by Dana Corbit
“Why am I here?” he repeated her question. “Because nobody else appears to be here except you, and you were in too much pain to get yourself out of the car.”
Again, she was sorry she’d asked, but for different reasons.
His confident smile had replaced the shocked expression from when she’d first asked the question, as if he’d just put a mask back in place to cover his emotions. What was he trying to hide?
“It would be pretty unheroic for me to leave you here without at least making sure you had something to eat, wouldn’t it?”
That was it. Zach had a hero complex, and he saw her as a damsel in distress. Even she’d been glad to see him roaring into the hospital like a rumpled knight, minus his white horse. In his job as a cop, he probably found candidates auditioning for the damsel role all the time. It just happened to be her turn.
Pilar swallowed the disappointment she shouldn’t have been feeling. “Well, you’ve done your good deed for the day, so…” She let her words trail off, still not able to tell him to leave, but giving him the opportunity anyway.
“I’m in no hurry.”
What had she expected? That he would just give in and walk out the door without balking? She’d underestimated how deeply ingrained his need to play the hero was. She just couldn’t bear the idea that he’d only stayed with her out of some misplaced sense of duty or, worse, he’d felt sorry for her.
She could handle his rejection, had even become good at it over the last few years whether he was aware of her interest or not. His pity, though, was too much to take.
“Look, I’m really going to be just fine…” she paused under his questioning gaze “…in a day or so.”
His smile softened. “I don’t doubt that. You’re a strong woman. Just look how well you’ve handled all the incidents at your work lately.”
She waited for a smirk to cross his face since he’d mentioned more than once her odd connection to Gabriel, but his expression remained mild.
“Well, thanks so much for everything. I really appreciate you bringing me home, but—”
He spread his hands wide to interrupt her. “You know, I’d really like to stay, at least for a while.”
Her heart squeezed. He wanted to stay. Now that was a hard one to argue with, even if his reasons weren’t the ones she might have chosen. Especially since she wanted him to stay, too. She must have hesitated too long because he tried again.
“Look, we’d be doing each other a favor. I would really like to bounce some ideas off you in the child abandonment case.”
“I’m not sure I can help.” She shrugged, but he held up a finger to ask her to wait a minute.
“And you need a little help in the kitchen. You’ll have to take another painkiller for your headache after you see the mess I’ve left in there.”
She chuckled and only shifted slightly at the pain in her abdomen. Though she doubted she would find more than a dirty pan in the sink, she had to give him credit for his argument. He was making it far too easy to say yes when she needed to say no, probably for both of their sakes. But then she’d never claimed to be strong, especially when it came to her interest in Zach.
“You want to trade your elbow grease in my filthy kitchen for only a few of my incredible insights?” She pressed her tongue in her cheek as she waited for his nod. His lips pulled tight, but he didn’t laugh.
“If you’re offering to be a slave, then I’m getting the better end of the deal.”
Zach pressed a fist against his mouth as if in deep contemplation. “Maybe slave is too strong a word.”
She couldn’t help grinning. “Would you prefer domestic assistant?”
“If I have to.”
“You have to.”
Zach stood and bowed gallantly. “Zach Fletcher, domestic assistant, at your service.”
“Then your first assignment is to scrounge something up for yourself. There’s no way I’m going to eat alone.”
Without an argument, he crossed to the kitchen and started banging around in the cupboards. In a few minutes, he returned with a plate containing two peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and two pickles. Under his arm he carried two cans of lemon-lime soda, one of which he handed to her before taking a starving-man-size bite of his first sandwich.
“Try not to eat the stoneware, okay?”
He wiped jelly off his lip with a napkin. “Sorry. Long time between meals.”
“Don’t I know it.” She took another bite of her soup. It was getting cold and didn’t go down as easily as the first bite, but she tried not to let him notice. “Hey, you didn’t offer me a PB and J.”
“I didn’t know if you’d be able to eat anything solid after anesthesia. You’re barely able to get that soup down.” He set his plate on the coffee table and stood to retrieve her tray. “Here, let me warm that up again.”
“It’s fine, really.”
“Cool it with the fine business, okay? I didn’t even have surgery today, and I would probably toss my cookies if I had to eat this stuff cold.”
Pilar opened her mouth to say something and then shut it. He appeared to accept that as a “yes” and carried her tray back to the kitchen. When Zach returned a few minutes later, he’d placed half of a peanut-butter sandwich on the tray with the soup.
He indicated the sandwich with a nod as he lowered the tray back onto her lap. “If you can keep the soup down.” He returned to his seat and picked up his sandwich again. “Are you still having much pain?”
“It’s better now.” The broth clogged her throat as Pilar braced herself for his questions. She didn’t know how he’d managed to wait this long, how he’d avoided interrogating her even before he’d helped her out of the wheelchair and into his car.
But Zach only settled back in his seat, putting away the rest of the first sandwich in two big bites. He wasn’t even staring at her the way he often had lately.
She took another bite, chewing slowing on the slippery noodles. Still, he didn’t ask. Wasn’t he even curious?
