The Captive
Page 20
He looked down in surprise. “Celia?”
Her eyes opened wide. “Xavier.”
For a second, he thought she’d mistaken him for someone else. “Sorry, honey, I—”
She cut him off. “Please, Remo.”
“What do you need?”
“Xavier.”
“Where is he?”
“The back.”
“The back?”
Her eyes flicked toward the shattered car. She couldn’t possibly be saying there’d been someone else inside. Could she? He looked down at her, hoping he’d see a hint of delirium in her gaze. Instead, he just saw faith. She didn’t know him at all, and she still believed in him.
“I’m not even wearing the uniform,” he muttered.
“Help him.” Her fingers tightened around his.
Remo inhaled. “I don’t think Xavier’s here, Celia.”
“He is. In the back.” Her eyes closed for a second. “I hurt.”
“Where do you hurt?”
“Everywhere. My leg, mostly.”
Remo tilted his head down. A dark splotch stood out on one of her thighs. It nearly blended in with her rain-drenched jeans, but staring at it made him sure it wasn’t just water.
Blood. Damn again.
“The ambulance will be here soon,” he said, careful to keep the growing concern from his voice. “Hold my hand as hard as you want. Sometimes that helps.”
She gave him a week squeeze. “Promise me.”
“I can’t do that.” It pained him a bit to say it.
“Xavier, Remo.”
He glanced toward the car. The engine was crumpled so badly that it was barely recognizable, the hood disintegrated. No doors. No steering wheel. An empty backseat. Except…
What’s that?
Remo pulled off his glasses, gave them another wipe, then looked again.
A stuffed bear.
His gut churned. She didn’t just mean there was another person in the car with her. She meant there was a kid in the car. A kid named Xavier.
She had to be mistaken. She had to be confused. There was no car seat. No other sign that a child had been there. Yet there was that horrible instinct again, telling him he’d read the situation correctly.
“Celia?”
But her eyes were still closed, her breathing even and slow once again. She had a small crease between her brows, like her worry carried over into her lack of consciousness. Remo freed his hand from hers and smoothed his fingers across the wrinkle. It faded for a second, then reappeared. He sighed.
“All right, honey,” he said. “I promise. If there’s a kid around here named Xavier, I’ll do my best to find him.”
He stood and stepped woodenly toward what was left of the car. The rear seat was shredded, its leather split and its foam exposed. Rain thumped down on the remainder of the roof, then poured down onto the remainder of the floor.
“Xavier?” he called softly.
There was no answer.
“You there, kid?”
He took another step and called out a little louder.
“Xavier? I’ve got a lady here who’s pretty worried about you.”
Still nothing.
He swiped the rain off his chin and squinted through his glasses, considering whether both Celia and his gut feeling were off. He tossed another quick look her way. From a few feet back, she looked smaller and more vulnerable.
Shouldn’t have left her lying there.
He moved to go back to her, but sirens cut through the air then, startling him so badly that he jumped. He stumbled a little, trying to catch his footing. He wasn’t quite successful. Cursing his own overreaction, he put out a hand to stop himself from doing a face plant. The new position—one knee on the ground, body bent over—gave a different perspective.
Between the split cushions of the car seat was a gap that led to the trunk. And inside that gap was an unmistakable object. A small, limp hand.
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Copyright © 2019 by Melinda A. Di Lorenzo
ISBN-13: 9781488057977
The Captive
First published as Missing Mother-To-Be in 2011. This edition published in 2019.
Copyright © 2011 by Harlequin Books, S.A.
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