Keeping Baby Secret

by Beverly Barton

  “Snack time.” He walked over, placed the tray on the bed and sat beside her. “Cheesecake and hot tea. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember, but I’m surprised that you do.”

  He lifted one plate and fork and handed them to her. “Eat up.”

  “Frank, I’m not—”

  “Eat.” He picked up the other plate, sliced off a large chunk of cheesecake and slid it into his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he sighed dramatically. “Nothing better than cheesecake, except—”

  “Sex,” she finished his sentence.

  Grinning, he took a second bite before placing his plate back on the tray. He eased his hand under her hand to support her plate, then lifted her fork and cut off a piece of the cheesecake and lifted it to her mouth. She parted her lips; he slid the cheesecake into her mouth. As soon as she finished one bite, he gave her another, and then another—slowly, patiently—until three-fourths of her slice was gone.

  “I can’t eat anymore,” she told him.

  He set her plate on the tray, then handed her the tea. While she sipped the tea, he drank his, watching her all the while. After she drained her cup, he removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the floor.

  Leenie was dead on her feet, worn out from lack of sleep and the stress of not knowing where Andrew was or if he was all right. Frank realized she needed more than cheesecake and tea. She needed to rest. He scooted up in her bed until his back hit the headboard, then he reached out, grasped Leenie’s hand and tugged on it urging her to join him. They sat side-by-side in her bed, their backs resting against the headboard. Frank put his arm around her shoulders and cuddled her against him.

  “Would you believe I had blond hair and blue eyes when I was a baby?” he said.

  “What?” Turning her head sideways, she glanced over at him.

  “I had blond hair and blue eyes like Andrew. So his eyes could turn gray later on and his hair might not stay blond like yours.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “I was bald when I was born. Well, actually, I think I had some white fuzz, but it wasn’t much. I have a couple of baby pictures that a distant relative sent me when I contacted her after I grew up and started searching for any family I might have.”

  “That’s right. You grew up in foster homes, didn’t you?”

  “Uh-huh. After my parents died, I got shuffled from one foster home to another, until I was fifteen and wound up with Debra and Jerry Schmale.”

  “Debra? The same Debra who’s Andrew’s nanny?”

  “That’s right.” Leenie yawned.

  “How’s she doing after her surgery?”

  “I spoke to her doctor earlier today and he said she should be able to go into a private room tomorrow. Debra’s a wonderful person, the only real mother-figure I ever had that I can remember. My own mother died when I was four and I can barely remember her.”

  “I grew up in a fairly conventional family. Mom, dad and an older sister. Then when I was twelve my parents divorced. Ripped us to shreds. My sister went with Mom and I lived with Dad.”

  “It must have been difficult for you.”

  “Pure hell. You see, my mother had taken a lover and my father wanted to make her pay for her sins.” Frank glanced at Leenie, her eyes shut, her lips slightly parted, her breathing soft and even.

  “Did you hate your mother after that?” Leenie asked, her voice hushed.

  “Yeah, I hated her for a long, long time, but that’s all in the past now,” Frank said, looking at the way Leenie’s eyelids closed and realizing what she needed was sleep. He moved on to more mundane topics and Leenie melted against him as she began drifting off to sleep. He kept talking quietly until he knew she was fast asleep, then he eased her down into the bed so that her head rested in his lap. He pulled the folded quilt at the foot of the bed up and over her. While she slept, he watched her. Drank his fill of her.

  He admitted to himself that he’d missed Leenie while they’d been apart. He’d missed seeing her, talking to her, having sex with her. She was the first woman since Rita who’d stirred something inside him other than lust.

  But you don’t love her, Frank told himself. She’s special. She’s the mother of your child. But you do not love her.

  He caressed her hair and the side of her face tenderly. “Get some rest, Slim. I’m here now. You won’t have to go through this alone.”

  Four

  Andrew dangled helpless over the deep, dark well, a large hand holding him by the nape of his tiny neck. The hand loosened its grip and released the baby. His frightened cries echoed in the blackness as he fell down, down, down. God, no…no…no! Leenie tried to reach out and grab her son, but her efforts were useless. All she could do was scream in terror.

