by The Saint
Jake needed Courtney calm and clearheaded, because getting out of here was going to take some kind of miracle. He hoped to God her influence in the prayer department would conjure up a little more clout than his.
"I may look ridiculous, standing here shackled to a basement wall." She pointed out the obvious only to stomp her foot and demand, "But do I look stupid, too?"
"I didn't–"
"You did, too. You said, if you didn't check in on time, O’Shea would find us." Courtney took a quick breath, then continued, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but unless you're wearing a wire, because I sure as hell am not, we are in deep trouble. You know it; and I know it. I may not be a cop, but don't insult my intelligence like that again."
"Okay. You're absolutely right." It had been a while, but Jake recognized a dressing down when he heard one. "I'm sorry."
"Good." Her satisfaction was short lived. "Now, explain to me exactly why you didn't tell me you're a cop?"
Officer Training 101: Always answer a question with a question.
"Do you think I liked lying to you?" Jake asked. "Well, I–" Or two questions. "Do you think keeping that information from you was easy?" "Well, no–" Or three. "Don't you think I wanted to tell you?" "Hold it right there, Jake. My brother Michael's a cop. So, I know exactly how this little dodge-and-
weave routine works." "Then don't ask me why I didn't tell you." "Touché." She had to hand it to him, he was right. Thinking through their situation, she realized
exactly why he hadn't told her. His decision wasn't personal; it was procedure. Out of his control. Kind of like hers had been. Now and six years ago. "How is Saint Michael these days?" Jake was trying his best to lift Courtney's spirits and keep her mind off their predicament for a little while longer.
Years ago, Courtney knew Jake and Michael hadn't been on the best of terms, so she ignored the leftover sarcasm. "He's always been a great brother." She laughed. "But if you ever tell him I said so, I'd have to deny it."
"Of course you would." The lilt in her voice pleased him. "Not to worry. Our paths haven't crossed for years. In fact, the last time I saw old Mikey, he slammed me up against a brick wall, asking me–very nicely–to stay away from his kid sister."
Courtney felt her mouth drop open. "You're joking?"
"Nope. Mikey's got quite a temper, but then so do I." Jake hadn't been the only one who walked away with a black eye and a swollen jaw that afternoon. "So, I told him exactly what he could do with his suggestion."
"And Michael took that?" "Let's just say, he didn't appreciate my attitude." "I'll bet he didn't." Courtney could well imagine her hardheaded brother tangling with her even
harder-headed boyfriend. "But from what I understand, he's turned out to be a very good police officer–
make that detective." "Dicks, huh?" Jake's respect raised a notch. "Yep." She rolled her shoulders and the cuffs clanked. "Michael was always big on dissecting situations then reconfiguring the pieces. You know what I mean."
"Sure." Determined to keep the conversation going to distract Courtney from her fears, he continued, "The challenge in detectives is to collect the facts and process the information. Sometimes it involves recreating an incident. Conducting interviews. Maybe even backtracking. Whatever the approach, that's what makes each case different and keeps the job interesting."
"That's exactly what Michael says."
Hearing Courtney's voice fade a little, Jake revved up a second time. "How about your mom? Does Cathleen still hate me?"
If you only knew. Courtney swallowed hard. "She didn't exactly hate you."
Thinking of her mom and Janey, Courtney couldn't bear the thought of not seeing them again. She and Jake had to escape, because there was no way she would put her family through any more pain. She simply refused to die here. Janey needed a mother and after all her mom had endured, how could she survive losing Courtney, too?
As a widow, Cathleen had devoted the past twenty years to Courtney and Michael, coaching flag football, leading Girl Scouts and checking homework. Not to mention all her mom and brother had done for Janey.
And what about Michael? After their father had been killed, sweet, serious Michael had tried desperately to become the man of the house and fill Richard's shoes. Not an easy task for any son, much less a boy of twelve.
After college, Michael had followed his father's footsteps the only way he knew how–by fulfilling his own dream. Out of love, respect and admiration Michael, too, had become a police officer.
And so had Jake.
Courtney couldn't help but wonder what had inspired Jake to turn his life around and join the Force?
If only she'd known he had come back to Chicago. If only she'd known where to find him.
Courtney's thoughts again turned to Janey. The light of her life. Her reason for living. But what if she and Jake didn't survive? The reality of their situation hit Courtney like a Mac truck. What if Templeton actually left them there? What if escaping proved impossible? What if…
"Jake?"
The moment he heard the slight catch in her voice, Jake moved as far as he could in her direction. Extending his leg, he touched her shoe with his. "I'm right here."
"Are Eddie and Sal coming back?" Courtney felt fresh, unshed tears sting behind both eyelids.
"Are you kidding?" he hedged, knowing a toss of the dice would be more predictable. "Once they tell Templeton about O’Shea, he'd be a fool to leave us down here."
She pressed the toe of her shoe to his. "But he could…leave us here, I mean."
Unable to deny the possibility, Jake blew out a frustrated breath. "Yes."
"And we could die down here." Right now, her words had to be every bit as clear and concise as her thinking.
"Don't go there, Courtney."
"I have to." She kicked his toe. "Because, if there's even a remote possibility we're going to die, then there's something I have to tell you."
"What?" He nudged her foot. "You're still crazy about me?"
Sitting there in the darkness, Courtney sighed, wishing with all her heart what she had to say was that simple. "You always were an egomaniac, Ciora."
