by Pat Warren
“So, now what?” he asked Rachel.
“Tomorrow, I’ll go out and get some things. Formula, diapers, clothes, a portable bed. She’ll outgrow that basket in no time. I’ll keep her in my room. Oh, and a baby book.” What she didn’t know about babies would fill volumes. But she would learn.
She was making long-range plans already, Jack noticed. He hoped she wouldn’t get hurt if the baby’s father came back in a couple of days. “Do you think you should have a doctor check her out?”
“I will, although she looks perfectly healthy to me.” Rachel wasn’t certain she wanted the news that she had Christina’s baby spread around town just yet, although she supposed there was no avoiding it. “From the way he wrote that note, her father wanted to be sure I knew this was his child.”
“Maybe Christina told him to take her baby to you if something happened to her.”
“Maybe, but back in August, I was in Chicago with no plans to return. I wonder why he had to leave her.”
“And I wonder who he is.” Jack took off his jacket and hung it up. “We should go over to the Laughing Horse Reservation and talk with someone at the tribal office. The Bureau of Indian Affairs must have a representative there. Maybe someone saw a man who lives on the reservation trying to raise a baby alone and having a difficult time of it.”
“You can try, but from what I’ve heard, you won’t get much cooperation.” Resuming her humming, Rachel saw that Alyssa was asleep, obviously comfortable in her arms. And, oh, how she loved holding her.
Jack noticed that Rachel had said that he could go talk to them, not they could go. “Are you abandoning the search for your sister’s killer now that you’ve got her baby?”
“No, of course not. I just may not be able to be a hands-on participant every minute. I have to take care of Alyssa. But we can meet to map out strategy and you can come over each evening so we can go over what you found out.” She nuzzled the sleeping child. “I just don’t feel comfortable leaving her with anyone just yet.”
Jack yawned behind his hand. “Maybe we should get some sleep and continue this in the morning.”
“Good idea. Bring the basket, will you?” she climbed the stairs to her room. Again, she locked the door and settled the baby in the basket, then placed it alongside the bed. She stood gazing down at the child, her heart full.
“It didn’t take you long to fall for her,” Jack commented, slipping his arms around her and easing her back against his body.
“What’s not to love? She’s beautiful and trusting and vulnerable. And she’s got my family’s blood.” She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Tell me you could walk away from that—and remember that I’ve seen you with Gina. If, for some reason, Gina’s baby needed you, what would you do?”
“I’m going to take the Fifth on that. I can’t be responsible for statements made in the middle of the night in the heat of passion.”
“What passion? We’re just standing here.”
Jack’s smile was devilish as he ran a hand along her spine, pressing her lower body intimately to his. “Not for long.”
Willingly, happily, Rachel went back to bed with him and this time, at least for her, there was a depth, a poignancy to their lovemaking that she hadn’t noticed before. Was it because the addition of Alyssa to her life gave her a sense of completion she hadn’t had before? Or was it that each time she and Jack made love, she discovered new and wondrous feelings?
Yet later, as she lay curled in his arms, her lover sleeping in the soft glow of a night-light near Alyssa’s basket, Rachel faced some harsh truths. The note had said Alyssa’s father would be back, which meant she had the baby only temporarily. Of course, he could change his mind, or circumstances could keep him from returning. Especially if he turned out to be the one who’d murdered Christina.
Oh, Lord, could a man kill the woman who’d just given birth to his baby? Could he take that baby and lovingly care for her for three months before giving her to someone he felt would not abandon her? How did he know that she’d be good to his daughter? What had Christina told him about her sister? Was the father someone Rachel knew? She was acquainted with several Native Americans both on and off the reservation, but not close friends with any one of them. Yet apparently Christina had been.
Another thought intruded, the return of Ellis tomorrow. Her father had made it clear on many occasions how he felt about “Indians.” He thought they should stay with their own kind and that interracial relationships should be outlawed. What was he going to say when he realized that an Indian had fathered his daughter’s child? Rachel shuddered at the thought.
