by Kylie Brant
“You were right,” Cruz informed him. “As soon as we hit him with the identical matches between hair samples taken from him and those found in the abandoned car, he crumpled. He’s singing like a canary now, despite the public defender’s advice.”
Connor nodded. He had expected nothing different.
“He’s a wacko religious fanatic, but he’s shrewd. Once he’d snatched the kids, he scared the bejesus out of them. Told them they’d been bad, that their parents didn’t love them anymore and had sent them to him to be punished.”
“Oh, how awful,” Michele whispered, closing her eyes for a moment. She could easily feel the children’s terror and despair. Connor took her hand, and she opened her eyes to meet the understanding in his.
“Yeah, he’s pretty sick,” Cruz agreed grimly. “After he convinced them their parents didn’t want them back, he pretended to be their only friend, offered to get them good homes if they’d follow his instructions.”
“Have all the children been located?” Connor asked.
“The state police sent men to each of the addresses to pick them up,” Cruz confirmed. “They’re in various parts of the state.”
Michele shook her head in disbelief. “I still don’t understand. Where did he find families for these children?”
“He had quite a system,” Cruz answered. “Used the personal columns in newspapers across the state. You know the ones. ‘Loving couple wants child to adopt.’ He’d call them, pretending to be a lawyer who placed orphaned children for a religious organization. He’d zero in on the ones who were really desperate.”
“The ones who had been turned down by every adoption agency in the state,” Connor guessed.
“Or the ones who had just about given up hope,” Cruz agreed. “He suspected they’d be more willing to take any child they could get and ask the fewest questions. After that, it was just a matter of selecting the ones who would provide the so- called ‘moral environment’ he was so crazed about.”
“Cruz,” Michele put in hesitantly, “how’s Scott?”
“Seems better since you came to talk to him.”
Michele held her breath as Connor swung his gave to her. She had purposefully neglected to tell him about her trip to the police station a few nights ago. She had spent over an hour talking to Scott, and then to his lawyer. She was now satisfied that he would make a case for diminished capacity on Scott’s behalf. She hadn’t known how to explain to Connor her feeling of compassion for Scott’s plight, in spite of what he had been involved in.
But Connor didn’t berate her. Instead he rubbed his thumb over her hand, which he still held. “Are you okay?” he asked, and Michele knew he understood her feelings and was asking if there were any lingering effects from the experience.
“Yes, I’m all right,” she murmured back, smoothing his hair away from his forehead with her free hand. She was better than all right. She felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. For the first time in months she felt complete and utter peace. She looked down at the man holding her hand so tightly. She felt completely in love.
Cruz felt like an outsider as he observed the look passing between them and decided to make his exit.
“Well, better leave you two alone,” he said breezily as he rose and headed for the door. “After all, I did get Michele close enough for you to get your hands on her again, and that is what you pay me for, isn’t it, Connor?” He laughed and ducked out of the room before his friend could respond.
“Sounds like you’re going to be a hero,” Michele teased, laughing at the grimace that passed briefly over his face.
“You’re the one who deserves the praise for solving this case.” Connor spoke seriously. “You led me right to the place.” He kissed the hand he still held. “Lucky I had you with me.”
“That’s what I keep trying to tell you,” Michele said lightly.
A slight frown crossed his face. “Yeah.”
At his look, Michele bit her lip. It had been easy to forget her fears about his leaving her in the last hectic week. But now those fears came rushing back to her, brought on, in part, by his intense expression.
“Connor . . .”
“Michele . . .”
They spoke simultaneously, then paused, looking at each other. When he opened his mouth again, Michele quickly laid two fingers against his lips. “No, let me say something.”
Connor’s face was determined. “I think I’d better go first.”
“No, please.” Michele smiled tremulously at his surprise. “Hear me out.” Taking his silence for agreement, she looked down to where their hands were still clasped. “That night after the homeless benefit, you were quite certain in your assessment of what I need in my life.” She slanted a glance toward him. “But you weren’t totally accurate.”
“I wasn’t.”
It was a statement, but Michele still shook her head. “No. Actually—” she took a deep breath “—I detest caviar and the opera. I do enjoy the ballet and symphony, but from your collection of CDs, I could tell that you appreciate some classical music yourself. And I happen to love pizza and basketball.”
“You do?”
She smiled at his skeptical tone. “I do. So I was wondering . . . doesn’t this habit of jumping to conclusions about people sort of hinder your police work?”
He was amused by her impertinent tone. “I don’t usually have that problem with people.”
“Then why with me?”
A hard smile tilted his lips. After a long moment he answered wryly. “Self-preservation.” At her quizzical expression, he sighed. “Princess, the first time I saw you, I knew I should run as hard and fast as I possibly could.”
“You’ve been doing a pretty good job of that,” Michele murmured.
His thumb skated over her knuckles. “I tried. And recounting the differences between us was as much to remind me as it was for you.” He looked into her steady gray eyes. “I’ve spent the last few years perfecting the art of shallow socializing, Michele. Not exactly the gentleman and scholar I’m sure your mother would want for you.”
She felt a tiny bud of hope bloom. “Why don’t you let me decide what I want for myself?” she asked softly.
His eyes never left hers. “All right, I will. I love you, Michele.” He paused for a heartbeat. “My life has been nothing but shadows for too long. And now that I’ve found you, I’m too damn selfish to do the noble thing and send you away.”
Hearing the words she had waited so long for, had despaired of ever hearing, made her feel like weeping for joy. “I wouldn’t go even if you sent me,” she answered him shakily.
“You’d better be sure of what you want,” he warned her, even as he drew her still nearer. “Be very sure, because I don’t intend to let you go if you change your mind later.”
Michele bent her head. “I’ll never change my mind,” she informed him firmly. “I love you, Connor. And that will never change.”
His eyes were gleaming as he returned her look. “They call me Maximum McLain,” he whispered, letting go of her hand to cup the back of her head. “Are you ready for a life sentence?”
Michele willingly allowed herself to be pulled close enough for their lips to barely meet. Against his lips she answered softly, “I’d accept nothing less.” And then words were lost as they sealed their promise with a kiss.
