Tracking Tahlula (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha) (On Call Book 3)

by Freya Barker

  “He’s always hated me working there,” Jaimie muses. “Hated me working, period, but even more so working for a gay woman, which he thought was an abomination. He never said anything at the time, but knowing what I know now, I imagine he wouldn’t have been happy finding out the agency’s top lister turned out to be half African-American either.”

  “Shit, Blackfoot. If we don’t watch it, we’ll be out of a job,” Ramirez jokes, clearly more at ease now the tears have dried.

  “We need to call Thompson in Denver. Get her to find out what last name this Elizabeth—or Margaret—was registered under, along with any other information they may have on record. We need to find her.”

  The detectives leave shortly after that, and I step onto Jaimie’s back deck for a breath of fresh air. The pieces of information had seemed like loose sand before but are starting to fit together. Yet the big picture still eludes me. Jesus, my head hurts.

  I lean forward on the railing when the now familiar pain low in my abdomen starts. Every day I get a few. They don’t alarm me anymore, but they do stop me in my tracks. I breathe in easily through the nose and out the mouth, waiting for it to subside. It may be my imagination, but it feels longer than before.

  I straighten up and take a deep cleansing breath as it finally fades away.

  “You okay?” Evan asks, walking up behind me and spreading his big hands over my belly. “Was that another one?”

  “Little Pea is making her presence known.”

  His lips kiss the sensitive skin where my shoulder meets my neck. “Already the little diva,” he chuckles and I feel the vibration to my toes. “How about we get out of here? Ma is gonna stay with Jaimie for a while, make sure she’s settled in. She noticed you were looking a little pale. Suggested I take you home so you can rest.”

  I lean back against his strong chest. I have been tired. A common occurrence for pregnant women, but the past couple of days I have periods where I can’t even form words, I’m so exhausted.

  “Take me home, love,” I whisper.

  A quick goodbye with promises to be in touch later, and Evan whisks me out of there. Luke is waiting by the door when we get home, begging for a walk.

  “I’m not up to it, buddy.”

  “I’ll take him. Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll throw together something for dinner when I get back.” He tilts my chin up for a kiss before turning me around and with a hand in my lower back, propelling me down the hall to our bedroom.

  I quickly strip out of my clothes, but before I can slip between the sheets, another one hits me. I do my breathing bit, waiting for it to pass, as I listen to Evan talking to the dog before I hear the door close behind them.

  I’ve barely gotten comfortable in bed, when my bladder announces itself. I’m washing my hands in the bathroom when the next one washes over me, this one has me hanging onto the sink as my knees buckle with the force.

  Shit.

  26

  Evan

  “Hey, Ma.”

  She straightens up, stretching with one hand in her back and the other holding onto the large bin she uses for garden waste.

  Luke’s whole body is wagging as he tries to get her attention. I’d taken the dog for a nice long walk after he was cooped up inside for most of the day and happened to walk down Ma’s street when I noticed her weeding her yard.

  “I thought you’d still be at Jaimie’s.”

  She gives Luke a scratch behind his ears. “Five minutes after you guys left, she was nodding off on the couch. With the baby sleeping, I figured she could do with a nap. It’s been an enervating day for her.”

  “So you thought you’d come home and work some more? You’ve been at it all day, Ma. Give it a break.”

  “I’m only doing this flowerbed. The rest can wait until tomorrow,” she says stubbornly.

  I’m starting to clue in. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Ollie Benedetti’s immaculate garden, now would it?” The flash of annoyance and faint blush on her cheeks holds the answer. “Ma…”

  She waves her garden-gloved hand in my face. “Mind your own business, Evan.”

  I have to laugh at the irony, my mother telling me to mind my business, when she likes nothing better than to poke into mine. Grabbing her hand I pull her into a hug. “Pride goeth before the fall, Ma.”

  “Oh, hush,” she returns, but slips her arms around my waist and gives me a squeeze.

