Mother by Fate

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  But if and when he did find Nicole, if Sara couldn’t get her alone long enough to get her to safety herself, she had to hope that Michael would see the light where the other woman was concerned—or at least do her the favor of checking her story.

  Staying focused on Nicole was mandatory if she was going to save her life. And also requisite to keeping distance between her and the bounty hunter, who seemed to have shaken up her personal life in spite of all the reasons she shouldn’t take a personal interest in him. Why was it that she was aware of every single move he made?

  “Trevor Kramer is the head of the California coalition of the Ivory Nation,” she said, giving him the information that he needed to have in order to keep Nicole safe.

  “The white-supremacy organization?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought they were based in Arizona.”

  “They made the news there a few years back. The head of that chapter, a guy named Bobby Donahue, targeted some high-profile people. An attorney for one. And a judge.” She’d never heard of any of them until two nights ago. Now she knew more than she’d ever wanted to know. To think that people like Bobby Donahue walked freely among them, loved and admired and having kids just like everyone else...

  “He went after a professor, too, didn’t he?”

  So she’d heard. “Yes.”

  “And you think Trevor is somehow involved in this group?”

  “He holds the same position of authority here that Donahue held in Arizona.”

  With as many people in his pocket.

  “Where’d you hear that?” He paused and before she answered said, “No, wait, I know, you’re not at liberty to say.”

  “Nicole told me.”

  His glance was not encouraging. “Forgive me if I put no stock in that information.”

  “I...know from another source, as well. A valid source.”

  His brow raised. He shot her another look. “How valid?”

  “As valid as it gets.”

  They’d reached the turn-off they’d been told to take. Sara sat forward, straining to see everywhere at once. It was close to nine in the morning. If Nicole had been spending the night in the area, she was probably long gone.

  On her way to LA to try to save her son from the maniac who’d fathered him?

  Or to hide out somewhere until she could find a way to contact them?

  She knew that the High Risk Team was working to get Toby to Santa Raquel. Surely she’d be in touch.

  If she could be.

  The possibility that they were already too late had occurred to her. Many times in the past twelve hours.

  Michael pulled into a lay-by on the side road that led down to a private marina in the small town of Mariposa, just north of Santa Raquel.

  They got out together, but as they drew closer to the bridge that crossed an ocean inlet and was part of one of Mariposa’s main streets, he started to fall back. Sara wanted to be glad that he was letting her lead. Glad that he was being true to his word and trusting her to help him with his job.

  She was glad that so far that morning he’d proved to be trustworthy. But she missed his presence beside her. One out of two wasn’t bad.

  And it wasn’t good, either. It was ludicrous. She’d known the man less than a day. He couldn’t have such an effect on her. Not this soon.

  And not with a daughter in tow. Not even casually, with a daughter in tow.

  With her attention fully focused on the cement foundation of the bridge, Sara moved slowly along the outskirts of a strip mall parking lot.

  If the bridge had served as a bedroom the night before, there was no visible evidence of that fact from a distance, but she saw what appeared to be a trio of homeless people milling about in the parking lot not far away.

  As she drew closer, aware that Michael wasn’t far behind her, she saw a man wearing a white apron exit out of the back door of a building with an obviously full trash bag. She was behind the strip mall and had no idea what kind of restaurant the man was from. He crossed to a big Dumpster. Threw the bag in, and turned back toward the door that closed behind him.

  The second the aproned man was out of sight, the three people Sara had her eyes on moved to the Dumpster.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MICHAEL KEPT SARA in his sight at all times. He wasn’t as hopeful that they’d just happen to stumble upon Nicole at this stop—not like he had been before. But he’d been at his job long enough to know that the stone left unturned was often the one that things lived under.

  He also knew that he had to do some quick multitasking. Pulling out his cell phone, he pushed the most recently added number on his speed dial.

  “Kramer.” The voice came strongly over the line after half a ring. “You got her?”

  “No.”

  “Shit.”

  Not something Michael would say in front of an infant. But...

  “No word from her in over a week, dude. That’s not good. She’s never just disappeared before. She’s hell-bent on taking my son from me. Not because she wants him, but to make me suffer. I can’t believe she’d just disappear. This makes me nervous.”

  Michael could picture the tattooed man in navy work pants pacing his newly carpeted living room. He understood that Trevor had concern for his wife. Enough to want to believe that she couldn’t just walk away. He’d loved her once. And still had feelings for the person she was when she wasn’t controlled by the illegal substance that had taken over her life.

  In spite of the fact that he had a restraining order out against her.

  “She’s fine,” Michael assured him.

  “How do you know? You said you don’t have her.”

  “I don’t. Not yet.”

  “But you’re going to.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Good. Let me know as soon as it happens.”

  “I let the police know. They’ll let you know.” He might lie through his teeth to get a job done, but he always followed protocol.

  “Right. Good. Whatever.”

