"I'll try." Glad that she could do something to get her mind off their situation, Rachel went back into the room and took the seat in front of the computer.
Jared moved the envelope closer to her, and she noticed the address written on the outside. "I got that from Aaron Merkens," he explained. "It's supposedly a rental house on the south side of town, but it could be bogus. There was no phone listing for it. While you're doing that, I need to call Tanner."
Jared took out his cell phone and walked into the kitchen to make his call. Rachel didn't waste any time. She used some of her CPA knowledge and located the real estate tax records for the county. With any luck, the actual owner of the property would be listed.
While she waited for the file to load, she glanced at the envelope. She already knew it contained the photos of the dead woman and the baby, but she was almost afraid to find out what other surprises it held—especially since they were dealing with Esterman here.
Trying to ignore the envelope, Rachel quickly scanned the tax information on the screen, but it wasn't good news. The owner of the rental property was a corporation. Probably a dummy company at that. If Esterman owned the house, he was too smart not to bury that information under layers of paperwork.
She fed in the next search to try to find out more information about the corporation, while toying with the flap on the envelope. Rachel tried to talk herself out of opening it, but even knowing that the contents could break her heart, she couldn't stop herself. The first thing she saw when she glanced inside was the photo of the baby.
It took her a moment just to find her breath and longer to steady it. As if it were fragile and might shatter in her hand, she lifted it out and placed it neatly on the table next to the computer. She hadn't really looked at the image when Jared tried to hand it to her in the bedroom at the safe house, but she studied it now.
The tiny round face was perfect. Beautiful. A delicate mouth. A spattering of bronze-colored hair on his head. The color of Jared's hair. Of course, that meant nothing. Lots of babies had brown hair.
He could be anyone's child. Anyone's. And Esterman could be using him the same way he'd used dozens of other people over the three years she'd worked for him. Still, Rachel couldn't seem to take her gaze off that precious little face.
His eyes were closed in what appeared to be a peaceful sleep. She prayed that it was indeed peaceful, and that he had no comprehension whatsoever of the danger he was in.
God.
He was in danger because Esterman had chosen to use him as a pawn in a very sick game.
But was this her baby?
Was this the child she'd desperately wanted but had given up hope of ever having?
The memories of her infertility blended together with the tormenting thoughts of the baby. Looking back on it, Jared had never seemed as committed to having a child as she had. He hadn't objected. Not really. But then, he hadn't poured his whole heart into it, either. He'd proven that when he refused to let her use the fertilized embryos immediately after they separated. He hadn't wanted to bring a child into a broken relationship.
Or so he said.
At the time, his steadfast refusal had felt like the ultimate slap in the face. It still did. If she hadn't gotten involved with the undercover investigation into Esterman's wrongdoings, she almost certainly would have pursued the issue in court. That was the only reason the embryos still had been in storage. So, in a way it was her fault that Esterman had been able to carry things through to this point.
She touched the photograph again, running her fingertips over the baby's mouth. His lips were pursed slightly as if he'd just had a bottle. That brought on another wave of fear and panic. Were they feeding him? Was there anyone to hold him when he cried?
Rachel wasn't even aware that she was crying until she felt a tear slide down her cheek. More followed, and though she tried to choke it back, the sound of her sob cut through the room.
Jared was suddenly there, next to her. He didn't reach out for her. Thank God—she didn't think she could handle that right now.
"I'm sorry," Rachel whispered, shaking her head. "I tried to hold it together."
"No apology necessary." He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. "I know this isn't easy for you."
"Still, the tears won't help. They never do." She swiped the rest of them away. "You're the only man who's ever seen me cry. You know that?"
"Women tell me that all the time." Jared smiled. "I'm not sure it's a compliment."
It was the right thing to say. A lighthearted and typical Jared comeback to diffuse an otherwise tense moment. Rachel wanted to give in to it, to sit there and let him comfort her. But she couldn't. If she took that kind of comfort from him, it would be too easy to fall back into the same old patterns.
Jared was still a cop. A cop who put duty above anything else, including his own life.
And that would always be there between them.
Rachel stifled the rest of her tears and returned to the computer. But Jared didn't move. He stood there staring down at her. When she lifted her gaze to his, she saw that his immobility wasn't just because of her tearful reaction to the photo.
"Did you get through to Tanner?" she asked.
Jared nodded. "We couldn't talk long. He had to make another call."
"What's wrong?" Rachel held her breath and waited for an explanation.
"Tanner just told me that the cops found Sasha Young's body a couple of hours ago."
"Oh." It hit Rachel a lot harder than she would have thought it would, and the breath swooshed out of her. Moments earlier, Sasha Young had been simply a possibility. A potential piece of a puzzle.
"She was murdered," Jared continued. "Strangled. Her body was dumped in the Guadalupe River, but some fisherman spotted it and called the cops."
As horrible as that was, Rachel knew he wasn't finished. There was more. "And?"
"Tanner knows the medical examiner, so he got the guy to give him a preliminary report. Miss Young recently had a C-section." Jared looked her straight in the eye. "He estimates the surgery was done about a week ago."