Jack stirred in his sleep, edging her closer to his warm body. How good it felt to be in his arms. Yet the difficult truth was that eventually she’d mostly likely lose him, too. So both Alyssa and Jack would be gone from her life. She’d fallen in love with both in an instant, but that love probably wouldn’t be enough. She’d been through this before, and it didn’t get any easier. She’d tried to guard her heart against that kind of pain, but it hadn’t worked out that way.
Rachel let out a ragged sigh. The best she could do at this point was to make the most of her time with both Jack and Alyssa. And hope for the best.
“You’re kidding!” Gina said, looking into her brother’s eyes. “You’re not kidding. The father left the baby with Rachel? And how does she feel about all this?” Seated across from Jack at the Hip Hop Café, Gina took a bite of her English muffin.
Jack had called this morning and asked her to meet him for breakfast, that he wanted to run a couple things by her. It was something they’d done a lot when she’d been his partner. These morning sessions where they compared notes on their cases and brain-stormed had been the most productive. Since her marriage, Gina had felt somewhat out of the loop and was tickled when Jack had called her, especially since she knew the people involved.
She’d arrived well before Jack and had sipped on another endless glass of milk, eavesdropping on the folks around her, especially a seedy-looking biker couple at an opposite table. Old P.I. habits died hard, she guessed. Good thing, since technically she still had a case—finding the missing seventh Kincaid grandchild.
“Rachel’s nuts about Alyssa already,” Jack answered.
“Alyssa. Pretty name. Does she look like Christina?”
“Her features are Native American and she’s got straight black hair, but her eyes are big and blue. Rachel says Christina had the same eyes. And she has a birthmark that apparently all the Montgomerys have, a crescent moon on the sole of the right foot.” Which was where he’d started nuzzling on Rachel this morning, working his way up her supple body, taking her from languid to loving in minutes. With difficulty, Jack brought his attention back to Gina.
Gina’s shrewd gaze stayed on his face. “Hey, big brother, why the faraway look? Is Rachel getting to you?”
He frowned, annoyed she could see through him so readily. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep, what with the baby and all.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Jack realized he’d made a tactical error. Quickly he picked up his cup and drank coffee.
Gina’s smile was knowing. “Oh, so you spent the night at Rachel’s? Because of the snow, bad driving conditions, and so on, I imagine, eh?”
He gave it up. “All right, so you caught me. Rachel’s…a very nice person.”
“A nice person. Mmm-hmm.” It pleased her to make him squirm just a little. “Every woman’s dream, to be thought of as a nice person by a man she’s interested in.”
He leaned back. “What makes you think Rachel’s interested in me?”
Gina finished her muffin and wiped her mouth on the flimsy little paper napkin. “Because I have eyes and saw the two of you together.” She raised a hand to wave off a protest she was certain he’d raise. “Don’t bother denying it. Both of you were as transparent as tissue paper.” Elbows on the table, she looked at him. “Let’s get back to Alyssa. What’s Rachel going to do?”
Jac
k shrugged. “Take care of her until the father, whoever he is, returns, I suppose. She’s out right now buying all kinds of things—food, clothes, a bed.”
“Because she’s a nester, Jack.”
“Well, I’m not, so you can just put away your little matchmaking kit because it’s not going to work.” He drained his cup and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Thanks for meeting with me.” He glanced out the window. “At least the snow’s stopped.” There was perhaps three inches accumulated, but the salt trucks had already hit the major streets.
“I hear that Ellis Montgomery’s very prejudiced, especially against Native Americans,” Gina said. “What did he say about the baby?”
Jack scanned the bill and put some money on it. “He’s out of town and hasn’t seen Alyssa yet. But he’s due home tonight and all hell may break lose.”