  “Tell you what, why don’t you get cleaned up and pop by for dinner? Lula is having a little rest, but you can keep me company while I grill.”

  She leans back to look at me. “Are you sure you guys haven’t seen enough of me already?”

  “Hardly.” I smile and press a kiss to her forehead before letting her go.

  “Anything I can bring?” she gives in.

  “Do you still have some of that homemade pesto? That would go well with the roasted vegetables.”

  “I think I may still have a jar.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” I start walking when she calls my name.

  “Evan?” I glance over my shoulder. “I like her for you.”

  Over the years she has given up asking whether there was anyone ‘special’ in my life. I guess my repetitive denial wore thin, but I’m sure she never stopped hoping I’d find someone.

  “I like her for me too, Ma.”

  With a wave, I set off down the block, Luke trying to sniff every blade of grass he encounters, but I’m suddenly in a hurry.

  It’s quiet when we walk in and I unclip the dog’s leash. I stick my head into the hallway to listen for any movement. There’s none. She’s probably sleeping. I grab a bowl in the kitchen and head out the back door to pull some vegetables from the garden for dinner; surprised the dog doesn’t follow me out. Probably tuckered from his walk.

  I don’t notice the scratching until after I’m done rinsing the produce and turn off the faucet. Curious, I wipe my hands on the towel and follow the sound. Luke is sitting in front of the bedroom door, softly whining.

  “What’s going on, buddy?”

  He turns to look at me before scratching at the door again. Alarmed, I push him aside and open the door.

  Tahlula is on her knees at the foot end of the bed, her head and arms leaning on the mattress. Her face is turned to me, pale and damp.

  “I keep hoping it’ll stop,” she croaks, when the look of pain distorts her face into a grimace and more beads pop up on her forehead.

  “Breathe, baby,” I encourage her, dropping down to the floor beside her, as I wrestle my phone free from my pocket. I’m fighting to stay calm as I explain the emergency and give directions to the 9-1-1 operator on the other side. “That’s the way,” I whisper, rubbing my hand down her spine when she gets through her contraction.

  “Too early.”

  “A little, but she’ll be fine. She’s just a little impatient.” I try hard to inject confidence I don’t feel into my words. I don’t like Tahlula’s color. She’s much paler than I usually see moms in labor.

  Luke, who’s been trying to get closer to his mistress, suddenly darts from the room. The next I know, Ma’s voice calls out. “Evan?”

  “In here,” I holler back, noting how Tahlula barely responds to the yelling back and forth.

  “Did you call for an ambulance?” my mother, who has nerves of steel, asks the moment she comes through the door and takes in the scene.

  “On the way.”

  “Good.” She leans over the bed and reaches out to brush the curls off Tahlula’s forehead. “Do you want a wet cloth?”

  Instead of answering, she gives her a tight little nod and Ma darts off to the bathroom, only to be back a minute later wiping the small towel over Tahlula’s face.

  “We should probably call Dr. Haebe,” she says, her feverish, copper eyes on me.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “The emergency number is in my contacts.” Her face tells me the next contraction has hit, and I wait for it t
o pass before I get up and Ma takes my place on the floor beside the bed.

  I see her purse in the living room and dig out her phone, finding the contact number. As the doctor assures me she’s on her way to the hospital to wait for us, there’s a knock on the door.

  I should’ve known my crew would be the first to show up. Blue takes in the worried look on my face and grabs a moment to fold me in a quick hug. “She’ll be okay. Where is she?”

  I point down the hall, as Sumo comes through the door with the gurney. “Big day, Daddy,” he says, and all of a sudden my knees go weak. “Whoa, sit down for a spot, Cheddar.” He puts a firm hand on my shoulder and pushes me down on the armrest of the couch, putting pressure on the back of my neck until my head is between my knees. “Better?” he asks after a few seconds, and I nod as he removes his hand.

  “Let’s go see about Mom and Baby, shall we?”

