the past ten minutes.

  “We’re in the clear,” he said in a low voice.

  “What are they going to think when there’s no footage from this time period?” she whispered, as she pulled on the gloves she’d brought.

  “That the system went down. It needs updating, and we talked about doing it. But we decided it wasn’t worth it, given the amount of time we were going to spend in this building.”

  “Convenient for us.” She looked around the darkened area. “I guess we shouldn’t turn on any lights.”

  “Right.”

  She switched on the flashlight she’d brought and handed it to him, wishing it gave more light. She’d never been here, and she looked around with interest. The building might be in the wrong location, but the interior was designed to impress, with expensive-looking paintings and modern free-form statues occupying an open area with comfortable seating.

  “You really think the company would like my decorating style?” she blurted.

  “I like it a lot better than this place. It’s cold and pretentious.”

  She nodded, then pointed to the computer on the front desk. “Can we use that workstation?”

  “I don’t think it has full access. We have to go upstairs.”

  When she started toward the elevator, he held her back. “The stairs are probably better.”

  “Right.”

  He led her to the back of the building and opened the door into a space that was a lot less grand than the lobby. It was strictly utilitarian, with painted cinder-block walls and concrete risers over a metal framework.

  They climbed to the second floor, both of them making an effort to muffle their footsteps. It was strange that they were sneaking around through a building where Jack should have complete access. But apparently neither of them felt good about getting caught here.

  Sara followed him to the second level, where their footsteps rang on the tile floor as he lit their way to a workstation in the secretarial area. Along the front was a row of desks with computers. Behind them were cubicles with privacy screens.

  The whole room was surrounded by large windows, giving them enough light to see.

  “This should be as good as anything else,” Jack said, looking around.

  He sat down at one of the desks in the front row, and Sara stood behind him, watching the screen flare to life as he booted the computer.

  “Enter password” appeared on the screen.

  Jack typed in a sequence of letters and numbers.

  “Incorrect password.”

  He muttered something under his breath and tried again.

  “Incorrect password. Warning. If another incorrect password is typed in, the system will notify Beltland Security.”

  “What the hell?” he muttered.

  “What’s going on?” Sara asked, fighting a sick feeling.

  “I thought I could get into the system. It seems that somebody locked me out.”

  “Who?”

  “I’d like to know. Maybe my father.”

  “Why would he shut you out?”

  “I don’t think it’s deliberate. And I don’t come in here every day. He probably just forgot to tell me he changed the code,” he said in a voice that told her he wondered if he was fooling himself.

  She also had her doubts. Was the elder Morgan starting to forget things? That was an interesting theory, but she wasn’t sure how it fit into the picture.

  “What’s Beltland Security?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you get around the computer?”

  “I don’t know. If I get it wrong again, an alarm bell might start ringing.”

  He was flexing his fingers when she heard a noise far below them.

  Jack’s hands stilled.

  “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “I think someone came in.”

  “Who would be here?” he asked.

  “Maybe someone from that security company that you never heard of.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Do I know?”

  He lifted his face and she could see the anger in his eyes. “I have every right to be in this building. Morgan Enterprises is my family’s company.”

  “But do you want to get caught trying to access the computers in the middle of the night? I mean, what’s your explanation?”

  “I guess there isn’t a good one.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked, switching to their more immediate problem.

  “Take the back way out.”

  Jack had just shut off the computer when a door opened at the stairwell where they’d come in.

  Sara froze in place.

  Jack might have opted to tough it out. Instead he took her arm and pulled her into the shadows behind a set of storage cabinets. Her heart was pounding as they stood in the darkness, huddled together behind the cabinet, listening to footsteps approaching. At first they could see nothing, and she felt Jack tense beside her. What was he going to do if they were discovered?

  Whoever was out there kept walking past them. With the intruder’s back to them, Sara dared a look around the side of the cabinet. It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing. The figure’s head seemed to be a blob. Then she realized that their stalker was wearing a ski mask. He also had on dark clothing. With the mask, it wasn’t even possible to tell for sure if it was a man.

  But the object in his hand was very distinct.

  It was a gun.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sara struggled not to make a sound as the gunman walked quietly along the line of desks, then disappeared down one of the corridors into the darkness.

  When he was out of sight, she moved her mouth to Jack’s ear. “Did you see him?”

  “Yeah. I guess I should have taken your advice and gone in armed.”

  “And shoot it out when we don’t even know who it is?” she murmured.

  He made a rough sound. “I guess not.”

  “What kind of security guard wears a ski mask?”

