Her brows furrowed at the pain that leached from his voice and she caressed his jaw. “Don’t say that,” she murmured. “You have to keep hope alive. Think positive and don’t let doubt enter into your mind—it’ll drag you down. My mom used to tell me that angels listened to our prayers even when we didn’t say them out loud. But you know, you have to help them out. Tell yourself that you will find Devin. That he will be in your arms soon. Those are the prayers that matter and need to be heard.”
He was struck by the fierce nature of her declaration. And by her caring. He leaned in and pressed a soft, firm kiss to her lips. He drew away. How was it possible she became more beautiful with each passing day? Her mouth tipped into a sweetly playful smile and he knew he’d do anything to protect her from Samuel Grayson. She meant so much to him, to his sanity. For the first time since arriving in Cold Plains, he didn’t feel failure nipping at his heels, desperate despair around every corner.
She smoothed the frown that had begun to build and said, “Hey, no more sadness. If it makes you feel better, whatever domestic urge possessed me to attempt cooking dinner has passed. Generally speaking, I only get those urges once in a while. So I think you’re safe for at least a year.”
“Speaking of urges,” he murmured, thinking she’d never looked sexier dressed in sweats and a ratty T-shirt and that he couldn’t wait to get her out of them. “Want to work off that dinner?”
She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Absolutely. I need my cardio.”
Darcy listened to the slow, even breathing of Rafe beside her and fought the urge to shake him awake so she could confess the secret she was carrying. But even as she reached for him, she pulled back, knowing that nothing good would come of sharing with Rafe. He was an incredibly decent man; why should she burden him with the knowledge that he was sleeping with the daughter of the man responsible for killing the mother of his child? Would he recoil in horror that Grayson’s DNA flowed through her veins? She could barely stand the knowledge herself; how was he supposed to feel about it? She rolled to her back, wondering how she’d come to be in this position. She cared about Rafe. Deeply. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. She’d thought she could manipulate Rafe into giving her some answers, maybe provide a buffer between herself and that creep, Fargo, but somewhere along the line, she’d handed Rafe her heart, without even realizing it. It felt completely natural to be in his bed, snuggled against his body, eating dinner together and essentially playing house. Playing house? Whose life was she living? She was no closer to finding answers about her mother, and now she’d gone and fallen in love with a man who was embroiled in his own drama. She ought to leave. Walk away from it all, Rafe included. The very thought, whispered in her mind, caused a painful spasm across her chest. Well, there you have it, she noted wryly. She was in love. Fabulous. Darcy scooted closer to Rafe and spooned against him, discontent with the knowledge that her life had changed forever and wondrously at home pressed against this man, who, incidentally, was still hiding something from her.
Oh yes, she could sense it. She supposed he was trying to protect her. That was Rafe, looking out for everyone, ever the healer. But he didn’t know her well enough yet to know that she wasn’t easily tucked under someone’s wing, whether it was for her protection or not. Her mother had said it was one of her few faults—a stubborn determination to do things her way, no matter the consequence.
And knowing he wasn’t going to let her in on whatever was troubling him, she’d just have to find out herself.
Whether he liked it or not…she would help him find his son.
Darcy had to chuckle at the irony: she was staking out Officer Ford McCall. She waited until he exited his Escalade—department issue? Seems those $25 bottles of water were paying for more than clean streets—and then when he was safely inside the coffee shop, she quietly slid in the passenger side. How many people actively sought to climb into a police car? Not many, which worked in her favor. She scooted down so no one saw her chilling in McCall’s vehicle, and when he opened the door to climb in, he actually jumped and reached for his sidearm when he saw her hiding in his vehicle. “Wait!” she exclaimed, gesturing for him to hold up. “I have a really good explanation for why I’m in your car,” she promised, earning a confused scowl on his part. “Just get in, pretend all is well and we’ll chat. I didn’t want your boss seeing me with you.”
That seemed to make a certain amount of sense, because Ford relaxed his itchy trigger finger and turned the ignition. As he pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes never leaving the road, he said, “Okay, start talking, and just because you’re cute doesn’t mean you aren’t crazy, so you’d better have a really good reason for carjacking me.”
She snorted. “You’re definitely a country boy. This is not a carjacking,” she said, her comment earning a deeper scowl, telling her he wasn’t amused but at least he was curious. And he hadn’t driven straight to the station to lock her up. Talk about taking chances. She went with her gut feeling that Ford wasn’t a Devotee. If she was wrong…she didn’t want to think about it. “Go to the Hanging Tree. We’ll talk there.”
Ford made a U-turn and started to head out of town. “And how do you know about the Hanging Tree? That’s a local thing,” he said, gunning the engine as soon as they were clear of town. “You’re something else, Ms. Craven. I bet the doc’s got his hands full with you.”
You have no idea. “I’m sorry for carjacking you, but I didn’t want to be seen chatting. No offense, but I seem to have caught the radar of your creepy boss and I didn’t want to deal with the fallout. He’s gotten it into his head that I want to knock boots with Samuel Grayson, which I definitely do not. The very idea makes me nauseous,” she muttered, more to herself than Ford, but he got the picture.
