She snorted. “If you knew anything about my feelings, Mr. Halloran, you’d stop calling me ‘ma’am.’ Or maybe you don’t want to do that because you sleep better at night by treating people as if they’re just another nameless face.”
He felt a strong poke in his shoulder. It took every ounce of his self-control to remain relaxed and to not tense up. He assumed it was her finger and not a gun, but who knew to what extremes a distraught parent might go under the threat of having to give up their child?
“You take a good look at my face, Halloran,” she continued bitterly. “My name is Stef Shelton. This is my life we’re talking about. My family. So don’t you talk to me like I’m some nameless, faceless person.”
Her words hit Mitch like a match to a fuse. He jerked the car over to the side of the road, switched on the overhead light and turned to face her.
There was no gun. Just one very defiant woman, who was in real danger of losing her family. His stomach catapulted again.
He pointed two fingers at his eyes, his voice just as hard as hers had been. “Stef, look at me. Right here. I can’t afford to be emotional or I’d spend half my waking hours guzzling beer and the other half puking my guts out over the stuff I see day in, day out. I am thinking about your life. Your family. Your daughter. I want to know who took her, and I want to get her back for you alive. Now answer my goddamn question.” The hardness in his voice turned to a plea. “Please.”
He saw the defiance leak out of her, saw her eyes turn to liquid gold in her pale face as they filled with new tears. His chest grew unbearably tight. She was a nice woman. And hot enough that he’d take a second interested glance if she weren’t intimately connected with the case. Stef Shelton loved Keely the way mothers were supposed to love their children. She’d never dump her child with a relative and disappear for years. Mitch didn’t even know whether his mother was alive or dead. He hadn’t seen his own dad except for that one time when he was six years old.
“I know this doesn’t seem fair, but we have to move beyond that and make smart decisions.” He snapped his mouth shut before he added the sorry platitude that life was rarely fair. He knew damn well that there was a chance that Stef Shelton’s real daughter could be buried in a shallow grave that would never be found.
But he wasn’t going to consider that possibility until he had strong evidence to suggest it was the case. He reached into the back and touched her knee, breaking the fundamental rule of successfully sustaining detachment, the line he never should have crossed with Carmen’s grandmother: don’t touch, don’t feel.
The moment he felt the wiry strands of Teresa’s gray hair against his cheek as she’d hugged him desperately, he’d lost his perspective. But he needed Stef’s cooperation. He had no badge that he could wave to induce her to talk.
She felt brittle and delicate as if sheer force of will was holding her together. “Trust me,” he said. “I only want to help.”
She took a shaky breath, her eyes still fixed on his. He could see the decision-making process going on in her head. Do I hate this bastard? Or do I trust him to help me?
Trust won out.
Mitch had the uncanny sensation he were staring down a gold-paved tunnel into her soul as she wet her lips and finally confided, “I woke up around 3:00 a.m. The sound of the door woke me. I thought it was the nurse or my husband coming to check on us because he’d decided not to stay overnight in the hospital with us. Dads can do that, you know.”
And she blamed her husband for not being there. He could tell by the defensive shift in her body language and the rigid tilt of her chin. But then, she was probably still angry with her husband for dying. Mitch was familiar with that kind of anger. Paddy was the one person he’d counted on being there for him. Always.
“Did you see the person? Could you tell if it was a male or female? Did you notice anything they were wearing?”
“No, sorry.” She sounded sincere.
“Did you notice anything unusual about Keely at all? Her hair? Her weight? The ID bracelets?”
She frowned, thinking back. “Nothing significant. It was two and a half years ago. To be honest, I don’t think Brad or I looked that closely at the ID bracelets. Having a baby is a pretty exhausting experience.”
“I’ll bet. I don’t have any kids, but I suspect they call it labor for a reason.” He squeezed her knee, intending to leave things on a friendly note and to get the sedan back on the road, but she stopped him, catching his hand with hers. Mitch’s heart kicked up a beat at the hesitant, light-as-a-feather touch of her fingers.
“Mitch…?”
