The Cradle Mission

by Rita Herron

  He embraced her, his body shuddering with the onslaught of emotions. She trembled in his arms. When he pulled back, a look of elation shone in his eyes, along with fear that he might get his hopes up for nothing. “I have to go see for myself. He’s been burned though,” he said, his voice turning gruff.

  “It won’t be easy.” Alanna rubbed a hand up and down his muscled arm. “But at least he’s alive, Cain. That’s all that matters now.”

  He left her arms to rummage through the duffel bag holding his clothes, then yanked on a denim shirt, wincing when his shoulder must have protested. Alanna grabbed the sleeve and helped him slip it on, then fastened the buttons for him, her gaze flickering down to his unbuttoned jeans. His hot breath bathed her face, his masculine scentintoxicating. An awkward look passed between them that held regret, yet the simmering sexual spark sprang to life again, more intense than before.

  She opened her mouth to speak but let the moment pass instead, refusing to spoil his happiness with an awkward conversation about their future. Or lack of one.

  He cleared his throat, notching his belt. “I hate to leave but I have to drive back to Atlanta and see Eric.”

  “I’ll get dressed—”

  “No, Alanna, you need to stay here.”

  “What?”

  He cupped her arms in his hands. “Right now the police are looking everywhere for you, not only for kidnapping but murder. You need to stay out of sight.”

  Panic seized Alanna as she glanced around the dusty, sparsely furnished cottage. “But I’ll go crazy here just waiting. And what about you? You just had a bullet removed yesterday, Cain. Are you sure you’re up to driving five hours?”

  “I’m fine. But you have to be strong and hide out, for a little while longer, until the publicity dies down.” He brushed a knuckle across her cheek. “I don’t want to see you in jail for a crime you didn’t commit, and every cop in the state has probably memorized your face.”

  “But you can be my alibi. You know I didn’t kill that doctor.”

  “Yes, and when the time comes, I’ll testify to that, but I want to get to the bottom of this Project Simon before I turn it over to the force.” His voice pleaded with her to understand. “Besides, I can get in and out of the hospital faster to see Eric if I’m alone.”

  Alanna bit down on her lower lip, wavering. He was right. But the thought of him leaving only reminded her that she would be alone soon, for good. And possibly without Simon….

  How would she go on?

  He paused in the doorway, then retrieved the gun he’d taken from her earlier. “Do you know how to use this?”

  She bit her lip. “Yes.”

  “Good. It’s just for protection, Alanna.” He brushed a kiss across her temple. “Don’t shoot me when I return, okay?”

  She forced a smile. “I won’t.” But as he hurried out the door, she locked it behind him, then paced the small confines of the cottage, the musty odor and drab walls closing around her.

  She would go nuts today waiting on him, knowing Simon was out there needing her. She almost ran after Cain, but his warning resonated like a gong in her head.

  She might go crazy here but it was better than being locked in a jail cell.

  She put the gun on the table near her, then picked up the stuffed puppy Simon had grown attached to, memories of holding Simon in her arms bombarding her. He had called her Mama.

  Was he sleeping without the stuffed animal? Was he all right? Or was he frightened?

  Who would hold him and comfort him now when he cried%" width="0%" align="center">

  CAIN WAS HALFWAY to Atlanta before he realized he’d forgotten his cell phone. He didn’t want to turn back though, so he forged ahead, deciding he’d call Alanna after he arrived and saw Eric.

  If the man was Eric.

  He still couldn’t be certain until he saw him with his own eyes. Only he’d supposedly been burned so badly that recognition might be difficult. His chest ached at the grim thought, his shoulder throbbing, but he parked the car and hurried inside the hospital. He’d simply be grateful if Eric was alive.

  They would get him help, plastic surgery, whatever he needed.

  Several minutes later after he’d stopped at two different nurses’ stations, he found his partner waiting for him at the entrance to the burn unit.

  “Have you seen him?” Cain asked, trying to catch his breath.