Ford nodded, and within a few minutes, they were at the Hanging Tree. He made sure they were alone and then gestured for her to climb off the floorboard. “Okay. Spill it. What’s this about?”
“Before I say anything, answer me this. Are you one of those crazy Devotees?”
He cocked his head at her. “And what if I was? Wouldn’t that put you in deep right about now? Secluded place, openly disparaging the Cold Plains way?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Right about now, I’m wishing I hadn’t had that last latte. Just answer the question, please.”
Ford regarded her with open scrutiny, and just when she thought she’d royally screwed up, he shook his head slowly. “No. I’m not a Devotee. And I don’t aim to be one, neither. Ever. Folks aren’t right in the head who blindly follow Samuel Grayson.” He didn’t give her a chance to exhale in relief, following with, “What’s your story? Why aren’t you gaga over the man like most other women?”
“I’m his daughter,” she said, cringing at the sound of the words falling from her mouth. Had she just blithely told Ford McCall when she hadn’t told Rafe? Yeah, there was that, but circumstances were a bit different, she rationalized to herself. She wasn’t sleeping with Ford McCall, nor did she care what he thought of her. She cared about Rafe…a lot.
“Daughter?” Ford repeated, disbelief evident, and she didn’t blame him. Then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He snapped his fingers in recognition. “That’s why you looked familiar. Damn, I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. You’re his spitting image.”
“Yes, lucky me, but you can imagine how this complicates things,” she shared. “And the fact that Fargo’s been chasing me down for some presentation to Samuel like I’m some piece of chocolate for him to handpick from the box…it’s gross and I can’t believe people don’t see through his nasty act.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, still digesting her paternity bomb. “So what are you doing here? I mean, what’s your plan?”
“I wanted to see for myself what this guy was all about,” she said, wondering if she should tell Ford everything. It seemed smart to hold a few cards to her chest; besides, one bombshell revelation was plenty for the day, a
nd her purpose hadn’t been for her own gain, it’d been for Rafe’s. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something else. What do you know about Rafe’s missing baby?”
“He told you about that?” Ford asked, surprised.
“Yes,” she said, drawing a deep breath to admit a little more. “Rafe and I are…close.”
Ford whistled low and shook his head. “I see. All right. He’s a good man, from what I can tell. You could’ve gotten mixed up with worse, that’s for damn sure,” he said. She agreed with a briefly held smile but wanted intently for Ford to answer her original question.
Ford shrugged in answer, his disappointment evident. “Not much. I heard he was asking around, asking the ladies if they’d known Abby Michaels was pregnant, but other than that…I haven’t heard anything. I don’t think that baby’s here, to be honest.”
Her hopes fell. “You don’t?”
He shook his head. “No. How would you hide a baby in a town as small as this? Everyone knows everyone else’s business. It’s not so simple to just hide out with a kid that’s not yours.”
“What about this secret infirmary I’ve heard about?”
Ford swore under his breath. “Damn woman, talk like that could get you kicked off the island for good. I hope you haven’t mentioned anything like that anywhere else. You have to be careful what falls from your mouth. Not everyone is friendly, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ve figured that out. And you’re the only one I’ve asked. I took a leap trusting you, but there was something about you that said I could trust you. I’m not wrong, right?”
“No. You can trust me. I don’t run with that crowd. But you need to be careful making assumptions. There are a few people out there working undercover, but it’s not like they’re advertising a club. If asked whose side they’re on, they’ll likely lie for your own good and to protect their investigation. There’s plenty going on that you don’t need to be mixed up in, you know?”
“Thanks for the tip, but I think I can take care of myself.”
“That remains to be seen.” He drew a short breath. “So, what’s the doc think about you doing the Nancy Drew thing? You know this is dangerous stuff. Women have gone missing and that’s a fact. I’m not saying that just to scare you.”
“Like Johanna Tate?” Like my mother? “I know.”
“Yeah, Johanna was Samuel’s number-one girlfriend. And if he’s willing to get rid of her, where do you think that puts you? Right in the danger zone.”
“He’s not going to find out about me. It’s not like I’m hoping to have dinner with the man anytime soon. I just want to help Rafe find his son. Tell me about this infirmary.”
“I don’t know enough to tell. Just rumors and whispers. No one’s really ever been there, which is why Samuel perpetuates the belief that it doesn’t exist. But Doc Black is pretty sure it does.”
“Do you think they might be holding his son there?”
Again, he shrugged, and his radio came to life in scratch tones and shrill whistles. He held up his hand to listen. Then he said with regret, “I hate to cut our little meeting short, but I’ve got to respond to that call or else Chief Fargo will have my hide. I’ll give you a ride back to Doc Black’s if you want.”
She nodded, biting back disappointment. She’d hoped Officer McCall would have more information that could help her. It seemed he was feeling around in the dark just as much as she and Rafe were. One thing was for sure: Samuel Grayson had this town wrapped around his finger so tight, she didn’t think a strand of hair could pass between the two.
Ford brought up an interesting point. If he was willing to get rid of his favorite girlfriend, what would he do to the child he’d never known about…and likely never wanted?
