Covert Cootchie-Cootchie-Coo

by Ann Voss Peterson

  He led Josie back into the kitchen. He was sure it was nothing. How could it be anything, really? Crabb was in the hospital. The judge was reaching through the legal system to get his hands on the baby, and there wasn’t a chance they could stop him. Not if he came up with a DNA test that proved his paternity, anyway. So how could this be anything other than an innocent drive? “I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe she had to be somewhere and was worried we were too upset to handle the baby right now.”

  Josie’s look made it clear what she thought of that idea. “You know her number?”

  “She left it here.” He located the slip of paper where Esme had jotted down her contact information. Grabbing the phone from its charger on the countertop, he punched in her cell number.

  Esme answered on the sixth ring. “Hola.”

  “Esme. It’s Reed. Do you have the baby with you?”

  “Sí. I have him.”

  Reed nodded to Josie. “Why? Where are you heading?”

  “I am doing what I should have done years ago. What your mother insisted I don’t do. I’m doing what’s right.”

  “You’ve lost me. I don’t understand.”

  “You are not this baby’s father.”

  So Esme had overheard his talk with Josie. He still didn’t understand what his mother had to do with this. And what in the world should Esme have done years ago? “It’s true. I’m not. I just found out this morning.”

  “And so you should not have this baby. A baby belongs with his family.”

  A hitch caught in his gut. “Esme? What are you doing?”

  “I will not lie. Not this time.”

  “Lie? Who’s asking you to lie?”

  “You lied to the lawyer. If I say nothing, I am lying, too.”

  She couldn’t be doing what he thought. “Esme, where are you going?”

  “I lied before. I let your mother convince me it was best. And I saw how wrong it was. For her. For you. And it was not good for my soul.”

  “Esme…”

  “I will not listen. I will not lie. I am bringing this child to his real father, then he can get a test to prove the child is his. I will not let you stop me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Wexler Ranch looked the same as it had two days before. Horses grazed along white board fence. Autumn flowers flourished in elaborate beds surrounding the mansion. And the bright Texas sun sparkled on paned windows. But no matter how pretty and peaceful the ranch seemed, Josie could only see it for what it was underneath the facade. Another trophy built for the glory of Judge Teddy Wexler.

  She gripped the armrest and willed Reed to drive faster down the winding, paved driveway. The thought of Troy trapped in this place a moment longer than he had to be made her sick. A baby wasn’t a mere possession, like the house, like the ranch, like the items on the judge’s credenza. Troy and his sister needed love, a home, a real family. God knew her family wasn’t perfect. They were stubborn and meddling and just plain annoying at times. But she never doubted they loved her and truly wanted what was best. Even when Missy was setting her up on dates and her brother was refusing to give her the information she needed, she always knew they were there for her. She always knew that they loved her.

  Something she doubted any of the Wexlers had a clue about.

  But Esme did. “Why did Esme say she was doing this? I don’t understand it.”

  “I don’t, either. But I gather she thinks we are lying by keeping the baby away from the judge.”

  “The judge doesn’t have any kind of paternity test proving he’s the father.” She knew it was wishful thinking on her part that he wasn’t, but she couldn’t help it. She was desperate. She was grasping at anything that would save Troy from the life she saw spread out in front of him.

  “He doesn’t have a positive test. Not that I can force the issue. I have a test that proves I have no claim at all.”

  No, now that they knew Reed wasn’t the babies’ father, he had no legal standing to force anything where the twins were concerned. And they couldn’t even come close to proving the judge hired Bobby Crabb, at least not yet. “We need to find Honey.”

  “Or Jimmy.”

  “Yes.” She’d forgotten about Jimmy. If he’d been telling the truth about sleeping with Honey during that same time frame, there might be another option. “He could sue for custody, too. That would likely mean Troy would go to a foster home, but at least he’d be away from the judge. Maybe that could buy us enough time to find Honey.”

  Reed nodded. “But first we have to get Troy back. I don’t trust the system in the county. When the judge wants a certain outcome, he usually gets it.” He swung around the last bend in the road and raced for the circle in front of the house.

