If Brewer had a reaction to that, he didn't show it. He simply turned and walked back to his car.
Tanner waited until Brewer had driven away before he got back in his truck. Rachel could hear him opening the envelope.
"Well?" Jared asked. "What was so hell-fired important that Esterman had to tell us?"
"It's a blank page," Tanner relayed to them.
Rachel shook her head. "What does that mean?"
Jared started the car. "It means Esterman's people will be following Tanner so they can try to find us."
Of course they would. That's the reason they'd wanted this meeting in the first place. "And what will we be doing?"
"Following Brewer." He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. The car was just ahead, in the flow of traffic. "It's time we found out just how much he really knows about the baby."
Chapter Eight
"Well?" Rachel asked the moment Jared ended the call with the fertility clinic. She stared at him, tension showing all over her face. "What did they say?"
Not what Jared had wanted them to say, that was for sure.
He handed Rachel the cell phone so she could reconnect it to the modem for the laptop. "Both the fertilized embryos and unfertilized eggs were stolen."
"Great." She blew out a ragged breath. "So the baby…"
"Could be yours or ours," he supplied when she didn't finish.
"Or neither."
"Yeah. But then, we've known that was a possibility right from the start." Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Jared kept a close watch on Lyle Brewer's vehicle that was two cars ahead of him.
"So, where does that leave us?" Rachel asked.
"Not where I'd like us to be, but there's some good news. Well, potentially good news, anyway. Whoever stole the embryos left two unfertilized eggs, so the hospital can get a sample of your DNA from those and match it to the saliva swab that was in the envelope. They'll soon be able to figure out if the child is yours."
She obviously followed that to the next logical step. "And what about your DNA?"
"I donated blood just a couple of weeks ago, and thankfully the hospital still had it. We could know something as early as tomorrow morning."
She didn't say a word, but Jared knew what she was thinking. Tomorrow morning might be too late. It was anybody's guess as to when the cops or Esterman's men would find them and haul them in.
He finished off the rest of his cold cheeseburger and continued to follow Lyle Brewer. After they'd left the parking lot at the Mexican food restaurant, Brewer had dropped off his dry cleaning, used the ATM at the bank and picked up a prescription at a drive-through all-night pharmacy. In other words, routine stuff. He certainly didn't seem to be a man on the verge of revealing the location of the baby.
Rachel's fingers stilled on the computer keyboard for a few seconds when Brewer turned down another street. "He lives somewhere in this area. You think he's going home now?"
"I sure hope not."
But what Jared hoped for was a long shot. He wanted Brewer to lead them straight to the child. Tonight.
Talk about a tall order.
It was entirely possible that Brewer had no part in any of this, but Jared had to make sure. Besides, now that Aaron Merkens was dead, Brewer was one of the few leads they had. God help them.
They followed the car for another mile before Brewer stopped for gas. Jared waited on the narrow side street next to the store and hoped that the attorney hadn't caught on to the fact that he'd been tailed for the better part of an hour. If so, then God knows how long Brewer would keep driving around in the hopes of losing them. Or boring them to death.
"I don't guess you've found anything in those hospital files?" Jared asked, glancing at the computer screen.
"No. But that could be important information in itself. If there's no hospital record, that means Esterman's people probably used a private facility to do the C-section. But even private facilities can leave paper trails."
Yeah. But it was another long shot. What they needed was a break—and soon.
Because it was too heart-wrenching to consider, Jared hadn't let himself dwell on the possibility that Esterman might not even keep the baby alive. According to the evidence Rachel had unearthed during her undercover surveillance, Esterman had killed before.
Plenty of times.
Jared pushed that to the back of his mind. If he started dealing in what-if's when it came to the baby's fate, he wouldn't be able to do his job. And he couldn't let that happen.
He eased back out into traffic to follow Brewer from the gas station. The rain kept up a slow steady drizzle. The wipers slashed across the windshield and blended with the sound of Rachel's keystrokes on the computer. He heard her breathe and make that odd little sound she made when she was frustrated.
"Despite our differences about my Neanderthal approach to conflict resolution, I'm glad we're doing this together," he said.
Her fingers stilled. What she didn't do was look at him.
"Me, too."
The moment was oddly right, despite everything that was oddly wrong. He might have said more. He might even have apologized for everything that had gone on between them, but the moment was over when Jared had to make the next turn to follow Brewer.
Brewer drove into an upscale residential area, went several blocks and came to a stop in front of a large colonial-style home. Jared killed the headlights and stayed back, parking behind another car just up the street.
"The address is 623 Hanshaw Lane," Rachel provided. She grabbed her notes from the console and scanned them. "It's not Brewer's place, but he lives a few miles from here."
Jared craned his neck to get a better view of the front of the house. "There's no name on the mailbox. Think you can find out whose place this is?"
"Hopefully."
She got to work, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. Jared kept his attention on Brewer. With his briefcase clutched in his hand, the attorney exited his car and walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Jared barely got a glimpse of the man who answered.
