Saving His Son Read online

  “What’s the sheriff’s take on things?”

  “He thinks Dr. Cross invented medicine. He can’t believe anything bad about him.”

  “But you’re convinced Cross is involved?”

  “I don’t know what to think, Mac, but I feel my son is out there, I hear him crying for me at night in my sleep. I have to know the truth about what happened.”

  His gaze dropped to her arms where she’d cradled them around her. His voice softened with sympathy. “Even if it turns out our baby died like the doctor said? Do you want to know that, too, Lindsey?”

  “Yes, even then.” Lindsey choked back the tears clogging her throat. “Whatever you find out, I’ll deal with it. But knowing the truth is the only way I can put this ordeal behind me and get on with my life.”

  Gavin nodded, his own throat thick. “I’ll talk to Peterson. I’m due a few days vacation. Then we’ll get out of here.” She nodded and he crossed the room and forced himself to leave without touching Lindsey when he wanted to drag her in his arms and hold her, apologize for letting her down, promise her everything would be all right.

  But he’d learned the hard way he couldn’t make promises he might not be able to keep.

  GAVIN PULLED INTO into the parking spot in front of his apartment, climbed out and waited on Lindsey to meet him at the door, a bad feeling lingering in his gut. The lieutenant had given him leave, no problem. His partner, Simon Durango, had agreed he should go. But the sight of Lindsey reminded him of the lonely hole in his life. The long days and nights he’d spent remembering her touch, the feel of her lips on his, the feel of her naked body beneath his. He’d admired her strength, had needed it that night they’d made love as much as she’d needed his.

  He’d never gotten over her. He probably never would.

  But he’d hurt her terribly. She must hate him. And who could blame her?

  “Gavin?”

  He jerked his head toward the shrubbery lining the far end of the complex, scanning the lot. “Come on, it shouldn’t take me long to pack.” He unlocked the door and gestured for her to go in but she stood ramrod straight.

  Those dark eyes watched him warily. “I can wait out here.”

  “At least come in and sit down,” he said softly. “You look like you’re going to collapse.”

  “Thanks, Mac.” Sarcasm laced her voice. “I’d forgotten how charming you can be.”

  He winced. She’d been feisty and determined to do the right thing by testifying, regardless of the consequences to her safety. He’d wanted her the minute he’d laid eyes on her, but he’d fought the attraction, knowing she was off-limit

  “Do you mind if I use your phone while you pack?”

  He shook his head, hating the awkwardness between them but knowing he’d drawn the boundaries. “It’s—”

  “I know where the phone is,” Lindsey said quietly.

  He nodded curtly, remembering the night they’d spent together. When her husband had discovered the location of her safe house, his hired hands had come after her and they’d tried to kill her. Gavin had apprehended them just in time to save her. They’d rushed to another safe house, an isolated cabin in the mountains. Emotions had been high, adrenaline pumping from the danger. Things had gotten out of hand. They’d made love. And he’d planted the seed that had become their son.

  Now Lindsey had returned because their baby was missing.

  A wave of nausea hit him but he welcomed it. After deserting them and leaving Lindsey vulnerable and alone, he deserved the pain.

  Lindsey turned away, so he headed toward his bedroom to pack. She was absolutely right. They couldn’t get personally involved again. He’d go to Maple Hollow, check out her story and pray he could help her discover the truth about their baby. But he’d keep his distance. Because he didn’t deserve her or a child, and this time when he walked away, it would have to be final.

  LINDSEY SURVEYED Gavin’s apartment as she punched in JoAnn’s telephone number. Two cardboard boxes with half-eaten pizzas were piled on top of a half dozen empty soda cans. A couple of crushed beer cans lay in the corner as if he’d tossed them toward the trash can and missed. Dust covered his collection of trains on the oak bookcase.

  He obviously hadn’t been home much lately or hadn’t been taking care of his place, the same way he hadn’t been taking care of himself. His unshaven face, long hair, rumpled jeans and shirt attested to the fact he’d been out on an assignment. Not that he’d ever been neat, but the dust on his beloved trains definitely hinted he’d been distracted.

  A beep interrupted her reverie, and she realized JoAnn’s message machine had played all the way through. “Hey, Jo, it’s me. Sorry I didn’t make it by the school but something came up. I’ll talk to you later.”

  She hung up the phone and rubbed her neck, then stretched out on the sofa, ignoring the temptation to tidy his room. Exhausted, she closed her eyes, fighting the emotions coursing through her. The shower kicked on, and she envisioned Gavin standing naked under the hot water. She could see his dark hair full of lather, water trickling down the wide planes of his chest, soap bubbles beading on his taut thighs…

  She smiled, letting the image erase the haunting memories for the last year. Gavin had been the only man she’d slept with other than her husband. She didn’t give herself lightly, didn’t jump from one man’s bed to another. But during the weeks she and Gavin had spent together, she’d recognized a strength of character that had been missing in her husband. Maybe it had been the circumstances, the danger, the close quarters, but she’d fallen for him quick and hard. And the spiral downward after his dismissal had been devastating.

  WHO WAS JOE? Gavin hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d simply picked up the phone to check his voice mail when Lindsey had spoken the man’s name. Was he a new boyfriend?