So Jack and Rachel had driven away from her home last night and gone to the Montgomery house where no one was around, Gina surmised. And Jack had spent the night. Maybe Rachel would be able to do the impossible, to get her brother to settle down. She was certain that Jack needed love more than just about anyone she knew, yet he’d die before he’d admit it. She’d have to keep an eye on things. She’d just met Rachel, but she didn’t want Jack to hurt her. Or vice versa.
“Listen, if Ellis gives Rachel a hard time, tell her she can bring Alyssa to our home until she makes other arrangements.”
“That’s very nice of you. I’ll tell her.” He slid out of the booth, leaned down and kissed her gorgeous hair. “See you later.”
Gina watched him drive away through the picture window, the heavy car slip-sliding only a little on the slick pavement. Later on, she’d call Rachel, she decided, rising with just a little difficulty. It never hurt to put in a good word here and there.
“Eat your breakfast.” Micky Culver wondered how she could go on day after day on what she ate. Audra was so thin already, and in the last few months she seemed to have lost more weight. “I swear I don’t understand how you don’t waste away.”
“Leave me alone, Micky,” Audra said in a huff. She ran a hand through her close-cropped, bleached-blond hair. “I need a cigarette.” She looked around at the packed Hip Hop Café, at the faces of the people she lived among but didn’t really care to know. “Let’s get out of here.” Without waiting for Micky, she got up and left.
Outside she lit up and scuffed her boots in the light snow. When she heard Micky behind her, she turned to have it out with him. She couldn’t take his demands anymore, his constant hawking her, watching her every move. She couldn’t stand him. She deserved better. It was over—now she’d tell him. But, as if sensing what she planned to say, it was Micky who spoke up.
“I know.”
That was all he said, but the two tiny words nearly toppled Audra like a heavyweight’s punch to the belly. She tried to hide her shaking hand and forced a smile. “What are you talking about, baby?” she asked sweetly. “What do you know?”
Micky looked up and down the snowy street, his ponytail swinging in the wind, his hoop earrings swaying. As if convinced no one could overhear, he leaned down close to her face and tugged on the zipper of her torn down vest till her neck was exposed. “Where’s your locket, Audra? Haven’t seen it since…well, about late August.” He smiled a sick smile. “Lose it somewhere?” he asked. “Like a crime scene?”
Audra nearly reeled backward. Her mind raced and her pulse pounded so hard, she thought she’d faint right here in the middle of town. How did he know? How could he know? She put out the cigarette, smashing the butt hard with the toe of her boot, wishing it was Micky she was rubbing out. She had no choice but to deny it, deny everything. Then she’d take him home and, no matter how repulsive the thought was, take Micky to bed. Sex had always smoothed things over before. Yeah, that’s what she’d do.
But Micky just pushed away her hand as it reached out for his chest. Then he clutched her arm in his strong fist, his fingers encircling her upper arm and biting hard into it. “Cut the act. I know what you did to that Montgomery girl. I saw how you hit her on the head, how you killed her.” His brown eyes blazed, then suddenly cooled. “I followed you to the hills that night. I saw you digging, then swing that shovel when she came up on you.”
“But, Micky, it was an accident. She scared me. I—”
“Accident?” He snorted at her defense. “I don’t think so. Not when you followed her down the embankment and hit her on the head with a rock. Trust me, honey, that looked real deliberate—even to me. And I ain’t no genius.”
“No, Micky, it wasn’t like that.” Audra threw frantic glances up and down the street, trying hard not to make it look like a confrontation, not to draw attention from the busybodies opening up their shops or on the other side of the windows in the Hip Hop. All she could think about was getting out of here, where they could be seen. Any moment and the sheriff or his deputies could be walking down the street for a cup of coffee from the café. She had to make Micky go home. Then she’d find a way to get to a phone and call Lexine. Her mother would know what to do.
