“No. Lyssa, this is personal. Just between us.”
“If it’s about my bill, I—”
“No. I need a favor. Can you meet me at the deli next to Stratton Realty?”
“Sure, when?”
Darby checked her watch. “Ten minutes?”
“Um, sure. So long as you don’t care that I’ve been working and not primping. I’m covered in paint and not really looking my best.”
“Whatever. Just do me a favor?”
“Anything,” Lyssa replied. “After everything you’ve done for me and Mr. Wiggles, I’d walk through fire for you. You know that, right?”
“I hope you mean that,” Darby said. “See you in ten.”
Nine and a half minutes later, Lyssa’s Toyota zoomed into the lot. The neon yellow car suited the big, colorful personality of its owner.
Lyssa was forty-two, single and a brilliant illustrator. Darby had been seeing Lyssa and her cat, Mr. Wiggles, almost daily for the past three years. The cat suffered from feline leukemia, requiring close monitoring and daily injections. By rights, the cat shouldn’t have made it past the first few months, but somehow he kept hanging in there.
Lyssa was the consummate artist. She wore outrageous, neon-bright clothing and her hair was always gelled into some spiky, gravity-defying shape. She had at least a dozen earrings in her left ear and a heart the size of Montana. The only thing she lacked was family. Lyssa’s parents had died in a car accident when she was a child. Her grandparents, neither of whom lived long enough to see her graduate from college, had raised her. No siblings, no aunts, no uncles, no cousins. She’d married young, but that had only lasted a few months.
Darby was such a wreck over what she was about to propose that she was actually shaking. It was a hastily crafted plan, but it was the best thing she could come up with. The sacrifice was so huge she wasn’t sure she could do it. Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
Lyssa greeted Darby with a tight hug. “I’m sorry about your folks. I have a casserole in the car. I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to drop by your house.” Lyssa paused long enough to push her black-rimmed, rectangular glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t—”
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Darby interrupted, pulling Lyssa into the deli and steering to the far back, away from any other patrons. “I need a huge favor.”
“What do you consider huge?”
“I’m going to kill someone and I need your help.”
CHAPTER THREE
Jesus Christ, Darby!” Lyssa said in a forceful whisper.
“Hear me out,” Darby pleaded. “But I don’t have a lot of time.” Darby shared what Sean had done to date and the fact that she couldn’t prove any of it. Sean was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. When she finished, she added, “But he doesn’t know about you, Lyssa.”
Lyssa ordered a small coffee and once the waitress left she asked, “How does that help?”
“Even if he finds out, which he won’t, he’ll never connect you to this.”
“But your baby,” Lyssa said, each syllable tinged with anguish.
“My baby is better off with you than with Sean. I can’t protect myself, let alone her.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“But you’ll go to jail,” Lyssa reasoned.
Darby nodded. “But I’ll go knowing that my baby is safe and loved with you.”
Lyssa shook her head. “I don’t know, Darby. Can’t you just get a restraining order and a divorce?”
Darby took the email from Sean out of her bag. “He’s already threatening to hurt her,” she said as she handed over the SIDS article. “Subtle, but I get the point. If I make any move he doesn’t like, I’m positive he’ll kill the baby. And I have thought about divorce. Sean can charm the white off rice; he’d get visitation and if that happens I’ll never see my daughter again. And I know him. Eventually the baby will inspire his ire and she’ll be helpless against his temper. Please, Lyssa. You aren’t taking her, you’re saving her.” Darby checked her watch, then leaned closer to Lyssa. “I don’t have much time and you’re my only hope. Just promise me you’ll think about it. Sleep on it and give me your answer tomorrow when you bring Mr. Wiggles into the office.”
Lyssa let out a long, slow breath, then relented. “Okay.”
Darby battled tears, checked her watch, and stood up. She held Lyssa’s gaze. “Not to get overly dramatic, but my daughter’s life depends on you.”
* * *
Darby checked her rear mirror every few seconds as she drove to her doctor’s office. Sean had seemed to accept her lie that she was taking some Lamaze classes with her OB/GYN. Probably because he had no interest in the actual birthing process. Or, she thought with a shiver dancing along her spine, he hadn’t swallowed her explanation and was following her from a safe distance, waiting to pounce. God, she was getting paranoid in addition to being afraid of her own shadow.
Darby was still at a crossroads about money. The family trust was worth middle seven figures, and she wanted to protect that for her daughter. But if her daughter was declared dead and Darby was arrested and convicted for the crime, the trust would go to her closest living relative—Sean. No matter how she racked her brain, she couldn’t think of a way around that inevitability.
By sheer, dumb luck, she ended up parking in front of the law offices of Jack Kavanaugh. Needless to say, their meeting the prior day hadn’t accomplished much. He hadn’t made a particularly good first impression, but then again, neither had she. Darby wasn’t usually rude to people, but she had been curt to Mr. Kavanaugh. Perhaps she should apologize.
Perhaps she was making an excuse to see him again. She wondered where that thought came from. Her life was a cluster and she was curious about an attractive man? There it was again—attractive. When had she decided he was attractive?
The minute he’d opened the door.
