The Cradle Mission

by Rita Herron

  But before she made her move, she had to find proof that Simon belonged to her. So they’d never be able to steal him from her again.

  A HALF HOUR LATER, Cain stood in his kitchen heating a can of soup while Jane fed Simon. The baby gurgled and spit rice cereal everywhere, then lapped up the peaches with gusto as Jane spooned them into his mouth. She had been suspiciously quiet, avoiding conversation with him, focusing all her attention on the baby.

  Cain would let it ride for now.

  But when Simon went to bed, they had to talk.

  He filled the bowls with steaming chicken noodle soup and placed one on the table in front of her, the other at the opposite end for himself. He added crackers and poured them both some coffee, then set the sugar and milk on the table, and took the seat at the end of the table.

  He had not been around babies much, but Simon seemed happy and well cared for in spite of their earlier ordeal. Jane, on the other hand, was a mess.

  He didn’t want to think about the strong urges he’d felt when she’d pressed herself into his arms. Protective instincts had mushroomed alongside sexual feelings that had no place between them.

  Especially if she was involved in Eric’s death.

  Simon suddenly blew bubbles, spraying Jane’s shirt. Jane laughed, a soft, lighthearted, totally content and motherly sound that pinched his stomach. Even pale and frightened, she’d draw any man’s eye, but with a smile on her face she looked absolutely beautiful.

  “I think you’ve had enough.” Jane wiped Simon’s chin with a paper napkin. “Now how about some milk to wash it all down?”

  Simon cooed a reply while she laid him back in her arms and slipped the bottle into his mouth. Like an experienced mother, she angled herself to sip her coffee and eat at the same time.

  “Looks like you’ve done that before.” Cain couldn’t keep a grin from sliding onto his face.

  She smiled at him, actually blushing. “Seems like babies always want to eat when the adults do.” She shrugged, her green sweater slipping off one shoulder. “I don’t mind, though. He’s good company.”

  “It’s obvious you love him very much.”

  “I do.”

  “Did you and this ex-boyfriend break up before you met Eric?”

  She stiffened, then sipped her coffee again. “Yes. He was stalking me and I asked Eric for help. That’s how we met.”

  He nodded, admitting the plausibility of her story. But she didn’t quite meet his eyes when she spoke.

  “Why didn’t you want me to call the police? You can issue a warrant for this guy, get a restraining order—”

  “I’ve done all that before.” She stood and rocked Simon from side to side. He was falling asleep in her arms, one hand curled against the bottle. “Is there someplace I can let him rest for the night?”

  “This way.”

  Cain’s cabin consisted of two bedrooms with a shared bath and an open room that served as the den, with an attached kitchenette. A faded green sofa and comfortable recliner occupied the den along with a TV and his ancient stereo system. He normally didn’t bring women here. They found it too rustic.

  “Is he crawling yet?”

  “Not yet,” she whispered. “Although he’s trying.”

  “So, he’ll be okay on the bed?”“I’ll put some pillows beside him so he doesn’t roll off.” She gently pulled the bottle from Simon’s hand and kissed him on the forehead while Cain turned down the navy comforter. Then she eased Simon onto the bed, brushing a tender hand over his belly as he stretched his chubby arms and legs. Light blond eyelashes fluttered once, but he didn’t wake.

  “He’s so tired. It’s been a trying day.”

  “I imagine so. It’s not every day a baby gets shot at.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. As soon as they made it back to the small den, he turned to her.

  That haunted look returned to her eyes. “We’ll be out of your way in the morning.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere.” Cain folded his arms. “Now, just before those goons showed up you were going to tell me about Simon’s father.”

  ALANNA WAS EXHAUSTED, but she couldn’t give in to it. Even though she’d told Cain she and Simon would leave tomorrow, she had no idea where they would go. With Eric dead, the monastery abandoned and the men after her close on her tail, how would she possibly escape? She was in way over her head. Completely out of her element.