Chapter 18
Rafe’s plan to return later that night to the clinic was moving along smoothly until he happened to bump into Dr. Bulger. The man looked tired, bags hung under his eyes and the corners of his mouth sucked in the sagging skin as discontent clearly rode him hard. Rafe felt bad for the man. Something was clearly eating at him, but he didn’t know how to approach him without stepping over boundaries. He’d worked too hard to lose his position now.
Yet, even as he prepared to offer a friendly but noncommittal smile on his way out, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to walk past a man in obvious need of a friend.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Surprised at the show of concern, Rolf could only stare for a moment, then he shook his head and waved him on. “Go on. Busy day today. The clinic has more babies than we know what to do with, eh? As always, you do good work.”
“Dr. Bulger…if you need anything, just ask. I’m happy to help. You seem…worn out.”
Rolf bobbed a nod. “Yes, very tired. But nothing for you to worry. I’ll be fine. Need just a little rest. Maybe a vacation.”
“I’d be happy to fill in for you,” he offered helpfully. “I wouldn’t let you down.”
At that Rolf eyed him with something that looked like pity mixed with regret. Rafe wondered what put the look there and why. He suspected he’d never know. He knew instinctively whatever Rolf was going through would allow for only a private audience. After a lengthy, almost uncomfortable pause, Rolf roused himself to say, shocking Rafe, “Yes…you are good man. This is not always safe place for a man such as you.”
And then he turned and left the building, leaving Rafe to stare, wondering what he’d just witnessed, what the older man had just inadvertently let slip.
Or maybe it hadn’t been inadvertent at all.
He was tempted to run after him, but he knew the effort would be pointless. Rolf would not share what was eating at him, and Rafe couldn’t spare more time to find out.
He had a short window to get into the supply closet, before the nurses changed shifts, and hide there until the front office closed. Once closed, he could slip down the corridor that was always locked during normal hours. He’d asked about it but was told it was a wing of the clinic that hadn’t been staffed yet, so it was simply empty rooms. He wanted to be sure. A copy of Rolf’s key card was in his pocket, waiting for the right moment.
The minutes ticked by in agonizingly slow increments as he counted down the shift change. Finally, the time came and he eased out of the supply closet, quietly closing the door behind him. The clinic was closed, and everyone who was scheduled for the night shift at the hospital had already moved to that wing. Deathly silence rang in the halls, and shadows gathered in the darkened front office.
He waited, listening for the slightest movement, and finding total silence, he made his way to the corridor, keeping to the shadows. Sweat dampened his hairline as he approached the door blocking off the supposed empty wing. He fished the key card from his pocket and quietly slid it through the lock. The light turned from red to green and opened with a slight click. Elation beat wildly in his heart and he slipped over threshold, closing the door behind him. The halls were dimly lit, proof that this was no unfinished section of the clinic. He listened hard for movement. His ears caught a faint noise and he flattened against the wall. Someone was walking this way. He opened a side office and went inside, closing the door and waiting for the footsteps to pass. He held his breath, too afraid to breathe. What was this place? Why the secrecy? Was this the infirmary? It had to be. Why else would it be tucked behind a door that was billed as unfinished and inaccessible?
His ears pricked at a sound that stopped his heart.
An infant.
He slowly popped up and peered from the small window in the door. A nurse walked by, carrying a baby swaddled in a blue blanket. There was nothing of tenderness or caring in her body language. She neither cooed nor paid attention to the bundle in her arms. The woman might as well have been carrying a lump of dirty laundry. He watched as she cut the corner and disappeared down another corridor. Heart beating so fast he feared a cardiac event, he followed her at a safe distance. He lost sight of her for a moment, and when he turned the corner, he wa
s met with empty halls. Panic drove him and he opened the first door to his right. He didn’t have a plan if he came up face-to-face with the nurse, he just knew he had to see where she went. The baby might be his son. Why else would a baby be hidden in this dungeon, locked away? He shuddered to think that more than one child might be secreted away like this. He stared into the room, shock mingling with disappointment. A nursery of vacant cribs stared back at him, creepy and desolate in their emptiness.
Damn it. Where’d she go? And what the hell kind of nursery was this? Whose babies were put here, away from the light of normal life? Fresh agony at his failure to find his son washed over him and he couldn’t help but wonder, had his son slept in this sad place? Had he been carried around by someone who saw only to his physical needs and otherwise ignored him? Was he held and cuddled? Or placed in one of these cold, impersonal cribs and left for hours at a stretch with nothing but the walls of his prison to stimulate his brain? Children needed interaction with people. The social aspect of their development was crucial. Rafe had read medical reports of children in Third-World orphanages who were never given love or affection and how it had stunted their physical and emotional growth. Some were never able to socialize ever again. It was enough to stab a fork of fear into his heart.
He turned to leave the room when he ran smack into a body. Rafe’s first instinct was to run, but he stopped at the familiar scent.
Peaches and vanilla?
“Darcy?” he asked in an incredulous whisper. The woman flipped her hoodie back and grinned, albeit ruefully, as she rubbed at her chest where he’d slammed into her. Relief gave way to anger as he realized she’d followed him somehow. “What are you doing here?”
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