Paternity Unknown

by Barrett, Jean

  “It could, if Sara’s kidnapping has something to do with my being her father.”

  “We’ve been over that before. And, yes, as I said then, it’s possible someone could have guessed you’re Sara’s father, even though I never shared her paternity with anyone. But is it likely?”

  “It is if it was Hilary Johnson who figured it out. You pointed out to me yesterday it was no secret I was with you nine months before Sara’s birth. The woman could have seen you around town with Sara on any number of occasions, and since she knows what I look like—”

  “Your eyes.”

  “Those and a couple of other features my daughter inherited.”

  “No,” she said slowly, “I don’t mean Sara. The man in the cottage. Rudy said he had eyes like yours.”

  “The same color, Lauren. But a lot of people have blue-green eyes.”

  “One too many coincidences. You said it yourself. This man, Ethan—could he be related to you?”

  “I don’t see how. Like I told you, I’m the only surviving member of the family on both sides. Well, Sara now, too. And to suppose this guy—” He broke off, his frustration evident.

  “Hell, it’s all too fantastic.”

  Yes, it was, Lauren thought. The whole thing was inconceivable. The couple who had stayed in the cottage. The possibility that Hilary Johnson was in some way associated with them. Sara’s kidnapping that, if it was not for ransom, seemed to have no logical motive, particularly where Ethan was concerned.

  There was a sober look on his face as he gazed at her in silence for a long moment, both of them at a loss for words.

  “You could blame me, you know,” he finally said, his voice as solemn as his expression.

  “For?”

  “Sara’s kidnapping. Because if this whole thing is somehow connected with me, then in a way I’m responsible for it.”

  Lauren didn’t know what to tell him. She supposed he had a good reason for wondering if she thought he was at fault for Sara’s abduction. Why not, when yesterday she’d been convinced their daughter had been taken because of his alleged wealth. She had even angrily accused him of it in her grief.

  “So, do you?” he asked. “Blame me?”

  “No, of course I don’t,” she assured him.

  He seemed relieved. But there was still a question in his eyes. It had nothing to do with guilt this time. She wasn’t sure she was able to adequately define it, but there was something intimate about it. As if he were asking: Then where do you and I stand, Lauren? Exactly what are you feeling about me?

  She looked at him, at that strong, square-jawed face with its cleft chin and lethal blue-green eyes, and she remembered how completely she had fallen under his spell eleven months ago. It would be so easy to surrender again to this compelling man.

  But everything had changed since last year. They were no longer the same people. They had a daughter now who, in one sense, had drawn them together and, in another, had pulled them apart. No, Lauren couldn’t answer Ethan’s silent plea. She didn’t know what she felt for him now and wasn’t prepared to hear what he might be feeling for her. Maybe just because the subject scared her.

  “Anything else has to wait,” she said softly.

  He seemed to understand her. “You’re right. All that matters is getting Sara back. And whatever it takes,” he once again promised her fiercely, “I mean to see to it that we do.”

  Gripping the handles of the oars, he dipped the paddles into the water, sending the rowboat on its way again.

  “The sheriff,” Lauren said. “We’ve got to contact the sheriff with what we’ve learned. Agent Landry, too.”

  None of it was anything but conjecture, she knew. But solid or not, they had to make the sheriff and the FBI listen to them. Had to get both of them to seriously pursue it.

  Ethan nodded. “But not by phone. I want a face-to-face meeting with Howell in his office.”

  LAUREN SLID A GLANCE in Ethan’s direction. With hands clenched down at his sides and feet braced slightly apart, his long-limbed body had assumed the fighter’s stance that had become familiar to her by now.

  It was a reaction that didn’t surprise her. Ethan’s demand for action had met a stone wall.

  “What do you mean he isn’t available?” he said, a scowl on his face as he leaned toward the counter that separated them from the dispatcher on the other side.

  The angular woman, who poked at the glasses that kept sliding down her nose, looked in no way troubled by Ethan’s anger.

