SH Medical 07 - The Detective's Accidental Baby

by Diamond, Jacqueline

  “There’s something you ought to know. Let’s go outside, okay?”

  Reluctant as she was to share confidences with him, her colleague sounded sincere. Anyway, he’d already heard the worst. “Okay.”

  A minute later, they stood on the cafeteria patio, which was empty thanks to the nippy March breeze. Impatiently, Erica waited for Ned to explain whatever he thought was so important. Some insight about Dr. Brennan? Or a warning about Bailey’s overprotectiveness toward the twins? Ned and Bailey were buddies from way back, she recalled.

  His words took her completely off guard. “It’s about that man you mentioned, the detective. Lock Vaughn.”

  Erica hugged herself, shivering. “You know Lock?”

  “We’ve met.” Ned braced himself, feet apart. “I just thought you should be aware that he came around asking questions about you.”

  Why would Lock do that? She’d be happy to answer his questions herself. “I don’t understand.”

  “He questioned me about you a couple of months ago. In January.”

  Impossible. That was before they’d met. “It must have been later.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure that’s when it was.”

  Whatever else people might say about Ned, he usually got his facts straight. “This doesn’t make sense,” Erica said.

  “Not to me, either.” He spoke quickly, cutting off further protest. “Let me explain, okay?”

  “Okay,” Erica said. And stood there listening with growing dismay.

  Lock hadn’t met her by chance. From the very beginning, he must have lied to her. It was worse, much worse, than she could have imagined.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday morning was slow, and therefore a good time to catch up on paperwork from the weekend’s activities. In his office, Lock updated Phil’s file with his notes from Saturday and read his email. After taking care of business messages, he checked his personal ones.

  In the days immediately after he’d forwarded his information on the adoption site, he’d considered possible reasons for woman number three’s silence. On vacation? Already found her relinquished son?

  When nearly a week passed without a reply, he’d begun to get angry. Why didn’t she bother to answer? At the very least, he deserved the courtesy of a response.

  Now here it was, a reply with the same header the site had sent to all three women—Re: Your Confidential Inquiry—along with an address he didn’t recognize. Lock tightened his grip on the mouse.

  Finally, a step toward getting some answers. Why he’d been abandoned. Why she’d chosen the Vaughns. What had happened to his father.

  Scarcely able to breathe, Lock opened the email.

  The message began: If you have a diamond-shaped birthmark on your inner right ankle, then I’m your mother.

  Lock’s heart rate sped up. He hadn’t mentioned the mark in anything he’d posted. While it wasn’t as convincing as DNA evidence, it came close.

  Swallowing hard, he continued reading.

  I’m 62 and in good health, except for high cholesterol. There’s no medical information about your father, who’s dead now. You have no brothers or sisters. That’s all I can tell you. Since filling out the form, I’ve decided I don’t want any further contact. I’m happy with my life the way it is.

  This is a temporary email address. In case you have some urgent question, I’ll check it again in a few days, but please don’t expect anything more. Goodbye.

  He stared at the screen in disbelief. This was all he got? Not even a first name, no explanations, no willingness to meet and heal old wounds. This was his life, not just hers. How selfish could the woman be? Obviously she didn’t give a rap about his messed-up childhood. Just as she’d done thirty-five years ago, she was thinking only of herself.

  Lock clenched his fists. Although he’d known any number of reactions were possible, including continued silence, he hadn’t been prepared for outright rejection. In a fury, he typed a response to make sure she knew exactly what he thought of her and why.

  His professional side reminded him it was never a good idea to send a message in anger. Too bad. He’d never hear from her again, anyway.

  After a light tap, Sue Carrera peered in his door. “Phone call, Lock. It’s a woman.”

  Guilt twisted through him. Had his mother changed her mind? He’d have to apologize…except he hadn’t provided a phone number or any information about the agency. “Did she give a name?”

  “Erica.” The secretary’s eyes shone with curiosity as she awaited his response. She loved anything that hinted of romantic entanglements, as if her coworkers were characters in a soap opera. So far, the only one who’d given her any satisfaction was Patty, who’d reconnected with high school sweetheart, Alec, while guarding his five-year-old daughter.

  Well, Lock supposed, sooner or later Sue was bound to learn how he felt about Erica. But not yet. “Thanks. I’ll pick up.”

  With obvious reluctance, the secretary departed.

  Why hadn’t Erica called him on his cell? he wondered belatedly. The answer, he discovered when he checked, was that he’d forgotten to turn the thing on this morning. No wonder things had been so quiet.

  He picked up the landline, reminding himself to keep his voice low. The office had thin walls and big ears. “Everything okay?”

  “You didn’t run into me in the park by accident, did you?” No greeting, only accusation.

  What had she heard, and from whom? “We should get together and discuss this in person.”