  And Cain Caldwell was demanding answers.

  What would make him want to protect Simon instead of turning him over to the men looking for him or to the police? There was only one thing….

  “Who is his father, Alanna?”

  She hesitated, gathering courage, praying God could somehow forgive her for what she was going to say. “The baby, well…Eric is Simon’s father.”

  Chapter Six

  “What?”

  “I know it’s hard to believe.”

  The anguish Cain had felt earlier intensified as he stared at the woman in shock. Her eyes flickered with unease as if she feared his reaction, and shame filled him for being rough with her earlier.

  He refused to be like his father.

  This was one reason he’d kept himself focused on his job and had never let himself get too close to anyone before.

  Was she telling the truth? Had his brother fathered the little boy sleeping in his spare room?

  Eric normally didn’t get involved with the women he helped. He didn’t want to take advantage of them in their vulnerable state.

  Had Eric known about Simon or had he died before he’d learned of his existence?

  “Are you sure he’s Eric’s son?”

  Anger tightened her mouth, and he realized the implication of his question.

  “Yes, but I don’t expect anything…I didn’t come here to cause.” She reared her head back. “And I didn’t want anything from Eric except for him to help me find a safe place to take Simon.”

  “Did he know about the baby?”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “No. I told him I had a child and that we needed help. I intended to tell him the rest when I got here.”

  So, Eric had died without knowing he had a son. Cain’s chest constricted. “Why did you keep it from him?”

  She shook her head, that wariness back in her eyes. “It’s a long story. I…I was afraid.” The arm of her long-sleeved sweater rode up as she lifted her arm.

  “Afraid of what your boyfriend might do? Is it Polenta?”

  A gasp escaped her. “How do you know about Paul?”

  “Is he your old boyfriend?”

  “No, he’s…a friend. He loaned me his car so I could leave town. But how did you know?”

  “I’m a cop, Jane. I ran the plates on the car.”

  She nodded, shaken. “What else did you find out?”

  “Nothing. But it’s time you filled me in.”

  “I told you, an old boyfriend is after me. I haven’t been with him in ages but he wouldn’t leave me alone. He couldn’t stand the thought of me with someone else.”

  “Do you think he killed Eric?”

  “No. I…he didn’t know Eric’s name.” She twisted her hands together. “But I’m worried about Simon.”

  He arched a brow, zeroing in on her panicked gaze. “You think he might hurt the baby because he’s Eric’s?”

  She nodded, though her gaze didn’t quite meet his. His protective instincts quickly roared to life. He knew exactly how it felt to take the brunt of a man’s rage, to feel the print of his hand on his face.

  And so did this woman.

  He tried to picture her with Eric, tried to remember Eric mentioning a woman, but nothing concrete came to mind. Of course, they’d spent the past few months arguing half of the time.

  So much time wasted.

  If this baby was Eric’s, he couldn’t let her leave. Not when she was sick and looked like she might blow over any second.

  Not when the baby was the only link he had left to his brother.


  He just wished he knew the rest of the story.

  He had to help her. But he wasn’t like Eric, and she would discover that soon enough. He lived by the letter of the law.

  If she was lying to him, he’d find out the truth about that as well. And if her alleged boyfriend had found Eric and killed him, then Cain would find him and make sure he paid.

  More questions plagued him. Had she loved his brother? Had Eric been in love

  ALANNA FOUGHT THE URGE to run. She had just told this man that the baby in his guest room was his brother’s son, his nephew. He was bound to want to touch him, hold him.

  But would he be able to look into Simon’s eyes and see the truth?

  “How old is he?” Cain asked in a voice thick with emotion.

  “Four months.” Alanna forced a smile. “He’s really a good baby.”

  “Spoken like a true mother.”

  A tremor tore through her, but he didn’t notice. “He is good, but he must sense the tension.”

  She pushed the short hair from her face, the wispy dark strands another reminder of her situation. And his.

