“‘Lo,” a sleepy voice greeted her.
“Jill! Where are you?”
“Home. Asleep. Rosalie? What’s up?”
Cold, dark suspicion crept up Rosalie’s spine. Instinctively she turned her back to Morgan and bent over the cell, as if to keep him from hearing what came next. Oh, lord, what came next?
“Where’s Joey?”
“With his grandma. She came to pick him up, with the nanny, like you told her to, when you decided to spend the night …” The girl stopped. “But you wouldn’t do that, would you?”Rosalie felt her face go red at the memory of how close she’d come, but fear and anger swept every thought away, except one. Lillian had Joey.
“Did I screw up?” Jill asked in a small voice.
“It wasn’t your fault. Go back to sleep.”
Rosalie clicked off. She knew whose fault it was.
Anger swelled inside her as she turned toward Morgan.
“You son of a bitch!”
He jerked back in surprise.
“Don’t act innocent, you unspeakable jerk.”
“What happened?”
“As if you didn’t know. Lillian has Joey. Where the hell did she take him?”
Rage cascaded down Morgan’s body, washing away the worry over the kid that had all but paralyzed him. “You think I knew about this?”
“No, I don’t think you knew about this. I think you planned it. Why else would you put on the big seduction act? You gave yourself too much credit, as usual, and thought I wouldn’t find out that she’d taken him until tomorrow. Now, where’s Joey?”
“I don’t know.”
She took a step toward him and jabbed her finger inches from his chest. The urge to swipe her hand away trembled through him, but he ignored it.
“Don’t lie to me. Where did she take him?”
“Back to Boston, probably.” The implications of what Lillian had done hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water. “We’ve got to stop her.”
Rosalie’s cell phone was already in her hand.
“The police will find them.”
“You’d call the police on Lillian?”
“The woman kidnapped my son. Kidnapping’s a crime. Someone commits a crime, you call the police. You don’t have to go to law school to know that.”
He reached out and closed his hand over hers, surprised to find it ice cold. “You can’t.”
She jerked her hand away. “Why not? I want Joey back. Now.”
“I’ll get him back for you. Leave the police out of it. If I don’t have him back by morning, you can call them then.”
She rolled her eyes. “And look like a besotted fool who waited until it was too late to report a crime because some man told her he’d take care of it? No, thank you. She, and you, did the crime. You can both do the time.”
“How will that be better for Joey? Will it get him home any faster?”
She grimaced and turned off the phone. Relief made him take a step back.
“Please stop pretending you weren’t in on this.” The hint of tears in her voice softened the blow of her accusation. But not enough.
“You really believe I’d help Lillian do something this stupid?”
“You ask me out to dinner and play the seduction game, she walks off with Joey. Jill said she even brought a nanny with her. Sounds as if it was all planned out in advance.”
He took another deep breath. “Not by me. All I know is Lillian wanted to have dinner with me. I told her I had a dinner date with you. There was no mention, no sign, of a nanny.”
“How did Lillian find my address?”
“Maybe her lawyer dug it up. I don’t know.”
“You keep saying you don’t know, but you’re also pretty darn sure you can find them and bring Joey back.”
She wasn’t being rational. He’d never known what to do when logical arguments didn’t work. Arguments about why his mother shouldn’t leave, arguments about why Rosalie should believe him. Believe in him. The rage pushed him toward the door, but raw emotion wasn’t the answer. He’d learned that much.
“Why don’t you let me at least try?”
“Where do you think they are?” she asked in a small voice.
“They might be on their way back to Boston, but Lillian’s not the type to take the red-eye. Maybe we should sit down and …” Rosalie took three awkward steps and fell more than sat in one of the dining-room chairs. The cats came to stand silent guard at her feet.
He sat across from her, took out his cell, and punched in the familiar number. The phone at the other end rang three times before Lillian’s butler answered.
“Harkins? I need to know what day Mrs. Danby’s scheduled to leave Los Angeles.”
He shot a glance at Rosalie, who looked as if she’d fall apart at any moment. Lillian wouldn’t harm Joey, but Rosalie wouldn’t find that much comfort. She wanted her kid back. He didn’t blame her.
“I know it’s late there, Harkins, but this is urgent.”
As the anger ebbed, fear took over. Rosalie wrapped her arms around her waist and sat shaking while Morgan listened to the voice on the phone.
Too many strong emotions swirled around inside her. Too many awful images flowed through her brain. She fought to focus on Morgan’s words, on anything real and stable.
“Well, wake the whole staff, if you have to.” She shuddered at Morgan’s subdued roar, glad she wasn’t the person on the other end. “Someone must know her itinerary.”
He crossed one long leg over the other and jiggled his foot while he waited to have his orders obeyed.
If only she could think straight. But Joey’s absence was like a hole in the center of her body that sucked in all her energy and left room for nothing else.
Coffee. She should make coffee. She started to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her.
When she wobbled, Morgan took her hand in his free one to steady her. His touch didn’t sizzle, the way it had earlier, but sent a slow warmth though her as she lowered herself back into the chair.
She wasn’t alone. Tears flooded down her face. She pulled her hand free to wipe them away, then wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want him to see how shattered she was.