  “Leenie…Leenie…wake up.”

  Strong masculine hands grasped her shoulders and shook her gently. She tried to fight him, fear spiraling through her alarmingly.

  “Slim, it’s me—Frank. Wake up. You were having a nightmare.”

  She opened her eyes suddenly and stared into Frank Latimer’s concerned gray eyes.

  “Oh, Frank, it was awful. Someone dropped Andrew into a deep well. He was crying…crying for me.”

  Frank pulled her up off the bed and into his arms, his strength enveloping her. She clung to him, her mind and nerves rioting. “It was just a bad dream,” he told her.

  “I know.” She burrowed her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “But he’s out there—lost.” She lifted her head and stared at Frank. “We have to find him. Please, tell me that we can save him. Make me believe that he’s not lost to me forever.”

  Frank brushed loose strands of hair out of her face. His hand lingered, his fingertips caressed. And then he withdrew. She felt the emotional withdrawal as keenly as the physical release. He eased out of bed, his back to her, and said nothing for several awkward minutes.

  “Frank?”

  “I’ll do everything I can, but…” He turned halfway toward her, his jaw tense, his gaze unfocused as he glared off into nothingness. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I’ve already sworn to you that I would move heaven and earth to bring Andrew home, and I meant it. I’ll do everything humanly possible. But the honest truth is that even though I’d do anything to rescue Andrew, I can’t promise you that I can bring him back to you safe and sound.”

  Her heart lurched, then sank. This wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. She had thought he would reinforce his earlier vow to rescue Andrew and had longed to hear him say those comforting words. Even knowing Frank wasn’t a miracle worker, she believed in him. He was her last best hope.

  “What time is it?” she asked, needing the mundane to keep her sane, to take her mind out of the horrific abyss that sucked her in and kept repeating terrifying mental images of her baby’s death.

  Frank glanced at his wristwatch. “Nearly four-thirty.”

  “I slept quite a while.” As she stretched, every muscle in her body cried from the tension that had played havoc on her physically, mentally and emotionally.

  “You needed the rest. Your friend Haley said you haven’t slept since Andrew’s abduction.” Frank glanced at the stacked empty dishes on the tray. “You should try to eat some supper later on.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like a mother hen—telling me to rest and to eat.”

  “It’s the training,” he told her. “Part of the regimen for looking after someone is making sure they take care of themselves. A Dundee agent is an all-around bodyguard. He or she tries to not only protect the client, but see to their well-being.”

  “And am I a client? Is that how you think of me now?”

  “You’re putting words in my mouth again, Slim.”

  “I’m only interpreting what I hear you say.”

  “You’re misinterpreting,” he said. “And you’re being argumentative. Why? Are you angry with me for some reason?”

  Was she angry with him? Yes. No. Maybe.

  Leenie got out of bed, r
ubbed the back of her sore neck and slipped on her shoes. Had Frank taken her shoes off after she’d fallen asleep? More of his all-around bodyguard duties? Was that it—the reason she suddenly felt so hostile toward him? Because he’d acted as if his kindness to her wasn’t anything personal?

  “I’m angry with the world right now,” she admitted. “Besides, I believe that should be my question, not yours. After all, you’re the one who has every right to be angry and upset with me for keeping Andrew’s existence a secret from you.”

  He shot her a quick glance, then looked away before he replied, “I told you before that now is not the time for us to be at cross purposes, that once Andrew is safely home will be time enough to—”

  “To what? For you to tell me what you really think, how you really feel?”

  “I don’t know how I feel. I don’t want to dig too deep right now.” He looked at her. “You’re hurting enough for both of us. I need to stay as detached and as unemotional as possible.”

  “Can you do that? Can you be unemotional when it comes to Andrew?”

