Hide the Child

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Thus Risvold’s panic attack.”

  Gabe wasn’t so sure. In fairness to the lead detective, the crime was appalling. A nice mother and child slaughtered? The media had to be pushing hard for answers.

  “Do you know anything about this Ronald Pearson?” he asked.

  “No more than you’d have found online,” Trina said. “I haven’t met him or anything. I did wonder...well.”

  Gabe had wondered, too. If the partners were also good friends, their families would be well acquainted. You’d think this Pearson and his wife might have wanted to take in Chloe, or at least to visit her, call regularly.

  Trina shifted in her seat to look directly at him. “Do you suspect he killed Michael Keif over control of the company?”

  “Undecided,” he said. “We need to keep him in mind, though. What I’d like to find out is what happens to Open Range Electronics now that one of the two founding partners is dead. Was it set up so that Keif’s share goes into a trust for Chloe? You know, it’s equally possible that, in the event of a death, the living partner gets the whole shebang.”

  Trina brooded for a few miles before saying, “If O.R.E. is doing so well, why wouldn’t they both have been satisfied? From what I read, Chloe’s dad was the engineer who had the original concept for their first product, and supervised engineering and operations, including manufacturing. Pearson is the public face, the one who was always interviewed, who headed distribution, the sales force.”

  “I saw that. I also saw some indiscreet comments made by a man named Russell Stearns, who seems to have been only a step below Keif. He thought the company could go bigger, that Keif’s vision was too limited and he’d been holding them back.”

  She stared at him. “Where’d you find that? Did this guy really go public with a criticism of the man with the power to fire him?”

  “The man who did fire him. I’m guessing Stearns thought Pearson would back him, but he didn’t. Doesn’t mean Pearson won’t immediately offer him the job as chief operating officer. With Stearns, there’d be continuity. No learning curve. And, hey, ambition. So far, they haven’t brought anyone new on board. I guess that would look insensitive this quickly.”

  Trina shook her head. “It’s just so hard to imagine a businessman massacring a family. Looking into the eyes of a six-year-old boy and shooting him? Setting the fire to kill Chloe and me?”

  “And yet someone did all those things,” he reminded her.

  He saw her swallow. When she said, “I know,” it was softly.

  Gentling his voice, he said, “We have the weekend now.”

  She nodded, but her fingers had locked together again.

  “Trina, I think you and I need to get some answers. I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost faith in Risvold. Instead of seriously investigating, he’s got himself convinced that Chloe will tell him who to arrest.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  Her tartness pleased him. He didn’t like scaring this woman.

  “We can’t exactly go canvass neighbors, though.” Now she sounded thoughtful. “Or interview coworkers. And then there’s the chance the murders were about something else. Say Michael or his wife had been having an affair, maybe broke it off, and the enraged third party flipped out.”

  “Possible,” Gabe conceded, “but remember that Chloe’s mother and brother weren’t supposed to be there. If this was Michael’s lover, would she be up to killing the whole family?”

  “Maybe, if she was surprised in the act. Besides, what are you saying? Women aren’t as vicious as men?”

  He surprised himself with a chuckle. “No, you’re right. They can be.”

  “Anyway, what if the killer was the lover’s cuckolded husband?”

  Gabe laughed openly. “Didn’t know anyone used that word anymore.”

  She sniffed. “I read a lot. And it’s accurate, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” He was still smiling when he reached the cabin. He braked in front and said, “Go on, I know you’re—” he caught himself on the verge of saying dying “—itching to see Chloe.”

  After watching her bound up the steps and go in the front door, he drove around the side of the cabin and maneuvered until he could back into the small barn he used as a garage. Closing the doors but not locking them—there was always the chance they’d need to take off in a hurry—he walked while thinking about what research he and she could, and couldn’t, do.

  Nobody knew him. Could he get some people who worked at O.R.E. to talk to him? Or any of the Keifs’ neighbors? It would be worth asking Trina if she happened to have any acquaintance with another one of the county council members or a spouse thereof, too. Another thought: he knew several Ranger teammates who’d gone into law enforcement after retiring from the military. The option was a common one. The one who was most potentially useful, Chad Bravick, had been a detective with the Portland Police Bureau last Gabe knew. Would he be able to think of an excuse for butting in on this investigation?

  Gabe grimaced. If this dragged on, he’d ask.

  He said a few words to Diane and watched her drive away, today in her own sedan. Then he let himself into the cabin, his mood lighter the minute he heard a little girl giggle, and one particular woman laugh.

  * * *

  “AAGH!” TRINA WRITHED, trying to reach the middle of her back and failing. “Crap, crap, crap.”

  Why hadn’t she thought to waylay Diane before she left? Trina really hoped she hadn’t been subconsciously setting herself up to have a good excuse to ask Gabe to put his hands on her again. He’d made it plain that he didn’t intend to take the kiss anywhere. Fine. She should count her blessings. It wasn’t a good idea. He wasn’t a good idea, not for her—but she wasn’t all that sure she had the willpower to be the one to put the brakes on.

