Nanny Witness

by Hope White

  “You are a professional.”

  “I can’t be objective.”

  “You don’t need to be objective. You need to be an uncle. And you’ve done a fine job of that so far.”

  “I disagree. I abandoned you and the baby to go chasing after some guy. There could have been two or three of them and they could have overpowered me and found you and...” His voice trailed off.

  She could tell he was slipping into that dark place and she had to stop it. She’d gone there plenty of times herself and it served no good purpose.

  “They didn’t find us,” Carly said. “I’ll say it again. We’re fine. You’re fine.”

  He shook his head. “You called it from the beginning. I’m incapable of being an uncle first and cop second. I’m all about myself, my ego. I’ll accept that.”

  “Well, I’m not accepting it because it’s not true.”

  “Carly—”

  “Why did you go after the burglar?”

  “Because he was breaking into the house and my cop instincts kicked in.”

  “That wouldn’t be enough to tear you away from your niece. What were you thinking about when you went down there?”

  “I wasn’t thinking. That’s the point.”

  “Let me try another way. What were you feeling?”

  “That someone was breaking into my brother’s house and I had to detain him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because...because he might know where they’re holding Harry.”

  “Okay, so maybe you were acting like a cop, but primarily you were thinking and feeling like a brother. Am I right?”

  “What difference does it make? I left you alone.”

  “Snap out of it. You’re her uncle and right now her mom and dad aren’t able to protect her so you’re the best thing she’s got. You’d protect her with your own life if need be. So yes, in this case, right now, you are being selfish. You’re wallowing in self-pity and you need to knock it off.”

  Whoa. Carly wasn’t sure where she’d found the courage to speak her truth like that, but it felt good. Not good, amazing, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was draining to always say the right things, things people wanted to hear, as opposed to the direct truth.

  From the expression on Whit’s face, she’d definitely hit a nerve. He studied the soda clenched in his hand as if trying to come up with an appropriate response to defend himself.

  Deep down, he knew she was right.

  Carly shifted onto a kitchen chair. “I’m sorry if that was harsh, but your niece needs you. Don’t pass her off to strangers.”

  “She’ll be with you.”

  “Please don’t pass me off to strangers.”

  He joined her at the table. “I was a stranger until two days ago.”

  “Well, considering our current situation, I’d say we’re on the fast track to being good friends, wouldn’t you?”

  “Friends.” He hesitated. “Yeah, it feels that way.”

  It felt like much more than a budding friendship to Carly. She reminded herself that the intense crisis they were embroiled in, plus the shared love of the little girl in the next room, was what created the strong bond between them. If Carly and Whit met on a blind date or even at church, they probably wouldn’t give each other a second thought.

  That wasn’t completely true, Carly admitted. Something drew her to Whit beyond his good looks. There was an air of integrity about him that made her feel safe.

  Another reason she wanted Whit to remain as her and Mia’s protector.

  “I trust you,” she said. “That’s unexpected considering my history with cops.”

  “Carly—”

  “No.”

  “You don’t know what I was going to say,” Whit protested.

  “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “You think you know me that well, huh?”

  “I know you carry around a lot of guilt about your relationship with your brother. Is that why you want to dump us? Because Mia reminds you of that perceived failure?”

  “No, and don’t say that. I’m not dumping anybody.”

  “What would you call it? You’d be essentially handing us over to people who don’t care about us—I mean Mia—the way you do. They’re not as invested in our comfort or our safety as you are.”

  “Carly—”

  “Just stop. I’m tired of arguing. I’m tired of this whole mess. I’m going to sleep.” Not that she’d sleep much tonight. “Good night.”

  “I thought you were hungry.”

  “I’ll eat tomorrow.” She headed toward Mia’s room. She didn’t know what else to do and had to get away from Whit, both because she was frustrated and wasn’t getting through his thick skull, and also because the thought of not seeing him again tore her apart.

  She hesitated before opening the bedroom door, not looking at him. “I feel safe with you, Whit. I don’t think...” She paused, reconsidering her confession. “I can’t remember ever saying that to anyone.”

  She went into the bedroom, shut the door and began to pray.

  * * *

  Carly fully expected a sheriff’s deputy to be in the coach house living room the next morning. After changing Mia’s diapers and clothes, she opened the door and found Whit sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee, a newspaper open in front of him.

  “Good morning,” he greeted.

  “You’re here.”

  “I am.”

  Praise God, her prayers had been answered. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  “For how long?” She casually approached him.

  “For the duration.” Whit closed the newspaper and reached for Mia.

  Excitement warred with melancholy. She’d dreamed of a scene like this where she’d come into her kitchen and be greeted by a gentle, loving man.

  “What’s wrong?” Whit said. “I thought I’d hold Mia.”

  “Sure, good idea.” She handed Mia to her uncle.

  This felt like a dream. Only last night he’d essentially said he was done with Carly and Mia, that he was leaving them behind to assist with the investigation.

