by Style, Linda
What? What the hell… Oh, God! The room swirled and her legs started to buckle. She gripped Rico’s arm and at the same time felt him reach around, holding her up.
Her baby was born healthy. Did he die later?
Or not at all?
A mistake. That’s what it was it. She’d taken the wrong file…or they had the wrong information in her file. Her baby had been stillborn. Her father had taken care of the funeral arrangements. They had a little vault where her child was buried. She’d been there.
***
RICO HELD HER TIGHT. What happened after Macy’s baby was born healthy was anyone’s guess. There could’ve been complications and the child died later. But why wasn’t it documented? Negligence rang loud and clear. And Haven’s Gate didn’t want a lawsuit and have to pay out a lot of money. Which most certainly would be the case with Macy’s dad representing her.
He tried to get her to sit, but she pulled away, her eyes wild. “I—I don’t understand. There’s no notation to say what happened to him after that.”
“Did you read the next pages in the file?”
“I read a couple lines and they were all about my discharge. I thought. Damn! I should’ve taken the whole freaking file.”
“Not a good idea.”
She rounded on him, anger springing from every muscle. Hercules yipped and backed away. “This is my child we’re talking about, Rico. Not one of your cases. And if you wanted a reason to get that search warrant, it won’t get much better than this.”
He clenched his teeth. Bit back a retort.
“They’re my records, and I have a right to see them.”
“Yes, but not to steal them. I’m as shocked as you are, Macy. But it won’t help anything if we don’t plan out what to do next.”
She raised her chin, determination etched in the firm, straight line of her mouth.. “I know what I’m going to do next. I’m going to find out what the hell happened to my baby. I’m going to find out why someone used a black marker to redact the information about his birth. I’m going to—” Her voice shook as she flung her arms up in frustration.
He looked into her eyes, held her gaze. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. Then, gently, he took her hands, pulled her to him into an embrace…and just held her. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly. “I’ll help you.”
Her body trembled against his and his own anger flared. But for her sake, he kept it under control. “I promise you, we’ll find out what happened.” He drew back to look into her eyes, now pooling with tears. “But it probably won’t be right this minute.”
She went limp in his arms, as if all the fight had gone out of her. After a moment, her breath hitched and she straightened. Nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “Since we don’t know what happened, and we can’t do anything yet, how about I make you a cup of coffee?”
She gave a wobbly smile and let out a long breath. “Tea would be good.” She stepped to the couch and sat, stared at the paper. “I feel so helpless.”
He knew the feeling well. And he didn’t want to leave her alone, not even to go to the kitchen. Not that he thought she’d do anything, but because he wanted to stay and hold her. Protect her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Fucking bastards,” he said to himself on the way to the kitchen. Searching for what he needed, he picked up the stainless-steel teakettle, filled it with water and turned on the range, one of those flat-top jobs. He couldn’t see where to set the damned kettle until he saw the red ring.
Yeah, he was frustrated, too — by his inability to get the answers Macy needed. And because she didn’t even know the whole story and he couldn’t tell her what he did know.
He had a couple ideas where to go from here. One, since Haven’s Gate was a nonprofit organization, he didn’t need a warrant to look at their financial records. He wasn’t sure what that would show, but at least he’d know where the money came from to fund the place and where it went. Evidence could be buried anywhere. Two, if Macy’s child had died, she could exhume the body and DNA would prove whether there was negligence…and even whether it was her child or not. All that was doable — and within the law. But it would take time.
He checked one of the cabinets to see where cups and tea might be.
“To your right.”
Macy was standing in the doorway watching him.
“I’ll get the tea,” she said.
When the pot whistled, he poured the water over the tea bags she’d placed in the cups. “Maybe whiskey would be better,” he said.
She actually laughed. “A lot of whiskey.” But her mirth was fleeting. “I can’t believe this is happening. Worse yet, I keep thinking that if I hadn’t let my father handle everything, I’d know what happened. Maybe it’s all nothing and I’m reading things into this.”
Macy sat in a chair at the kitchen table, Rico next to her. “Maybe. We don’t know what happened but we know something did. People lied to you. Reports are missing. Information blacked out. You’re not reading anything into that. But let’s not go beyond the facts. Not until we know more.”
She tapped the rim of her cup with one fingernail. The sound almost echoed in the big ultramodern room. “Logically, I can rationalize missing reports and even why people lied if they were looking out for my well-being, which I don’t really believe. But what I can’t rationalize is not knowing what happened to my child after his birth.”
“If your father handled everything, why don’t you talk to him?”
She scoffed. “I tried to get him to tell me why he’d said Dr. Dixon was only there that one time and he wouldn’t even talk about that. He hates that I had an illegitimate child. But I think mostly he hates that the baby’s father wasn’t acceptable to him and I became pregnant anyway.”
“He’s your father. I’m sure he was just protecting you.”