He nodded encouragingly. It was the first time she’d used his name. But it also triggered a tremor of unease on the back of his neck at the level of intimacy it created.
“The ransom note you showed me—it said the little girl had her father’s eyes and her mother’s smile. W-what color were Ross Collingwood’s eyes?”
He held her gaze, smiled gently, relieved to see that she was rallying and wasn’t going to stay in denial about her biological daughter’s fate. He imagined Stef Shelton had strengths she hadn’t tapped yet. “They were blue. And the hairs that accompanied the note were dark brown.”
“Brad had blue eyes,” she said wistfully, releasing his hand.
Mitch searched her determined, tear-streaked face and Keely’s slumbering form for a second longer, then turned out the overhead light and pulled back onto the road.
Her lost daughter was becoming real to her.
HUNTER AND JULIANA SINCLAIR waited anxiously in the penthouse suite of the New York Clairmont Hotel for Riana’s arrival. Unbelievably, incredibly, after thirty long months, Ross and Lexi’s daughter was safe in Mitch Halloran’s custody and on her way home to them.
But what should have been a joyous event was overshadowed by the grim knowledge that another child’s life was perilously at risk. Poor Stephanie Shelton, the woman who’d unknowingly been caring for Riana, had just learned that the child she’d raised was not her own.
Juliana empathized with what Stephanie must be thinking and feeling. When Ross and Lexi Collingwood were murdered in an explosion six weeks ago, The Guardian had expected her to give up the Collingwoods’ five-month-old son, Cort, whom she’d been raising in secret to keep him safe from harm. Ross and Lexi had appointed The Guardian as the legal guardian of their children, Riana and Cort. Even though Juliana had been raised in the Collingwood household, it spoke to The Guardian’s intense security that she hadn’t known that Ross and Hunter were best friends or that Hunter was Cort’s godfather.
Regardless, she had not been willing to give up Cort without a fight. To protect her precious charge until he was old enough to claim his inheritance, she had married Hunter Sinclair, aka The Guardian. They were raising Cort as a Sinclair, their own son, giving him all the love that Ross and Lexi would have given him.
She rested her head on her husband’s solid shoulder, her heart bearing equal burdens of elation and anxiety. In the short time since their marriage she knew Hunter so well she could practically hear the gears turning in his pragmatic mind, assessing the extraordinary situation for legalities and lawsuits and risk management options.
He’d been overcome with emotion when he’d taken the call from Mitch Halloran earlier this evening. He’d excused himself from the dining room when the call came, then returned a few minutes later and silently held out his hand to her, blinking back tears.
She’d walked out to the greenhouse with him where he’d told her the news. They’d wept together at the miracle, mourning the fact that Ross and Lexi weren’t alive to welcome their lost little girl home themselves.
Hunter had promised her that he’d do everything possible to ensure the safe return of Stephanie Shelton’s real daughter. Then he’d put on his Guardian hat and told her in his endearingly arrogant way that they were going to act with the utmost caution until they knew who was behind Riana’s kidnapping. Riana’s return could be a trap.
The
timing of this ransom demand so shortly after Annette’s arrest for the Collingwood murders was awfully suspicious. Annette and her lawyers were claiming she was innocent—that she’d been framed for the bombing and murders by someone higher up in the Collingwood Corporation.
The new ransom demand could be an attempt to make it appear as though another party was behind both the murders and Riana’s kidnapping. Annette had already proven herself a master of plotting and deception. They still couldn’t fathom why Annette hadn’t revealed Cort’s existence or Hunter’s identity as The Guardian to the press. Either she didn’t want to share the media spotlight or she planned to use the information as a trump card during her trial.
“I’m coming with you tonight,” Juliana had insisted.
He’d kissed her forehead, gently, tenderly, in that protective way that told her he was afraid.
“I’m not sure that’s wise at this point.”
She’d smoothed her palms over his chest, emotion choking her voice. Beneath his ever-present shield of caution and restraint, her husband deeply valued his family. “She’s Cort’s sister. Our daughter. I want to see her.”
