Saving His Son
He killed his engine and followed her. When he went inside her house, he felt as if he’d suddenly come home. The scent of lilac and something that smelled faintly like baby powder drifted to him. Lindsey faltered beside a small bassinet, and she lay one hand on top of a baby blanket. A tiny white bunny rattler stood propped inside the baby bed, a miniature squeaky toy in the shape of a boat at the foot.
His gut tightened painfully, his feet refusing to move. He didn’t know what he’d expected—that she’d disposed of all the baby paraphernalia, maybe. But the sight of the empty baby bed and toys was almost more than he could bear. He couldn’t imagine the depth of Lindsey’s pain. His own immobilized him.
He lay his hand over the small train whistle in his pocket, the one momento he kept from childhood. His mother had given it to him on one of their trips. She’d told him to blow on it if he ever got lost and she’d know where to find him. He wished his son had a whistle now.
“I should move the bassinet to the nursery with the other stuff,” Lindsey said in a low voice, gesturing toward a closed doorway in the hall. “But I…I can’t. I feel like if I put the bassinet away, I’m totally giving up hope that our baby is alive.”
Gavin’s throat completely closed so he simply nodded that he understood.
Lindsey slowly faced him, obviously struggling for composure. “Are you hungry? I can fix us soup or a sandwich before you check into a hotel.”
He’d thought he might be staying at her house, but he understood her need for distance—her house seemed too small for both of them. The only spare bedroom was probably the one she’d converted into a nursery. He certainly couldn’t bring himself to sleep in there…not without his son.
“Gavin, do you want to eat?”
He hated to put her to work. Then again, she looked as if she needed something to do to take her mind off her sorrow. “Sure. Whatever you’ve got is fine.”
She drew in a deep breath, then slipped into the kitchen.
He surveyed the room. A blue ruffled sofa with mauve throw pillows faced a small TV and entertainment center. CDs were stacked haphazardly on a pine end table, her favorite Bonnie Raitt CD on top. Decorating and teaching magazines littered a Shaker-style coffee table, with two additions he’d never seen in her apartment in Raleigh—parenting magazines, and a book of baby names.
Tension thrummed through him, her pleas all too real. He stepped in the kitchen doorway. “Lindsey?”
Lindsey’s soft voice penetrated the silence, “Yes.”
He slowly raised his gaze to hers, grimacing at the pain in her eyes. “Did you give our baby a name?”
“Cory,” she said in a shaky whisper. “I named him Cory Adam.” She paused and he sucked in a sharp breath. “My dad’s name was Adam. I hope you don’t mind.”
He shook his head. His last name was McCord—she’d taken part of his name and given it to their son even though he had sent her away.
Lindsey turned back to the stove and he sat at the table, hurt and anger rolling through him in waves. There was no way he could sleep tonight until he talked to the doctor who’d delivered his son. He’d stop at the hospital before he found a hotel. Could Lindsey be right? Could someone have lied about their baby? Could their son, Cory, still be alive?
THE SCENT of alcohol and antiseptics assaulted Gavin as he entered the small hospital, reminding him of the night he’d rushed Rodney Johnson to the ER. The boy had been in trouble and Gavin had thought he could help him. Instead, the teen had dogged him right into a bust and been shot in the crossfire.
“Dr. Cross isn’t here,” the red-haired receptionist said from behind a small window.
Damn, he should have called. “What time will he be in tomorrow?”
“Around nine. He has rounds over at County first.”
“What about Janet Quinn?”
“She’s not here either.” Impatience flared in her voice. “Is there anything I can do to help you? Is there an emergency?”
“No, I wanted to talk to them about Lindsey Payne.”
The woman’s eyes widened perceptibly. “Why are you asking questions about Miss Payne?”
He decided to use a personal angle. “I’m a friend, and I’ve been worried about her since she lost the baby.”
The woman’s expression immediately turned sympathetic. “I know what you mean. She took the news so hard, poor thing.”
“Were you here the night she delivered?”
“No, we had a terrible explosion that night at the plastic factory in town. Everybody but Janet and Doc Cross had to help at County. Must have been sixty injuries.”
“Lindsey was here several days. Did you treat her at all?”
“Oh, yes. I pulled late shift the next two nights. Wound up sitting with Ms. Payne until her sedatives took effect. She was so distraught.” She pursed her lips, shaking her head back and forth. “Poor thing, so alone. The baby’s daddy didn’t even show up.”
Gavin gritted his teeth, fresh guilt assaulting him. He considered telling her he was the father, but she saved him by continuing, “Frankly, I think the girl had a breakdown myself. Don’t blame her, bless her heart. She claimed some crazy things after she lost the baby. I think she ought to see a shrink.”