“Let’s go home, Micky, and I’ll explain everything. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
“Oh, I understand, all right.” He smiled and let go of her arm, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He reached out and smoothed her vest, then a lock of hair that was sticking on end. “What I understand is that from now on, you’ll be doing exactly what I tell you. When I tell you. Starting right now, when you’ll be moving back in with me.”
No matter how repulsive the thought of moving back into his filthy trailer, of sharing a bed with him again, she forced her trembling lips into an answering smile. “Sure, Micky. Whatever you say.”
“That’s right, babe,” he said through his teeth, as he proceeded down the street, with her on his arm. “Be nice. ‘Cause if you don’t, I’ll march right over to our Sheriff Rawlings.” He cocked his head in the direction of the station. “And you’ll find yourself in prison—right next to your mother.”
Sloan Ravencrest motioned Jack into his office through the open doorway while he finished his phone call. Jack sat across from the deputy, wondering if Sloan would know anyone from the reservation who might have been seen with Christina and could possibly be Alyssa’s father.
“I’ll take care of that, Rafe,” Sloan spoke into the receiver as he jotted notes on a pad. “Talk with you later.” He hung up the phone, made a final note, then leaned back in his swivel chair. “Good morning, Jack. How are things going?”
“Not too bad,” Jack answered. “Have you discovered anything more about Christina’s death?”
“Can’t say I have, although we should have the autopsy report in another day or so. I finally tracked down every single name on that list, but I can’t honestly say I have even one suspect that looks remotely guilty. How’d you do?”
“I questioned a few, but I don’t think the baby’s father is on that list. We had a surprise last night around midnight at the Montgomery house. Someone dropped a baby girl, about three months old, in a basket on the porch, just like in the movies, with a note asking Rachel to care for the child until her father can come back for her.”
Jack and Rachel had discussed revealing Alyssa’s whereabouts until she’d finally given in on letting Jack tell Sloan. She wasn’t doing anything illegal, the note giving her permission to care for the child, and Jack felt it was important to keep Sloan apprised, to keep his trust so he’d also share information.
“No kidding? Rachel is sure the baby’s Christina’s?”
“Absolutely. The age is right, she’s got these big blue eyes and the same birthmark, a crescent moon, on the sole of her right foot, that all of the Montgomerys have. But that’s where the resemblance to Christina ends.” Jack crossed his long legs and raised his gaze to Sloan. “She’s got straight black hair and Native American features.” He watched the surprise move into Sloan’s dark eyes.
“That kind of narrows our playing field.” Swiveling
his chair, he stared out the single window in the small office, lost in thought for a minute or two.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone living on the res who’d been seen with Christina, do you?” Jack asked carefully.
Shaking his head, Sloan swung back. “Not off-hand, but I’m going to compile a list of all the eligible men and question them.”
“Eligible? What if he’s married? That might explain the secrecy.”
“What kind of shape is the baby in?”
“Well cared for, chubby, happy.” He’d awakened to little cooing sounds about six, Rachel awake and giving Alyssa a bottle. By the time he’d showered and gone downstairs, she was rocking the baby in the chair by the fireplace, her face aglow. Jack had stood there for several minutes, struggling with new, unwelcome emotions as he’d watched the two of them. He wasn’t sure what he’d felt. He only knew that the sight of them had been disquieting, disturbing him in a way he couldn’t explain.
“I can’t imagine any man whose wife would care for a baby for months,” Sloan said. “Her husband’s baby, but not hers. More likely I’m looking for some guy who’s taken care of this baby really well by himself for three months and suddenly, for reasons unknown, leaves her in the middle of the night with Rachel.” Sloan shook his head. “I go to the res often. I’ve got a lot of friends there. News like this spreads quickly. In all this time, I haven’t heard a thing about anyone with a baby.”
“Would you mind if I go to the reservation and ask around?”
Sloan straightened in his chair, his look skeptical. “You can try, but I doubt you’ll get much cooperation. It’s kind of a close-knit community. They don’t trust outsiders. Nothing personal.”