  “I think Harper may want your help determining if anything is missing from Harry’s office.”

  “I didn’t go in there much.”

  “I made scrambled eggs and ham,” he said. “Wasn’t sure if the baby ate eggs at her age.”

  “Where’d you get the eggs?”

  “I gave Harper a list of a few things last night and his deputy brought it by this morning. Your breakfast is on a plate in the fridge.”

  Her breakfast. She liked the sound of that. He’d thought about her needs, her hunger.

  “I’ll make Mia some oatmeal, too,” she said.

  Mia squealed and flung her hands up, hitting Whit in the nose.

  “Whoa, what did I do?” he said.

  “Nothing.” She smiled. “That’s her hungry squeal.”

  “As opposed to her happy squeal?”

  Carly popped the instant oatmeal into the microwave and turned to Whit. “A completely different sound.” She pulled the eggs out of the fridge.

  “I do,” Whit said.

  She turned to him. “You do what?”

  “Trust you.”

  She couldn’t look away. His eyes, radiating warmth, pierced through her chest to her heart. Oh, man, she was in trouble.

  The microwave beeped. She quickly turned away.

  “That’s why I’m still here,” he said. “Believe it or not, I trust your judgment about family more than my own right now.” Mia kicked and squealed again. “Especially when it comes to hungry babies.” He made raspberry noises with his lips to entertain her, then lifted her shirt and kissed her tummy. Mia’s squeals morphed into giggles, an amazing sound to hear first thing in the mor
ning.

  This man, this man who questioned his own ability as a brother, an uncle and a life partner, was so natural with Mia.

  And Carly was falling for him.

  She turned away from Whit and Mia to make the baby’s oatmeal. With restless sleep and the constant threat of danger, it was no wonder Carly was drifting into fantasyland. A strong cup of coffee would help clear the confusion from her brain.

  I trust your judgment about family more than my own right now.

  He trusted her. Depended on her judgment. She was honored, and a little scared. That was a big responsibility.

  Carly put eggs Whit had made in a bowl for Mia and left some on the plate for herself. She sat at the table and reached for the little girl.

  “Why don’t you eat? I can feed Mia,” Whit said. “Can’t I?”

  “She can actually feed herself eggs, but it might get a little messy.” Carly tucked paper towels around the neckline of Mia’s shirt. “Ready, baby girl?”

  Whit turned her to face the table. Mia’s eyes lit up at the sight of scrambled eggs. She scooped a handful, shoved it into her mouth and made a happy humming sound.

  “That’s good isn’t it?” Carly said.

  Whit nodded at Carly’s plate. “Go ahead. I got this.”

  Carly forked her own eggs. “You seem—” she hesitated “—better this morning.”

  “You mean not so guilt-ridden and grouchy?” he said with a wink.

  She nodded.

  “Yeah, I’m working on that. Sorry,” Whit said.

  “You don’t have to be sorry about how you feel.”

  Mia squealed and playfully pounded her hands on the table.

  “What brought about the change?” Carly asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “You did.” He looked right at her.

  And she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

  Whit’s ringing phone shattered the tender moment.

  “Want me to?” Carly reached for Mia.

  “Nah. Could you answer and put it on speaker?” He nodded at the phone on the kitchen table.

  She did as he requested, noting the call was from an unknown number.

  “Whittaker,” he said, helping Mia catch a piece of runaway scrambled egg.

  “Brody, Brody help me.”

  TWELVE

  Whit stilled. “Harry?”

  Silence.

  He stared at his phone, watching the seconds tick by. The caller hadn’t hung up. Carly took Mia from him and the baby squawked as if she didn’t want to leave Whit’s lap.

  “Mia,” Harry’s voice hushed through the line.

  “Harry, where are you?” Whit pressed.

  “Is Susan...?”

  “She’s okay,” Whit said. “Tell us where you are.”

  “I’m not sure. They blindfolded us. I could be anywhere, Brody. I’m not even sure I’m in Colorado.”

  Just then, Detective Harper knocked and entered the coach house. Whit motioned to keep quiet so Whit could hear his brother.

  “Harry, why didn’t you call sooner?”

  “I didn’t have a phone. One of the guards left his behind by mistake.”

  “Why did they take you? What do they want?”

  “Take care of Mia, promise me.”

  “Harry—”

  “Promise,” he said, his voice firm, desperate.

  “I will. I promise,” Whit said. “Who’s got you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do they want money?”

  “I gave them money. They want more.”

  “What else is there?”

  “They want to destroy me and Susan... Mia.”

  “Why would anyone want to do that?”

  “Brody, I’m sorry.” He suddenly sounded so much younger than his thirty-one years.

  “Don’t apologize, just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m sorry that I blew Mom off all the time. Tell her that, okay?”

  “You can tell her the next time—”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t try to make peace with you sooner.”