  Josie braced her hand on the dash. She didn’t know what was up with Esme, but she would lie, cheat and steal to keep that baby from being hurt. If she could stop it.

  Esme’s car sat near the grand home’s front entrance. Reed slammed on the brakes. He and Josie bolted from the car almost as soon as it stopped. They took the front steps two at a time, and Josie slammed a fist into the doorbell.

  The chime echoed through the foyer inside.

  Louisa opened the door.

  Reed pushed past her. “Where’s Esme?”

  The maid stepped back and covered her mouth with her hand.

  Breezing past Louisa, Josie followed Reed through the foyer and into the parlor where they’d met with Portia Wexler. The former beauty queen stood next to the fireplace. Esme sat on one of the Queen Anne chairs, Troy in her lap. When the baby spotted them, he beamed an openmouthed smile.

  It was all Josie could do to keep from snatching him from Esme’s hands and dashing for the door.

  Portia glanced from one to the other. “What are the two of you doing in my house?”

  Reed spoke first. “I’m sorry for busting in like this, but the baby needs to come home with us.”

  “No,” Esme said through gritted teeth.

  Portia gave them a puzzled yet blank expression. “I don’t understand what any of this is about. What is going on here?”

  Reed focused on her. “The judge. Is he here?”

  She stared at him as if the suggestion was absurd. “It’s country-club day. He’s golfing. What is all this about?”

  “I bring you his child.”

  Portia faced Esme and looked down her nose at Troy. She pursed her lips together. “Fine. Leave him here, and I’ll tell the lawyers you’ve complied.”

  Over Josie’s dead body. The law would have to force her to leave Troy in the custody of the judge. And after witnessing Portia’s reaction to him, Josie had no doubts the woman had been lying through her teeth about her eagerness to fill this mausoleum with children’s laughter. She probably wouldn’t even want to hold him for fear of breaking a nail or getting spit-up on her designer jacket.

  Josie had to get the baby out of here. “The man who attacked us yesterday was hired by the judge, Esme. He’s a hit man named Bobby Crabb. He came after us in San Francisco. His job was to kill Honey, maybe kill the babies, as well. We can’t leave Troy here.”

  As if performing on cue or just reacting to the stress in Josie’s voice, Troy’s smile faded and he began to fuss.

  Portia scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. My husband is a respected judge. Why would he do such a thing?”

  “Because he doesn’t want the babies as much as he says he does? Or maybe he does want them, but Honey got in the way. She wouldn’t let him have custody. Whichever the answer, Honey Dawson has been missing for days now. And I can’t help believing the judge is responsible.”

  “My God.” Portia held a hand to her Botox-smoothed forehead and lowered herself into a chair. “Do you have proof of this? That my husband hired this person?”

  Josie narrowed her eyes, not sure if Portia really was horrified or if it was all an act.

  Reed took a step forward. “Not yet. But Bobby Crabb is in custody. And this is Texas. If he did some
thing to Honey, he’ll get the death penalty…unless he rolls over on whoever hired him.”

  “And you think it’s Teddy.” Portia’s voice was low, barely above a whisper.

  Grudgingly, something inside Josie felt sorry for her, at least for the moment. It must be one thing to be married to a ruthless bastard and quite another to be the wife of a potential murderer. “You see why we can’t leave Troy here, don’t you, Portia? Not until we know the truth.”

  Portia nodded. “I won’t let him have the baby. But the legal system will. He’s the father, right?”

  “He is.” Esme’s voice sounded flat and sure.

  “You don’t know that,” said Josie. The baby might not be Reed’s, but she didn’t want to believe Troy was fathered by the judge until she saw the DNA comparison with her own eyes.

  “I know.”

  How could the woman be so stubborn? So sure of something she couldn’t truly know? Josie glanced at Reed. He knew Esme better than anyone. Couldn’t he say something to convince her? Or if need be, couldn’t they just grab Troy from the woman’s arms and walk out the door? “Reed?”