  He tugged on a pair of well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt, pulled on dark socks and his boots, then jerked the ends of his black hair back into a low ponytail, securing it with a leather tie. The discoloration streaking the side of his temple and his bloodshot eye made him look like a hellion, and the cut at the hairline of his forehead should have had stitches. Not exactly the image he wanted in front of the woman he still lusted after. Or her boyfriend.

  For the first time in his life, he wondered what a child would think about him. His child. He certainly didn’t look like anyone’s father.

  Feeling edgy, he tossed some clothes into a duffel, grabbed his shaving kit and toiletries, checked his gun and stashed some extra ammo in his bag. Not that he planned to use the Glock, but he never went anywhere without his weapon.

  SOMEONE WAS watching her.

  Darkness bathed the cold room and shadows streaked the whitewashed walls in hazy diagonal lines. The scent of despair hung heavy in the air. The steady drip of the IV. Fresh tears sprang to Lindsey’s eyes and ran down her face. She wanted to scream, but tears clogged her throat. A slight shuffling sound startled her. Someone’s feet dragging. She wasn’t alone.

  Janet, bringing her baby.

  No, her baby…was gone. God, noooo…

  The sound again. She turned her head. A sliver of light. The door closed. A shadow blocked the doorway. The doctor? Breathing rattled through the claustrophobic room. The shadow inched toward her. Her eyelids felt heavy. She tried to distinguish a face. She had to talk to the doctor. Force him to tell her where he’d taken her baby. Admit that the nurse had made some awful mistake.

  He was holding something. A pillow. A chill slithered up her spine. She tried to pull herself from sleep. The pillow closed over her face. Pressed against her eyes. Blocked the air from her lungs. She heaved and tried to kick. But she was so tired.

  And just as the inky darkness swallowed her, she heard a baby crying…

  Chapter Three

  Lindsey jerked upright, her heart hammering in her chest. The sun had set while she’d slept, and early evening shadows engulfed the musty room. Blinking furiously, she finally focused and realized Gavin stood be
side her. Relief poured through her. But the silhouette of his handsome face did nothing to alleviate her anxiety over the nightmare. And over seeing him again.

  “Bad dream?”

  She nodded.

  “About that night?”

  She nodded again and brushed her hair away from her face. “I could hear our baby crying for me.”

  He stood so still, studied her with such anguish that Lindsey ached to touch him. To feel some sort of stability in her rocky world. He had shaved and showered and smelled like soap and that minty aftershave she’d always loved. His damp ponytail was infuriatingly sexy and his bruised eye simply added to his dangerous appearance, the kind that twisted a woman’s insides with fear and want.

  Irritated that he still made her ache for him, she drew back. “You should have made some noise or something.”

  “I was afraid I’d startle you.”

  “It’s been a long day.” She fingercombed her hair, then stood and brushed at her dress. “Are you ready?”

  His dark eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure you’re ready? You look as if you need a good night’s sleep before driving.”

  “What I need is to find my baby.” She moved toward the door. “And the quicker the better, so we can both get back to our own lives.” Separately.

  He frowned, then grabbed his duffel bag and headed to the door. “All right. Let’s go.”

  She nodded, wondering at her sanity for asking him to her home. At least now she had no memories of him in her rental house. But once he stepped inside, his image and scent would linger in every corner. Then how would she ever be able to forget him?

  HOURS LATER they drove past a neighborhood that could have been lifted from the set of Andy Griffith, then veered onto a side street which curved slightly around the mountain. Lindsey stopped by the cemetery, but Gavin shook his head, not yet ready to face the tiny gravemarker which marked his son’s fleeting existence. When they’d stopped for coffee at a small diner, she’d bought fresh flowers from a stand outside the café. He watched in agony now as she lay the beautiful flowers on the small plot, her soft sobs wrenching in their sweetness.

  He had to find out if the baby in the grave was his son—they could exhume the body. But he couldn’t justify disturbing the sanctity of the child’s grave without definite proof of foul play. Judging from Lindsey’s emotional state, he didn’t think she was ready for the suggestion either.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she returned to her car and they drove down a dirt road, finally stopping at the end of the narrow drive where a tiny white house sat bordered by a picket fence, a whiskey barrel full of pansies and a front porch with a porch swing. Gavin instantly pictured a tricycle and kiddie pool in the front yard, Lindsey wearing a Little League Mom’s shirt holding a baby on her hip. A picnic table on the back deck, lazy Sunday afternoons, a bunch of rugrats running through the sprinkler. His son sporting a baseball hat.

  His son.

  Lindsey thought that night with her hadn’t meant anything to him. Hell, it had meant too much.

  All the more reason he and Lindsey didn’t belong

  He’d seen too much meanness in his life. He couldn’t take his kid fishing like Andy had Opie and pretend the world was a good place.

  His gaze swept the property and he frowned. Situated off the main turnpike, the cabin was isolated and tucked into the woods with a thick bed of trees backing the property. He tried to remember the distance between her house and the last one they’d passed. At least a mile. Too far to yell for help if she were in trouble. And those woods would make an excellent hiding spot for someone who meant her harm. He kept his headlights on while she walked up the porch steps and opened the door. Thank God, she did use a key.

  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 cra 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?