  “Nobody who has the right to be here,” Jack replied in a barely audible voice.

  She was glad that Jack had given the right answer. As far as she was concerned, this situation was proof enough that something weird was going on at Morgan Enterprises. Unless someone had come to rob the place—on the exact same night that Jack and Sara had snuck in.

  Yeah, like a thug had showed up to rob her and Jack outside that restaurant.

  “We’d better get out of here,” he mouthed, his lips still close to her ear.

  She nodded, sorry that she’d suggested the expedition. Yet she couldn’t help feeling vindicated. Jack had thought she was paranoid because she’d argued that someone might be after him. Or maybe he thought she was making up the idea that he was being threatened—for her own reasons. Now they would have a lot more to talk about, if they got out of this alive.

  They ducked low, hurrying down a corridor between a row of cubicles. She watched him moving awkwardly and knew that his leg was hurting, but he kept going because that was their best alternative.

  They turned a corner leading to t
he executive offices and stopped to listen. The intruder was still somewhere on the second level, and he must have bumped into a trash can or something, because it clattered across the floor, and she heard a curse.

  “Stay here,” Jack ordered.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “He gave me an idea. I can make him think we went the other way.”

  She wanted to grab his arm and hold him beside her, but she thought maybe that wasn’t the best way to get out of this trap.

  As Jack moved away, she sat down on the floor, pressed her back against the wall and hugged her knees, straining her ears as seconds ticked by.

  She heard nothing until a great clattering filled the empty offices. It was followed by the sound of gunshots.

  Her heart was in her throat as she waited. Where was Jack? Was he all right?

  Jack came back, his expression grim.

  “What did you do?”

  “Threw a trash can down the front steps.”

  “And he shot at it?”

  “Yeah. I guess he’s jumpy. We’d better get out of here before he discovers it’s not us down there.”

  Jack led her to another exit, but when he turned the door handle, it was locked.

  Now he was the one who cursed under his breath.

  “It’s supposed to be open?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He stopped, listening. It sounded like the shooter was moving their way.

  Jack motioned for her to follow him into one of the executive offices. She grabbed his arm. “Aren’t we trapped here?” she whispered.

  He shook his head and gestured more urgently. Hoping he knew what he was doing, she followed him inside.

  It was a large office. A wide, uncluttered desk and a separate, smaller desk with a computer on top were arranged to form an L shape. The space also had two guest chairs, carpeting instead of tile and a seating area with more chairs and a sofa. Obviously the province of someone high up in the company. Maybe even Jack’s father.

  Jack stood with his back against the wall, moving his leg, probably trying to get the kinks out of it. She saw the pain on his face and ached to do something for him. But there was nothing she could do besides give him the space he needed.

  After a few seconds, he pushed away from the wall and crossed to the other side of the office where floor-to-ceiling drapes covered the window. Using a hand to hold one panel open, he fumbled inside. She followed him and held the drape. Behind it she could see a sliding glass door, which he carefully slid open to reveal a narrow balcony.

  They both stepped out, and she closed the door behind them.

  “I didn’t know there was a balcony out here,” she whispered as they moved along the wall.

  “Dad had it custom-built,” Jack answered. “The question is, does the guy out there know, and if he does, will he think of it?”

  * * *

  AS THEY STOOD TOGETHER, backs pressed to the wall, Jack slipped his arm around Sara. He felt her shiver and held her more tightly. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. Well, there wouldn’t be an opportunity for that, because he’d be dead, too.

  He turned, looking through a crack at the edge of the curtains, and wondered if the gunman would figure out where his quarry had gone.

  He’d come here only half-convinced by Sara’s theory that someone was trying to kill him. Now he knew she was right.

  He picked up sounds from inside. The intruder was coming toward them along the hall, moving faster now. The guy must know the stairway door was locked. Had he arranged that with someone in the office? But who?

  Jack clenched his teeth. He was starting to think like Sara now.

  As he peered through the small slit at the edge of the curtains, a figure dressed in black stepped into the office. Jack couldn’t tell who it was. Just someone up to no good, with his face covered by a ski mask.

  The man—if it was a man—still held his gun in firing position, ready to shoot.

  Shoot whom? Jack and Sara? Or was he looking for someone else?

  Even as that thought surfaced, Jack dismissed it.

  On the way over, he knew Sara had been worried about someone following them. She hadn’t spotted anyone, but what if someone had been driving behind them with the lights off? He’d asked himself why someone was tailing him. Maybe they’d been looking for an opportunity to attack.

  His breath frozen in his lungs, he waited to find out if the man on the other side of the curtains would open the balcony door.