Gavin had heard enough. He glanced at the clock and the near-empty facility and realized there wasn’t much more he could do until morning. Tomorrow he’d return with Lindsey and ask for a tour of the place. He’d question the doctor and gauge his reactions. For now, though, he’d find the hotel, call Simon and tell him to run a check on this missing nurse, Janet Quinn.
A few minutes later, he pulled up to the local sheriff’s office, but discovered it was empty. He’d hit another dead end. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he cursed silently. Obviously the police department operated on a nine-to-five schedule. Didn’t they have crime after dark?
Frustrated, he drove toward the small hotel he’d seen when they’d driven into town. Seeing the white-haired little man who ran the place, he tried to imagine someone in Maple Hollow doing the things Lindsey had described. Faking an autopsy report, telling her her baby had died when it was alive, but the images didn’t fit.
The furnishings in the small room were sparse; a double bed with a faded orange flowered spread, a battered maple dresser, a bathroom with yellowed tile and a pea-green shower curtain hanging askew. He sank onto the double bed, not surprised when the shaky bed squeaked, the mattress bowing with his weight. Lying on his back, he crossed his ankles and folded his hands beneath his head and stared at a cobweb in the corner as the day’s revelations paraded across his mind. He had a son. He’d lost his son. Was he alive? Missing? Could the nurse be right? Could Lindsey be so emotionally distraught she simply couldn’t face the horrible truth? Did she need a counselor instead of a detective?
Had someone tried to kill her in the hospital?
He sprang off the bed. If someone had meant to harm Lindsey, they could come back any time. And once again he’d left her completely alone and unprotected.
LINDSEY FINALLY DRIFTED into a fitful sleep, the day’s tensions clawing at her body. But in her dreams, she heard her baby’s cry again. He was out there somewhere. He needed her. She had to keep searching. Had to believe he was alive.
She tossed and rolled, her throat aching, her mouth dry. A strange smell penetrated her nostrils, burning her wind-pipe, making her head throb. She opened her eyes, but the room spun. The air swirled around her, stifling. Hot. Perspiration beaded her face. She sniffed, suddenly alarmed at the strong pungent smell.
Gas.
She flung back the covers and rolled off the bed but her legs wobbled when she tried to stand and the room rocked back and forth. She screamed Gavin’s name, only the sound came out as a croak, and she remembered he’d gone away again. The smell grew stronger, the air choking her. Her body felt sluggish. Her head ached. The room swayed, then blurred again, and she dropped down onto the carpet. She had to crawl out, escape. But a wave of darkness engulfed her as she pitched forward, and she cried out, afraid she couldn’t make it to the door.
Chapter Four
Gavin had parked along the street in front of Lindsey’s and had almost dozed off when he suddenly jerked upright, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he detected a movement. A hazy shadow caught in the early morning light slipped into the woods behind Lindsey’s house. Barking broke the silence, and he saw a dog running into the woods. Relieved, he leaned his head back against the seat but just as sleep pulled at his eyelids, a screeching sound erupted that made his blood run cold. His eyes jerked open and he bolted out of the car.
A front window stood ajar, sending his mind into alarm. He raced to the front door and knocked, then rang the door bell, tapping his foot impatiently. Seconds passed like a time warp set in slow motion. He pounded the door again and called Lindsey’s name. She still didn’t answer.
His stomach lurched. Something was definitely wrong.
Frantic, he jiggled the door, but it wouldn’t open so he climbed inside the window. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he smelled gas. Jesus. Where was Lindsey?
He raced through the small den and found her lying on the floor, a white swirl of fabric clinging to her slender legs, her long hair shadowing her face. She looked pale and thin and so still his heart slammed into his throat.
“Lindsey!” He pressed his hand to her clammy face, and she moaned. His breath whooshed out in relief. She was alive. Adrenaline shooting through him, he slid his arms beneath her limp form, unlocked the front door, and carried her out into the fresh air.
Clutching her to his chest, he stumbled outside, then sank onto the grass near his car. An owl hooted in the distance. A dog barked again, loud and demanding. Shadows flitted across the yard as the leaves on the trees rustled. Was someone behind them? In the house?
She moaned again and, for a brief second, opened her eyes. She was trembling, her eyes dazed. He stroked a tendril of hair from her face, gently cradling her chin in his hand. “Lindsey, baby, are you all right?”
She coughed and clutched his arms, angling her head to look up at him as she rasped for air.
