Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  Ridge nodded, and she spent the next few moments gathering up all the spare diapers and formula bottles she could find. She returned to the room with her arms full of packages to find Ridge had already moved the baby from the crib to the car seat.

  “It’s not a lot,” she said, setting everything on the exam bed. “But it should last a couple of days at least.”

  “Thank you,” Ridge said. “I appreciate your help.”

  “You’re welcome,” Darcy replied. Now that the moment was here, she was strangely reluctant to part from Ridge. Being around him again was unsettling, but a small part of her felt comforted by his presence. Don’t be silly, she told herself. You’re just tired.

  “Do you need help getting out to your truck?”

  Ridge shook his head and she fought off a swell of disappointment. “I’ve got it,” he said, scooping everything up. “Come on, Penny,” he said.

  The dog got to her feet and stretched then looked up at Ridge expectantly, awaiting his next direction.

  Ridge turned to face Darcy. “Thanks again,” he said. He took a step toward the door, then stopped and looked back. “It was nice to see you again, Darcy. You take care of yourself.”

  “You, too,” she replied softly. She watched Ridge walk away, marveling at the way he seemed to take all the oxygen in the room with him. His absence made her feel both relieved and sad in equal parts. “It’s for the best,” she said to the empty room. “I’m leaving soon, and I don’t need a complication like Ridge taking up what little time I have here.”

  It was the truth, but it didn’t help. Even though their relationship had ended years ago, she still felt as if there was unfinished business between them.

  Darcy shook her head and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Seeing Ridge had been a shock, but she couldn’t dwell on the past forever.

  Time to get back to work.

  * * *

  “I don’t understand what your problem is. The return policy is printed right there on the receipt—thirty days from the time of purchase. I bought this just last week.” Francine Gibbons arched a brow at the clerk and stared at her, daring her to argue the point.

  “Yes, ma’am, I understand that. But the dress has what looks like a wine stain on the skirt. I’m afraid I can’t accept a return of damaged merchandise.” The clerk sounded apologetic, but Francine was not appeased. Did she really not know who she was talking to?

  “I’m not going to argue with you about this. I want to speak to your manager.” It wasn’t her fault the dress was ruined—Ted always got a little handsy after a few drinks, and in his eagerness he’d managed to knock over her glass of red wine. The tablecloth at the restaurant had taken most of the damage, but enough of it had gotten on her dress that she wouldn’t be able to wear it again. Best to return it and get something new.

  “Ma’am, it’s store policy,” the clerk began, but Francine cut her off.

  “I thought I made myself clear. I told you I want to speak to your manager. Why are you still standing here?”

  “Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Gibbons?” An older woman glided over, a smile pasted on her face.

  Francine shot a triumphant glance at the clerk, who shrank back, looking miserable. “Yes. As I was saying, I want to return this dress. But your employee has been giving me attitude about it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman replied smoothly. “Let me take care of it for you.” She shot a warning glance at the clerk who had opened her mouth, presumably to defend herself.

  “It’s just so hard to get good help these days,” Francine remarked, checking her phone for messages while the manager completed the transaction. Then, just for spite she added, “Did you see the new boutique that opened just off Main Street? They have such lovely clothes, and their service is impeccable.”

  The manager pressed her lips together in a thin smile. “I haven’t had a chance to visit yet.”

  “You really should,” Francine said. “It’s just the kind of store we need in Granite Gulch.”

  “How nice,” the other woman murmured. She slid a receipt across the counter, along with a pen. “If you’ll just sign there, please. I’ve credited the dress back to your account.”

  “Thank you,” Francine said archly. She scribbled her signature and pushed the paper back at the other woman.

  “My pleasure. May I help you with anything else tonight?”

  “No, that will be all.” She stuffed her phone back into her purse and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

  “Thank you for stopping by. We look forward to seeing you again.”

  “Hmm. I might be willing to give you one more chance. But you should really educate your employees, especially when it comes to how store policy applies to a repeat customer like myself.” She shot a final glare at the clerk before turning and striding out of the store.

  The nerve of those people! How dare they try to treat her like one of the masses, rather than the premier customer she was. She’d spent thousands of dollars at that store over the past few months. The least they could do was act as though they wanted her business.

  Lightning streaked across the sky as she walked under the awnings that lined the storefronts. She frowned, trying to dodge the worst of the puddles so her suede Louboutins didn’t get too wet. She had meant to get home before the storm broke, but people were so incompetent these days and she’d been held up at every store she’d visited. It was almost enough to make her want to hire a personal shopper, but she didn’t trust anyone else to get things right.

  “I should make them replace my shoes,” she muttered, still angry with the clerk for having tried to deny her return. “It’s the least they can do to make it up to me.”