  Could he actually remain detached where his own child was concerned? If so, then he certainly wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. But then again, she didn’t really know Frank Latimer. He was a stranger with whom she’d had a passionate fling. She knew without a doubt that he was an incredible lover. Considerate. Attentive. She knew he liked his coffee black, his whiskey straight and his loving frequent. But beyond the obvious, she knew nothing, except what little he’d told her today. And the same held true for him—he didn’t know who the real Lurleen Patton was.

  When the silence between them became more than she could bear, she said, “Can’t you answer me?”

  “What do you want me to say? Yes, I care about my son. I’m not a heartless bastard. But for God’s sake, Leenie, I haven’t even seen him or touched him or held him. And I’ve known that I’m a father for only a few hours.”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “No, I’m sorry,” he told her. “Sorry I can’t say whatever it is you need for me to say. But the more unemotional and detached I can be, the clearer my thinking, the more logical I’ll act and react. Don’t you see—”

  “I see. I see a man who’s afraid to feel. You don’t want to love Andrew. You don’t want to love anybody because sometimes love hurts.”

  Clenching her teeth in an effort not to burst into fresh tears, Leenie rushed toward the door, wanting to get away from Frank. But he caught up with her just as she reached for the doorknob. He grasped her arm. She stopped and glared at him.

  “There it is again,” he said. “Anger. You’re angry with me. Want to tell me why? I’ve tried to be honest with you, so how about being honest with me?”

  She jerked her arm loose and took a step backward, but she kept her gaze boldly glued to his. “You want honesty? All right. I kept Andrew a secret from you because I didn’t know how you’d react. I was half afraid you’d want to take him away from me and half afraid you’d tell me you didn’t give a damn. But your reaction is somewhere in between and I can’t figure you out. I feel like a fool for having gotten myself pregnant by a man I don’t even know. And a part of me is angry because on some completely stupid female level I needed you to care—really care. Not just about Andrew, but about me. I needed you to not be detached and unemotional.”

  They stood there staring at each other for several minutes until the silence stretched tautly and the tension mounted.

  A solid, repetitive knock on the door snapped the tension and ended the silence.

  “Frank?” Kate Malone called.

  Frank opened the door. “Yeah, what is it?”

  “Moran wants to talk to you and Dr. Patton.”

  “Has something happened?” Leenie asked.

  “No bad news,” Kate said. “He just wants to go over some things with y’all.”

  Frank held the door open while Leenie walked into the hall and joined Kate, then he followed behind them, down the hall and into the living room. Only Dante Moran occupied the room, which made Leenie wonder where the other FBI agents were and if Haley was still here.

  “Come on in,” Moran said. “Please. We need to talk.”

  “Is Haley—?”

  “Mrs. Wilson went home,” Kate replied. “She said if you need her, to call her. The house was getting a little crowded, what with two Dundee agents and several FBI agents.”

  “Where are the other agents?” Leenie asked.

  “From here on out, they’ll work in shifts. We have your phone tapped and we’re fully prepared to act at a moment’s notice,” Moran said. “The crucial first twenty-four hours has ended.” When Leenie stared at him quizzically, he continued. “If the kidnapper is going to demand a ransom, the family usually hears something within the first twenty-four hours.”

  Kate answered Leenie’s next question before she asked it. “Which means that more than likely Andrew was not kidnapped for ransom money, but for another reason.”

  “How will we know if the woman who stole him kept him, that she wanted him for herself?” Wasn’t that the best case scenario for a kidnapping? Leenie wondered.

  “We can’t know for sure.” Moran cut a sideways glance at Frank. “Did you tell her about the abduction ring?”

  “What abduction ring?” Leenie’s heart skipped a beat.

  Frank shook his head. “I didn’t get a chance to tell her.”

  “What abduction ring?” Leenie repeated her question.

  “The bureau is aware that there is an infant abduction ring operating in the South and it is possible that your baby was taken in order to sell him,” Moran told her.

  “Sell him? You mean—”

  “Sell him to people who desperately want to adopt a child,” Kate explained. “Unfortunately there is a shortage of white infants and some people are willing to pay an exorbitant amount in order to procure a child through any means necessary.”