He stroked her back with his palm, trying to help her breathe. “Are you okay? Was someone in the house?”
“I don’t know. G-gas. I could smell it.”
“I know, so did I.” His gaze shot to the house. What if it exploded? He picked her up and gently laid her in the back seat of his car, tenderly checking her face and arms and legs. “Are you all right?”
She wheezed again. “Feel dizzy.”
“I’ll call an ambulance. You do have one in this little town, don’t you?”
“Yes, call the fire department,” Lindsey rasped. “They’ll send one.”
He rubbed his hand over the side of her face, then pulled off his jacket and lay it over her, drawing the sleeves around her shivering form. “Just lie here and try to relax.”
He grabbed his cell phone and quickly dialed for help. “Send an ambulance right away! Yes, she’s conscious. 3499 Pine Hollow Road. Lindsey Payne. I think there was a gas leak in her house. Yes, send the sheriff and the fire department, too.” She closed her eyes and his breath caught in his throat. “Hurry!”
He quickly checked her pulse. Faint, but her blood stirred slightly. He dragged her in his arms, lowered his head and listened to her breathing. Shallow, but steady. “They’ll be here soon, Lindsey,” he whispered, “Don’t worry, darlin’. Everything’s going to be all right.”
He rocked her in his arms praying for the EMTs to arrive, all the time wondering if he’d just told Lindsey a lie. If someone had intentionally tampered with her gas line, they’d meant to harm her. And if they were trying to hurt her because she was asking questions about her baby, neither one of them was going to be all right—not until they found their child.
Ten minutes later, the wail of a siren rent the air. He strained to see over the hump of the road, exhaling with relief when he spotted an ambulance and fire truck racing toward them. The paramedics jumped out and raced toward him. “Hurry!” Gavin yelled.
“We’ll check out the gas leak,” one of the firemen said.
A young blond paramedic placed an oxygen mask over Lindsey’s mouth and nose while another one took her vitals. “Blood pressure’s low, pupils dilated slightly.”
“She’s going to be okay,” he said. “But we should take her in for some blood work. Make sure her cell count is normal.”
Gavin nodded. A sheriff’s car pulled up the long winding drive, its blue light swirling through the pre-dawn sky. The car raced to a stop and a tall, gray-haired man wearing a tan sheriff’s uniform lumbered out, his face drawn. Even with the early morning sun deflecting his view, Gavin felt the man’s intense scrutiny trained on him. Felt those cop’s assessing suspicious eyes.
“What happened here?”
“Gas inhalation,” the paramedic explained. “We’re taking her to the hospital for tests.”
The sheriff hitched up his pants with his thumbs. “I’m Sheriff Forbes. Who might you be, Mister?”
He stuck out his hand. “I’m a friend of Lindsey’s, a detective from Raleigh. Name’s Gavin McCord. I’m glad you came, Sheriff.”
The sheriff shook his hand firmly, glaring at him as if he recognized his face from a Wanted poster. “You here when this happened?”
He was going to treat him as a suspect. Gavin understood the drill, but he sure as hell didn’t like it. “I drove over, saw a window open and got worried.”
A vein pulsed in the man’s high forehead as he chewed over Gavin’s words. “Mighty early for a visit, ain’t it, son?”
“I was worried about her,” Gavin explained. “I thought I’d drop by and take her to breakfast.”
“All the way from Raleigh?”
Gavin forced himself to bank his anger. The old coot was just doing his job. He’d do the same if he were the officer in charge, but the sheriff was wasting precious time interrogating him.
“No, I came down yesterday, I spent the night at the local hotel. You can check with the manager. I arrived around 11:00 p.m.” He stole a glance at Lindsey, aware she was lying way too still for comfort.
The sheriff nodded, chewing his lip sideways. Gavin stroked Lindsey’s hand, gently turning her chin so she could see his face. “You’re okay, sweetheart, we’re taking you to the clinic.”
A moment of panic surged into her eyes and he grimaced, realizing the memories the place would resurrect.
“We’re ready to move her,” the paramedic cut in.
Gavin nodded. “I’m going with you.”
One of the fireman walked toward them, his face furrowed. He held up a wire and pair of wire clippers. “Looks like the line was cut intentionally.”
Anger swept through Gavin.
“Sir, we need to go,” the paramedic said.
Gavin nodded and climbed in the ambulance. “Check out that wire,” Gavin told the sheriff. “See if you find any prints.”
Forbes frowned. “Just who do you think you are?”
Gavin’s hands shook as he yanked his badge from his pocket. “A detective from Raleigh. I’m here to find out what happened to Miss Payne’s child.”
