Her Stolen Son Read online

  “What? I thought that social worker took him to a foster home.”

  Colt covered her hands with his and peeled her fingers loose. “She dropped him off at Magnolia Manor, but as soon as the children went inside for lunch, he bolted and ran down to GAI. Apparently you told him that some nice men there helped children.”

  Relief mushroomed inside Serena, and she found herself hanging on to his hands. Caution told her not to trust him, but the fact that she had used those exact words with Petey made her relax slightly.

  “You have fifteen minutes,” Sheriff Gray interjected.

  Colt nodded to the sheriff, and he strode back to the front of the jail.

  “He must be so scared,” she whispered. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

  “I’m certain.” Colt hesitated, an awkward second passing as he released her hands. “Do you feel better now?”

  She nodded, searching his strong face for the truth. This man looked hard, cold, forceful, as if he’d seen the worst in humans and was trying to figure out where she stood on the pendulum, if he should be protecting her son from her. That suspicious look cut through her like a knife. “You scared me to death. When you said GAI, I thought…”

  “That he’d been kidnapped,” Colt said darkly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Petey is in my office. One of the other agents, Derrick McKinney, is staying with him. His wife, Brianna, works at Magnolia Manor where the social worker took Petey.”

  “So you’ll send him back there?”

  “We have to follow the law, but Brianna is a great lady,” Colt said. “She has a son of her own, and loves those kids. Trust me, she’ll be like a second mother to him.”

  He obviously meant to make her feel better, but rage churned through Serena at the thought of anyone else taking care of her son.

  “Petey should be with me.” She scanned her bleak surroundings. Concrete floor, dingy concrete wall covered in graffiti. Scratchy, faded wool blanket on top of a cot with a mattress so thin the springs bore into her. “And I shouldn’t be here. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Colt’s gaze scrutinized her. “Petey told me a little bit about what happened,” Colt said. “But I’d like to hear your version.”

  Serena hesitated, doubts creeping in. “Do you have some ID?”

  His eyebrow shot up in question, but he removed his wallet and flashed his GAI badge. So he was really a private investigator. “If you’re worried that I’m working for the sheriff, I’m not. Your son hired me.”

  Her gaze latched with his. “Petey hired you?”

  A smile quirked at his mouth. “Yes, he offered me all the money in his piggy bank.”

  Fresh pain and love squeezed her heart. “I’ll pay you,” she said firmly. “You’re not taking Petey’s money.”

  His jaw hardened. “I never said I’d accept it.”

  She frowned at his curt tone. He almost sounded offended. “It’s just that…I feel bad for my son. Ever since my husband died, Petey thinks he has to be man of the house.”

  A pained look crossed Colt’s face. “A big job for a little guy.”

  “Exactly.” Her voice cracked. “He doesn’t deserve this right now. He’s been through so much already….”

  Colt cleared his throat. “Then let’s see if we can clear up this matter, and get you home with him. Now, tell me what happened last night.”

  Serena chewed on her bottom lip. Lord help her. She hated Parker for dying. And she hated feeling helpless, as if she was failing her son.

  Even worse, she hated to give her trust to a stranger. After all, Parker’s murder had taught her not to trust anyone.

  COLT STUDIED Serena Stover, his nerves on edge. He understood her wariness to trust. If little Petey was telling the truth, it sounded as if Lyle Rice was a bastard and had probably deserved his fate.

  But kids lied to protect their mothers all the time. What if she had used that fire poker on the man? Or what if he’d come back after Petey went to bed, and they’d fought? She could argue self-defense.

  Unless she had gone after the man with the intent to kill him…

  But everything about this woman, from her delicate bone structure to her wild curly hair to those mesmerizing terror-stricken eyes, screamed that she was a victim.

  “Serena?” he asked.

  She worried her bottom lip for another moment, then inhaled a deep breath. “Like I said before, Petey’s father died a couple of years ago. He was a cop, shot in the line of duty.”