  “You said to call if I had any other questions.”

  “Right. Anything you need to know, dude.”

  He wasn’t a dude. But his youngest sister had been calling him that lately. He’d liked it coming from her.

  “You ever hear of the Ivory Nation?”

  “Hell, yeah. I figured Miller filled you in on all that. Nicole’s folks were big into the Nation. Her old man was one of the original founders of the California coalition. When she and I first started dating, their shit seemed, you know, cool. It was all about protecting America’s rights and standards and shit. I went to some meetings. Liked what I seen. And before you know it, I’m taking over for her old man. I got out, though. Ask Miller. He’ll tell you. They’re into killing and shit and I’m not a... You know... I’m not a killing kinda guy.”

  “Okay, Trevor. Thanks for the information.” If he hadn’t been in a hurry to get his business done in the brief time he had away from Sara he’d have had more questions.

  For now, he had what he needed. Confirmation that Sara’s source regarding Trevor, and likely this entire situation, was not as valid as she thought.

  He rang off and pushed the very first number on his speed dial.

  Sara was meandering along a sidewalk, looking at some flowers. He wasn’t sure why, but was glad to have the extra few seconds.

  “Hey, dude, what’s happening?”

  His twenty-one-year-old youngest sister was supposed to be working the nursery in the church they’d all grown up in just like she did every Sunday of their lives. Not answering his home phone.

  “Peanut? What are you doing there? Where’s Ash?”

  “She’s here. So’s Diane. We had babies this morning! Kittens. Only the
mama was eating them, so Ash called Diane and I said I’d come along in case it was too much for Mari...”

  Mari, who should be in church that morning, too, except that her father had sworn off religion since Shelley’s death.

  “That fat tabby was pregnant?”

  “No, it was Gus. Guess he wasn’t a ‘he’ after all.”

  Their boxed arrival from the day before. His sister Diane, Michael’s resident vet, hadn’t yet had a chance to look Gus over before the unexpected arrivals, Michael presumed.

  “Did Mari get to see the births?”

  “Nope. She and Ash came out to do the feedings and there they were...”

  “Is Mari there?”

  “Yep.”

  “Put her on.”

  Cassandra, Peanut to her family, didn’t bother to cover the mouthpiece as she hollered across the big barn for her niece.

  “Hi, Daddy, I can’t talk right now ’cause I’m helping with the babies. The mama’s not really feeding them and Aunt Diane says I can help with the bottle-feeding if we need to do it. I love you. Can I go now?”

  Sara was on the move.

  “I love you, too, munchkin. Mind your aunts.”

  “’Kay, Daddy. I hope you’re home for dinner. Bye.”

  Michael hoped he was home for dinner, too. But he didn’t think he would be.

  He also wasn’t going to share his news with Sara, though that had been his first instinct. She hadn’t seemed all that interested to learn he had a kid.

  And really, his life was none of her business.

  Strange, though, how he regretted that circumstance.

  * * *

  TEN MINUTES HAD passed since Sara left Michael. Ten minutes of waiting, pretending to stop and admire the flowers on the edge of the sidewalk.

  She turned her attention to the garbage-filled river beneath the bridge. Straining for a glimpse of the ocean beyond.

  Boats bobbed on the water. Her eyes stung a bit as she watched them. The sun’s reflection was as sharp as it was beautiful.

  Pretty much everything in life was a double-edged sword. The good and the bad. The happy and the sad.

  The truth and the lies.

  The guy who reminded her that a man could make a woman feel so good, and the bounty hunter who had a daughter and lied without a blink.

  A sail came briefly into view and disappeared again.

  Was Nicole out there? Had she managed to stow away on a boat? It would be one of the easiest ways to leave California undetected.

  No. She answered her own question even as she asked it. Nicole wasn’t willingly leaving land without Toby. The woman had been adamant on that point. Sara had been certain that Nicole was keeping herself alive only for Toby’s sake.

  When the trio of homeless people were finally done with their scavenging and were once again sitting together under the bridge abutment, Sara wandered in their direction.

  They didn’t seem to hear her coming at first, or didn’t care that she was, engrossed as they were in their meal. When she got close enough to see the three foam containers spread across their laps, bearing obviously freshly cooked omelets, potatoes and toast, she understood.

  And she wondered if the owner of the restaurant from whence the aproned man had come knew of his cook’s morning practice of providing meals for the homeless people who lived outside their back door.

  “Excuse me...”

  Two of the three, a woman and a man, in their forties or fifties she’d guess, bent over their food, shielding the fare with both arms. The third person, a man who couldn’t be more than twenty-five, met her gaze. “We aren’t hurting anyone or breaking any laws,” he said quietly as he assessed her.

  He moved slightly. Just enough for her to see the piece openly displayed at his waist.

  A homeless man with a gun? Was Michael watching?

  “I’m not here to bring trouble,” she assured them just as quietly. And quickly.