A week. The timing was perfect. The pieces were starting to come together—with one horrible, inevitable conclusion. Esterman's plan was real. Not some hoax meant to scare her into cooperating.
There was indeed a child.
Somewhere.
And he was in terrible danger.
Chapter Four
He listened while Mason Tanner fleshed out the news he'd just delivered, but Jared seriously doubted the fleshing out would make it any more palatable.
Basically, it sucked.
"Your captain wasn't pleased when I told her I didn't know where you were," Tanner continued. "I guess she figured we'd be in touch, and that I'd try to talk some sense into you. Well, consider yourself talked to, because I'm on your side all the way. I don't think you have a choice about what you're doing right now."
"Thanks," Jared mumbled. But he didn't need anyone, including his friend, to reiterate the fact that his options were slim and none. He was painfully aware of it.
"So Captain Thornton basically thinks I've kidnapped Rachel?" Jared asked Tanner.
That garnered Rachel's attention. Jared saw her fingers still on the keyboard, and she looked up from the screen. Her left eyebrow arched questioningly. She probably wanted to know how he felt about that.
In other words, a rhetorical question.
Jared decided it was a good time to stare out the window and finish his conversation.
"Have they made it official?" Jared asked, lowering his voice. "Is there an APB or anything else I should be aware of?"
"No. Not as of an hour ago, anyway—but the cops are quietly looking for you. The chief of police apparently isn't too eager to put out an APB on one of the department's most decorated officers. Face it, Jared, you're the Dudley Do-Right poster child for SAPD."
Jared shook his head and silently cursed Tanner's sarcasm. "And t
hey think their poster child has gone skydiving off the deep end but that I'll soon come to my senses?"
"Something like that. A temporary insanity kind of thing brought on by the upcoming divorce and the ordeal that Rachel's been through."
The affirmation had his throat tightening. Hell. He'd known all along that it could come to this. His reputation would basically be trashed. Perhaps along with his career. A career he'd spent twelve long years building.
Esterman couldn't have planned it any better. In one swoop, the man had hit both him and Rachel where it hurt the most.
The baby and the badge.
Jared didn't even want to guess what else Esterman had in store for them. Round one sure wasn't going that well.
"What about the meeting with Merkens?" Jared asked, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand. He couldn't dwell on things he couldn't fix, and at the moment his reputation at headquarters was well out of the repairable mode. He had to solve this case before he could even start damage control. "Is that a go?"
"Sure, but you know there's no way I can guarantee that either the location or Merkens will be safe. Too many variables and too much open space."
"I know. I didn't pick the location, and I wasn't asking for miracles. I just don't want to be ambushed by Esterman's men before I step out of the car."
"I'll do my best. My advice—watch your back. And your front."
Oh, he would do that. But Jared wasn't certain that'd be enough.
Jared ended the call and slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket. "Good news," he told Rachel. Best to try to sound optimistic even if there wasn't squat to be optimistic about. "They delayed the trial to give the prosecution a chance to find you."
She didn't say anything for several moments. "The cops are after you?"
It really wasn't a good time for her to ask that. And maybe it was his imagination, or else the massive amount of baggage between them, but Jared heard the old disapproval in her tone. Not that he needed more, but it fueled his frustration and put him on the defensive.
"I still have my badge," he said quickly. "I'm still a cop."
She made a sound that could have meant anything, or nothing. Unfortunately, it felt like something.
"Look, I know you don't approve of what I do, Rachel, but if you don't mind, I'd rather skip the cold shoulder and lecture this afternoon. I've already got enough to deal with here without rehashing the past."
She issued a dismissive glance and calmly turned her attention back to the computer screen. "Thanks for that reminder, Jared." He couldn't help but notice that she pressed the keys a little harder than required. "I was starting to have a few lustful thoughts about you, but I'm sure that'll fix the problem."
Jared had already geared up to move on to the next subject—the meeting with Merkens—but then her comment sank in.
"Lustful thoughts?" he repeated.
Rachel nodded. "You know, as in those thoughts dealing with lust?"
Nope. He hadn't misunderstood her. It was a very succinct and sarcastic answer. Now, the question was—how should he respond? Should he respond?
Rachel helped him along with his decision. Well, in a roundabout sort of way. She didn't even blink. But she did hike up her chin and pull the ice-princess act that he pretty much hated. And she knew it, too. He could tell by the almost smug glint in her eye.
"Believe me, that wasn't the clarification I was looking for," he insisted. "What I meant was…" Jared stopped and rethought the question that had been about to fly out of his mouth. There was a fine line between a request for information and an idiotic remark. Best to go for the direct approach. "What the hell are you saying, anyway?"
She shrugged. "I don't have Alzheimer's, Jared. I know how good we once were in bed."
So did he. And for some reason those memories had gotten a lot more vivid since he'd seen her at the safe house.
He could still remember the taste of her.
Damn it.
"But I also recall what sent us running in opposite directions," she continued. Rachel moved the envelope, aligning it with the table edge. "You nearly getting killed. Me whining to you every few minutes about you nearly getting killed. Both of us resenting it. I'm sure neither of us wants to go back there again. Right?"
