Mother by Fate

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  * * *

  ANOTHER STROKE OF LUCK. Michael had known as soon as he’d seen the small woman going into the public restroom by the pier that she wasn’t Nicole Kramer. She’d been too slow going in. Taking her time out in the open. But Sara hadn’t seen her. Hadn’t known.

  And the woman could easily have passed for their fugitive.

  He’d seen the opportunity he’d been looking for.

  It had worked perfectly, too. She’d darted out of the car without looking back. Leaving him alone with her phone.

  One that had no security lock on the home screen. He’d known that already, having seen her pull the thing out and use it a million times during the past forty-eight hours.

  It took him all of thirty seconds to check her text-message app. Followed by her recent-calls screen.

  Both were empty.

  She was erasing her evidence as she went along.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  SARA WASN’T IN the vehicle two minutes, with her cell phone charged enough that she’d returned it to its secure place in her pouch after having texted Lila what she knew about Trevor Kramer’s location, when she felt her phone vibrate. Once, for a text message.

  Glancing at it, she nearly dropped the phone.

  Toby today?

  The number was unknown to her. The texter was not. Nicole might not trust her—or the High Risk Team—enough to turn herself in, but she was obviously still hedging her bets. Dare she hope the woman was hanging around town? It sure seemed that way.

  Or tomorrow, she texted back. In case their child-services contact wasn’t able to get all of the approvals she needed by the end of the business day that day.

  Or wasn’t able to get them at all. The thought crept into her head. As she fought her way through the doubts Michael had placed.

  Or tomorrow, she read again, glancing down at her phone.

  In case they needed more time to find Nicole.

  * * *

  SHE FORWARDED THE incoming text to another number. He couldn’t read the text, or her reply, but Michael could make out the forward based on what he’d seen of her text-message screen and where her fingers touched. And then she hit the trash can and deleted the entire conversation.

  He was on to her now.

  And wasn’t as happy about that as he should be. He didn’t need to be on the same team as Sara. In fact, it was better for his libido, his whole sense of personal well-being, if he wasn’t.

  He just needed her to get Nicole.

  “In the interest of the trust we are finally attempting to establish between us, I’d like to know who you were just texting with.”

  “My boss.”

  My ass.

  He looked over at her as he drove slowly along the route back to the convenience store to make a circle back to the other end of the beach. “Really,” he said drily.

  “Yes, really.” She met his gaze without blinking. “I told you I’ve been in touch with her about other clients. I’m missing appointments. Remember?”

  * * *

  ANOTHER TEXT CAME in just minutes after Sara had put her phone away. They were getting close to ending this. Sara could feel the tension mounting. Midday Monday and every member of the High Risk Team who had anything to do with Nicole’s case was trying to move mountains to help the woman.

  Is he in sight?

  Another unknown number. Nicole needed to know that they hadn’t lost contact with her son.

  Yes, she wrote. And then, for safe measure, added, In LA. That was all she was giving up to the other woman. If Nicole didn’t know where to look for Trevor they had a better chance that she’d stay put and let them all do their jobs for her.

  She forwarded the string to Lila.

  And was shocked when her phone rang immediately. And then she saw who was calling.

  “Oh.” The sound escaped without her meaning it to. Michael glanced her way.

  “I’m sorry,” she said before her caller could get a word in. “I’m working. Have been all weekend. It’s an emergency.” She spoke quickly enough to get all of the pertinent information out there.

  “You said I’d have the money today.”

  “You will. I’ll take care of it right now.” She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten.

  “Thanks.”

  She rang off without another word. And searched her screen for the mobile banking app.

  * * *

  “WHO WAS THAT?”

  Michael wasn’t asking for devious reasons. Or even because he thought the call had anything to do with Nicole Kramer. Which made it none of his business.

  He asked again anyway.

  Pulling into one of the most populated parking lots at the beach, he looked over at her.

  The parking lot was almost full, in spite of it being early Monday afternoon. Summer in California meant tourists. Nicole could lose herself among them for a while. But not forever.

  “Jason.”

  “Your ex.” She was doing something on her phone. Her fingers typed too quickly for him to follow them. And the screen was not the green color of her text app.

  “Yeah.” Her fingers stopped. She watched the screen. Then closed whatever app she’d been using and looked at Michael. “What?” she asked.

  Shaking his head, he indicated that they should get out and walk. Following him, she asked again, “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No. You’re hiding something. What?”

  Did they really know each other that well? Michael didn’t want to believe it. That made her more than just someone he was working with for a few days.

  Stopping just before they reached the sand, he looked at her. Met her gaze for longer than was healthy for his libido. His opinion mattered to her. He didn’t know how he knew. But he did.

  He also knew he didn’t want to disappoint her.

  “You were...different.” He chose the words carefully.

  “Different?” Sara shook her head, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your entire demeanor, the tone of your voice, even the set of your shoulders—they sank...when you were talking to him.”

  “I’m not real fond of the guy.”