She didn’t feel so cold, so afraid when he held her hand, but that made no sense. He was obviously angry with her.
But he was still here to help her. Or to help Lillian.
She wished she could put two thoughts together without thinking about Joey, worrying whether he was okay.
Morgan straightened. “Thank you, Harkins. If it hadn’t been an emergency, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”
“What did you find out?” Rosalie’s heart hammered in her chest.
“They’re not due to leave until tomorrow.” He stood up and took out the car keys. “I’ll drive out to her hotel and have Joey back in an hour or two.”
“No.”
Now it was clear what needed to be done, everything was easier. She stood on solid legs, grabbed her purse, and headed for her bedroom.
“I’ll go with you. Just let me get a coat. I don’t want Joey alone with strangers any longer than he has to be.”
“Are you sure …?”
“Yes. The woman has my son.”
The drive to Santa Monica seemed endless. When they got to the hotel Morgan tossed the car keys to the valet and led her inside.
Despite the late hour, the brightly lit lobby was full of people talking, laughing. Didn’t they know someone had taken her child? She shook the reaction off. She’d felt the same way during the dark last days of her mother’s illness.
Morgan must have known Lillian’s room number because he headed through the crowd to the bank of elevators.
The close confines of the metal box made it impossible to ignore his tension—or his anger. Rosalie shivered.
She heard the muted sound of Joey’s wail the minute they stepped off the elevator. Her body tensed. Charlie’s face, his father’s face, flashed through her mind.
N
o, she reminded herself. But the mere idea made her grab Morgan’s arm. She didn’t realize how tightly until he twisted it to loosen her grip.
“Sorry,” she mumbled past the lump in her throat.
To her surprise, the door to Lillian’s suite opened as soon as Morgan knocked.
“You’re not room service,” Lillian snapped at him.
“No, but you are in the middle of committing a felony.”
Rosalie pushed past Morgan into the suite.
“Why is she here?” Lillian asked.
“Where’s the kid?” Morgan countered, but Rosalie didn’t wait for an answer.
She followed Joey’s wail across the room toward a closed door and threw it open.
On the other side, a sturdy young woman in a gray uniform stood by a crib with Joey in her arms. He wriggled and kicked so hard, Rosalie didn’t see how the woman could hold on.
When she saw Rosalie, the nanny cooed, “Who’s that?” over his protests.
Rosalie crossed the room and took the boy into her arms. The familiar weight, his little-boy smell were like magical gifts after all she’d been through in the last hour.
“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged him close. “Are you okay?”
He stopped crying and laid his head on her shoulder. “Mama.”
She froze, unable to breathe, her heart too big for her chest. He’d never called her “Mama” before.
“Yes, Joey, I’m here.”
“Mrs. Danby tried to get him to call her Mama, but he wouldn’t.” The nanny’s relief was obvious. “That’s when I figured out there might be a custody issue here. I didn’t know whether or not to call 911.”
Rosalie kissed the top of Joey’s head, almost drowning in relief. Now he was quiet, she heard the low, angry rumble of Morgan’s voice in the next room. He didn’t yell, but his tone still made her glad she couldn’t hear his exact words. She exchanged nervous glances with the nanny.
“Can you help me gather up Joey’s things?” Rosalie asked her.
The nanny nodded and began to gather the toys he’d thrown around the room.
“Joey?” she said. “Mrs. Danby called him Charlie.”
Rosalie groaned and held the child closer.
By the time the nanny had everything organized, Joey was asleep. Rosalie managed to get him strapped in the shiny new car seat without waking him. All she heard now from the next room were Lillian’s sobs. Rosalie and the nanny exchanged another nervous look.
“Maybe I should call someone to carry him downstairs for you,” the nanny suggested.
“I’ll carry him.” Morgan stood in the doorway.
He seemed older, the lines in his face clearer, his eyes dim.
“I’ve arranged another room in the hotel for you,” he told the nanny, “and pre-paid a shuttle to the airport in the morning. Here’s my business card with your airline reservation number on it, and my cell, so you can call me if you have problems with Mrs. Danby. Call me, too, if you don’t receive the money she owes you within a week. You can use me for a reference. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”
“I’m sorry, too. I had no idea …” The nanny turned to Rosalie. “Your son’s such a sweet little thing, and so cute. You’re a lucky lady.”
Rosalie laid a hand on Joey’s head to reassure herself again he was safe.
The nanny picked up her suitcase and coat, cast one worried glance toward the next room, and left by a door that opened into the hotel hallway.
Before Rosalie was able to decide what to do or say next, fists pounded on the main door to the suite.
“Open up! Police!”
Lillian screamed. Something heavy fell to the floor.
“Stay here!” Morgan ordered Rosalie.
He rushed into the next room at the same moment three police officers burst in through the door to the hall, guns drawn. Instinctively he froze and raised his hands, then took an involuntary step forward at the sight of Lillian sprawled unconscious on the floor.
One of the officers, a woman, clicked the radio on her shoulder to call for an ambulance.
“Who are you?” one of the male officers asked, gun still pointed at Morgan’s heart.