  “Esme, the judge might want to hurt Troy.” Reed’s voice rumbled low, gentle.

  The older woman shook her head. Tears glistened in the corners of her dark eyes. “A father should know his child.”

  “No. Not if he doesn’t care what’s best for the child. If he wants to hurt the child, we can’t let him have his way.”

  “The judge always gets his way,” said Portia. “At least he always has. Until now.”

  Josie hadn’t thought much of Portia, not since the first time they’d talked with her in this very room. The chance that there might be someone inside that cold shell after all was a shocker. Josie wasn’t sure if she should believe it or not. “You’ll let us take the baby?”

  “I will not let you.” Esme bolted up from her chair. “I will not sit by while a man is robbed of his children. This time I will not have this sin on my hands.”

  Troy’s complaints grew in volume.

  Josie shook her head. She knew Esme was upset. That was clear enough in the woman’s trembling hands and shrill tone. But what she said…it didn’t add up. It didn’t seem rational. “This time, Esme? What do you mean, this time?”

  The older woman’s face grew ashen. She focused on Reed. “This has happened before.”

  Reed shook his head.

  Josie looked from one to the other. “What am I missing here? What happened before?”

  Reed eyed Esme. Lines dug into his brow and bracketed his eyes. “Something she said on the phone. Something about my mother.” He shook his head again, as if refusing to believe whatever it was.

  “Your mother.” Esme shifted her weight from side to side. She jiggled the baby to comfort him, yet all the while, Josie could tell she was really speaking to Reed. “She wanted me to lie. To carry her secret. And I did. For years and years, I did.”

  Reed pressed his lips into a pale line.

  Josie wanted to hold him, shield him, protect him from whatever it was Esme wanted to reveal. He had gone through so much with his mother. So much pain. So much guilt. He didn’t need Esme to pile on more. “Let’s go. Let’s just take Troy and get out of this place.”

  Reed heaved a deep breath. “What secret?”

  “It was your father….” Esme’s voice cracked. Tears caught in the creases in her cheeks and trickled to her chin.

  “What about my father?”

  “He didn’t run off. Not like she said. He didn’t leave you, Reed. He never knew you were born.”

  He didn’t react. Not with a blink of his eyes, not with a tensing of his jaw. He just stared at Esme, still as a rock. “Why didn’t she tell him?”

  “She was afraid he would take you from her. She was afraid he would leave her with nothing.”

  “Like Honey.” Josie breathed the words more than spoke them.

  Esme nodded.

  Tension hummed in Josie’s ears. She didn’t want Esme to go on. She wanted to grab Reed and rush him out before…what? Before Esme could tell him the truth?

  “Who?” Reed asked.

  Esme paused. She glanced at Portia.

  The aging beauty queen glared at Reed. Her lips were pulled back slightly from her teeth, and her shoulders hunched forward.

  “Your father is the judge, Reed,” said Esme. “So you see, I helped rob him of one child already. I can’t live with stealing another.”

  REED’S MIND WENT NUMB. He wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t. “That’s ridiculous, Esme. I don’t know why you’re saying this, but the judge is not my father.”

  “He is.”

  He shook his head. Visions of the judge’s credenza rippled through his memory. The photo of the football team. The resentment and rivalry between him and Teddy Jr. The way he used to envy the white board fence, the stories of the football field in the backyard, the thought of a father’s pride at his son’s accomplishments.

  The whole thing was too ironic to be true.

  Portia’s laugh tinkled through the room, brittle as shards of glass. “First these twins, now Reed Tanner? No. I’m sorry. It’s not going to happen.”

  “It is the truth.” Esme stomped a foot on the thick carpet.

  “How do you know?” Portia spat the question. “Do you have a paternity test? Or are you just looking to siphon off a little easy money?”

  “Katie confided in me. She begged me to keep her secret.”

  “Katie Tanner was crazy. Everyone knows that. And anyone with half a brain wouldn’t believe a word from that woman’s mouth.”