  He didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but simply nodded, silently urging her to continue.

  “I…haven’t dated since he died.” She picked at a loose thread on that scraggly blanket. “I didn’t want to. I was grieving.”

  “But you decided to go out with this man Lyle?”

  She nodded, regret wrenching her face. “The worst mistake of my life.”

  He let that comment simmer for a moment. “Go on.”

  She lifted her gaze to his, tears swimming in the crystal orbs.

  God, that hurt look sucker punched him and made him want to yank her in his arms and comfort her. Made him want to promise her he’d make everything right.

  But that wasn’t a promise he was sure he could keep.

  “Serena, I’m not judging you for dating. That’s human, normal.”

  She sighed, then glanced away, and he realized she had judged herself. That she felt guilty, as if she was cheating on her husband when he was dead and never coming back. She must have loved him deeply.

  “Anyway, Lyle and I only went out a couple of times,” she said softly. “First coffee. Then a movie. But last night we had dinner, and I sensed something was different, that he was ready to take things to the next level.”

  “You mean sex?”

  A blush crept onto her cheeks, then a sliver of fear darkened her eyes. “Yes.”

  “But you weren’t ready?”

  She shook her head. “No. Not at all.” She swallowed, then licked her lips, making him uncomfortably aware that she was sensuous and fragile and a woman.

  “Anyway, when he brought me home, he came in for a drink, which I never should have allowed,” she added beneath her breath. “Then he came on to me. I told him right away that it wasn’t going to work between us and asked him to leave.”

  Colt didn’t like the images forming in his mind. “But he didn’t?”

  She twisted that ratty blanket in her hands, fidgeting. “No, he got angry, then pushy. I asked him to leave again, but he refused to accept my rejection, and he pushed me against the fireplace.”

  She paused, her breath coming faster. “Then Petey came in, and…” Emotion thickened her voice. “Petey tried to pull him away from me, but he threw him to the floor.”

  Her hands knotted into fists around the blanket. “So I grabbed the fire poker and ordered him to get out.”

  “Then he left without a fight? You two didn’t struggle?”

  “No, but I did knee him in the groin. Then he did leave.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But he was seething and before he went out the door, he warned me I’d be sorry, that I had no idea who I was messing with.”

  She dropped her head into her hands. “God, I am sorry, but not that I told him to leave. I’m sorry I ever met the man.”

  So far her story matched Petey’s.

  Colt gripped the cot edge to keep from drawing her up against him. Her fragile body was trembling, her lip turning blue where she kept worrying it with her teeth.

  “What happened after he left?”

  She shifted restlessly, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. “Petey was upset, so I cuddled him for a while and lay down with him until he fell asleep. This morning we were having breakfast when the sheriff knocked on the door.” She waved her hand. “Then they tore Petey away from me and arrested me….”

  “Lyle didn’t come back during the night? Maybe he broke in and attacked you—”

  “No,” Serena said firmly. “He didn�
�t come back, I didn’t fight with him, and I didn’t go to his place. In fact, I’ve never been to his house.” Her voice grew stronger. “And I would never leave Petey alone. Never.”

  Colt frowned. “Do you have proof, someone who can alibi you?”

  “Petey, but he was asleep.”

  “Did you make or receive any phone calls during the night? Were you on the computer?”

  “No, I fell asleep beside Petey, then woke up around four and went to my bed.”

  Damn. A typical single mother routine, but not much for an alibi.

  Colt tapped his foot, thinking. “Did the sheriff mention the evidence he has against you? How he knew you were involved with Rice?”

  Serena’s forehead puckered. “No.”

  “How about the cause or time of death?”

  She shook her head. “No, he hasn’t told me anything.”

  A situation he would rectify.

  “Tell me more about Rice. What did he do for a living? How did you two meet?”

  Serena heaved a breath. “He told me he was an entrepreneur, that he had investments in small companies. I run a bookkeeping business out of my home, and one of my clients gave him my name as a reference in case he needed my services.”