  “No. The doctors are being very cautious with visitors. I spoke with them about you, though, and they’ve agreed for you to visit. But only for a few minutes.”

  “Did you get the fingerprint results?”

  “We’re working on that now, but his fingers were burned pretty badly, so we may not get a hundred percent match.”

  Cain stepped forward but Neil caught his arm.

  “Listen, Cain, you need to be prepared…”

  Cain’s jaw snapped tight, but he nodded, forcing from his mind thoughts of the pain his brother had endured. He’d stay by his side and help him through every minute of recovery.

  After a quick stop at the nurses’ station inside ICU and a minute with the doctor in charge, Cain eased into the intensive care room, bracing himself for the sight of the tubes and machines and bandages the doctor had described.

  Still his throat went raw.

  The man lay so still he looked like death. Bandages covered most of his face and arms and chest, and his eyes were barely visible behind the layers of white gauze. Fisting his hands by his side, Cain strode toward him, his shoulder twinging.

  He took one step, then another, until he was so close to the bed, he could reach out and touch him. But he didn’t. He stared, tried to discern the man’s features beneath the bandages, tried to study his height, body size, every clue available to identify him.

  “Eric?”

  The oxygen tubes attached to his nose twitched with his labored breathing. The man’s eyes flickered open briefly, then closed, then he slowly opened them again. Pupils glazed from pain and pain medication sharpened his dark eyes to black but they were brown. Eric’s eyes were brown.

  “Can you hear me?”

  The smallest tilt of his head indicated a yes.

  “Are you Eric Caldwell?”

  Eyes squinted and blinked, then slipped back into focus. “Eric?”

  Another tiny movem of his head up and down, and Cain released the breath he’d been holding.

  “God, man, I…I thought you were dead.” His voice broke. He reached inside his pocket and gathered the gold cross in his fingers, then held it up to the light. “I found this outside your car.”

  Recognition dawned, a flicker of light erupting to replace the darkness in the man’s eyes, then his fingers flexed from the edge of the bandage as if he were reaching for Cain.

  For the cross.

  “Mama,” Eric murmured in a hoarse croak.

  Emotions choked Cain as he laid the gold chain in Eric’s fingers and watched him curl it into the bandaged palm of his hand. At that moment, he knew without a doubt that his brother had returned to him, injured but alive.

  THE MINUTES AND HOURS DRAGGED by so slowly Alanna thought she would scream. Twice she almost left the small cottage to take a walk on the narrow strip of beach that backed up to the small island lot but reminded herself that Cain was right. The last thing she needed to do was be recognized or arrested; she’d barely escaped the close call at the hospital.

  Was the man in the hospital really Eric? Had he survived the awful bomb and lived?

  Prayer after prayer rattled through her head that Cain would find him alive. That the brothers would be reunited.

  And that one day she would hold Simon in her arms again as well.

  She tiptoed to the window and peeked through the thin line dividing the two halves of the faded curtains, watching seagulls swoop along the rocky shore, searching for food. Nestled in the cove, rocks jutted out to form a jetty and waves crashed against their jagged surface, then receded to the infinite blue depths beyond.
With winter at its peak, the only visitors in sight were the night crawlers or occasional sea turtle. The deserted stretch of beach overgrown with sea oats and broken shells stood virtually isolated, the perfect place for peace and quiet.

  Yet there was nothing peaceful about how she felt. She had never been so lonely in her life.

  Aching from missing Simon and Cain, she studied the seagulls’ movements, her agitation growing as the sun dipped low into the sky, creating lines of orange and pink and yellow across the horizon. She wanted to walk that beach with Simon, collect seashells and search for crabs, dig for sand dollars on the sandbar where the tide rolled out.

  A lone fisherman walked the distant beach near the pier, then stopped and propped his fishing pole against the primitive wooden dock. For a moment she froze, remembering that Cain had said the thugs who’d attacked them in his cabin had probably been spying on them from fishing boats on the lake that day. The phone trilled, startling her and she spied the man turn from the dock and walk her way. Though he was a good hundred yards down, she wondered if he could hear the phone. Should she answer it or not? What if it was someone for Cain?