  “Just what I said,” she responded mildly, as if she had both heard it all and seen it all before and was by now immune to any but the most severe emergency. “Sheriff and his deputy are out dealing with a pileup on the four-lane. A real mess, so I can’t say when they’ll get back. But when he calls in, I’ll let him know you’re waiting.”

  That wasn’t good enough for Ethan. “And that’s supposed to satisfy us?”

  The dispatcher thought about it for a few seconds. “There is one bit of encouraging news. The department is finished with Ms. McCrea’s car. Sheriff said it can be released to her.”

  Ethan looked thoroughly disgusted. “That’s your idea of encouraging? Come on,” he said to Lauren, “we’re getting out of here.”

  Before she could object, he had cupped her elbow and was firmly steering her in the direction of the door to the street. Lauren was just able to get out a fast request over her shoulder.

  “Could you please contact FBI Agent Marjorie Landry and let her know everything we told you? We weren’t able to raise her on her cell phone on the drive in. She said the sheriff’s department could always reach her.”

  “What about your car?” the dispatcher called back.

  “She’ll collect it later,” Ethan answered for her.

  “And what do I tell Sheriff Howell?”

  Ethan didn’t bother with a reply this time, and Lauren was given no chance to express one for them. Ethan already had them through the door and out on the sidewalk.

  Pulling her elbow away from the hand that grasped it, Lauren swung around to face a glowering Ethan. “Did anyone ever tell you you can be very overbearing?”

  “Yeah, well, there are some occasions that call for it.”

  “You evidently regard this as one of them,” she said dryly.

  “So now what do we do?”

  “We’re going to take charge of this thing ourselves.”

  “We’re not detectives, Ethan.”

  “Maybe better ones than Howell and Landry are at the moment. Look,” he reasoned, “we can’t rely on them. Hell, they’re never available when we need them. They’re too busy chasing off on other cases to devote the full time and energy that Sara deserves. She’s our kid, Lauren. There’s no one who wants her back as much as we do, so let’s try to find her.”

  It was an argument against which she had absolutely no defense. “Where do we begin?”

  There was a look on his face that told her he was pleased with her decision. Silly of her to feel a sudden warmth just because of his approval, but she did.

  “We’ll start with Hilary Johnson.”

  There was no need for him to explain. If the woman was connected with the couple who had occupied her cottage at the lake, then his choice was a logical one.

  Climbing back into Ethan’s rental car, they headed for Hilary Johnson’s address in the older residential section of town. When they pulled over to the curb in front of the frame house that Ethan had visited yesterday morning, he turned to her.

  “Why don’t you wait in the car while I see if she’s here? I don’t want her worried by the sight of both of us turning up at her door. She knows me, so there’s a chance she’ll talk to me if I’m on my own.”

  It’s an excuse. He’s just trying to make sure I stay safe if there should be trouble.

  Lauren didn’t need protecting, but she wasted no time arguing with him about it. In any case, his concern was unnecessary.

  “No answer to my knocks,�
� he reported when he slid back behind the wheel a few minutes later. “I don’t think she can be hiding in there, either. Both yesterday’s newspaper and today’s are on the doorstep. Looks to me like she hasn’t been home at all for at least two days.”

  Then where is she? Lauren wondered. And what does she know? Anything that could help us to get Sara back? Or maybe everything.

  Please, God, let us find our baby.

  Keeping her emotions under control was getting more difficult, but Lauren managed an even-voiced “What now?”

  “Don’t know.” He was silent for a moment, thinking about it. His fingers played a tattoo on the wheel. “All right,” he decided, “since Hilary isn’t available to answer our questions, then maybe someone at your lawyer’s or the furniture store is.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The women you talked to on the phone yesterday…one of them could have been Hilary.”

  Lauren was perplexed. “How is that possible?”

  “I’ve remembered something, that’s how.”

  “What?”