  She reached the end of the awning and paused to fish her umbrella out of her purse. The streetlamps that illuminated the parking lot were burned out, leaving the stretch of asphalt cloaked in darkness. “This place is really going downhill,” she grumbled, struggling to open her umbrella. “They can’t even be bothered to maintain the parking lot.” She would have to mention it to Jill Winthrop during their lunch next week—her husband was on the city council, and they needed to know this area of town required improvement.

  She stepped out into the rain and headed in the direction of her car, peering into the gloom and wishing for a flashlight. A quick press of the unlock button on her key fob caused the lights of her Mercedes to flash, helping guide her through the darkness. The crunch of footsteps on gravel sounded behind her, but Francine was too focused on getting to her car to pay attention.

  “Hey.”

  She ignored the speaker and kept moving forward, intent on getting out of the rain.

  “Hey!”

  Francine ground her teeth together and rolled her eyes. She did not respond to such casual greetings, especially from a stranger.

  “Francine!”

  That was odd. She stopped and turned, trying to see who had called out to her.

  A dark figure approached, the person’s body obscured by a large trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat. “Who are—” Before she could get the rest of the question out, the stranger lifted an arm and a loud pop split the air.

  Something slammed into Francine’s chest, knocking her off her feet and onto her back. She lay there for a moment, stunned, trying to figure out what had happened. Then the pain hit, a white-hot agony radiating from her chest down through her limbs. “What?” she gasped.

  The figure walked up and leaned over her, temporarily blocking out the rain. Francine blinked, trying to recognize the stranger. “Why?” she said, struggling to get the word out through lips that had gone numb.

  The killer smiled cruelly. “Why not?”

  Francine’s vision began to narrow, but she saw the stranger’s arm come up again. There was another earsplitt
ing pop, and she surrendered to the darkness.

  CHAPTER 4

  Ridge paced in front of the bank of windows that overlooked the woods at the back of his cabin, patting the baby’s back with a steady thump.

  “It’s really coming down out there,” he observed quietly to no one in particular. As if to punctuate his observation a flash of lightning split the sky, the brightness illuminating the ground and revealing the raging river his backyard had become. “I hope the barn is still standing,” he muttered.

  Ridge enjoyed working with his hands, and had taken great pride in building his cabin from the ground up. But after he’d finished construction, he’d felt at loose ends. He was so used to having a job to complete that he’d decided to start working on a barn he could use as part garage, part hobby shed. The project was coming along nicely, but his progress had slowed recently as the hunt for the Alphabet Killer had picked up speed.

  He glanced down into the face of the infant he held. “Are you the key to finding the killer?”

  She yawned and his jaw ached to mimic her gesture. The day was really catching up to him, and he wanted nothing more than to lay the baby down and sleep for a bit. But every time he tried, she woke up and started crying. The only thing he’d found that calmed her down was for him to pace back and forth, an action that simultaneously kept him awake and made him even more tired.

  He glanced over to the dog bed on the floor by the fireplace. Penny had gone to sleep hours ago and she looked totally relaxed, sprawled on her back with her paws in the air. “Lucky girl,” he muttered. If only the dog could help him watch the baby!

  “We’ll find your mother,” he said softly. “I just wish she had left your name in the note. What am I supposed to call you?”

  The baby in question shifted slightly and emitted a soft squeak, so he increased the frequency of his patting until she sank back into sleep.

  “I think you look like a Sara,” he said, feeling his heart tighten a little. Saralee had been his mother’s name, and it seemed fitting that this lost little one be named after the woman who had been such an important part of his life.

  Sara let out a soft sigh, and Ridge decided to try to lay her down again. Moving slowly, he walked over to the makeshift pallet he’d made out of several old quilts and gently set her down. Then he tucked a blanket over her and straightened up, trying to work the kinks out of his lower back. Please don’t wake up, he pleaded silently, watching the baby as if she were a live bomb about to explode.

  She frowned, the expression looking adorably out of place on an infant’s face. Ridge held his breath, hoping against hope that this time Sara would remain asleep, now that she was in her bed.

  It wasn’t to be. The baby wriggled experimentally, as if she was testing the boundaries of her new location. Apparently finding it unsatisfactory, she opened her mouth and let out a wail that woke Penny, who emitted a startled yelp.

  Resigned to his fate, Ridge leaned down and picked her up. Once he brought her to his chest she quieted down again, her wails subsiding into small whimpers until she finally fell silent. Penny flopped back down on her bed with a sigh, and Ridge resumed his walk.

  Maybe Darcy was right, he thought. Maybe he really had taken on too much. He hated to admit the possibility, especially because he knew she didn’t think he could handle this. But he’d be damned before he’d admit it to her face. No way was he going to show any kind of weakness in front of her. He’d made that mistake once. Never again.

  A loud clap of thunder split the air, making both him and Sara jump. “That one was close,” he said to her, pitching his voice low so as not to fully wake her.

  On the heels of the thunder came another pounding, this one at his front door. Ridge frowned. He didn’t get many visitors, and the people who did come to his cabin knew to enter through the back door. That meant whoever was out there was a stranger, and given the events of the day, he didn’t fancy answering the door with a baby in his arms.