  Or maybe it was Cain calling to tell her about Eric or with news about Simon?

  Or maybe he was calling to tell her the other thug was on her tail, that he had rented a fishing

  Panicking, she picked up his cell phone and answered the call.

  “Caldwell?”

  She cleared her throat and grunted a deep reply, waiting to see if the man identified himself.

  “Listen, it’s Luke.”

  Luke? Cain’s friend from the FBI?

  “Things have heated up around here concerning that investigation on Arnold Hughes. I know you’re hiding the Hayes woman, but it’s time you brought her in.”

  Shock and betrayal shot through Alanna and she punched the end button, then tossed the phone to the floor as if it had just stung her. Seconds later, the phone rang again.

  The FBI agent calling back?

  But what if it was Paul or one of the doctors with news about Simon? She’d left Cain’s number on his voice mail in case he needed to talk to her.

  She had to know if Simon was okay.

  She took the call, her knees buckling when she heard Paul’s voice.

  “Alanna, listen, I can’t talk, they may be following me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I got away. Can you meet me?”

  “Yes. Where?”

  “You pick the place. Somewhere they won’t look for us.”

  “At my grandmother’s nursing home. I want to say goodbye to her.”

  He started to say something but static cut in, destroying the connection. She hung up, remembering Cain had the car, wondering if she should call him. But she had his cell phone, and his friend’s voice reverberated in her head. Maybe you should bring the Hayes woman in.

  No, she couldn’t let him know where she was going. She’d walk somewhere and find a taxi. Then if she and Paul found Simon, he could help her get away.

  “SO, WAS THE GUY who died in the explosion the witness the feds need?”

  Eric nodded, grief adding to the pain in his eyes.

  “I know this is hard for you, man, and I’m sorry.”

  “I was going to bring Palmer back to trial,” Eric mumbled brokenly. “He wanted to testify.”

  Cain nodded. “Do you remember anything about that day?”

  “We argued…didn’t kill Banks.” Eric’s voice was low and hoarse. “Helped his wife, but not a killer.”

  “I know. The cops discovered Banks had a woman on the side. She decided to make him suffer the way he’d made her suffer. Only she took it a step further and killed him.” Cain dropped his head forward. “You don’t know how much I regretted our fight that day, Eric. The last few days when I thought I’d lostou, all I could think about was how badly I felt that we fought. How I wished I could take it back.”

  A tiny wrinkle creaked the bandage on Eric’s forehead and Cain realized he was frowning.

  “Not your fault,” Eric mumbled. “Stubborn.” His gaze slid over Cain. “What the hell happened to you?”

  Cain had almost forgotten his own injury. He filled him in on the details. “Sorry, man,” Eric said. “Didn’t mean to get you involved.”

  Cain chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. Things have changed in the past few days. I’ve changed.”

  Another frown from his brother.

  Cain told him about Alanna and Simon and the research clinic.

  “Told her to come.”

  “I know. I’ve been trying to find out what’s going on.” Cain placed a hand on his brother’s, not wanting to add to his pain. “I see the grays now, bro. Everything’s not always black-and-white.”

  “You’re helping the woman and baby then?”

  Cain nodded again. “She’s in hiding right now. In fact, I need to go back to see if I can find Simon.” His throat clogged with emotion. “But I don’t want to leave you.”

  Eric gestured toward the bandages. “They’re taking care of me here. Go on, do what you need to do to protect them.”

  Cain touched his brother’s hand, moisture filling his eyes. “I’ll be back, Eric.”

  His brother nodded, his eyes already closing from fatigue.

  Cain swallowed back a gambit of emotions and hurried to his car. He would take care of Alanna and Simon, then come back and take care of his little brother.

  And he’d never second-guess him again.

  CAIN’S ANXIETY GREW the closer he got to Savannah. Twice, he’d stopped and called his cell phone, only Alanna hadn’t answered. Not that he’d expected her to. She was playing it smart not picking up his cell in case someone else had found her or traced her to his phone.