“I want to see her, too. But I don’t want to put you at risk if it’s a trap.” His azure eyes clouded. “I came too close to losing you last month. And Cort needs you. You’re safer here. Del and Lars aren’t going to let a fly land on this island without their scrutiny and permission.”
Juliana wasn’t taking no for an answer. Lexi’s daughter, their daughter, needed her. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be with you. I’ll stay away from rivers and other bodies of water,” she added, referring to the terrifying night when she’d jumped into the St. Lawrence River to avoid being shot by Annette after Lars and Del had been seriously injured by her hired assassin. “I promise.”
Hunter sighed. “It constantly amazes me how frequently I give in to your unreasonable demands. You may come, but Cort stays at FairIsle with your father and Prudy. And, you’ll accompany me as the Collingwoods’ butler’s daughter, not as my wife. Leave your wedding rings here. I have no intention of revealing that I’m Riana’s legal guardian until we know what’s really going on. I still haven’t told Mitch about Cort or our marriage.”
Juliana had smiled and slid her finger inside the collar of his black sweater. He was the sexiest, most suspicious man she’d ever met and she loved Hunter with her whole heart and soul. Their marriage may have been brought about by the tragic deaths of Ross and Lexi Collingwood, but there was nothing artificial or contrived about their feelings for one another now.
“Does that mean we can’t make love to celebrate Riana’s return while we’re in New York?” She rose on tiptoes to nibble his ear. It was his Achilles’ heel, guaranteed to instantly divert his thoughts from logic to lovemaking. It brought the desired wolfish grin to his face.
His hand had slipped under her skirt, warm and proprietary. “How about a pre-celebration now?”
Juliana jumped as the ringing of the phone in the penthouse suite yanked her into the present. Hunter took the call. “That was the front desk. They’ve arrived.”
Juliana smoothed the black pantsuit she’d changed into for the helicopter trip to New York and tucked her long blond hair behind her ears. She was so nervous. What if Riana was afraid of them? Didn’t like them? She shot a quick glance at her husband.
He had his imperturbable Guardian face on again. They’d agreed earlier that she would make the introductions. It would be less threatening.
“Riana’s going to be so confused,” she said. “She’s not old enough to understand any of this.”
His eyes warmed lovingly. “We’ll make it work.”
“But what if—”
He laid a finger over his lips and motioned for her to greet their guests as the private elevator that served the penthouse suite arrived. The doors slid open.
With her heart in her throat, Juliana smiled at the gorgeous blond man who must be the hot-shot L.A. detective and the defiant dark-haired woman carrying a sleeping toddler. The toddler was wrapped in a blanket that Juliana could only describe as a dream coat because of its beautiful colors.
Riana.
The delicate nest of Riana’s dark curls brought a fluid rush of warmth coursing through Juliana. She could almost feel Lexi’s smiling presence in the room with them.
Juliana stepped forward, aching to touch those beautiful curls, but sensing that such a gesture would be ill-advised. “How do you do, Mrs. Shelton? I’m Juliana Goodhew. My family has worked for the Collingwoods for many years.” She gestured at Hunter. “And this is The Guardian, the Collingwoods’ chief security consultant.”
Hunter nodded. “Mrs. Shelton.”
This was so awkward. Juliana felt a warning chill pass over her spine as the tension mounted. Stephanie Shelton looked scared to death and she noticed that Mitch Halloran moved slightly behind the young woman as if providing her with emotional and moral support.
Juliana’s heart went out to Stephanie. This situation was going to be difficult on them all. “You’ve had a long drive and must be exhausted. Perhaps you’d like to get Riana settled first, then we can sit down and talk privately.”
Stephanie Shelton didn’t budge. Her green eyes glittered with the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cub. “Her name is Keely. Even if the DNA tests prove she’s Riana, I’m not giving her up without a fight. You can relay that message to her family on my behalf.”
Oh, dear. Juliana shot Hunter a look of dismay.