"Right. I guess."
Actually, going back there suddenly didn't seem like a bad idea. With his body humming and the sexual energy suddenly zapping back and forth between them, sex seemed like a good thing to consider. It wasn't, he reminded himself. It really wasn't.
"Anyway," she went on, after she adjusted the envelope again. "Forget what I said. I should have kept my thoughts to myself."
He might have had a darn good comeback for that if Rachel hadn't turned the laptop around, drawing his attention to the screen. "There's the information you asked me to get," she announced.
Well, her timing was lousy. She'd basically started a verbal sparring match—about sex, no less—and he couldn't continue. Not with everything else they had to do. Besides, within the next couple of minutes, they had to leave for their meeting with Merkens.
Trying to mimic her composed exterior, but knowing they were far from composed, Jared looked at the screen. The name practically jumped out at him—and put a huge damper on the fit of temper that he wanted to nourish and feed for a while.
"Lyle Brewer," he read. "Esterman's attorney?"
Rachel nodded. "And he's one of the owners of the company that manages the rental property for the place where Sasha Young was staying. It could be a coincidence, but I seriously doubt it."
So did he. Anyone on Esterman's payroll was suspect. "Maybe Brewer's the person who's been helping Esterman. Or maybe he can at least lead us in that direction." Jared checked his watch. "We need to get going. I have to swap cars with Tanner before we drive to the park."
She turned off the computer. "You never did say—how will we recognize Aaron Merkens?"
"Easy. He said he was an Elvis impersonator. I don't think we'll have any trouble spotting him, even if he's not in costume." A flamboyant image popped into his head. "God, I hope he's not in costume. I'd like to get through this without attracting an audience."
Jared reached for his keys, only to remember another important detail. "By the way, something else I didn't mention—Merkens demanded payment for this meeting."
Her eyes widened. "How much?"
"Only five hundred bucks. Don't worry, I have the money. I just thought you should know that his concern for Sasha isn't necessarily dictated by his heart. That'll tell you the kind of person we're dealing with here. In other words, I want you to be careful."
He didn't wait for her to respond. Jared tossed her a dark blue baseball cap that he'd taken from the closet. "Here, put this on. It's a sorry excuse for a disguise, but it might buy us a little safety."
"Safety," she repeated—and paused, obviously giving that some thought. "Maybe this is a good time to ask—what exactly are you anticipating might go wrong tonight?"
Jared put his hand on the small of her back and got her moving toward the door. "Anything and everything."
Chapter Five
Jared got back in the car, bringing the scent of the rain and the park in with him. He cursed under his breath, but it wasn't so soft that Rachel couldn't hear it. Obviously, his mini reconnaissance mission hadn't gone well.
What else was new?
Not much had gone their way so far.
The cops and God knows who else were after them, and they were meeting an Elvis impersonator in a public city park. The operative word being public. To say she didn't have a good feeling about this was putting it mildly.
"I guess there's no sign of Merkens?" Rachel asked. She put the rest of the burger and fries that Jared had picked up for them earlier at a fast food place. It'd taken care of the hunger, but the meal hadn't made her stomach feel any better. Not that she'd expected it would. That was asking too much of mere food.
Jared shook his head and checked his
watch again. "He's nearly a half hour late."
Yes. And she'd felt every single minute tick off in her head. "He might still show."
But that was wishful thinking. Rachel didn't know Aaron Merkens, but if he'd heard about the cops finding Sasha's body, then the promise of five hundred dollars might not be enough to stop him from going on the run.
And she didn't blame him.
If Jared had been able to piece together Merkens's association with Sasha, then Esterman would have been able to do the same. Esterman probably wouldn't care much for Merkens sharing information with them and might do whatever it took to stop the meeting.
In Esterman's case, whatever it took could mean just about anything. Including murder.
Rachel wiped the condensation off the window with a paper napkin from the sack of fast food. She had another look around. It was almost dusk, and because of the constant drizzle, the place was deserted.
Jared had parked beside some playground equipment. They were in sight and yet tucked away from the main park road—safe but definitely still out in the open. Of course, they hadn't had a choice about that. They needed Merkens to be able to see the car so he could find them.
"I should have pressed him for an earlier meeting," Jared grumbled. "Or maybe grilled him better when I got in touch with him this morning. I damn sure shouldn't have let him off the phone until I had some answers. Hell. This is costing us valuable time."
Rachel had a lot of doubts about what they were doing, but those doubts didn't include Jared's investigative skills. He'd almost certainly done his best to get whatever he could out of Merkens.
"Let's assume the worst—that he won't show. What's plan B?" she asked.
He gave her a flat look. "Believe me, there are worse things that can happen than Merkens being a no-show."
All right. She agreed with that, but it didn't help them now. They had to aim their energy in a positive direction. If there was indeed a positive one.
The phone rang, the sound cutting through the silence. "Thank God," she mumbled, hoping it was Merkens so he could explain why he wasn't there. Then, maybe Jared could browbeat him into hurrying.
Confiscated Conception Page 4