  Grateful he’s not making fun of me now, I have no doubt I’ll be the butt of jokes at my momentary weakness for a long time to come.

  Daddy. Jesus.

  Tahlula

  I can’t remember much of the ambulance ride, other than Evan’s face close to mine.

  I recognized the effort he makes to keep that gentle smile on his face, but the worry underneath shines through.

  “It’ll be okay,” I whisper after a particularly hefty contraction leaves me almost breathless. I reach out my hand to stroke his face. For a moment he closes his eyes, turning to press his lips against my palm.

  “I know it will,” he whispers back, right before the doors of the ambulance open.

  I keep my eyes closed to shut out the bright lights and curious glances. My only anchor: Evan’s hand holding onto mine as I’m being rushed through the hospital.

  How is it possible for a man I’ve known for only two months to become the center of my universe?

  “There you are.” Dr. Haebe’s familiar voice has me opening my eyes. “Let’s get you settled in and figure out what’s got that little girl of yours in such a hurry.” She pats my hand. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Between Blue, Evan, and a nurse, they have me transferred to the hospital bed just in time before the next contraction hits. A low moan escapes me as the force consumes me. It’s not until I come out the other side I notice Evan once again has hold of my hand.

  At some point Blue must’ve left, only the nurse remaining. “Sir,” she addresses Evan. “I’m going to need you to step out to give Mom some privacy while I get her settled in.”

  Evan’s eyes flash up. “Not going anywhere,” he bites off, staring the nurse down.

  “I need him here,” I enforce firmly, hanging onto his hand for dear life.

  “You may be more comfortable if he—”

  “Can we do this before she has another one?” Evan snaps, losing patience. “Trust me, I’ve seen all there is to see.”

  That seems to surprise the nurse, who looks from me to him and back. “Is he the father?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  His firm declaration settles deep in my heart and I turn my brightest smile on him. “He is,” I confirm, finding his baby blues swimming with emotion as he lifts my hand to his lips.

  The nurse, whose name is Kathy, is all business after that, and in no time I’m dressed in a hospital gown—again—and strapped to a fetal monitor, when Dr. Haebe comes in.

  “Let’s have that look, shall we?” I keep my eyes on Evan as she examines me, putting her other hand on my abdomen. “Are you having a contraction?” Just as she mentions it, I feel it building. “I’m going to keep my fingers here to see what happens.”

  I barely notice what she’s doing, so overwhelmed with the force holding my body, and an involuntary groan expels from deep inside. I focus on Evan who is breathing steadily, trying to mimic his pace.

  “Well,” Dr. Haebe says, snapping off her glove. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do to stop this baby from coming. I can tell you it feels like she’s been blessed with a good head of hair.” I’m in shock and I barely register the doctor giving urgent instructions to Kathy.

  “Breathe, Lula,” Evan whispers in my ear. “You’ve got this.”

  I block out the sudden sense of urgency in the room, with people coming in and setting up. Instead I close my eyes, and focus on Evan’s voice, as wave after wave crashes over me.

  I don’t open them until Dr. Haebe takes my hand and guides it between my legs.

  Evan is sitting behind me on the bed, my back against his chest, and his large hands holding my legs pulled up.

  “Feel that? That’s your little girl. Now, I need one more good push from you. One more and you can hold your baby.”

  “It’s all you, Lula,” Evan encourages behind me. “You hold all the power.”

  I take in a deep breath and brace, pushing hard and not stopping until I feel my daughter’s little body slide from mine.

  “Oh my God,” I hear Kathy gasp.

  My eyes pop open just as Dr. Haebe lifts my Little Pea onto my chest. My hands curve around her tiny, slick body, and Evan’s come up to cover mine.

  “Just for a minute,” Dr. Haebe says. “The neonatal team is waiting for her.”

  The little girl scrunches up her face and starts crying. She sounds like a kitten.

  “She’s so beautiful,” Evan whispers behind me, and tears run down my face.