Hunter stepped forward. “Be that as it may, Mrs. Shelton,” he said courteously, “we still need your cooperation. If you’re the parent of the child the kidnapper is holding, then only you can make certain decisions about the ransom demand and how you wish to proceed. I suggest we leave the legal battles for the lawyers. Have you provided Mitch with some DNA samples? It takes three to four days to get DNA test results back from the lab, and we may hear from the kidnapper again before then. I have a courier standing by in the lobby.”
“This should do it.” Mitch Halloran passed Hunter two DNA test kits, then partially slid a royal-blue baseball cap from a paper bag. Office Outfitters was embroidered in red above the bill of the cap. “This was his ball cap.”
A guarded stillness came over Hunter. “Was your husband associated with Office Outfitters, Mrs. Shelton?”
“He worked for them for seven years until he was laid off when it was taken over by some big corporation.” She faltered, fear illuminating her eyes like flash-bulbs.
“Taken over by whom?” Hunter prodded gently.
Stephanie Shelton took a hesitant step backward and bumped into Mitch Halloran’s muscled bulk. The detective’s hands shot out to steady her. With nowhere to go, Stephanie clutched Riana more securely to her breast and admitted baldly, “The Collingwood Corporation.”
Chapter Three
Stef guessed what they were all thinking—that Brad was involved in Riana Collingwood’s kidnapping and had switched the infants. “Brad wouldn’t put his own baby in that kind of danger,” she insisted.
Oh, God, didn’t any of these people believe her?
“What makes you so certain?” Mitch Halloran asked.
She whirled around and saw the skepticism radiating from his hard features. How could she have found his hands so supportive on her shoulders a few seconds ago?
She struggled to stay calm and to keep her voice from waking Keely. “Because I loved him. He was my husband! He was upset after he was laid off. He had trouble finding another job, but I can’t see him plotting a kidnapping as revenge against the Collingwoods. He didn’t have a vindictive bone in his body.” He’d just given up on finding a job when it got too hard, just as he’d given up on his relationship with his ailing parents. Stef didn’t even know where they lived anymore. She’d sent a letter to an address she’d found after Brad had died, but she’d never received a response.
Sympathy lit Mitch’s eyes, stoking her anger. She didn’t want his sympathy or his pity.
Stef grit her teeth. She hated it when he talked like that. He sounded so infuriatingly reasonable, but she knew he’d already decided Brad was involved and was champing at the bit to prove it. Keely stirred in Stef’s arms, grumpy as a bear cub without a pot of honey. Stef wanted to bolt for the door, to escape Mitch Halloran and his insinuations, but she could hear a little voice—a child’s voice—inside her calling out to her for help.
Oh, God, Brad couldn’t be involved, could he?
Juliana Goodhew stepped between Stef and Mitch like a referee about to break up a brawl. “Let’s not continue this in front of Keely. Please, Mr. Halloran, surely your questions can wait a few minutes while Mrs. Shelton sees to her daughter. Follow me, Mrs. Shelton.”
Stef gladly accompanied Juliana into the other room. But her underlying disquiet grew when she saw that the hotel room had been stocked for Keely’s arrival with toys, picture books and child-friendly snacks. There was even a child’s trundle bed shaped like a ladybug for her to sleep in. While she honestly believed that Juliana and the Collingwood family had only had Keely’s comfort in mind, Stef was consciously aware that the toys had probably come from a toy store whose merchandise was more pricey than she could afford.
She told herself that the toys were only things. A mother’s love was not so easily replaced.
But still…what if Keely fell in love with the ladybug bed and didn’t want to leave it? She suddenly couldn’t bring herself to put Keely down on that bed.
Tears swam in her eyes. When she looked across the room at Juliana, she saw she was crying, too.
Juliana wrung her hands, looking as awkward and uncertain as Stef felt. Sincerity shone in the dampness of her warm brown eyes. “This is so awful. I see the same fear in you that I saw in Lexi after Riana’s abduction. She tried to be so brave. So strong. You have no reason to trust me, Mrs. Shelton, but you can. Lexi would have wanted that. She was a children’s social worker before she married Ross. If she were alive, she’d be putting Keely’s needs before her own right now. And she’d do whatever she could to help you get your baby back.”
Operation Bassinet Page 4