She placed the tea bag on a teaspoon and wrapped the string around it to wring out the excess liquid, then leveled her gaze on Rico. “I’d like to think that was the case. But knowing my father…”
Bitterness laced her words. She obviously had a different kind of relationship with her father than he had with his. In his world, parents protected their children. Families stuck together, no matter what.
“Can you ask your mother?”
She scoffed again. “My mother is a Stepford wife. She’s a robot who does everything my father wants her to do. She won’t talk about it because he doesn’t want her to talk about it.”
“I’m sure if you tell them what you discovered tonight, they’ll be honest with you.” He waited a second, then added, “I’ll go with you if you want.”
She clasped her hands, weaving her fingers together, then looked at him with wide sad eyes. “They’re on vacation. Probably in flight right now on their way to Paris.”
“They have a contact number, don’t they?”
“Yes. And they always stay at the same hotel. But it won’t do any good to call them,” she reiterated.
They sat in silence. He felt as if his hands were tied, and she felt…well, he didn’t know what she was feeling. Hurt. Betrayal. Frustration. Uncertainty. He placed his hand over hers. “Why don’t you get some sleep. Things might be clearer in the morning.”
The resignation in her eyes made him want to punch whoever was responsible.
“I don’t think so, but there’s nothing else to do.” She pushed her cup away. After a moment, her face lit up. “Yes, there is.”
“Is what?”
“Something we can do. There’s my father’s computer. You heard him say he keeps everything on his computer.”
“Like what?”
“Like everything.”
“I’m sure whatever he has on file is password protected.”
“But you’re an expert. You could hack into it, couldn’t you?”
He tensed. “I could, but that would be the same as breaking and entering.”
“Not if you’re with me. Not if I want you to do it.”
If she had a key to her parents’ home and took him inside, that wasn’t a problem. But hacking into someone’s computer…that was a violation of personal rights. “If your father is adamant about not revealing what happened twelve years ago, what makes you think he’d have anything at all on his computer?”
She nipped at her bottom lip. “He made the burial arrangements. He bought the vault. Even if he tried to clear the information, he has to have some record of that. I have to believe there’s something there that will tell me what I need to know.”
He shifted, more uncomfortable by the second. “It’s really late. We’re not going to get any answers tonight. I should go.”
This time she reached out and took his hand, sending an electric jolt up his arm and directly to his dick.
“Stay with me.”
Oh, yeah. Great idea, especially with his hormones raging. Just talking with her, touching her hand, made him want to do her right there on the couch. Animal. Here he was thinking of himself…of sex…of getting as deep inside of her as he could…when he should be comforting and protecting her. Hell, if he stayed, who would protect her from him?
Removing himself from temptation was the only solution.
“I have an extra bedroom.”
The need he saw in her eyes made him feel like a jerk. She was going through hell and all he could think about was sex. You’re an ass, Rico. Plain and simple. And he had to leave.
“I’m sorry. There’s something I have to do. But I’m only a phone call away.” She would know he was lying. What did he have to do at midnight? “In the morning I’ll talk with the people at Haven’s Gate, again.”
“Again?” Her eyes widened.
“Uh-huh. I…went over after you told me about Danielle. I spoke with the physician and asked about their procedure for filing records.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He said all he did was sign the papers. I told him your son’s death certificate had never been filed and I wanted to see the log. He gave me some runaround — that I’d have to talk to the director and she was on vacation. So, I told him to have her contact me.”
“Has she?”
“No. I don’t expect her to, either.”
“Why not?”
Because Rico didn’t believe the papers had ever been filed. Because he didn’t believe her child had been stillborn, and he couldn’t tell her anything unless he had proof. “They don’t seem too accommodating. It probably has something to do with my previous investigation. I put a lot of pressure on them.” And nearly got thrown off the case.
Macy wasn’t sure she understood, and two hours after Rico had gone, she was still trying to fall asleep. Oh, she knew what he’d said, but there was more. The subtext was almost palpable. What wasn’t he telling her? What was he leaving out?
She finally got up and went to the bathroom. As she finished, she heard Hercules growling low in his throat.
“What’s the matter with you, puppy dog?” she soothed him as she crossed to the bed and lifted him into her arms. Usually when she picked him up, he calmed down, but this time she felt the low growl vibrating like a motor revving in his chest.
She heard a rustling from somewhere down the hall. What on earth… She set Hercules down and he zipped past her on a tear toward the living room, barking and yapping as if he were a dog five times his size. She was about to call him back, but heard his nonstop bark, a totally different sound…the way he sounded when he was protecting her. And he kept on—barking and barking. Then she heard a yelp and suddenly it was quiet.
She started out the door. Another yip sent her heart to her throat. She froze. Someone was inside the condo. Every instinct had her rushing to save Herc, but she needed a weapon.
Glancing around, she couldn’t imagine how someone could get in. Her building had security codes and guards downstairs. He thoughts circled. What to do? Hide? Turn on all the lights? Call 9-1-1. Her pulse pounded so hard she thought she’d stroke out.
She flew back into the bedroom, locked the door, picked up the phone and punched in the number, giving her name and address first. “Someone’s broken into my condo. Send the police!”