  Of course his emotions were volatile right now. He’d just lost his brother and thought he’d found his brother’s son; shame washed through her at her deception. The man needed comfort.

  But she was the wrong person to give it to him.

  “So I have a nephew.” A small smile twitched at the corner of Cain’s mouth, his hard features transforming into something else—something much more dangerous. Cain Caldwell was one of the most powerfully masculine men she’d ever met.

  She must be more exhausted than she’d realized, she thought. For a moment, she’d forgotten the cold and fear surrounding her, that if she let her guard slip, this man could turn her over to the authorities.

  She’d forgotten he’d looked so desolate earlier by his brother’s grave and that she might be responsible for putting the anguish in his eyes. And now, if he found out she’d lied about Eric being Simon’s father, he would hate her.

  Torn over accepting his protection and feeling guilty about her deception, Alanna knew she had to leave in the morning. If Eric had been killed because of her, then anyone who helped her would be in danger. She couldn’t live with another man’s death on her conscience.

  CAIN WANTED TO ASK her more questions, but he saw fatigue lining her face, heard the tremor in her voice, and knew it could wait. She looked as if she might collapse any second.

  In the morning, he’d find out the boyfriend’s name.

  He led her back to the guest room where Simon lay on the pine bed occupying the corner.

  “Do you need anything for the night?” He gestured toward the duffel bag he’d brought in for her earlier, but she shook her head.

  He moved to the door to offer her some privacy. “Jane…”

  She turned, her eyelids already drooping. “Yes?”

  “If you need me, just call.”

  She seemed startled for a minute, as if his offer was so foreign she didn’t know how to respond, addin to the already growing pile he had about the men in her life. Then she nodded and he closed the door behind him.

  The diaper bag she’d brought in sat on the end table oddly out of place. He hadn’t seen her with a purse, so he rummaged through the bag searching for ID. A driver’s license would at least reveal her real name. But he found nothing inside but baby paraphernalia. Damn. Then his hand connected to cold metal.

  Recognition dawned. A gun.

  Slowly he pulled out the small pistol, checking to make sure the safety was on. What in the hell was she doing with a gun? Did she have a license for it?

  Deciding to hedge his bets, he took the weapon and locked it in his own desk. He tiptoed down the hall and peeked through the crack in the door. She lay on her side, her back facing him, one arm thrown over the baby. Her motherly love touched chords deep within him, resurrecting painful memories of his mother. Of her depression, her weakness, her lack of assertiveness in fighting for him and Eric.

  Who was this fragile but courageous woman?

  Today she had fought for herself and her child. Even in her sleep, she was protecting Simon.

  His nephew?

  Was she as vulnerable as she appeared or could she be in trouble with the law herself?

  He eased over to the bed and stared at the little baby. His heart ached, fresh grief suffusing him. Eric would have loved a son.

  Had his brother been in love with the baby’s mother as well?

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG. The scent of parched earth, of dry dead leaves, of danger filtered through the cold air. “I have to go.” Eric slung his backpack over his shoulder and shot him that devilish grin that dared him to question his motives.

  “Dammit, Eric, come back here.” Cain watched his brother walk down the driveway toward his Jeep, dark clouds obliterating the sun and casting shadows along his face. Trees flanked the lean-to where he stored the Jeep.

  Cain’s frustration mounted. But he let him go. It was futile to fight. He had turned to close the door when a loud thunderous sound rent the air. He spun around, horror shaking him to the core. No!

  Eric’s car had exploded. Flames shot up, grabbing the wooden lean-to. Cain took off at a dead run, his heart pounding in fear. His feet skidded on gravel and another explosion rocked the ground. Glass shattered and spewed across the dirt. The smell of smoke and gasoline knocked him backward.

  He raced to the car. He had to get Eric out. But heat seared him. The fire blazed out of control, crackling and eating the metal. Then the rubber tires. He reached for the door but flames engulfed the entire vehicle.