  And start shooting. Could Jack grab the gun when it poked through the door? He might have to.

  And maybe it wouldn’t work.

  How would Dad feel about his son getting killed? At this point, Jack didn’t honestly know. The whole family had been upset when he’d announced he was joining the army. He’d been welcomed home with joy—and a kind of “I told you so” attitude.

  Then he’d been in D.C. for much of his long rehabilitation, cut off from them again. When he’d gotten back here, they’d made a place for him in the company, but he couldn’t be sure if they really wanted him or if they felt obligated.

  Really, he thought, if he stayed around here, he should get a master’s in business administration or something useful so that he could make a real contribution. But was that what he really wanted to do?

  He wasn’t sure why these thoughts were running through his mind. Maybe because he didn’t want to think about the person with the gun.

  The guy stayed in the office for long moments, looking behind the desk and under the sofa. Finally, with a muttered curse, he turned and exited into the hallway.

  Jack could hear Sara letting the air trickle slowly out of her lungs. He tightened his arm around her, pulling her toward him.

  She clung to him, her head against his shoulder and her arms tightly around him. They held each other for several heartbeats. He wanted to keep cradling her in his embrace, but he knew that they couldn’t stay here. They had to get away before the shooter doubled back to have a second look.

  “He’s probably still in the building,” she whispered.

  “We don’t know for sure that it’s a man.”

  “True. But it’s easier to give him a gender.”

  “Yes,” Jack agreed. “Let’s hope we’ve got some time.”

  “For what?”

  He walked to the edge of the balcony and looked over. It was on the second floor of a building with high ceilings. Too far to jump without the risk of breaking an ankle.

  They needed a rope if they were getting down this way. Which they didn’t have, of course.

  Then he remembered the office parties he’d attended here over the years. The food was brought in, but Dad liked to keep supplies from year to year.

  There were long tablecloths that were stored in the closet down the hall.

  “Stay here,” he told Sara.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to get some table linens we can use as a rope. If you hear any shooting, you’ll have to take a chance and jump.”

  “No.”

  He ignored the protest. “Lower yourself by your arms first.”

  He saw the panic in her eyes but also the strength. How many women would still be standing here having a rational conversation instead of going to pieces?

  “I’ll be okay,” he whispered, hoping it was true.

  Before he changed his mind, he stepped back into the office, leaving the sliding glass door ajar. As silently as possible, he crossed to the office door and peeked into the hall. When he saw no one, he hurried to the storage closet several doors down.

  The contents were arranged on shelves. Still it took precious moments before he located the cardboard box.

  After scooping up a banquet cloth, he closed the closet door.

  Far away, he thought he heard someone moving around and waited with his heart thumping inside his chest. When the gunman didn’t appear, he brought the cloth back to the office where he’d left Sara
.

  She hadn’t followed directions. Instead of staying on the balcony, she was in the office, looking anxiously toward the door.

  “What are you doing in here?” he whispered.

  “I was too worried about you to stay out there.”

  He gave her a direct look. “If I’d gotten shot, you’d need to tell them what happened.”

  She made a low sound. “You’re sure they would believe me?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Sorry. I’m just being cynical. Why should they believe my wild story?”

  “Because it’s true,” he snapped.

  “That’s not always enough reason.”

  Once he would have disputed that. Now he knew better. He’d resisted the idea that someone was trying to kill him. Even when they’d broken into Morgan Enterprises, he’d still been skeptical. Then he’d been locked out of the computer system. And somebody had started shooting at him and Sara.

  And the guy was still in the building.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  When he stepped back outside, Sara followed, turning to close the door behind them.

  Out in the darkness, they both took a gulp of the fresh air.

  “Almost home free,” he whispered.

  She nodded, waiting while he tied one end of the tablecloth to the railing and tested the line with a couple of stiff jerks before feeding it through two slats toward the ground. When he looked over, he saw that it didn’t reach all the way, but at least they’d be a lot closer to the ground when they got to the end.

  As more seconds ticked by, he debated what to do next. If he went first, he could turn around and catch Sara if she fell. But he didn’t like the idea of leaving her on the balcony where she was so vulnerable.

  “You go first,” he said.

  She gave him a panicked look.

  “Go, before he catches us both up here.”

  She stopped arguing and slung one leg over the railing, then lowered herself on the bars until she reached the makeshift rope. After testing her weight, she began letting herself down, using her hands and her legs.

  He held his breath, watching her slow progress and praying that she would make it without falling—and before the gunman came back to his dad’s office and started looking more thoroughly.