Morgan explained, his mind half on the gun, half on Lillian as the other two officers assessed her condition.
Satisfied there were no weapons in the room, the officer interrogating Morgan lowered his weapon while the other male officer gave Lillian CPR.
Morgan stood where he could watch their progress while he answered questions. Slowly Lillian’s face, so twisted with pain he barely recognized it, went from gray to something more like its usual color.
“And where’s the child now?” the officer asked.
Morgan gestured toward the bedroom. “In there with his legal guardian.”
The officer flipped back a few pages in his notebook. “Ms. Walker?”
Awareness dawned. Rage robbed Morgan of the breath to answer. Rosalie not only thought he’d been in on Lillian’s plot, she’d called the police after all.
He nodded and relaxed the hands that had fisted at his side.
At a signal from the officer in charge, the female officer knocked once on the door and went into the other room.
Rosalie answered the officer’s questions, then waited in awkward silence with her until they heard the EMTs roll the gurney with Lillian on it to the elevator.
One of the male officers came in. “Ready to go?” he asked his colleague.
The female officer turned to Rosalie. “Do you have a way to get home?”
The image of dollar signs flying away danced in Rosalie’s mind as she imagined what a cab would cost. She was about to ask the officer if taxis took credit cards when Morgan reappeared at the bedroom door.
“I’ll take them home.”
“Didn’t you ride in the ambulance with Lillian?” Rosalie asked in surprise.
“I’ll swing by the hospital later.”
“If you’re sure …” the female officer said to Rosalie.
In spite of the tight mask of rage on his face, the certainty that Morgan would never harm her remained.
She nodded and the two officers went back into the other room, where the one who seemed to be in charge was deep in conversation with the hotel manager.
Morgan bent to pick Joey’s car seat up. “If I get this, can you get everything else?” he asked Rosalie, without looking at her.
“Shouldn’t you be with your stepmother?”
“My stepmother can go to hell, for all I care.” He opened the door and waited while Rosalie picked up Joey’s bag, then headed down the hall.
She’d been wrong, terribly wrong, about him. But his icy tone and rigid posture didn’t invite an apology, and she was too drained to attempt one she doubted he’d even listen to.
“Will Lillian be okay?” Rosalie rushed to keep up with his long, angry strides.
“She’s stabilized. The medics told me it was a minor heart attack. She should be okay.” He punched the button for the elevator. “Why do you care, anyway?”
Because she’s all the family you have, Rosalie wanted to say, but she used the arrival of the elevator as an excuse not to say anything at all.
She had Joey back, for good now. Wasn’t that what mattered?
Morgan stared out the condo window. He took a sip of whiskey and noted the time. Three a.m. The hospital had sent him home a little after two with promises Lillian was well on her way to a full recovery. Someday he might be glad, but right now he couldn’t find it in him to care.
Below him Los Angeles was at low ebb. This wasn’t a twenty-four-hour-a-day city like New York, but the traffic never stopped completely either. Like Boston. Not “like home.” He’d lived all his life in Boston, but home meant a place where you belonged. He didn’t belong anywhere, or with anyone.
After tonight he wouldn’t be welcome anymore in the house where his family had lived for four generations. He’d inherit it after Lillian died, but he’d shared the house with Char
lie for too many years to imagine living there again.
And Rosalie didn’t want to raise Joey in his condo.
The expression on her face as she’d tucked the kid back in his own crib a few hours earlier floated through Morgan’s mind. He didn’t belong with her, with them, either, he reminded himself. She’d made that very clear. His hand tightened on the glass.
She’d actually believed he would help Lillian take Joey away from her. She’d believed he’d planned the whole thing. She’d believed he would have made love to her to move the plot
along. He hadn’t bothered to point out to her how crazy all that was. Either she trusted him, or she didn’t.
Obviously, she didn’t.
And he couldn’t trust her now, either.
Not after she’d broken her word and called the police on a sad old woman whose only mistake was a chronic inability to take no for an answer.
He’d seen them home, seen Joey safe in his crib, and left. She’d tried to thank him, but he’d ignored her. He’d done what he’d done for Joey’s sake, not hers.
This time he’d been the one who walked away.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t need to look to know it was Rosalie. She’d been calling ever since he’d walked out her door, but he had nothing to say to her.
Still, after the cell went quiet he felt even more alone.
Rosalie woke up the next morning groggy from lack of sleep, but more than happy to have Joey home, never mind that he was groggy too, and grumpy with it.
She got him washed and dressed, fixed his breakfast, and made herself coffee before she called Morgan’s cell phone one more time, in case he’d turned it off the night before.
No answer. His refusal to listen crawled deep down into her heart to chill her very core despite the sunshine of Joey’s chatter as he ate.
She should just let it go. Morgan had clearly been furious she thought he’d helped Lillian take Joey, and in a rage that she’d called the police after he’d asked her not to. He’d refused to listen to let her explain she’d been afraid Lillian might have taken Joey to another hotel. If she had, they’d never have found them before their flight left, without police help.
He’d ignored her pleas and left, the way she’d always known he would. It was over.
Found: One Secret Baby Page 16