White male. About six feet tall. Silver-gray hair.
"Got it. It's the residence of Donald Livingston." Rachel's gaze raced across the screen before her eyes widened. She turned to him. "He's the warden, Jared. The warden of the prison where Sasha Young was incarcerated."
"Bingo." And despite the fact that it still was a long shot, Jared smiled.
"Wait. I'm positive I recognize that name. Let me check something." Rachel typed in another search. "Yes, I was right. He's Clarence Esterman's former client."
Okay. Jared hadn't expected that, but it might fit nicely. "In what capacity?"
She entered more information, but shook her head when she got the results. "I don't know. Livingston's name is listed in the company's records, but it appears his files were among those that Esterman deleted."
"Even better. Esterman wouldn't have deleted them unless there was a reason. I think we just might have gotten our first big break."
"Yes." Rachel pulled in a long breath. "But what do we do with it?"
His smile faded. Good question. He had answers, but Jared wasn't sure how they fit with the questions.
"Keep digging for information on Warden Livingston," Jared told her. "It's too risky for us to sit here all night, but I'll have Tanner assign one of his detectives to watch the house. When the place is empty, we'll go inside and have a look around."
"Breaking and entering?" she asked.
Her tone was just slightly too self-satisfied for his liking. "You got a better idea?"
"No. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
Good. Because it would take a lot. Jared was absolutely sure of that.
* * *
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE resting," Jared pointed out, glancing at her over his shoulder.
"So are you," Rachel countered.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, but when she opened them, the words on the computer screen were stil
l just as blurry as they had been for the past hour.
Cursing the fatigue, Rachel set the laptop aside, got up from the bed and went into the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Her head was pounding. Her mouth was like a wad of cotton. And every muscle in her body was knotted to the point of being painful.
Sometime in the four hours since she and Jared had checked into the low-budget hotel, the surge of adrenaline had caused her to crash and burn, leaving her with a bone-weary fatigue that a hot shower definitely hadn't cured. What she needed was a good night's sleep. Which she wouldn't get anytime soon.
She checked her clothes that she'd hung over the towel rack after her shower. Still too damp to put back on. The bed-sheet toga would have to do a while longer. Not good. Even though she was covered from shoulder to toes, it seemed a little risqué to walk around wearing just a sheet with her soon-to-be-ex in the room. And it wasn't her imagination that Jared had noticed the sheet, either.
He'd definitely noticed.
And she'd noticed that he'd noticed.
The attraction was still there between them, just as it had been from the first day Rachel had seen him waiting on the steps of the campus administration building…. It was winter. Her senior year in college. He stood there, an icy breeze stirring his long black coat. And his hair. When she caught his gaze, he smiled, causing a dimple to flash in his cheek. She was already half in love with him before she learned that he was a cop.
Odd that the physical attraction would survive and the love wouldn't.
"Are you okay?" Jared called out.
"Just taking a little break."
And going through her own version of hormone Hades. The adrenaline might have caused a crash and burn, but it didn't do a thing to dull her senses. At the moment, a good sense-dulling would have been a blessing.
Gathering up her toga so she wouldn't trip, Rachel walked back through the room and peeked out the window. The cars trickled past on the nearby highway, but on the other side of the six lanes, she could see the street that led to Livingston's neighborhood. They were still five miles away but could easily be there in less than ten minutes.
But first they had to get the go-ahead from Tanner.
It was approaching midnight, and they still hadn't received a call from the investigator that Tanner had placed near Livingston's house. Not that she'd expected that call before morning. However, Rachel had prayed that Livingston would leave so they could figure out if he had any information to link him to the baby.
Livingston was divorced, she'd learned from her computer search. No kids. And he lived alone. What Rachel couldn't be certain of was that he was truly alone. There could be someone else staying in the house. A lover. A relative. A housekeeper. Any one of them could pose a problem when she and Jared actually went inside the house. Still, it was their best bet for finding new information.
At the moment, their only bet.
She hadn't wanted to let herself hope, but were Esterman's people holding the baby there? It didn't seem logical that a man of Donald Livingston's reputation would risk something like that, but the child had to be somewhere. Besides, Livingston was one of the few connections they had to Sasha Young. Livingston and Lyle Brewer.
And in a bizarre circle, both of them were connected to Esterman.
"You should try to get some sleep," Jared reminded her. "God knows, you need it."
She made a sound of agreement. "This coming from a man who's put in more hours than I have. How long have you had that envelope, anyway?"
He didn't answer right away, which meant he knew where her comment was leading. "Since around eleven o'clock last night. A courier brought it to the town house."
"So that means you've been working twenty-four hours straight, but my guess is it's been even longer than that since you've had any sleep."
"You'd guess right." He looked at her over his shoulder. There was nothing especially incredible about that look except the fact that Jared was the one doing the looking.
From the moment he'd told her about the baby, Rachel had tried to prepare herself for all the challenges she might face. However, the challenge at the moment was all the feelings for him that still whispered inside her. Those whispers were rapidly turning into a roar.