  Reed could feel Josie’s concerned gaze fall on him. He wanted to tell her he was okay. The whole idea that the judge was his father was ridiculous. And although Portia’s cruel words cut into him, he couldn’t pretend they weren’t true.

  Esme raised her chin. “I have proof.”

  “What proof?” Portia rested her fists on her hips.

  “A photograph of the two of them together. Back before Reed was born.”

  Portia wiped away the claim with a wave of her hand. “So Teddy likes to noodle around. So what? That’s not proof. That’s not even a surprise.”

  “How do you think Katie got that ranch?”

  “I suppose you are trying to say he bought it for her.”

  “I have the papers to prove it.”

  Portia shook her head. “That’s still not proof.”

  “They can take a DNA test,” Josie said. She watched Reed, forehead furrowed over worried eyes. “If you want to know.”

  Did he? Maybe when he was a teenager, when he was sure all the world had a life better than he did, especially Teddy Wexler, Jr. But now, as an adult? No. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to know less than that.

  Portia whirled on a spiked heel and strode across the room.

  Reed let out a breath. He didn’t feel sorry for Portia anymore. Nor did he pity his mother. He was just tired of the whole thing. The secrets. The lies. The rivalries. It didn’t matter to him if the judge was his father or not. But Troy? His whole life was ahead of him. At least if Reed was the judge’s son, that would mean Troy was not. And while Reed couldn’t do much if the baby’s DNA matched the judge’s, he wasn’t going to allow the baby to be part of this world even for as long as a DNA test would take to complete. Not if he could help it. “I’m sorry you’ve had that on your conscience all these years, Esme.”

  “No. I am sorry. I stole from you just as much as Katie did. You could have had better. A father who would have been proud of you. Money. Not the hard life you had. You deserved more. You still do.” She glanced around at the crown moldings and gold-framed landscapes on the wall. “I will never forgive myself for keeping all this from you.”

  Reed glanced around at the opulent house. Esme had it all wrong. He’d never wanted this. Not really. This was the world his mother wanted, not him. And despite Esme’s insistence that he was the judge’s son, the more Reed thought about it, th
e more he doubted it.

  His mother wanted riches. She wanted everything Reed could have given her if he was indeed the judge’s son. That was why he’d always felt he’d failed her. He had. His genetics had. Katie Tanner might have tried to get pregnant with the judge’s baby, or she might have just indulged in the fantasy. Whichever the answer, Reed was pretty sure he wasn’t the judge’s son. Because if he was, his mother wouldn’t have kept it a secret. Not for a second. Not when by telling her secret, she could have gotten a piece of the Wexler pie.

  No wonder he’d always sensed he wasn’t enough for her. He wasn’t. Only by being Teddy Wexler’s son could he have possibly been enough. And knowing all he now did about the judge, that was a failure he was all too happy to own.

  If only it didn’t mean there was still a chance Teddy Wexler could claim Troy.

  He turned away from the nanny who had raised him and met Josie’s beautiful eyes. Eyes that beamed love and support and fierce independence. Eyes that could see what was important in life and had recognized something worthwhile in him. “Let’s get out of here. The three of us.”

  Josie nodded. Holding out her arms for Troy, she stepped toward Esme.

  “No one is going anywhere.” Portia’s voice echoed from behind him, no longer the weak whisper or the brittle Southern-belle drawl. “I’ve given up a lot to be where I am. And no one is going to take it from me now.”

  Reed turned.

  Head up and shoulders back, she looked as strong as her voice sounded. And in her fist she held a gun. She leveled the barrel on the baby.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Reed pulled his gaze from the gun in Portia’s hand and focused on her face. She really did look so much like his mother. Beautiful in a brittle way. Fragile as a porcelain doll. He had to wonder what other similarities they shared. Something in his mother had shattered long ago. Was he now watching Portia Wexler shatter? Or had she done so long before this? “You hired Bobby Crabb, didn’t you, Portia?”

  Josie stepped in front of Esme, shielding the baby with her body.