  “She looks exactly like I imagined,” I confess, as he touches a careful finger to her striking mop of red hair. Probably the reason for Kathy’s shock.

  “What’s her name?”

  “I want to call her Hanna.”

  I feel his lips press a kiss to the side of my head. “That’s a perfect name for her.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to have a look at her.” I reluctantly let them take my baby from my chest and over to a baby warmer.

  “Go with her,” I tell Evan. “Please?”

  He unfolds himself from behind me and walks over to the small group, while Kathy stuffs pillows at my back to take his place.

  The next half hour is a bit of a blur while I try to keep track of what’s happening with Hanna. Dr. Haebe gives me a shot for clotting and guides me through the delivery of the afterbirth. The entire time, Evan stays close to the baby.

  I cry a little when they tell me her lungs are a bit immature yet, and she needs to be closely monitored in the NICU for a while. I insist Evan go with her.

  “You did well, Tahlula,” Dr. Haebe says, taking my hand in hers. “They’ll keep her for a bit, but after you have some rest, and we have a chance to replenish your fluids, you’ll be able to go see her. Even nurse her, since that was your plan. If she’s too weak to feed herself, we can get you set up with a pump, so she can still benefit from your milk.”

  I’m alone in the room when Evan returns, and I promptly burst out crying.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not usually a crier,” I sob, as he leans over the bed and hugs me.

  “That’s hormones, mostly,” he assures me, sitting down on the stool beside me but holding onto my hand. “And exhaustion, I’m sure. You were amazing, I’m in absolute awe.”

  “I’m sure you’ve seen childbirth before in your line of work.”

  “A few times,” he admits. “But never one where my heart was so invested. I’m so damn proud of you. You made a gorgeous little girl.”

  I grin back at him. “She is, isn’t she?”

  “I have to ask, though. Her hair, it’s red.”

  “I know.”

  “Was that…”

  “Intentional? Well, there was a fifty-fifty chance she could be. I had genetic testing done before I went ahead with the artificial insemination. I always was partial to redheads,” I grin when he wiggles his eyebrows. “And when I discovered I carried the recessive gene—from my father, I guess—I looked for a donor who was a carrier as well.”

  “Is that why you picked me?” He tries to be casual with his question, but I can hear the tension behind it.

&
nbsp; “Technically you picked me,” I gently point out. “The hair color was certainly part of my initial attraction to you, but it’s not what made me fall in love with you.”

  “No?”

  “Uh-huh.” I shake my head. “As nice a package as you come in, it’s your indiscriminate kindness, your passion, your warm heart, and your beautiful soul that made me fall in love with you.”

  I can see he’s moved when he lowers his eyes and brings my fingers to his lips. “I should’ve known you’d have a way with words,” he mutters, his voice a touch jagged.

  In an attempt to lighten the moment I hum lightly, tapping a finger to my lips. “Mmmm. I think I forgot to mention you’re a great cook, and you rock my world in bed.”

  He lifts his head, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Fucking right, I do.”

  27

  Evan

  “I have a few forms for you to fill out.”

  My head jerks to the bed, where Tahlula is still sleeping.

  It’s been a rough night. The bleeding didn’t slow down and she ended up needing another transfusion around midnight. People were in and out of her room most of the night, and she hasn’t even been able to go see Hanna, who was born last night at seven forty-five.

  A new nurse walks into the room with a clipboard, setting it on the bedside table. “I’ll just leave it here.”

  The moment she disappears again, I pick up the clipboard and flip through the pages, thinking maybe I can start filling some of it out. Most of it is insurance related, when I encounter an application form for Hanna’s birth certificate. My eyes are drawn to the spot where the father’s name should go, before I glance at the wristband with Hanna’s name they put on my arm last night, listing me as ‘father.’

  “Morning,” Tahlula’s sleepy voice sounds from the bed.

  “Morning, baby,” I lean over to kiss her.

  “I taste like something died in my mouth.” She winces as she says it, making me chuckle. “What time is it?”