Keeping her hands plastered to her side so she wouldn't be tempted to touch him, she walked closer. From over his shoulder she saw that he'd spread out the contents of the envelope on the desk. The letter, the DNA results and the two photographs. Jared was reading the letter, probably to see if there were any hidden clues. And as with her computer search for hospital records, it didn't appear that he'd been successful in finding anything else. Still, he was plugging away at it.
Devoted to duty. That was Jared, all right. Always on the job. But this time, he didn't have the support of his fellow officers and he couldn't use his badge. Despite all that, he hadn't given up. And that brought Rachel back to something she'd been mulling over all afternoon.
"I've decided to call your captain," she informed him. "I'll tell her that it was my decision to leave the safe house, that I forced you to come with me. It might get you out of hot water."
He turned around in the chair to face her. "Thanks for the offer, but I knew the consequences before I went to see you this morning."
"I know. And that probably made it a thousand times harder for you." She paused, keeping her gaze on the computer screen. "I'll make that call after we learn what we can from Livingston."
"No, you won't. I'd rather you focus on finding the paper trail for the medical facility that did Sasha Young's C-section. I'll settle up with the captain when this is over."
"But then it might be too late to save your badge."
He flexed his eyebrows and turned his attention back to the letter. "Are you having trouble figuring out if that's a good or a bad thing?"
A year ago, that would have sent her into one heck of sulking session, but Rachel was too tired to sulk. Besides, it was an honest question.
"I never wanted you to lose your badge, Jared."
"No?" He shrugged. "You just wanted me to give it up voluntarily."
That was the truth. But only because he'd come so close to dying. Still, that admission was another sulking session in the making. In Jared's opinion, possible death was part of the job description.
"I don't want to go through this tonight." She rubbed her hand over her face. "Those old issues don't even matter anymore. We're practically divorced, and the only thing really left between us is to find this baby."
It wasn't exactly true. If they found the baby, there would certainly be tons of other issues to work out, but they seemed miles away.
"What about the lust you mentioned earlier?" he asked. Not calmly, either. There was an edge to his question. "That's certainly still between us. If you're keeping a tally, it has to go somewhere at the top of the list."
She had to hand it to him—Jared knew how to keep her on her toes. Or maybe that was designed to knock her off her toes a bit since they were breaching taboo waters. Rachel hoped her body didn't get any ideas from all this lust talk.
It wasn't an invitation.
"Okay, we'll put lust as number two on the list, right after finding the baby," Rachel said, and she took up where he left off. "And for three, we can add all this knight-to-the-rescue stuff that you dole out. That's still between us, as well. Even now."
"I beg your pardon?"
She leaned her hip against the table. "I've had a lot of time to think over the past year, and I believe you married me because you have a knight complex. It's a dominant part of your personality."
"You mean because I took care of my mom and kid sister after my dad ran out on us?"
Rachel nodded. "And you did that when most teenagers couldn't have handled it." She smiled when he scowled. "Don't look insulted—it was an honorable and selfless thing to do. You continued that selfless lifestyle by becoming a cop. Then I arrived on the scene, and, well, let's just say I was the ultimate damsel
in distress to keep fueling all your knightly impulses."
"Because you have panic attacks." He spared her a considering glance. "And you believe these selfless knightly impulses of mine were the reason we got together?"
She didn't really care for the way he phrased that. "That was a large part of it, yes."
"You left out the lust again."
Great. He just wouldn't get off that subject, and it wasn't a safe one for them to dwell on. "I meant to leave it out. Because despite its prominent place on this theoretical list, it no longer applies to us—even if it feels like it does. It's a facade, an illusion, brought on by adrenaline, forced proximity…and this blasted toga."
He smiled, but like his comments, there was something a little off about it. Something hot and dangerous simmering just below the surface.
It sure felt like an invitation.
To something.
Rachel pushed herself away from the table and started to pace. Jared just sat there. Staring. "What, no opinions about that?" she asked.
"You tell me what I think," Jared challenged. This time she got more than a glance. And it was more than a considering one. He stood and raked his gaze over her.
Oh boy. The man certainly knew how to put some spin on a simple gaze.
"It doesn't matter now, anyway." She tried to sound dispassionate. And failed miserably.
"Wrong guess. That wasn't what I was thinking."
She scowled at his sarcasm. Or, at least, she tried to scowl. Since that wasn't working, it seemed a really good time for that nap, so Rachel turned to head for the bed.
Jared obviously had other ideas.
He snagged her wrist so fast that she didn't even see it coming. But then he stopped. Stared at her. And eased his grip slightly as if to give her the chance to retreat. When she didn't, when she met that challenging stare of his without backing down, he drew her closer and pressed her hand right against the front of his jeans.
He was aroused.
Mercy.
Fully aroused.
And so was she.
"I don't want you to do anything about this, got it?" he grumbled. "I just want you to know that our marriage might have failed, but the attraction didn't. So that lust part definitely still applies, without any qualifiers. Got it?"
Confiscated Conception Page 7