  Grumbling to herself, she went downstairs with the bottle of aloe vera. She’d been going through the stuff like frat boys did beer. Gabe had had to buy more for her twice this week.

  She paused at the foot of the stairs to watch Chloe. A video played—Finding Nemo, or maybe it was the sequel. Chloe had her back to the TV. With a frown of concentration, she was putting together a puzzle Gabe had bought for her.

  Smiling, Trina went on to the kitchen, where Gabe was hunched over his laptop. However fierce his concentration, he lifted his head immediately. His gaze dropped from her face to the bottle clutched in her hand.

  “You need some help?”

  “Yes!” Tone it down, she ordered herself. “I’m sorry to have to ask, but I itch like crazy, and I can’t reach the middle of my back.”

  “No problem.” He rose in that effortless way he had and came toward her.

  “You don’t move like someone who was injured,” she blurted. “Do you mind... I mean, I keep wondering...”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Where I was hurt?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I know I’m being nosy, but I can’t help myself.”

  He didn’t look all that receptive, but he hadn’t gone into lockdown, either. After a minute, he said, “I told you it was an IED.” When she nodded, he went on. “The bomb blew a little bit behind me. It shattered my pelvis and flung me into the air. I hit part of what was left of the jeep when I came back down. Broke my femur.”

  She stared at him, aghast. “You can’t exactly put a pelvis in a cast.”

  “No.” He visibly debated how much to tell her. “I had internal bleeding,” he said finally, “so the docs stabilized me and then shipped me out. I’m being held together by plates, screws, pins.” He shrugged. “Not sure how much real bone is left.”

  “I’m so sorry. Joseph didn’t say how bad it was.”

  “I’m alive,” Gabe said curtly. He held out a hand for the aloe vera. Apparently, confidences were done.

  She gave it to him, turned around and lifted her shirt. She’d taken
off her bra when she got home.

  “Huh. You’re peeling.”

  “I know I’m peeling. This is the worst part.”

  “Gotten a bad sunburn before?”

  “When I was an idiot teenager. I learned my lesson.”

  She heard a gurgle, and then the cool relief as he stroked the aloe vera on. She sighed.

  “It really helps?” He was carefully lowering her shirt.

  “Well, it doesn’t entirely get rid of the itching, but it does make a difference.” Trina composed her face before she turned around. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He nodded toward the bottle he’d handed back to her. “How long does that last?”

  “Oh, a few hours, at least.”

  His eyes had darkened. “So, what happens in the middle of the night?”

  “I...don’t know. The intense itching started today.”

  “You can wake me up.” His voice had deepened, too, becoming darker, or maybe she was just picturing him sprawled in bed, reaching for her.

  It would be so much easier if she was already in bed with him.

  Bad idea, remember?

  “Trina,” he said huskily. The heat in his eyes held her in place. “You have to know I’m feeling things for you. That I want you.”

  Dodging the conversation appealed to the coward in her. Because her alternative was to throw herself into his arms. It was a struggle to find the in-between. “I’m...not very comfortable with short-term.”

  A nerve twitched on his cheek. “I’ve never done anything but,” he admitted, in the voice that felt so much like the calloused touch of his hands.

  Saddened despite her own turmoil, she asked, “Why?”

  He kept staring at her, but she felt his retreat well before he rolled his shoulders and stepped back. “That the woman talking? Or the psychologist?”

  What amounted to an accusation stung. “The woman. And being an Army Ranger isn’t an excuse. Even Joseph has had some relationships that got serious.”

  Gabe gave a mirthless laugh. “Joseph would kill me if he knew what I’d suggested to you.”

  “You’re afraid of my brother?” she said incredulously.

  “Not afraid. Respectful.”

  “Respectful?” Worse and worse.

  “There’s an unwritten rule. Your friends’ sisters are taboo.”

  The mood had seriously dampened, at least as far as she was concerned. “That is so ridiculous. And you’re just dodging my question.”

  “Your question.”

  Oh, he knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Why you never actually care about women.”

  His whole face tightened. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You sleep with them, you walk away. No harm, no foul. That does not suggest an emotional component.”

  Gabe shook his head in apparent disgust. “You can’t help digging, can you? Let’s forget about it, okay?”

  “Fine!” Her heartburn wasn’t from dinner, but if she didn’t admit he’d hurt her, it wasn’t true. Right? “I need to spend some time with Chloe. Try to get her to open up a little more.”

  “Have you been trying at all?”

  She didn’t need criticism from him. “As you pointed out, I’m a psychologist. I do know what I’m doing.” She stalked out of the kitchen, mad, hurt more than she should have been, frustrated, and suddenly sympathizing with Detective Risvold.

  If Chloe would only tell them what she saw, this could all be over. Forgotten.

  What exactly “all” was, Trina didn’t let herself define.

  * * *

  TORN BETWEEN GOING BACK to his online research and eavesdropping, Gabe chose to hover just out of sight of the two in the living room. If Trina caught him, he was damned if he’d apologize.

  “Wow!” she exclaimed. “You’re a champion with puzzles.”