  “Who do you think it could be?” he asked softly. The baby’s mother, come to claim her child? Maybe she had gotten away from the killer and wanted her baby back. If so, she had a lot of explaining to do. Even though she hadn’t been in his life for very long, Ridge had grown attached to little Sara and he wasn’t about to just hand her over to the first person who came knocking.

  There was another possibility, one that made him frown. What if his visitor wasn’t Sara’s mother, but the Alphabet Killer, come to tie up loose ends? It was a bold move, but his cabin was on the edge of the woods in a fairly isolated location. And with the weather being so bad it would be days before anyone wondered about him or would be able to check on him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this was the perfect opportunity for the killer to strike.

  He set Sara back down on her bed and tucked a blanket around her, hoping to stave off her cries for at least a few minutes. Then he grabbed the baseball bat propped up in the corner and headed for the door. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he wasn’t going to answer the door unprepared.

  The pounding started up again with renewed vigor, as if his visitor was getting impatient. He flipped on the porch light and stopped to peek through the curtains at his front window, trying to identify who might be visiting. Unfortunately, the rain was still coming down hard and it obscured his vision of the porch—he could make out a dark shape, but he couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.

  Only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath and tightening his grip on the bat, Ridge unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

  “Ridge?”

  “Darcy?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. She was the last person he’d expected to see, especially on a night like this.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?” She shivered slightly and pushed a wet tendril of hair off her face.

  “Oh, of course. Sorry.” Ridge propped the bat next to the door frame and stepped back, gesturing Darcy inside. Sara chose that moment to let out a loud wail and Darcy smiled as she stepped across the threshold.

  “How’s it going here?”

  Ridge winced. “She doesn’t like it when I set her down.” He quickly closed the door, then crossed the room and scooped Sara up again. Just as before, she stopped crying once she was back in his arms. He resumed pacing and eyed Darcy, who was looking around the den with open curiosity.

  “This is a great place,” she commented, slowly wandering from one side of the room to the other, taking in the pictures on the wall, the books on his shelves and the furniture arranged throughout. “I had no idea it was out here. How did you find it?”

  “I built it,” he said simply. It felt strange to have her in his home. This was his sanctuary, his safe place. He’d actually never brought a woman here before, and to have Darcy of all people checking out his things made him feel exposed.

  “You built this?” She didn’t bother to hide the incredulity in her voice. Then she shook her head and bit her lip. “I’m sorry—that’s the second time I’ve implied that you’re not capable of something.”

  He blinked, surprised by her apology. “Uh, that’s okay,” he said. “Most people are shocked when they find out I built it.”

  “How long did it take you?” She seemed genuinely interested and he felt that old familiar tug to engage with her, to share with her.

  “Six months,” he replied. Darcy whistled softly, apparently impressed, and his cheeks warmed in the face of her approval.

  “How did you find me?” Time to get this conversation back on track.

  Darcy raised a brow. “You filled out paperwork at the hospital, remember?”

  He nodded, kicking himself for having forgotten. “I didn’t realize that was an invitation,” he said coolly.

  If Darcy noticed his tone, she didn’t react. “I thought I wou
ld stop by and check on you and the baby.”

  “Because you don’t think I can take care of her properly?” The words were out before he could stop them, and he heard the bitterness in his own voice. Too bad. He was tired of people scrutinizing his every move, searching for signs of the father in the son before them. All his life, he’d felt as if he was under a microscope, subject to the judgment of others. Even though he’d dedicated his adult life to helping others, people still gave him a wide berth. They treated him like some kind of half-feral dog, one they wanted to like but didn’t fully trust not to attack when their backs were turned.

  Darcy held his gaze for a moment, studying him. “No,” she said thoughtfully. “Because I thought you might like some company. Taking care of an infant can be isolating.”

  Her reply took the wind out of his sails and the irritation drained out of him, leaving him feeling oddly empty. “Oh,” he said dumbly. How had she known that? Did she have experience caring for a baby, or was it just a lucky guess? Against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to know more about what she’d been up to in the years since they’d parted ways.

  She held up a plastic bag. “Also, I come bearing gifts.” She set the bag on the coffee table and proceeded to pull out packages of diapers and wipes and several bottles of formula. “I was able to raid the nursery before I left tonight. I know I sent you home with some stuff, but I thought you could use some extra, just in case.”

  “Thank you,” he said, feeling more foolish by the minute. Darcy was just trying to help, and he’d nearly bitten her head off for her troubles. He shook his head, trying to slough off his bad mood.

  “I also brought a little something for you, as well,” she continued, reaching back into the bag. With a flourish, she withdrew a long candy bar bearing a familiar white wrap and sporting bold orange letters. “Here you go,” she said, extending the treat toward him. “I got you the biggest one I could find.”

  Ridge could only stare down at her and the gift she offered, shocked that she had remembered.