  “When I was looking for Hilary yesterday, her neighbor told me she took temp jobs around Elkton filling in for people who had to be absent from work. I wasn’t able to run her down at any of them, but maybe that’s because I was hunting in the wrong places.”

  “You think it was she who either took my call at the lawyer’s or phoned me about the high chair?”

  “And learned you were coming into town yesterday afternoon and just where you would be and when, yeah. And if she passed on that information to whoever took Sara—”

  “Then we’d be that much closer to establishing her involvement with the kidnappers.”

  “And maybe tracking her down.”

  Because if we’re able to locate Hilary Johnson, she could lead us to Sara.

  The furniture store was closer than the lawyer’s office, so they went there first. Lauren remembered the stout woman who came forward to wait on them. She had placed her order with her for the high chair.

  “I heard about your baby,” she said, her round face puckered with sympathy. “I’m so very sorry.”

  Considering the circumstances, the woman had to be surprised by Lauren’s appearance at the store.

  Lauren thanked her and then quickly explained. “I’m not here about the chair. That has to wait. But can you tell me who phoned me yesterday?”

  “Yes, it was me.”

  “Please, this could be very important. Did you happen to mention our conversation to anyone else?”

  “I canceled delivery on the chair, but that’s all.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  The clerk was clearly puzzled by the earnest tone of her questions, but neither Lauren nor Ethan enlightened her. Thanking her, they left the furniture store and moved on to the lawyer’s.

  The young, Hispanic receptionist in the outer office was busy at her desk when they arrived. “Can I help you?” she asked, looking up from her computer screen.

  Ethan again let Lauren handle it.

  “I’m Lauren McCrea. I phoned yesterday morning to get an afternoon appointment with Mr. Garcia. Were you the woman I spoke to?”

  The receptionist shook her head. “I was gone yesterday to attend a funeral. A temp was filling in for me.”

  Lauren exchanged glances with Ethan before asking hopefully, “Was it Hilary Johnson, by any chance?”

  The receptionist hesitated, and then seemed to decide there was no reason why she shouldn’t tell them. “That’s right. But we’re not going to use her again. She left the office for lunch and never came back. Didn’t even bother to call in an excuse. Mr. Garcia wasn’t happy about it.”

  The receptionist’s dark eyes suddenly widened with understanding as she gazed up at Lauren. “Oh, you’re the woman whose baby—”

  “Thank you,” Ethan cut her off before they could be delayed by an uncomfortable explanation. “We appreciate your help. Ms. McCrea will be in touch.”

  They swiftly left the office. Once back out on the sidewalk, Ethan turned to Lauren with a tight-voiced “Now we know.”

  Not for certain, Lauren thought, but there was the likelihood that Hilary was involved with the kidnappers and that she had passed on the content of her phone call to them. “What do we do about it?”

  Ethan had already made up his mind. “She didn’t come back to the lawyer’s or return home. It has to mean she’s hiding out somewhere, maybe with Sara’s abductors.”

  “They could have disappeared from the area altogether, and if they have…”

  Lauren couldn’t bring herself to say it. That Hilary, together with Sara and the people who had taken her, might be out of reach by now, perhaps hundreds of miles away. If this were true, then it considerably lessened their chances of finding them.

  “It’s possible,” Ethan agreed. “But to be on the run with a stolen baby, whose description is being circulated everywhere, is a big risk. I’d say it was much smarter to stay put for a while in a safe spot.”

  Lauren suddenly remembered what Rudy Lightfeather had told them back at the lake. “Hilary’s other rental property! The one up in the hills! Do you suppose—”

  “Exactly,” Ethan said with a decisiveness that told her he had already considered this possibility. “It’s worth checking out anyway. You remember the name of the agency Rudy said handles the place?”

  “Sloan Real Estate. It’s out on the north edge of town.”

  “Let’s see what they can tell us.”

  “You’d better let me drive,” Lauren urged when they reached the car. “It will be easier than giving you directions.”