The dispatcher asked her to keep calm and not to hang up. “Did you see this person?”
“No. I locked myself in the bedroom, but my dog is out there.”
“Can you hear him now?”
“No, it’s quiet. But I didn’t hear anyone leave.”
“Do you know for sure someone’s there?”
“I heard someone,” she spat out. “I think he hurt my dog.”
“The police are on their way, miss, just breathe deeply and…
She heard footsteps outside the bedroom. Panic seized in her chest. Oh, God! “He’s in the hallway. The doorknob’s moving! He’s trying to open the door!” She dropped the phone and scrambled into the walk-in closet, feeling around in the dark for any kind of weapon. Her fingers touched the bat she’d bought for Cody.
A loud crash sounded against the bedroom door and then another. She left the sliding mirrored doors open just a hair so she could peer through the slit. It was too dark. She couldn’t see anything. Another crash and the door banged open. Her fingers tightened, gripping the bat like a vise. She could see now—enough to know a man stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the nightlight in the hall. He had something covering his head. A mask.
And a gun in his hand.
She froze…immobilized by fear. Was he there to rob her? Or hurt her? He had to have known the security code.
She watched him look around, her fingers gripping harder and harder, her legs tensed, ready to hit and run. He stepped farther into the room. Maybe he’d realize no one was there and he’d leave. Maybe…
Sirens pierced the air. The man lifted his head, then cursed, stomped to the bed and ripped back the blankets. He turned, scanned the room. “Where are you, bitch!”
She flattened against the wall inside the closet next to the door, her heart pummeling her chest so hard she thought her ribs would break. Sweat beaded her skin. She held her breath.
He was so close she could hear him panting.
Just then the sliding door slammed to the side and the man stepped forward. She swung out with all the power she could muster. Bones crunched, and the bat broke in half, one side flying across the room. She raised it again and jammed the ragged end into his chest and he screamed, a horrible, guttural sound, but she just kept stabbing until he stumbled backward then fell.
Fighting her panic, she darted around him. With the nightlight as her one source of light, she scrambled out of the room and down the hall — her only thought to find Herc and get out of there before the man recovered.
Reaching the front door, she fumbled with the dead bolt, at the same time calling Hercules. “C’mon doggie,” she whispered, her throat raspy. “Where are you?” God, she hoped he wasn’t hurt. Something soft rubbed at her ankle. She reached down. “Oh, thank heaven you’re all right.” With Hercules in her arms, she fled out the door, afraid to look back because he, the burglar, the rapist, the murderer, whoever he was, might be right behind her.
In the hallway, she bypassed the elevator because who knew when it would reach her. But just as she reached the door to the stairwell, the elevator doors opened and three police officers barreled out. Guns drawn.
Thank God. “He’s in the bedroom. I hit him,” she said, panting, unable to catch her breath. “With a bat.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RICO HEARD THE SCRATCHY dispatch and wheeled his car around, speeding back to Macy’s like a man on fire. Shit. He wouldn’t have even heard the call if he’d gone directly home instead of stopping for a hamburger.
All he’d heard was the code — burglary in progress. He recognized the address and the condo number immediately, and dammit, she was fine when he left her. Well, as fine as she could be, considering.
Fuck! He banged his palm on the steering wheel. He should’ve stayed. Been there for her. God knew he’d wa
nted to.
But how could someone break into her place? With all that security in her building, how the hell had that happened? Maneuvering around the vehicles in his way, he gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles went white.
At her condo, he bolted from his car almost before he’d shut off the engine, and on his way inside, he flashed his badge to one of the blues at the door. Rico recognized the cop from the academy. “Hey, Melvin. What’s going on? I heard the dispatch.”
“Some guy broke into a woman’s apartment and she tagged the guy. Hard.”
“Macy Capshaw?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Is she okay? She’s a friend.”
“Yep, but the guy isn’t in very good shape.”
Just then the EMTs pulled up, sirens blaring. “What’s the MO?”
“Looks like a burglary,” Melvin said. “Lots of money here. But the vic caught the guy and nailed him with a bat.”
The elevator was on it’s way down, so Rico waited, but when the doors opened, the emergency team coming in shoved him aside and filled the space with their gurney, outfitted with life support paraphernalia.
He hit the button again and waited for the second elevator that seemed to take forever. When he reached the top, the EMTs were getting back on the other side with a large man on the rack. Rico tried to get a look, but the suspect’s face was too bloody. The emergency technicians were slinging medical terminology and someone shoved Rico aside. Within seconds, they were gone and the sirens faded into the night.
When Rico reached Macy’s, the door was still open and she was sitting on the couch with the dog in her lap. Two officers were questioning her.
His heart wrenched when she looked up at him, terror in her eyes. Her face was pale as chalk. He flashed his badge to the officers. “Friend,” he said, and the blues looked at Macy for verification.
“He’s a friend,” Macy said.
Rico saw she was trembling so he sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.
“You okay?” A stupid question. “I mean are you hurt in any way?”