Okay, so the chili dog was a bit of a turn off, but he was definitely handsome and had great eyes. Almost the color of café au lait. And they were expressive. So much so that she was fairly certain that he’d seen right through her pitiful lies.
Darby wriggled herself from behind the wheel and went across the street to her doctor’s office. Again, the waiting room was full of glowing women rubbing their distended bellies. God, how she envied them. This should have been one of the happiest times in her life but it was nothing but pure hell.
The receptionist showed her into the conference room. It was a long, narrow room with a highly polished oblong table surrounded by ten leather chairs. There was a woman standing by a counter against the wall, checking the contents of the refrigerator there. In a matter of seconds she grabbed a container of cream, then turned to smile. Darby placed her around thirty-five, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a simple Lilly Pulitzer shift dress and white sandals. Then she said, “Good morning, I’m Dr. Pointer.”
“Darby,” she replied as she moved in to grasp the offered hand. “Thank you for meeting me here. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
Dr. Pointer shook her head. “Not a problem. I like road trips. Sometimes being cooped up in an office all day can make you nuts.”
“That’s why I like my job. Every day is different.”
The doctor gestured toward a seat. “You’re a vet, right?”
Darby nodded. “Everything but exotics.” She felt herself relax a bit. “I hate snakes.”
“Me too.” The doctor pulled out a yellow legal pad and a pen. Then she dug into her bag and produced a microrecorder. “Do you mind?” she asked.
“No, doctor.”
“Call me Fran,” she corrected. “So I hear you’re having some troubles.”
Darby’s hold on her purse tightened so much that her knuckles went white. And smelling the coffee but not being able to have any only seemed to make her more tense. Quickly, Darby went through all the information she’d studied on the computer. She needed to pull this off if her plan was going to work.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to have this baby.”
Fran offered a compassionate smile. “I think it’s a little late for that. What exactly is it that has you so worried?”
“I just don’t feel like I’m ready. I’ll be totally responsible for this little girl and I think she deserves better.”
Fran began to take notes. “No help from your husband?”
“Oh, he’s very excited. Ever since the sonogram he’s been very into the idea that he’s passing on his genes. Like she’s an extension of him.”
“That sounds kinda normal, Darby. A baby has a way of solidifying a marriage.”
Or destroying it. “I know; I’m not making any sense.”
“You’re conflicted,” Fran said. “Are you sure this isn’t a reaction to losing your parents last week?”
Darby felt that jab through her heart. “Yes.” That was my dirtbag husband.
“Were they excited about the baby?”
Darby nodded. “My mother has—had been buying baby things for months. I wanted her to be in the delivery room when Mia is born.” And she would have loved seeing her granddaughter born.
“And that caused a problem?”
Darby shrugged. “My husband wanted it to be just the two of us.” And if my husband doesn’t get what he wants…
“And do you always do what your husband tells you to do?”
“He’s the more rational of the two of us. I tend to be more emotional.” And I don’t want another beating.
“You know,” Fran began as she scooted her chair closer and patted Darby on the knee. “A certain amount of anxiety is perfectly normal. And in your case, just losing your parents…well, that amps it up to a new level.”
This was not working. Darby had to ramp up the issues just to get this doctor’s attention. As much as it disgusted her not to out Sean for the creep that he was, she knew in her heart that getting Mia to safety had to be her top priority. “I think about hurting myself,” she said on a rush of breath.
Fran’s face went blank. “Tell me why and how.”
“I think I’ll be a lousy mother and Mia deserves better. I have these daytime fantasies of killing myself.”
“And Mia?”
“That’s the only thing stopping me. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Have you told your husband about these feelings?”
Darby vehemently shook her head. “Sean would be furious if he knew.”
Fran’s head tilted to one side. “Furious?”
“He even sends me articles about SIDS and other infant mortality things so I’ll be vigilant.”
“Sounds like more of a taunt than vigilance,” Fran opined. “Whose idea was this pregnancy?”
“It was an accident,” Darby admitted. “Birth control failure. Sean and I had never planned on having children.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes. Why did you and your husband decide not to have children?”
“Sean always liked being a couple. He thought having a baby would take time away from our relationship.”
“But he’s come around now?”
“We both have,” Darby said. “Sean likes knowing his immortality is assured. When I saw her face on the 3-D imaging scan, I fell in love.”
“So what’s happened since then that makes you think you won’t be a great mom?”
“There’s just so much responsibility. What if I get it wrong?”
Fran chuckled. “Trust me, we all get it wrong every once in a while. Babies are pretty resilient, Darby. You’ll be amazed how fast you fall into a routine. And if you think you love her now, wait until you actually hold her in your arms.”
Darby felt a single, hot tear slide down her cheek. “But what if I don’t? I read up on bonding. What if Mia and I don’t bond? That thought makes me feel so sad all the time.” The truth was she had already bonded with her baby, and knowing she had to give her up was tearing her apart inside.
“You just lost your parents. I think that might be the reason for the sadness.”
“I had it before they…passed.”
“Sad enough to hurt yourself?”
“I don’t know,” Darby answered. “I just know that in two weeks I’ll have a baby who is totally dependent on me and I’m not sure I can protect her.”