  “It wasn’t dislike.” He didn’t know why he was pushing this. They had a job to do, though he was fairly certain that Nicole was lying low for the moment. After three full days of following her, he had a pretty good idea of her schedule, if nothing else. When she laid low. When she moved...

  “It was as if you were...beaten.”

  He expected a sharp comeback. Something strong and assured. Or calm and assured. Some kind of explanation of her reaction to the text message she’d just received.

  He started to walk.

  “You’re right,” she said, her tone soft. Reminding him of the women he’d met and been hijacked by that day at the pool. Had that only been two days ago? Seemed like a year ago. At least. “I feel beaten when it comes to Jason. He’s the creep and I’m the one with this gaping hole in my heart where my daughter should be.”

  He knew what gaping holes felt like. Far too intimately.

  And there was the mention of her lost daughter again. Lost because no amount of love won out over a good and caring biological parent.

  “Then, fight for her.” He said the words because she seemed to need them. Not because he had any faith in them. And he knew better.

  “I did.” She kicked up sand with her tennis shoe. “The judge said that while she fully commiserated with me and would like nothing better than to give me at least shared custody of Bessie, and even went so far as to say that if it were just up to her, she’d give me full custody and he’d be lucky if he got visitation rights, the law is the law. I’m not on Bessie’s birth certificate. I’m ne
ither her adopted, nor her biological parent. Jason is. And while he’s a low-life of a man, he’s a good father. There was no evidence that Bessie was in any way in danger or at risk in her father’s care.”

  “Do you agree with that? Jason’s a good father?”

  “Other than the fact that he makes immoral choices that will probably someday hurt his daughter even if only through example, yes, he’s a good father. He loves Bessie. He’s good to her. Spends time with her. And listens to her.”

  He heard the pain in her voice as she spoke about the little girl. And didn’t even want to imagine how it would have felt if he’d lost Mari the night he’d lost Shelley. He wanted to ease Sara’s hurt.

  He wanted to make it better.

  To bring her happiness where there was sorrow...

  Instead, he suggested a nap on the beach, in an alcove that seemed like one Nicole would choose. He had to go where she went. To walk in her shoes. They needed rest to see them through whatever the day or night might bring them.

  To his surprise, Sara agreed.

  * * *

  HIS PHONE RINGING jerked Michael back to full consciousness.

  Recognizing the number, he answered immediately. “Peanut? What’s going on?” He stood, shaking off the last residual of sleep.

  He’d spoken with Mari that morning when he’d made his other calls. His family knew they weren’t going to hear from him again until bedtime, if his case wasn’t solved, and not at all if he couldn’t make the call.

  “I’m sorry, Michael, they said we should call you...” The panic in her voice made him go weak at the knees.

  Sara stood beside him, brushing sand off her clothes. A look of concern on her face as she watched him.

  “Who did?” he asked, frozen in place as an image of his wife lying in a pool of blood popped into his mind. “What’s going on? Let me talk to them.” Whoever they were—if they touched his family he’d kill them. They could count on it.

  “The paramedics. They’re getting her into the ambulance now, and Ashleigh’s holding her hand and riding with her, but she keeps asking for you and they said you should come. They don’t think it’s serious, but she hit her head and is probably concussed and she’s scared, Michael. She said something about hearing the bad guy hurting Mommy. Don’t let the bad guy hurt Mommy, or something. I know she doesn’t remember that night and is probably just blabbering because she’s scared, but Ashleigh’s worried and said I should call you...”

  “Where are they taking her?”

  Ashleigh named the hospital closest to their house. A ten-minute drive from the beach. “I’ll meet you at the emergency-room door,” he said, and took off for his vehicle.

  “Michael! What’s going on?”

  It wasn’t until he heard Sara’s voice that he remembered he wasn’t alone.

  “It’s my daughter. There’s been some kind of accident.”

  * * *

  HIS DAUGHTER. SHE’D been talking about Jason. About Bessie. She...

  A little girl was in danger. At the moment that was all that mattered.

  As soon as they were in the car, he was on the phone again.

  “Mom? Have you talked to Peanut?”

  She could hear a woman’s voice. Talking really fast. And then Michael. “Okay, good. So what’s going on? How bad is it?”

  He listened. So did she. To the rapidity of Michael’s mother’s speech. The tone. Trying to imagine. Trying not to become part of the urgency, not to feel anything more than compassion for a stranger.

  “Okay. I’ll be there in five.”

  He dropped the phone in his lap, turning in his seat to look behind him as he crossed over three lanes and made a U-turn to take the short way back to town from the beach.

  Sara’s only thought was to keep him calm so they made it there safely.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. It was like making a list when you had an overwhelming list of things to do, and once you saw the list, things seemed more manageable. If, in a panicky situation, you could put things in perspective...

  “We have a new cat who just had kittens, and one of the dogs was out of the kennel and went after them. Mari tried to save the kittens, the dog tripped her and she hit her head on the barn post.”

  Mari. His daughter had a name. A beautiful name. And he was more than just a bounty hunter. More than Sara’s temporary partner.