“You’re out of your jurisdiction.”
Gavin glared at him. “I’ve never let it stop me from solving a case before. And I don’t intend to this time.”
“Look, mister, the lady’s baby died of natural causes. Now she’s so distraught, she may have tried to kill herself.”
Fury ran through Gavin’s blood, hot and explosive. “Lindsey asked for my help yesterday. There’s no way she’d attempt suicide today. And if that wire was cut intentionally, it proves someone tried to hurt her.”
The sheriff stared at him in disbelief. The EMT closed the back door of the ambulance and Gavin sat down beside Lindsey, cradling her limp hand in his. As they pulled away, he prayed Forbes was one of the good guys, that he’d come up with some answers. Because if Gavin found out who’d done this to Lindsey, he would be tempted to forget the law.
He’d kill him with his bare hands.
LINDSEY AWAKENED, dazed and disoriented—where was she? A dark husky scent invaded her senses. Her house? No, the hospital. Glancing through the dim light, she tried to focus, then recognized the worry lines around Gavin’s troubled eyes. His jaw was clamped shut, his expression bleak. Still, his handsome face served as a source of comfort in the chaotic turmoil surrounding her life.
She allowed herself to savor his presence for a moment, trying to imprint his image on her brain so she could summon it after he left again. And he would leave again. It was only a matter of time. “Ga—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re in the hospital, Linds.”
She frowned. “What happened?”
“Your house had a gas leak. Did you forget to turn off the burner after you heated the soup?”
She shook her head, searching her memory.
“The sheriff’s checking it out.” He finally released the bedrail and raked a hand through his hair. “The doctors ran some tests, a chemical profile to trace any elements you might have inhaled.”
“Dr. Cross?”
“No, Dr. Avery.” He tipped his head toward the door. “He said Cross should be here any minute, though.”
Lindsey fiddled with the oxygen tubes. “I don’t understand what’s happening, Gavin. Not any of it.”
“I know.” His jaw tightened. “But I’ll figure it out. I just need a little time.”
A nurse bustled in to check Lindsey’s vitals. “Mercy, Ms. Lindsey, didn’t think we’d be seeing you again so soon.”
“Neither did I,” Lindsey whispered.
“The doctor wants to monitor your oxygen saturation for a while, hon, but so far, things look good,” the nurse drawled in a thick Southern accent. “He’ll probably let you go home in a while.”
“Thanks, Brenda Leigh. I really don’t want to stay overnight.”
“I know, honey-child. Now get some rest.” She fluffed Lindsey’s pillow, then slipped out the door.
Gavin gently stroked a strand of hair away from Lindsey’s forehead. “I’m going to talk to the staff for a minute. Will you be all right?”
Lindsey ached to reach out and hold on to him but refused to allow herself the comfort. So she simply nodded, then closed her eyes and gave in to the exhaustion. But as soon as sleep claimed her, she heard her baby’s cry.
“ROCK-A-BYE-BABY in the treetop…”
He listened to the baby’s cries and watched in silence as she cradled the little boy in her arms and rocked him back and forth. God, how she loved to sit in that rocker. Especially lately. As if the soothing motion could lull her own pain. She sang softly, the same lullaby she’d sung to her first son. The son she had lost…
A cold fist pressed against his heart. He would do anything to alleviate the terrible suffering she’d had to endure the past few months. The infant gurgled, batting a tiny hand at the tendrils of hair floating around her heart-shaped face, and he smiled as she traced a finger over the baby’s pointed little chin.
She was going to want to keep the child. Forever. Of that much he was certain. No matter what his boss had to say.
He chuckled, thinking of the years he’d devoted to his employer, giving up his own needs and beliefs sometimes to please him. Well, no more.
A dark laugh escaped him at the irony. He would never have thought of the plan by himself. No, the boss had the devious mind. But he’d walk away the loser this time.
He stepped outside and lit a cigarette, watched the embers spark to life, the ends curl and sparkle with orange fire as he took his first draw. Tapping the ashes onto the weed-filled grass, he inhaled the chill of the mountain air and the scent of honeysuckle as he pondered his plan.
The baby was safe and sound, but Lindsey Payne and that cop-boyfriend of hers were not. They wouldn’t get the baby back. And neither would the man who’d ordered him to take the baby from his mother’s arms.
The little boy cried out softly and he glanced through the window. She patted his back, the old chair creaking and groaning as she rocked and sang. No, the little boy was where he belonged. And he’d do anything he had to do to make sure he stayed there. Including kill the Payne woman and that nosy cop. And he’d even defy his boss if he had to.
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