  “They’re willing to buy a child that’s been stolen from a loving home?” Leenie looked from Kate to Moran, but she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with Frank.

  “In all fairness, these people are told that the children have been willingly given up by parents who don’t want them and these adoptive parents want a child so much that they kid themselves into believing whatever they need to believe.” Kate put her hand on Leenie’s shoulder. “Don’t give up hope. Don’t ever give up hope.”

  Having noted a peculiar tone in Kate’s voice, Leenie studied her for several moments. The two women exchanged silent confidences and unspoken pain. Without truly understanding, Leenie knew that at some time in her life Kate Malone had suffered an intolerable loss, perhaps the loss of a child. She reached up and covered Kate’s hand with her own. “I won’t give up.” She squeezed Kate’s hand, then turned to Frank. “From now on, please don’t keep anything from me. I’m not some weak, trembling female who can’t handle the truth. Yes, I’ve been crying a great deal and I’m scared out of my mind and I’ll gladly lean on anybody who’ll let me. But do not treat me as if I’m a child myself. Do I make myself clear?”

  Frank glowered at her for a split second. “Yeah. Crystal clear.” Looking as if she’d slapped him, Frank darted a glance from Moran to Kate, then grumbled, “I need a breath of fresh air.”

  “And I need a smoke,” Moran said, “but I’ll settle for some of that cold fresh air outside.”

  As soon as the two men disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to go out on the porch or into the backyard, Kate turned to Leenie and offered a comforting smile.

  “Cut Frank some slack,” Kate advised. “Basically he’s a good guy. It’s just that discovering he’s a father has thrown him for a loop. You may think Andrew’s kidnapping isn’t as hard on him as it is you, but it probably is. Maybe even more so.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Because he’s thinking that if—just if, mind you— Andrew isn’t rescued, then he’ll never see his son or hold him or get the chance
to love him.”

  “And I have seen him and held him and loved him.”

  “Look, this is none of my business. Not really.” Kate clicked her tongue. “Want some advice from a busybody?”

  Leenie wanted to ask Kate the question that hung heavily between them—did you lose a child?—but she didn’t ask. “I’m taking my frustration out on Frank, aren’t I? And I shouldn’t. Isn’t that what you were going to say?”

  “Something like that.” Kate nodded. “Frank’s not the enemy.”

  “Who is the enemy? Someone who might still call and ask for ransom? Some crazy woman who stole my baby for herself? Some maniac who kills babies? Or the money-hungry abduction ring who steals babies and sells them?”

  “We don’t know which. Not yet.”

  “When will we know?”

  Kate closed her eyes for a millisecond as if she’d suddenly experienced a pain too agonizing to bear, then she took a deep, cleansing breath and replied, “I don’t know the answer to that either. We may find out tomorrow. Or next week. Or maybe never.” She reached out and grabbed Leenie’s shoulders. “But no matter how long it takes, do not give up. Don’t ever let anyone convince you to give up.”

  Before Leenie could respond, Kate released her and walked away, mumbling something about needing to go to the bathroom as she disappeared down the hall.

  Leenie sank down into the nearest chair, leaned over, propped her elbows on her knees and cupped her face with her open palms. Sitting there alone, the house eerily quiet, she said one more prayer.

  Please, dear God, keep Andrew safe and bring him home to me. Home to me and Frank.

  Kate handed Moran a cup of coffee, then poured one for herself and sat down across the kitchen table from him. “Where did Frank go?” she asked.

  “For a walk down the street. He said to tell you he’d be back in a little while.”

  Kate studied Dante Moran, a dark, compellingly handsome man, with danger written all over him. She didn’t think she’d ever met such a cool character and she’d known her share of self-confident, powerful men. Her ex-husband had been rich, powerful and arrogant in a way only someone born and bred into wealth and power can be. Most of the time she managed not to think about Trent Winston. Trenton Bayard Winston IV. But this kidnapping case had brought back all the old and painful memories. It was only natural that she’d think about Trent, wasn’t it, and wonder how he was doing? She hadn’t seen him in nearly eleven years. Not since—