She couldn’t take it anymore. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“When are you going to ask me why I was at the hospital?”
He lifted a shoulder and lowered it. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Or not.”
The odd thing was he didn’t seem to care which option she chose. He’d planned to stay to help her without insisting that she confide in him. His offer, unconditional like God’s love, wrapped itself warmly around her heart.
Silence returned as they finished their food, but it was a companionable silence. Comfortable. Pilar didn’t allow herself to wonder why the only time she’d felt comfortable in days was with someone as unlikely as Zach. She just let herself enjoy it.
“You said you wanted to bounce some theories off me?”
Zach set his plate aside. “I’m trying to toss out a few of the theories. Like the one about the blanket and the basket being from a break-in. I can’t rule it out completely, but I ran a check on B and E’s the last six months from here to Richmond, and I came up with zilch.”
“Maybe those were just attic treasures that no one has noticed were missing yet.”
He tilted his head as if considering. “Or maybe they weren’t stolen at all.”
“Then how did possible heirlooms get matched with Gabriel’s dime-store-special clothes?”
“That’s the big question. We found the exact sleeper and receiving blanket the baby was wearing at three different local discount stores. All the stores were part of national chains.”
“So she could have come from anywhere?”
He shoved a hand back through his hair, his frustration palpable. “Information from area hospitals supports that theory. Only a few single women matching the mother’s possible description gave birth around here.”
“Well, that’s something to go on.”
“They’ve all checked out. Now we’re looking at clinics all the way to Waynesboro.”
“Could Gabriel
have been a home birth?” But she stopped and answered her own question. “Guess not. He was circumcised.”
Zach nodded. “The doctors said his umbilical cord was professionally tied. If we don’t find anything through clinics, we’ll be hunting down licensed midwives next.”
He looked so defeated that Pilar felt frustrated for him and ashamed that she’d hoped at the beginning he wouldn’t locate the baby’s mother. All of his leads appeared to be hitting brick walls, and she’d done nothing to help in his investigation.
Suddenly, she wanted to help him, even if his success meant an end to her secret hope of becoming Gabriel’s mother. Even she realized it was an unrealistic dream. Right now, though, she wanted to do something to give Zach hope instead.
“What about the letter?” Her voice leaped an octave.
“You thought it was a good lead, especially the paper.”
His frown deepened. “As it turns out, that thick ecru stationery is expensive like we thought and not everyday stuff, but it’s not as rare as we’d hoped for. Several nearby print shops either have it in stock or at least can order it. The handwriting analysis did confirm that the letter writer was probably younger than twenty, but that doesn’t give us much to go on.”
“It’s still something, right?”
“It’s not enough.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands as he stared at the floor.
“It’s never enough.”
As Pilar watched him, a strange awareness struck her deep inside. She felt it as clearly as she felt those jabs of pain every time she shifted on the couch: The case was personal for Zach.
“Do you always take cases this personally?”
He didn’t flinch or react physically to her question, but he didn’t look at her, either. “Why do you ask?”
“I just get the sense that you’re not telling me everything you know about this case.”
Zach glanced at her, his head still cradled in his hands. “Funny question coming from you.”
He didn’t tell her more, and she had the feeling he didn’t intend to, but she still couldn’t help defending herself to him one more time. “I keep telling you I don’t know anything about Gabriel’s mother.”
“And I believe you.” His smile was halfhearted, but it was a start.
Who would have thought that such a small affirmation would make her feel so good? She was pitiful today. He hadn’t said, “I believe in you,” or anything of the sort, but he finally believed she was telling the truth, and that was enough.
“Who do you think she is, Zach?” She didn’t have to tell him who she was talking about. His concern for Gabriel’s mother was etched deeply between his eyebrows.
“Besides someone under twenty, I just don’t know yet.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with the altered records or the break-in at Tiny Blessings?”
He shook his head but appeared to be considering the idea. “I don’t think so. The records were from so long ago. Barnaby Harcourt has been dead over a year now. And the break-in appears to be about someone not wanting old secrets discovered.”
“But Gabriel was right on Tiny Blessings’ doorstep.”
“It is an adoption agency. I don’t think this incident is more closely related to the other two than that.” He finished off his second sandwich, his frustration clear in the way he tore off bites.
When he was finished he scrambled to his feet and collected the dishes. “Want to know another thing I believe about this case?” he said over his shoulder. “Someone in town knows something.”
Her shock must have been apparent because the side of his mouth came up when he turned to face her. “No, not you. But somebody.”
“Do you think she’s in danger?” she couldn’t help asking.
“We’ll never know until we find her, and if it takes too much longer to find her, if she is in trouble, we may be too late to help.” His eyes were shiny, but he turned away and crossed to load the dishwasher.
How she ever could have thought him cold and distant, Pilar couldn’t imagine. Obviously, he was deeply concerned about this woman, just as he’d been concerned for her when he’d discovered her missing. It went beyond heroics to someplace deep in his heart, and the truth of it couldn’t help but touch hers.