  He definitely needed more background information on Rice. “Have you phoned a lawyer yet?”

  A sense of despair seemed to wash over her. “No. I haven’t had a chance to call.” Her voice cracked again. “Besides, I don’t know who to call. I’ve never needed a criminal attorney before.” She swung her gaze toward the cell door. “I can’t believe I need one now.”

  Colt gave up the battle to keep his distance, and tugged her hands into his. “Listen to me, Serena. I know a good lawyer. I’ll put in a call to her.”

  The sheriff’s footsteps echoed down the hall, and Colt stood. “Hang in there. I’ll call my friend about arranging your bail. And I’m going to question the sheriff and find out more about Rice’s murder.”

  Sheriff Gray appeared at the door, keys jangling as he motioned to Colt.

  Serena rose and gripped his arm. “Please, Colt. Tell Petey I love him. And don’t let him end up in the system. I grew up there myself. It’s not pretty.”

  He’d been a cop long enough to know what could happen, too. But the law was the law, and his hands were tied.

  Petey was going back to Magnolia Manor.

  SERENA PACED the jail cell, the tiny space closing around her. The nauseating scent of old sweat, urine and dirt wafted around her, nearly suffocating her.

  She felt trapped. Panicky. And worried sick about her son.

  Colt Mason’s face flashed into her mind, and a sliver of something frightening stirred in her belly. He had a strong, prominent jaw that seemed permanently set in anger. That crooked nose, the scar on his forehead and his black, intense eyes gave him a menacing look.

  But she’d heard a tenderness in his voice when he’d mentioned Petey. And if he worked with GAI—and she had seen his badge as proof—then he had to answer to his boss and the other agents, meaning he had to be legitimate.

  His questions about Lyle also roused her own questions. What would the sheriff tell him about her case? Sheriff Gray had to have some kind of evidence to hold her. But what kind of evidence could he possibly have against her?

  Her shoulders and body ached with fatigue and tension, and she collapsed onto the cot, sick at the thought of having to spend the night in the cell.

  At the thought of Petey sleeping in a foster home or orphanage where God knew what could happen to him.

  He was so little, so young. He wouldn’t know how to protect himself against the bullies or the street-savvy kids. And he didn’t have enough strength to protect himself if one of the caretakers assaulted him.

  Memories of one foster father in particular taunted her, and she automatically rubbed at the scar below her breastbone.

  His wife…she’d been just as bad. A religious fanatic who’d sacrificed Serena to her husband in order to save herself from his vile touches. God’s will, the woman had said.

  But God never meant for a man to do the things that man had done to her. God never meant for people to hurt children.

  Tears threatened again, but she willed them away and let her mind go to that safe place where she’d retreated as a child. Where nothing could hurt her. Not the evil touches of those who pretended to care for children, not their hateful words or degrading comments or their beatings.

  She was not that little girl anymore. She was strong. She had found love once. She had a son, and she would die protecting him.

  Suddenly exhausted, she lay back on the cot and closed her eyes. But just as she was about to fall asleep, the image of Lyle Rice’s face materialized. Then her foster father.

  Except this time he and Lyle were teaming up, and they were both chasing Petey…

  She jerked up, shaking all over, a chill skating up her spine.

  Please, Colt, help me. And please hurry…

  PETEY ROCKED back and forth in the big chair, his legs dangling. Mr. Colt had been gone a long time.

  He kept staring at the door, hoping he’d come in any minute.

  Hoping his mommy would be with him and she’d take him home. And this horrible day would be over.

  Mr. Colt’s friend Mr. Derrick set a drawing pad and some crayons on the coffee table. “Wanna draw while we wait on Colt to get back?”

  He stared at the crayons and paper for a minute. He was a pretty good drawer. But he didn’t feel like drawing. His stomach was growling and jumping up and down, he was so hungry.

  Maybe he should have broken out of jail after that mac and cheese.

  Petey shook his head. “No. I wanna go home.”