  “Just answer the question,” Erica snapped.

  “Yes. No.” Lock wanted to be frank but discreet. If only he’d prepared for this bombshell. “Which time?”

  “Don’t play games with me!” Her voice rang with anger. “You manipulated me from the start. Why?”

  “Slow down.” And give me a chance to get my bearings. “What is it you’ve heard?”

  “You were asking questions about me in January. Before we met. Nosy, insulting questions.”

  “Who told you that?” Surely not Patty or Mike.

  “Ned Norwalk. Male nurse. Early thirties, blond hair, blue eyes. Ring a bell?” Without waiting, she rushed on. “I can’t believe the stuff you asked—whether I threw wild parties and showed up at work drunk. Oh, and was I sexually promiscuous!” She gulped as if the words stuck in her throat. Which they probably did.

  “He’s exaggerating.” Lock hadn’t phrased his inquiry in such insulting terms. But I implied them.

  “That’s all you have to say?” Hurt and disappointment laced her tone. “You set me up.”

  “That’s not true.” What a mess, Lock thought, rubbing his forehead. He had to find a way to straighten this out. “It’s true that I didn’t meet you by accident that first time. I was investigating you. But what’s happened since then is another matter entirely.”

  “Investigating me why? For whom?”

  He wished he were free to explain. “I can’t breach my client’s confidentiality,” Lock told her unhappily. “Erica, I’m sorry. I know it sounds bad.”

  “I could understand checking out my reputation, although I have no idea who put you up to that,” she went on. “But you tried to pick me up. What was that about?”

  Oh, hell. “It was—” if only he’d listened to his better judgment and refused that part of the ass
ignment “—kind of a test.”

  A shocked pause—at least, he assumed she was shocked—greeted this revelation. “You tried to pick me up to prove what a slut I am?”

  This kept getting worse and worse. “Not exactly.” But wasn’t that the case? “I was rooting for you to turn me down.”

  She paused again. “You can’t think that’s a reasonable excuse.”

  “It’s true, though.”

  “Unbelievable.” Her voice broke. “So what is this pregnancy? Proof of my poor character?”

  Oh, Lord, he hadn’t even considered that idea. “Of course not! Everything that’s happened between us was after I filed my…closed the case.”

  “Filed your report,” she finished for him. “Repeating every bit of dirt you managed to dig up from the hospital gossips. Spying on me, too, no doubt. What else did you do? Snap pictures of me?”

  “Uh…” He couldn’t come up with an evasion. Maybe he should quit trying.

  “You did!”

  “Erica, it was my job.” That was honest but it sounded lame, even to Lock. “It happened before I knew you.”

  “I can’t tell who I’m angrier with, you for being such a jerk or myself for getting involved with you.” Her tone verged on shrillness. “Here’s the truly weird part. All these months I’ve mistrusted Ned, but he’s the one who was truthful with me.”

  Lock understood her anger and disillusionment. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. That would have meant betraying my client.”

  “So instead you betrayed me,” she retorted.

  “Not intentionally.” He wished she’d be reasonable. Or forgiving. Or simply merciful. “Look, Erica, once you’ve had time to think about this—”

  “I don’t see how I can ever trust you again. And you expect me to turn over a baby and assume that you’ll keep your word to take care of it and love it, and not try to use me as your free backup?”

  She had no right to make that kind of assumption. “If you think this changes my decision to raise my kid, you’re mistaken,” Lock challenged.

  “I’ll fight you in court.”

  “You’d lose.” Wait a minute. He hated lawsuits. “Let’s leave the lawyers out of this. We can work it out. Are you at home? I’m coming over.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m so angry right now I can’t even talk to you.”

  “Erica—”

  “Goodbye.” She disconnected.

  He slammed down the phone. That was the advantage of landlines over cells; they landed with such a satisfying crash.

  Lock checked his watch. Nearly four o’clock, which meant she might still be at the hospital, or at home or in between. He’d give her a few hours to cool off and then stop by her apartment.

  The surge of resentment at her reference to the baby faded fast. It was hard to blame her for being outraged. Hell, he was kind of outraged himself at that stunt he’d pulled on their first encounter. He should never have tried to pick her up.

  This weekend, she’d been sweet and loving and open about her mixed feelings. The fact that she’d agreed to babysit with him, despite her reservations, had been a promising step. Toward what, exactly, Lock wasn’t certain, but he knew this much: he wanted to be around Erica just as much as he wanted his child.

  That didn’t mean he expected her to take on a role she clearly rejected. Still, there’d been the shimmering possibility that they could work out an agreement that suited them both. Time together, time with their child.

  Now she was slamming the door. The law might give him the right to claim his baby, but he couldn’t force Erica to be his friend. Or his partner in child rearing. Or his lover.