  She’d known, of course.

  And felt slapped in the face by the reminder. Michael, the man she’d been living with for two days, who was beginning to grow on her in ways that were going to hurt in the long run, was not going to be in her life for long.

  And his little girl was hurt.

  The fear he had to be feeling... She could only imagine what the sense of helplessness was doing to him.

  Her heart opened up wide—pouring out to him.

  “She’s not bleeding. But she was confused. They think she might have a concussion.”

  He made another illegal turn. And was doing twenty miles over the speed limit, weaving the big vehicle in and out of traffic like it was a race car.

  “You said she’s six?”

  “Yes.”

  His wife had been dead four years.

  “You live on a farm?”

  “No, why?” He’d slowed, coming up behind a car he couldn’t get around.

  “You said she was in the barn and it sounds like you have a lot of animals.”

  “I run a shelter for rescues. I told you that.”

  He had, the afternoon by the pool. There’d been no guarantee the words had been true.

  “How many animals do you have?”

  “Our license allows thirty. Right now we have twenty-three, not counting the kittens who were born yesterday.” He’d made it around the car and had a free lane as far as she could see ahead of them. One more turn and they’d be at the hospital.

  “The new cat you mentioned?”

  “Yeah, we took her in Saturday morning.”

  “So who runs the place when you’re out bounty hunting?” She’d been wondering. Hadn’t allowed herself to ask. But now...

  His little motherless girl who was hurt was still none of her business.

  “My sister Ashleigh.”

  He’d said he had four sisters. And it looked as if she was about to meet at least one. Her stomach was loaded with butterflies at they pulled into a parking space just outside the emergency-room door.

  * * *

  MICHAEL WANTED TO believe that it had been his voice that had gotten through to his daughter. He and Sara had been waiting when the paramedics wheeled her in. They’d followed the gurney back to an examining room with Ashleigh right beside them.

  Mari had been thrashing the whole time. Crying for her daddy.

  Him.

  With his heart in his throat, he’d held on to her hand, hardly recognizing the girl with the wild-eyed look, the head that turned from side by side.

  “I’m here, Mar. Right here,” he kept saying. She didn’t seem to hear him.

  “We’re going to have to give her something to calm her down,” a nurse said, pulling a sheet around the small area, enclosing them. “I’ll call the doctor.”

  “May I?” Sara’s voice broke into the cacophony in Michael’s mind. He was sweating and hadn’t even known it.

  “Sure. Mari, this is Sara. She’s a...friend of mine.”

  Ashleigh was staring at him. Her face was still lined with worry. But there was curiosity in her eyes, too. He’d snuff it out soon enough.

  “Mari? I’m going to hold your hand, okay?”

  The little girl didn’t respond. Didn’t stop crying long enough to hear, was Michael’s guess.

  Sara caught the little hand midflail and held on. He
saw one of her fingers lightly rubbing the palm of Mari’s hand. “I wonder if you could tell me how many kittens your new mama cat just had,” she said with a combination of firmness and nurturing that had Michael feeling his first moment of calm since he’d answered the phone to Peanut’s panicked voice.

  Mari didn’t answer. But she quit turning her head back and forth.

  “Three?” Sara asked, putting three fingers in Mari’s palm.

  Mari looked at her. Stared at her. As if she had no idea who Sara was. Or where she was.

  Ready to push his way in, Michael stopped as Mari said, “No, four,” in a thin, broken cry.

  “Four?”

  “Yeaahhh.” Another very sad-sounding whine.

  “What color are they?”

  “White and b-b-browwwnnn.”

  “Good. Now, in a minute the doctor is going to come in and take a look at your head, and your daddy and aunt are right here, and you just need to help the doctor know what’s going on so that you can get back to the kittens, okay?”

  “’Kay...”

  “Can you do that for me?” Sara’s hand never stilled, moving softly against Mari’s.

  “Yeeesss.” Mari’s whine was more pathetic than truly alarming now.

  The nurse was back with a syringe on a tray. She looked at Mari for a minute, then at the three of them, and said, “The doctor will be right in. I’ll wait for him.”

  “It hurtsss...” Mari’s big brown eyes filled with a fresh spate of tears.

  “I know it does,” Sara said. “But you saved the kittens, did you know that?”

  “Uh-huh. I did. I saved the kittens, Daddy.”

  And Sara had just saved him. She probably didn’t know. Would never know.

  But he did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THEY LOST THREE hours of hunting time.

  Sara met Michael’s mom and dad—a retired garbage collector and stay-at-home mother who were captivating in their quick thinking and ability to stay two steps ahead of their five offspring as they all tried to tell everyone else what would be best for Mari that evening.

  Carol, the eldest sibling, and Diane, who was a veterinarian, were present by constant phone and text communication. Ashleigh, who’d ridden in the ambulance, and Peanut, whose real name was Cassandra and who’d arrived with her parents, were at the hospital the entire time it took the doctors to get test results back and determine that Mari could be released.