Fran sat back and studied Darby quietly. When she couldn’t stand the silence any longer Darby asked, “What?”
“‘Protect her’ is an interesting choice of words. Protect her from who or what?”
Darby’s heart skipped. “Me, I guess. She’ll be so helpless.”
“Do you think your husband will be hands-on?”
“My husband is always hands-on,” Darby said, hoping the irony didn’t drip off each syllable.
“What about friends? How is your personal support system?”
“I’ve kinda lost touch with people since I got married. You know how it is. Once you get married you tend to shy away from your single friends.”
“Who do you socialize with?”
Darby dropped her gaze. “My staff, I guess. But I’m giving up my practice once the baby is born.”
“Why?”
“My husband came from a single-parent household. He feels very strongly that I should stay home with the baby. Maybe when she goes to school I can start over again.”
“Can’t you compromise? This could be one of the reasons you’re so sad. You have a wonderful reputation, and didn’t I read that your husband owns a restaurant?”
“Yes, Tilefish Grille on A-1-A. It’s been open about six months.”
“Maybe you could work in the mornings before he works in the evenings.”
“I don’t think that would work.”
“So, you lose your parents, you lose your career, and now you’re gaining the responsibility of a newborn. Darby, you have every reason, several of them to be exact, to be down in the dumps. I’m not comfortable prescribing medicine this late in your pregnancy but I have a feeling that once you hold your daughter, this sadness will go away. But until then, I’d like us to meet once a week. Okay?”
Darby nodded, then gathered up her things and left the office. She was just approaching the driver’s side of her car when Jack Kavanaugh came around the corner. He had files tucked under both arms and a briefcase in one hand. Then there was the deli bag he had dangling from his mouth.
Sighing deeply, Darby went over to him and took the files from under his right arm so he could fish out his keys to the front door of his office. She followed him in with his files.
“Thanks,” he said after he dropped everything on a chair and retrieved the files from her hands. In the process, his fingertips brushed the back of her hand, and she felt a long dormant tingle in her stomach. She jerked back as if he’d bitten her. “Happy to help.” She wondered where that sensation had come from. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Finding him attractive and responding to his touch—no matter how brief—scared her. It reminded her of how quickly she had fallen for Sean, and that wasn’t something she wanted to repeat.
He was smiling at her and that simple expression made her feel weak in the knees. Then she remembered it had been more than a month since she’d last seen her knees. How could he be offering that sexy half-smile to a woman with a belly the size of two basketballs? Darby felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Have a nice day,” she said, turning to go.
“I’d like to repay your kindness,” he said.
His voice was deep and sensual. Darby tried to figure out how and why she could be feeling so drawn to another man when her world was basically crashing down around her.
“No need,” she said.
“How about I do that trust work for you?”
He was so tall she had to bend her neck to meet his gaze. His eyes were rimmed in inky lashes. “That’s okay. I’ll find someone else.”
“If we’re just talking a change of beneficiaries, it’ll only take me a few minutes.”
Darby drew her bottom lip between her teeth then let it slip back into position. “I just want to make sure my daughter is taken care of.”
“Not your husband?” he asked as he nodded toward the five-carat ring on her pregnancy-swollen finger. “No. I want an independent trustee.”
“Do you have the document with you?”
She shook her head. “I can fax it to you when I get back to my office.”
He reached and took a business card off the table and handed it to her. “Just send the trust and the name of the new trustee and I’ll have it done in a day.”
“My husband can’t know about this,” she warned. “And I want to continue to be trustee if and until my situation changes.”
“Like a divorce?”
“Something like that.”
“Done.”
“Thank you.”
Darby shook his hand and again the grasp lasted just a fraction of a second longer than it should. Her hormones were definitely out of whack. Like any man could find her attractive with her huge belly and puffy ankles.
Darby next went to the bank and spent an hour with the manager, filling out forms. The saddest part of her duty was handing over her parents’ death certificates. Sean always opened the mail, and he’d been very excited that the documentation had arrived so quickly. He was practically giddy and very quickly told her what she needed to do. Go to the bank, have them change the trust over to her name, and bring home a cashier’s check.
As much as it irked her to give him a single dime, she knew she had to play this right for the next two weeks, or until whenever baby Mia came into the world. Her heart ached knowing she wouldn’t be able to raise her beloved baby. And yes, she had money at her disposal, but money couldn’t stop a determined man like Sean. No, this was the only way to make certain the baby was safe. All she could hold on to was the hope that at some point down the road, some miracle might happen and they would be reunited. For now she had to focus on keeping the baby safe and making sure she crossed all the Ts and dotted the Is because her plan had to come off perfectly if it had any hope of working.
The banker gave her two checks and a folder. Darby thanked him and went out to her car. Using the razor blade she’d brought from home, she slit the lining of her bag and slipped one of the checks inside. Then, with thread and needle also from home, she carefully stitched the slit closed. She smiled at the perfect row of stitches. Being a vet did have its advantages. She tossed the thread, needle, and blade in the trash can outside the bank, then got back into her car and headed to her office.
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