  All his adult life, Lock had abandoned relationships the way he himself had been abandoned, unable to bear the intrusive demands of intimacy. With Erica it was different.

  She’s like me. Maybe a little too much like me.

  A hard knock gave scant warning before Mike barreled in. “So you’ve decided to raise your kid! Did I hear that right?”

  “Whatever happened to privacy?” Lock growled.

  “Whatever happened to my privacy if you bring a baby into our house?” His brother towered over the desk.

  Lock got to his feet. Even though he was six inches shorter, he felt more in control that way. “You’re the one who’s trying to become a father. Consider this good practice.”

  “Is there some universe in which that makes sense?”

  Patty’s blond head appeared in the doorway. “Erica’s having your baby? How did that happen?”

  Both men rolled their eyes.

  “I didn’t mean the facts of life,” she grumbled. “I meant…I thought she told you to take a hike.”

  “Butt out,” Lock said. “I mean that in the nicest way.”

  “You didn’t tell Mike to butt out!”

  “That’s because he’s about to be an uncle.” Lock wondered how many other people had heard that loud conversation. Sue, too? How about the seniors thumping and bumping away downstairs? The way things were going, they’d be marching up here any minute to give him advice, too.

  “I helped you scope her out,” Patty insisted. “I even wriggled a few details out of my husband. So this concerns me, too.”

  “Look, we’re working it out.” Lock’s newly activated cell phone rang. “I’ll fill you in later.” The name on the readout was Mindy Eckert, wife of the missing handyman.

  Mike and Patty regarded him stubbornly.

  “Client,” Lock said, and answered the call. “Yes, Mrs. Eckert?”

  The two exchanged frustrated glances. Reluctantly, they cleared the office.

  “It’s Josiah!” Mindy exclaimed in a distraught voice. “He just called from Ensenada, Mexico. He has no idea how he got there or where he left his car. He sounded confused. I got the name of his hotel and promised to meet him there. Mr. Vaughn, I’m afraid he’s had a stroke or something. My sister’s coming over to take care of the kids, but I’m afraid to drive down there by myself.”

  Ensenada lay three to four hours south of Safe Harbor, not counting delays at the border. “If he’s had a stroke, he should get medical attention right away.”

  “If he leaves his room, he might disappear again.”

  Mentally, Lock flipped through the possibilities. Trying to enlist the help of the U.S. Consulate or Mexican authorities would take too long if this was a medical emergency. And Mindy was understandably in no mood to wait. “Do you have a passport? What about him?”

  “They’re both in our safe deposit box at the bank,” she said. “I checked after you asked me about that on Friday.”

  The guy hadn’t packed with the intention of leaving the country. And while this might be some kind of trick, Josiah—based on everything Lock had learned—didn’t seem like the conniving sort. “Did he ask you to bring money?”

  “He didn’t mention it. Why?”

  “Or other valuables?”

  “You think he’s being held for ransom?”

  “If so, he’d have mentioned it,” Lock told her, and decided to take the man at his word—for now. “Get the passports, pack an overnight bag and bring as much cash as you can lay your hands on. I’ll meet you at
your house in an hour. I’ll drive.” Lock kept a change of clothing in his car, and his other documents handy.

  “Thank you, Mr. Vaughn!”

  “I’m just glad he’s turned up.”

  Lock found Mike and explained the situation. “I’ll look into hospitals in Ensenada and text you,” his brother said. “If the man really had a stroke, you shouldn’t waste any time.”

  “Thanks.” Despite Lock’s strong urge to head over to Erica’s place, that discussion would have to wait. Besides, a few days might give her a chance to cool off.

  As he hurried out, he wondered if he’d hear anything further from his coldhearted mother. Once she read his response, she ought to realize that she owed him more than that unhelpful email.

  More likely, she’d go smugly on enjoying her cozy life. But for now, he had more important matters to deal with.

  “IT ONLY BOTHERS me when I’m lying down,” Erica told Paige as she rested on the examining table. “Like now.” The pain had begun this week, radiating through her legs and buttocks, then vanishing when she shifted position.

  “Please sit.” The obstetrician helped her up. Immediately, Erica felt better. “Are you still in pain?”

  “It’s gone,” she said. “What is it?”

  “It’s called sciatic nerve pain. It’s not unusual for that to appear at around eight weeks of pregnancy.”

  “What fun,” Erica groused.

  Paige smiled sympathetically. “Swimming helps some patients, and so does applying heat or cold. You can try acetaminophen if you like. Avoid lifting anything heavy, and it’s best not to stand for long periods.”

  “I’m a scrub nurse!”

  “Does it bother you while you’re in surgery?” the doctor asked.

  “Not yet. Will it?” Erica waited anxiously for the response. She’d figured her pregnancy might complicate her life in the last trimester, but not this early.