Jared Kierney shifted in a visitor’s chair at Tiny Blessings after regular office hours Tuesday, unaccustomed to feeling this nervous before an interview. He’d been calmer interviewing presidential candidates stumping for votes than he was for this appointment. In fact, he would have preferred meeting with those officials, no matter how much rhetoric they spewed, than waiting here for Kelly Young, someone he and Meg had always considered a friend.
Did she still think of him in such kindly terms? He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Would she understand that he was just doing his job when he’d reported on the information Florence Villi leaked to him? Would she believe him if he told her he would rather have done anything than to report past illegal activity at the agency that had brought him and Meg their precious twin sons? He’d prayed for her forgiveness a few times, but he’d never asked her for it.
As her friend, he should have tried harder to convince her it was a mistake to refuse comment when he’d first broken the story. He should have explained that to the public, a decision to decline comment pending an internal investigation was a red flag to demand answers.
Readers had demanded, all right, in letters to the editor and calls to the agency’s office. If only she’d accepted his follow-up requests for an interview sooner. Then it would have been before the fire, before the discovery of the abandoned baby. Now the article he would write had gone from simple damage control to an SOS for a sinking ship. But he wouldn’t let it go down, not if there was anything he could do, editorially, to help.
Jared shifted in his seat and tapped his index finger on the arm of the chair. What is taking her so long? He scanned her office for the twentieth time. It had no photos, no cozy accents. It was pin neat and all-business, like Kelly herself.
Through the doorway, a photo collage of happy, smiling adoptive families blanketed the wall. He knew all about those photos; his family was up there, too. God had blessed his family through this agency. He hoped it could survive so God could continue to use it to bless other families.
“Sorry I made you wait, Jared,” Kelly said as she hurried into the office. “I was meeting with a few of our adoptive parents.”
“No problem. I was so glad that Pilar told Meg you’d agreed to meet with me.”
She smiled wanly. “I’d planned to call you myself.”
“This way worked, too. Hey, I meant to say hello to Pilar when I came through, but she wasn’t at her desk.”
“She took a few days off.”
He nodded, guessing why. Kelly could probably have used a few days off herself, but she didn’t have that luxury as the boss.
“So…” He paused to gather his thoughts. “We can either begin with your prepared statement, or I can start from my list of questions. But before we begin, I want to remind you that there is no such thing as ‘off the record.’ If there is something that you want to tell me that is not for publication, please don’t tell me, so there will be no misunderstandings.”
“Thanks for saying that, but I’m not looking for any special favors just because your family has a history with the agency.”
Jared swallowed, her shot striking its intended mark. “I’m sorry about the other article, but—”
“It’s your job. I get that. But I would like to counteract some of that…unfortunate publicity with a positive article.”
Great. He should have seen this one coming. She still wasn’t going to answer his questions, but she wanted him to write a fluff piece anyway. Next thing he knew, she would be suggesting that he publish a grip-and-grin with her posing beside the latest big donor.
His skepticism must have been obvious because she raised her hand to stop whatever he’d been ab
out to answer.
“Look, I know I’m not in any position to make requests, but hear me out first, okay?”
Jared lowered his spiral-topped reporter’s notebook, leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.
“I’ll tell you everything I can. Remember, this is an ongoing investigation, so there are things Detective Fletcher has told me not to talk about.”
He uncrossed his arms and took hold of the notebook again. “I wouldn’t expect you to jeopardize the investigation, Kelly.”
“I know.” She paused as if weighing out whatever favor she was about to ask of him. But pride must have fought a losing battle with need because she leaned forward and pressed her hands on her desk.
“What about along with whatever news article you’re planning, you do some feature profiles about some of our adoptive families, particularly some of our first families? We just celebrated our thirty-fifth anniversary in July, you know.”
“I was at the party, remember?”
She nodded and paused again, probably waiting for him to really remember. Not that he could ever forget. If not for the anniversary party, he and Meg might never have realized they’d adopted identical twin boys who’d accidentally been separated. They probably never would have chosen to marry for their sons’ sakes. Maybe they never would have fallen in love.
“Then you know how many great success stories Tiny Blessings has to tell.”
“Sure. Meg and I have a pair of them.” He didn’t bother pointing out that their sons’ adoption mix-up wasn’t exactly a success in the beginning, since he figured God had a hand in how well it had turned out. “So what are you trying to say?”
“The falsified records are a horrible thing. You and I agree on that. A crime that shouldn’t have gone unpunished if Barnaby Harcourt were still around to be held accountable. But neither should all of the families that Tiny Blessings has helped to establish be punished for Barnaby’s greed.”
She had a point. Tiny Blessings had come under scrutiny, both legally and financially, since he’d brought the records’ discrepancies into the public forum. None of the agency’s former clients were immune, at least to the ripples from the scandal. In many ways, it wasn’t fair. For every adoption record that was now in question, a few hundred happy families worried their adoptions would be legally challenged. What harm would it be for him to feature a few of them?