  “We’ll talk about it when we get you back, little brother. Tell me about the kidnappers.”

  Silence.

  “Harry?”

  “If I don’t make it—”

  “You will make it because your hero big brother is going to save you, got it? Describe everything you can about these guys and where they took you, like distinct smells or sounds. Do the kidnappers have accents? Have they called each other by name?”

  Pulse pounding in his ears, Whit was glad Harper was standing beside him listening in.

  “No names,” Harry said. “We haven’t seen their faces. At first they threatened to kill us if we took off the blindfolds. Now they wear clown masks.”

  “Foreign?”

  “American. Maybe... East Coast. The leader said it’s our fault he lost everything so now he’s going to take everything from us. He’s going to make us feel his misery for the rest of our lives. I...” Harry paused. “I can’t think of anyone I’ve wronged like this, Brody.”

  “Could it be about Susan’s fund-raising for Serenity Resort?”

  “You...you know about that?”

  “I’m not sure what I know, but the feds are looking into her activities and money has been transferred to an offshore account.”

  “Susan is so trusting. I had just confirmed my suspicions the day we were taken. Hang on, I think someone’s coming,” he whispered.

  “Leave the phone on so I can hear what’s happening.”

  Five seconds passed. Ten. Whit stared at the phone, willing a sound to give them a clue as to where Harry was and who had him.

  Mia sighed and Whit realized he’d better mute his side of the call. As he reached over to do so, Mia burst into giggles that should have lit up the room with joy. Instead, dread coursed through Whit’s chest. Did the kidnapper hear the baby, giving away Harry’s location?

  A crash and male grunts filled the line.

  “Help me tie him down!” a man said.

  Whit fisted his hand, the skin taut over his knuckles.

  The sounds of more struggling echoed through the phone.

  Then nothing.

  He couldn’t rip his gaze from the screen. Seconds ticked by.

  “Is this Brody Whittaker?” a male voice said.

  Please, God, let me say the right thing.

  “It is.”

  “We’re not done—” he paused “—negotiating with your brother. We’ll let you know when we are.”

  “What do you want?” Whit said.

  He waited, tension eating away at his gut.

  “Goodbye, Detective.”

  The call ended.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon Carly sat on the floor entertaining Mia with colorful blocks. Although Whit was physically present, he’d been distant since the phone call. Gone was the playful, loving uncle, replaced by a taciturn, tortured man.

  Just when Whit started to show tenderness toward Mia, and warmth toward Carly, he’d been shut down by the kidnapper’s words.

  They still had Whit’s brother and planned on keeping him. Frustration and helplessness oozed off Whit’s body.

  There had to be something she could do.

  He’d spent most of the day on the phone or conferring with Harper about the kidnapper’s possible identity. They attempted to trace the unknown number that Harry had called from but couldn’t narrow down an exact location. It seemed likely that the kidnapper had lost money in the Serenity Resort investment, so authorities focused on identifying investors in order to build a suspect list.

  Carly couldn’t believe Mrs. B. was involved in criminal activity. It made no sense. The Bremertons were well off financi
ally. There was no need to steal money from other people.

  We need it more than they do, Carly’s mother used to rationalize. Susan Bremerton was not like that.

  Whit hovered by the coach house window, watching the comings and goings of police. She noticed him glance at his phone a few times and she wondered if he was willing his brother to call again.

  “Any news on Mrs. B.’s condition?” Carly said.

  “No,” Whit answered.

  “Do they need me to speak to her, maybe bring Mia for a visit?” Carly offered.

  “Not at this time.”

  Short, clipped answers. That’s how he’d responded whenever she tried to engage him. No conversation allowed was the message.

  She didn’t think withdrawing into himself was a good plan.

  Grabbing little Mia, she walked over to him, knowing that love could ease the pain of most any trauma.

  “Could you hold her for a few minutes? I have to use the washroom.”

  “Uh, okay,” he said, although he didn’t automatically reach for his niece like he had this morning.

  Carly handed him the baby, turned and went into the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and studied her reflection. “How can I help him?” she whispered. She decided to spend a few moments praying, asking the Lord for guidance and the right words to soothe Whit’s heart.

  Nothing would heal the pain of not knowing if his brother was going to be okay. Maybe, with God’s and Mia’s help, Whit could find the strength to shoulder this burden without it destroying him from the inside out.

  Carly needed to remind him that he was not alone.

  She cracked open the door and hesitated as she heard him speaking in a low voice to the baby.

  “I’m doing my best, sweet thing, but I know I’m not your dad. That’s who you need right now. Everyone’s working around the clock to find your papa and bring him home. We’re gonna make sure you’re safe—me, the police and Carly. It’s a good thing you’ve got Carly in your life. She’s a special woman, a real blessing for our family.”

  Carly closed her eyes and sighed, not only because of the compliment he’d shared with Mia, but also because his voice was back to normal. Yeah, babies had a way of grounding a person.