  Ethan surrendered the wheel to her, and within minutes they arrived on the other side of Elkton at a storefront that had once been occupied by an antique shop and now contained the office of the real estate operation. When they got out of the car, Lauren hung back on the sidewalk.

  She could see a desk just on the other side of the large plate-glass window. There was a woman seated there cradling a phone between her shoulder and her ear. She had red hair, a considerable amount of makeup and a predatory gleam in her gaze. That gaze was directed with interest at Ethan’s tall, eye-appealing figure.

  “Uh, look,” Lauren suggested, “why don’t you take this one? I somehow get the feeling you might have better luck in there on your own.”

  “Yeah?” His mouth quirked with humor, but he didn’t expand on it. “And what will you be doing while I interrogate the redhead?”

  “There’s a gas station over there on the corner. I noticed the car could use a fill-up.”

  “All right.” He started to reach for his wallet.

  “I’ll cover it,” she insisted.

  He didn’t argue with her. In fact, when he parted from her, she wondered if he was just a little too eager to learn what Sloan Real Estate Agency had to offer him. Annoyed with that possibility, and herself for what she couldn’t afford to feel, she climbed back into the car.

  After all, she reasoned as she drove the half block to the corner, it was no surprise that other women would find Ethan attractive or that he might respond to that. She could only hope it earned them results.

  Since the station was in a section of town Lauren seldom had a reason to visit, she wasn’t familiar with it. But as she waited at the pump for the tank to fill, she could see it was a busy operation. There was a reason for that. The station was located just off the four-lane, making it convenient for all the traffic that traveled north toward the Canadian border.

  When she left the sedan at the pump and went inside to pay, she saw that the place was more than the usual compact quick stop. Along with the customary basic groceries, there was an assortment of other wares, as well as a fast-food restaurant attached to one end.

  There were also two counters, one at the front and another at the rear. The second desk was meant chiefly to serve the truckers, whose rigs arrived out back where the diesel fuel was presumably located.
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  All of this amounted to no more than a casual observation for Lauren as she waited for her turn at the front desk. Until, that is, she had paid for her gas, closed her purse and was starting to turn away from the counter. That’s when her heart turned over at the sight of a figure just leaving the rear desk.

  Lauren could so easily have overlooked her among all the other customers in the station. Probably would have, if the purchase tucked under the woman’s arm hadn’t captured her attention. It was an economy-sized box of disposable diapers. Even at this distance Lauren could tell that’s what it was, maybe because it was a brand she’d always preferred.

  Her heart more than just turned over when she took a second, harder look at the figure. It seemed to stop altogether. The woman wore a scarf over her head this time, not a bicycle helmet. But wisps of blond hair peeked out from under the scarf, and the sunglasses were the same, as was the excessively thin body.

  When Lauren’s heart started to beat again, rapidly now, she realized that the woman was hurrying toward the back door. There was a furtive quality about her haste, as if her errand had been dictated by a necessity that left her fearful of discovery.

  She’s getting away!

  Lauren didn’t hesitate long enough to consider the risk in pursuing the blonde. All that mattered was overtaking the woman and demanding the return of her daughter. Nor did she stop long enough to ask an attendant to phone the police. Afraid of losing her objective, she raced along the aisle toward the back door through which the blonde had fled.

  As fast as Lauren was, by the time she emerged from the building no one was in sight. There was a sea of concrete here, large enough to accommodate the fleet of massive eighteen-wheelers parked at the back of the lot. Although several of the rigs were rumbling softly, an indication their engines had been left to idle, none of the cabs were occupied. Lauren guessed their drivers were either in the truckers’ restrooms or the fast-food restaurant.

  There was no one she could question, and the blonde had disappeared. Had she already sped away in a waiting car?

  Refusing to give up, Lauren’s head turned from side to side, her gaze sweeping the area.

  There!

  She caught a flash of movement between two of the trucks, a quick blur of burgundy. Was the blonde wearing burgundy slacks? Lauren thought she was.