  She thought of Michael again. Of him at her back. Of the gun she knew he carried. Legally. And could use on the job if someone pulled a gun on him first.

  “Well, you’re sure not here for breakfast,” the man said. While the other two were no longer shielding their food, they weren’t eating, either.

  She glanced at the gun again. Wondered if it had any bullets. And didn’t want to have reason to find out.

  “I’m here because I’d heard that a friend of mine might have stopped by here last night,” she half lied. She’d heard that the gathering place existed and that if she was looking for a homeless girl, she might check there.

  She pulled the picture out of the pouch she’d strapped around her waist the first time they’d exited the car that morning.

  Holding out the picture, she stepped slowly forward. The younger man took the photo, passed it to the older two, and the three exchanged glances.

  Sara’s heart started to pump so hard she could feel the throbbing in her neck.

  “Nope, we ain’t seen her,” the older woman said first.

  “Don’t recognize her,” her companion said.

  “You heard them, ma’am. We don’t know her,” the young man said. Although he was as unkempt as the other two, with stringy, dirty, long hair and smudges of dirt on his face and hands, he seemed a little out of place.

  Something about his mannerisms. His speech.

  And Sara didn’t believe any of them.

  “I’m a friend of hers,” she said. “I’m part of a team that’s trying to help her, to keep her safe. She got spooked and ran away from the secure housing we’d provided and I just want to get her back before...”

  Maybe she was saying too much. She didn’t know these people.

  But the way they’d immediately formed a shell around themselves when they’d passed around Nicole’s picture... They seemed to be protecting her...

  “A friend of hers?” The young man tilted his head, assessing her as though he was an attorney and she was on trial.

  Sara had to make another snap decision. Relying on people-reading skills that had never been so challenged, she said, “I’m a counselor. Nicole’s counselor. She’s a victim of domestic violence. If her husband finds her before I do, he’ll kill her.”

  “So all that about a team. That was a lie...”

  “No. There is a team. We’re all trying to find her.” The three exchanged glances again, but it wasn’t until the woman’s expression firmed and she nodded that the younger man spoke.

  “She was here last night. She got off the bus over there...” He pointed to a stop. “She’s a looker, you know. And had that look about her. You know...when you live on the streets, you recognize the look...”

  He had something to tell her. And was still deciding whether or not he was going to do so. She didn’t have time for him to change his mind.

  “She was here? How long ago? Where’d she go? Did she say anything about where she was headed?” Her gaze scanned every bit of land-based horizon she could see while standing partially under the bridge.

  “When it got dark and she was still hanging around the area, the three of us went and invited her to stay with us. I’m...the protector. She looked like she needed protecting.”

  “The protector?”

  “That’s what they call me.” He moved his thigh enough for the gun tucked into his waistband to glint in the sunshine.

  And that’s when Sara noticed that it was a toy. A good replica. But still plastic.

  The other two were nodding.

  “Are these your parents?” she asked the young man. She had to find a way to establish trust in ten seconds flat. If Nicole had spent the night there, it was likely that she wasn’t that far away.

  “I wish!” the protector said in a tone of voice that spoke volumes
of truth. “They’re more like parents to me than my own have ever been.”

  “Simon, that’s his name—” the older man nodded toward the protector “—is the son of a lawyer who kicked him out when he got into a small bit of trouble. Rather than helping him out like a good dad should.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “I stole some money to buy alcohol.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  She didn’t want to ask. He looked eighteen at least. She could leave it that. But her instincts were telling her differently. “How old are you now?”

  “Fifteen.”

  Damn. Sometimes she wished her instincts weren’t so honed. Now she had to call child protective services. But not until she’d tried to find this kid’s parents. To see how worried they were. How badly they wanted their son home. Not until she was back in her office. He was with people who cared about him.

  Was eating and healthy.

  In the meantime, she’d done what she’d started out to do—gotten them to open up to her. “So what can you tell me about Nicole?”

  “She didn’t let us get too close to her. Skittish, you know? She stayed by the water. And left early this morning. Wouldn’t say where she was going, but I saw her get on the bus headed south. It makes three stops and ends up in Santa Barbara before reversing its route. I know because I spent my first couple of nights on the streets wasting the rest of the money I took on bus fare just so I could get some sleep.”

  “That was before he met us,” the older man said.

  “She’s a nice lady,” Simon said, his eyes wide and sincere. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”

  “Neither do I,” Sara said, looking away from a gaze that seemed very youthful to her now, and wishing she could fix all of the hurts in the world.

  “My guess is, she’ll be someplace near the Santa Raquel pier. She was talking about some convenience store there—not as though she was going to go, but as if she’d been there before. I figured, when I saw her wanting to get on the bus, that’s where she might be heading. So I told her who to ask for at the pier, if she ended up there,” the older woman said, chewing with her mouth open as she went back to work on her breakfast.