  He’d swear the warmth he heard was genuine. Frowning, he shook his head. Of course Trina was genuine. She’d stepped up to foster Chloe when she didn’t need to. The trust and affection between the two of them was palpable. Why else did his chest so often feel bruised? The lonely little kid in him, the one he liked to think was no longer there, wanted in on that affection.

  Pathetic.

  “Do you mind if I turn off the movie? It doesn’t look like you’re watching it anyway.”

  Chloe must have nodded, because the background sound abruptly cut off.

  “Come and sit with me.”

  He wasn’t the target of that honeyed voice, but he felt the tug. He’d go sit with her anytime.

  Some rustlings and murmuring ensued.

  “I haven’t been able to see you in my office in ages, so I thought we should talk now,” Trina said.

  For the first time, he heard the high voice.

  “I don’t wanna talk about that.”

  “I know. But there are other things we can talk about, too. What do you think of Gabe’s house? Do you like it?”

  “Uh-huh. I ’specially like his horse. Do you think he’ll let me ride tomorrow?”

  Trina laughed. “I think there’s a good chance he’ll do that.”

  Gabe smiled. Chloe was a really cute kid who had him wrapped around her little finger. He’d never understood the appeal of having children before, mostly seeing them whining in grocery store aisles, but she’d opened his eyes. She was sweet and gutsy.

  “We’ll go ask him when we’re done talking. How about that?”

  “Can we be done talking now?”

  Gabe’s smile widened into a grin.

  “Nope,” Trina said cheerfully. “Did Diane keep you from being bored today?”

  “She’s nice. She even watched my movies with me.” It was a clear accusation. If she will, how come you don’t?

  “Did she tell you she really, really wants grandkids? I’m pretty sure she’s practicing. After spending time with you, she’ll be ready to be a grandma.”

  There was a pool of silence, followed by a small “I used to have a grandma.”

  “You still do, sweetie. She’s hurting. Your mother was her daughter, you know. And Brian her grandson. When you wouldn’t talk, she thought I could help you better than she could.”

  “But I talk now.”

  Trina laughed. “She knows that. I’ll tell you what. Once we can quit hiding, we’ll go visit her. I’ll bet she’d love that.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. So I’ve been wondering about something. I know you hid in a cupboard in your kitchen.”

  Silence.

  “You remember my kitchen, right? And you know Gabe’s kitchen.”

  He tipped his head. Where was this going?

  “And Gabe doesn’t even live here most of the time, which means he doesn’t have as much stuff as most of us do. So, here’s my question. How come there was enough room in there for you to hide? Was that cupboard empty?”

  Clever.

  “Mommy took the stuff out.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Cookie sheets ’n... I don’t know. Flat things.”

  “Ah. It was that kind of cupboard. I didn’t have one of those, but Gabe does. Those are skinny. Lucky you are, too.”

  The giggle told him some squeezing was going on.

  “But when did your mommy take the things out? Had she been washing them or something? She didn’t leave them just sitting on the counter, did she?”

  “Uh-uh. She... I think she put them on top of the pans in the big cabinet. It’s under the stove.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. Whew! I kept picturing you sitting in a giant mixing bowl or on top of pans, which wouldn’t be very comfy.”

  “Mommy made room for me.”

  “Did she tell you to hide in there?” Trina asked gently.

 
This time the silence went on so long Gabe thought Chloe wouldn’t answer.

  The voice that did come was Chloe’s, but...different. Eerie. “Mommy said to stay and not make a sound, not even a teensy sound. No matter what I heard.”

  “Oh, honey.” Heartbreak weighted Trina’s voice. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  “And I didn’t make a sound.” This was a wail. “I didn’t! ’Cept now I am, and Mommy said I shouldn’t. Not till she came back. And she’s not back! Why didn’t she come back?”

  The anguish in those sobs had Gabe flattening his hands on the wall and letting his head fall forward. He wanted to wrap his arms around that little girl and tell her that she didn’t have to talk about whatever horrible things she’d seen and heard. That she didn’t have to be afraid, because he’d stand between her and the rest of the damn world.

  If his hands had been pressing wallboard, he might have damaged it. The logs were impervious.

  Trina whispered broken reassurances until the sobbing eased, became snuffles and whimpers.

  “Did you push open the cupboard door so you could peek out?”

  Nothing.

  “I think it might help if you could tell me what you saw. Sometimes saying what scared you out loud makes it less scary.”

  When he didn’t hear anything more, Gabe shoved off from the wall and walked into the living room, the hell with staying out of sight. He saw Trina’s distraught face first, then, once he rounded the couch, the child clinging to her like a baby monkey—arms and legs both gripping her, head buried against Trina’s breasts.

  And that’s when he heard the soft keening. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  His horrified eyes met Trina’s.

  Chapter Seven

  Lying in bed that night with his hands clasped behind his head, Gabe stared up at the rafters and soaring, dark ceiling. The faintest hint of light from the hall cast shadows that wouldn’t normally be there.

  What Chloe had told them today verified the assumption that her mother had had some warning. Had she heard her husband and another man—or maybe more than one person—shouting? If she’d heard a threat, or glimpsed someone pulling a gun, why hadn’t she grabbed Chloe and slipped out the back door?