  A cry of rage tore from his chest and he dropped to his knees. White-hot heat scalded his face as he watched the flames shoot into the dark sky. It was too late.

  Eric was gone forever.

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  CAIN JERKED AWAKE and sat up in his bed, his breathing labored, his pulse racing. He’d been dreaming.

  No, the dream had been real.

  Pain knifed through him and he doubled over, fighting the grief swelling inside him.

  He had to know who had killed his brother.

  Today he would call Detectives Wade and Pirkle, see if they’d made any headway on the investigation. And if they hadn’t, he’d push them to try harder. He’d go down there and take over the investigation himself. To hell with time off.

  The image of Jane Carter lying in the guest room flashed unbidden in his mind. His sex stirred at the thought of her slim, delicate body stretched beneath the sheets. He could not lust after a woman in trouble, especially one who had slept with his brother and given birth to his brother’s child.

  Or caused him to die.

  He grabbed his shirt and jeans and pulled them on, then walked to the den and paced to the kitchen to make coffee. He’d check the computers, see if he could find anything about a missing woman and child listed on the state database. And he’d find out who the gun belonged to, if Jane had a license to carry one.

  The coffee began a steady drip from the machine. A beam of early morning sunlight reflected off the appliances. But even the bright sunlight couldn’t obliterate the darkness in his soul. His gaze shot back to the room where Jane Carter slept. Once upon a time, he would have tried to wipe out that darkness with a woman.

  But the only thing he and Jane Carter could share was their concern for Simon.

  Still, she might hold the answers to Eric’s killer. And he wouldn’t let her out of his sight until he dragged the truth out of her.

  ALLANA SHOT UP off the bed, certain she’d heard someone cry out in pain. At first she’d thought it was Simon, but she leaned over and checked him and he was sleeping peacefully. Had the sound come from Cain’s bedroom? Or maybe she’d woken herself with the silent scream she hadn’t been able to get past her throat. She’d been running in the woods with Simon, the men had tried to steal him….

  But it hadn’t been a dream.

  The early strains of sunlight flitted through
the blinds, drawing soft white lines across Simon’s cheek. She smiled and stroked a finger across his baby-fine hair.

  The first time she’d laid eyes on him in the hospital at CIRP he’d stolen her heart. She had bonded with him immediately, as strong as if she had been the one to give him life. He had been motherless and she had been aching to fill the emptiness in her own life, so it had been natural for her to take care of him, so natural that she hadn’t asked questions.

  She’d trusted too easily.

  Only then she’d discovered the lies….

  CAIN HELD a mug of black coffee in his hands as he watched the morning news. As soon as Jane woke up, he’d get some answers.

  The freezing rain and sleet had iced over two bridges that were closed across the Chattahoochee. A bomb threat had caused a stir at a high school in Fulton County so the kids were being held in the gym.

  “And now, this late-breaking story,” a newscaster announced. “Police in Savannah, Georgia, report that renowned geneticist Paul Polenta was discovered injured in his research lab at the Coastal Island Research Park on Catcall Island. Polenta is reportedly in a coma at this time in ICU. Police are searching for a woman named Alanna Hayes for questioning. Ms. Hayes was hired as a nurse to take care of Polenta’s infant son, Simon, but four days ago, the baby was taken from Polenta’s home.

  “Since the abduction, police have learned that Ms. Hayes was recently divorced. Co-workers at the research hospital speculate that Ms. Hayes was distraught over learning she could not have children of her own, became obsessed with Polenta’s child and fled with the baby.

  “If you have any news regarding this woman and child or their whereabouts, please phone your local police.”

  A photo of Alanna Hayes and the baby flashed on the TV. Cain stared in shock, his coffee cup clattering onto the table. The photograph showed a very blond Jane Carter.

  Chapter Seven

  Alanna stared at the TV in disbelief, her heart racing. Dear God, she had to get out of here. Everyone would be looking for her…