  Mr. Derrick nodded. “I know. Maybe when Colt returns, he can tell us when you and your mother can go home.”

  Footsteps squeaked on the floor. His heart pounded. He sat up straighter. His mommy was coming back now. She’d hug him hard, and then they’d get lunch and ice cream and forget about this awful day.

  But Ms. Brianna walked in the door instead.

  Petey went stone-cold still.

  Mr. Colt hadn’t helped him at all. He’d lied to him.

  Tears clogged his throat. He’d trusted him ’cause his name was the name of the gun his daddy had told him about.

  But Mr. Colt had called the kid jail to come and get him.

  Would they put those metal things on his hands this time like they had his mommy to keep him from running away again?

  Chapter Three

  Serena’s comment about being in the system disturbed Colt. What had happened to her while she was in foster care? Had someone hurt her?

  Knowing that was very possible, he hated even more that her son would be forced to stay in the orphanage or with a foster family until this mess was sorted out and she was cleared.

  Granted she was cleared.

  God knew he’d seen enough cases go awry not to completely trust the court system.

  Colt stepped into the front office and phoned Kay Krantz, an attorney he’d met when he was on the force. She was kind, compassionate and a pit bull in court. As soon as he explained that Serena was a single mother whose husband had been killed on the force, she agreed to rush over.

  Next he phoned Ben Camp at GAI. Ben was their go-to technical guy. If he couldn’t hack into it or trace it, it couldn’t be done. “Ben, it’s Colt. Did you talk to Derrick?”

  “Yeah, he filled Gage and all the agents in on your case. Where are you?”

  “The sheriff’s department. I just met with the little boy’s mother, and I believe her story.” He explained about Lyle Rice’s advances, Serena’s rejection and that the man had hurt the boy.

  “How was he killed?”

  “I don’t know any details yet, but I’m going to talk to the sheriff now. I also phoned Kay Krantz, and she agreed to represent Serena. She’s on the way.”

  “So you believe this Stover woman is innocent?”

  Col
t hesitated. He’d been fooled by women before. But not for a long time. One plus of working undercover was that he’d become a good judge of character, both good and bad. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Then I’ll see what I can dig up on Rice. If the man has skeletons, they’re coming out of the closet.”

  “Thanks, Camp. I’ll update you once I talk to Sheriff Gray.”

  Colt strode to the sheriff’s office and knocked on the door. The sheriff glanced up from the file on his desk and gestured for him to come in.

  “I didn’t expect to have GAI in on this investigation,” Sheriff Gray said without preamble.

  Colt shrugged. “Her kid made a good case.”

  Gray nodded, his expression troubled. “I haven’t interrogated Ms. Stover yet. She was too upset when we first brought her in.”

  So the sheriff had a touch of compassion. If he’d really believed the woman was a cold-blooded killer, he would have gone for the jugular before she’d had time to concoct a phony story.

  Colt crossed his arms. “So, what evidence do you have against Serena Stover to warrant an arrest?”

  Sheriff Gray leaned back in his seat, and propped his feet on his desk. “You know I don’t have to tell you that.”

  “True. But I have a feeling you will.”

  “Does Ms. Stover have a lawyer?”

  Colt folded his arms. “She’s on her way.”

  Sheriff Gray nodded as if he’d expected as much. “Then we might as well discuss it all at once.”

  Colt wanted answers now. “The news reporter said you didn’t find a body. Have you recovered it yet?”

  Sheriff Gray fiddled with the pen on his desk. “No.”

  Colt frowned. “Then how can you be certain there was a murder?”

  “There is other convincing evidence,” the sheriff said in a tone indicating he didn’t intend to argue—or reveal all the information he had at the moment.

  “How about cause of death?”

  Gray’s expression shut down. “I told you we’d discuss this with Ms. Stover and her attorney. Now, I need to make a call.”

  Colt hesitated. He wanted to push for more, but Sheriff Gray gestured toward the door, and he remembered Gage’s warning about staying on Gray’s good side.