  Alanna and Simon are not just a case. You care about them.

  Ignoring the voice whispering in his head became impossible as he turned onto the street leading to the island cottages where he’d tucked her away earlier. He slowly checked each of the driveways, watching for a tail and any curious neighbors that might grow suspicious before he parked. The small clapboard cottage sat in darkness, spiking his nerves to a fever pitch. Maybe she was asleep. She might have gotten spooked and decided to keep the lights off so as not to alert neighbors, although the two cottages next door appeared to be uninhabited.

  The hair on his neck stood on end as his boots clattered on the cobblestone steps leading to the side entrance where he’d broken in earlier. Hedging his movements, he slipped inside, pausing to listen. Eerie darkness and quiet had settled over the beach cottage, the musty odors assauling him.

  Seconds later, his heart came to a halt when he realized the cottage was empty.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cain had lied to her. He’d promised not to involve the FBI, yet he had betrayed her and done just that.

  Had he planned to turn her in all along?

  Was that the reason he hadn’t wanted her to accompany him to see his brother, so he could alert the feds to her whereabouts and have them pick her up?

  The bitter taste of distrust lingered in her mouth as she exited the taxi she’d taken from the corner near the beach cottage. She searched the thin stream of people on the sidewalks and street near the nursing home where her grandmother resided, pulling the old ski hat and coat she’d borrowed around her, ducking her head to avoid eye contact as she wove her way up to the front door.

  Flanked by concrete pots of fake geraniums and pansies, the staff had tried to add color and life to the gray stucco building where so many elderly people lived. Her grandmother…had she missed seeing Alanna the past two weeks? Did she even realize she hadn’t been in to visit?

  Her heart heavy with Cain’s betrayal and worry over Simon and her only living relative, she slipped almost soundlessly down the corridor to her grandmother’s private room. Would Paul be inside?

  Halfway down the hall, she spotted a nurse exiting one of the rooms and ducked into the supply closet, emerging seconds later
wearing a crisp nurse’s aide’s uniform. Carts holding juice and books clinked along with the sounds of nurses’ laughter and the whine of hospital machinery in the background. It was almost midnight; her grandmother would most likely be asleep.

  It didn’t matter. Alanna had come to say goodbye. And to meet Paul.

  Fingers curled into a knot, she sneaked into her grandmother’s room, pausing to drink in the sight of her frail form lying in the hospital bed, brittle gray hair fanned across the pillow, the peace of sleep softening her aging features. Before illness had claimed her, her grandmother had loved her unconditionally. What would she think about Alanna’s actions the past few days? How would she react if she knew her granddaughter was wanted on felony charges, that she’d been accused of kidnapping and murder?

  As she moved closer, she wondered if her grandmother had had one of her good days today or if she’d suffered from those terrible memory losses that stole her mind. Maybe it was a blessing she wasn’t fully aware of the news events of the world now and Alanna’s place in them.

  A wave of sadness washed over her as she pulled the stiff vinyl chair up beside the hospital bed. Surprisingly, her grandmother opened her eyes and smiled, almost as if she’d been waiting.

  “You did come today,” she said a low voice tinged with sleep. “Oh, and you’ve been to work?” She indicated the uniform with a gnarled finger.

  Alanna tucked her grandmother’s hand in her own, letting the warmth of the elderly woman’s fingers seep through her own cold onesI love you, Gram.”

  Her grandmother smiled, her gray eyes twinkling. “It’s late though, child. You must be exhausted.”

  Alanna smiled. She was tired, tired of running and being alone. “I’m fine, Gram. How was your day today?”

  Her grandmother giggled like a schoolgirl. “Good, Evelyn gave me a manicure. She painted my toenails shocking-pink, too.”

  Alanna unfolded her grandmother’s hand and admired the bold pink shade on her nails, remembering a time when Gram had painted Alanna’s nails for her. She wanted to stay and take care of her.