When Jake heard the reluctant grin in Courtney's voice, he almost relaxed. "Yeah, I guess I was, but that's not what you were going to say, was it?"
"No." Last night, Courtney had trusted Jake but only with herself. Not her daughter. That would have been out of the question. Until today.
Now that Courtney knew Jake was O’Shea's undercover cop, not a criminal, there was something important she needed to tell him. Unfortunately, looking around the dark, damp basement, she would have preferred more pleasant surroundings. Maybe candlelight and champagne, she thought wistfully. But like it or not, Courtney was a realist, and since there was a possibility they might not escape…well, it had come down to–tell him now or never.
Courtney cleared her throat. "Where did you disappear to six years ago?"
Closure, Jake thought. Wasn't that what the pop psychologists called it? Unimpressed, he decided, if nothing else, he needed to keep Courtney talking.
"You may not have wanted me, but Uncle Sam sure did. I joined the Navy."
The pride in Jake's voice made Courtney's heart smile. "I can't believe it."
"Why not?" he asked pointedly. "What was I suppose to do?" Without waiting for her answer, he continued, "Your Mom wouldn't let me through on the phone. Michael wouldn't let me through the front door. And the one and only time I cornered you on campus, you made your feelings very plain. You broke it off deep in me, Courtney. Then you just turned and walked out of my life. On your way back to class, you never once hesitated. Never looked back. I know, because I watched you every step of the way."
Without a word, Courtney listened, remembering all-too-well that balmy day in May. So convinced she had been right about the stolen car. So certain she had been wrong about loving Jake. If only…
She would have known the truth. Or she'd have trusted him more. If only he had confronted h
er three weeks later. "I walked past the Navy recruiter's office on my way home that day," Jake continued. "And I
remember stopping in front of the window. Just standing there, thinking what the hell. I've got no woman, no family, no job. There's nothing to keep me here. So, I just walked right in and enlisted."
Looking back, Courtney cringed. Jake had truly been alone in this world. She had only felt alone. No wonder she had been so important in his life. Courtney's stomach rolled, remembering her frantic search for him weeks later. "You didn't even leave a forwarding address."
Jake's laugh was bitter. "Like you would have wanted one." "As it turned out, I did." Fighting the regret, he still had to ask, "Why?" "I not only wanted your address, but I needed it." Jake's heart tripped hard over the word needed. "Why? Couldn't live without me?" Courtney took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to shove aside the memories. She would never
forget racing to Jake's apartment that sweet, sunny afternoon in June, scared to death and sick with anticipation. Only to find him gone–lock, stock and barrel. Without ever knowing…
And now, six years later, Courtney’s life had come full circle. But this time she found herself facing Jake, mouth dry and palms damp, trying desperately to act like this was not the most important moment in her life. What Courtney had wanted to say five years ago, she took a deep breath and simply told him, "I needed to find you because I was pregnant.”
Even Simon and Garfunkel couldn't have defined "The Sounds of Silence” that settled over the basement at that moment. A hush so still it pounded in Courtney's ears like thunder on a hot August night. So explosively quiet, Courtney swore she could hear her heart beat. Her blood rush. Her warm tears splash onto the cold concrete floor.
“You were what?” Jake’s voice exploded off the basement walls. Courtney flinched, but repeated quite clearly, “Pregnant.” “And just when exactly were you planning on telling me, Mrs. Montgomery?” Jake’s sarcasm stiffened Courtney’s backbone. “I don’t know, Mr. Deluka, you tell me. Because the
other night when I saw you again, I was under the distinct impression you had gone from stealing cars to working for Templeton. So, when exactly should I have given you the good news?” “Dammit, I had a right to know,” Jake boomed, trying desperately to remember every detail of the
little girl he had seen in the park with Courtney and Barry—that wife stealing, child napping bastard. Well, he would deal with old Montgomery later.
“Don’t you think I know that?” she demanded at the top of her lungs. “But what kind of mother hands over her daughter to a common criminal?”
“Don’t give me that,” he raged. “Don’t you dare give me that.” She saw his arms flail in the dim light. Heard the cuffs clank angrily against the metal loop. “You know exactly who I am–“
“Now I do, you covert bastard,” she spat. “But this day and age all it takes is a positive paternity test and voila, Daddy Dearest—no matter who his is–has joint custody. Maybe that’s the way it should be–in most cases. But would you have wanted me to turn Janey over to a man who really lived in Dirk Templeton’s sadistic, murdering world.”
Courtney was on a roll now. Every fear. Every worry. Every horror she had imagined spewed out. “Let’s see. I guess Eddie and Sal could drive her to kindergarten this fall. That is, if there wasn’t a death threat taped to the steering wheel. Or a corpse like Peggy Baird in the trunk. Hell, Jake, take a look around.
Look where Janey’s mom and dad are right this minute, then answer me.” When he didn’t say anything, she took a ragged breath and lowered her voice. “What kind of mother does that? The kind you would have wanted raising your daughter?” “Hell, no.” Her tirade had sucked the wind right out of Jake’s sails. “Thank you for protecting my
daughter,” he spoke the words, slowly and thoughtfully.
“You’re welcome.” Courtney exhaled as Jake nudged the toe of her shoe with his.
"You were pregnant." This time not a question. Not an accusation.
"Yes." Courtney waited. Wondered. Would Jake still be angry? Disappointed? Happy?
"And you came to tell me," he said, piecing together what had happened.
"Yes."
Head throbbing, he tried to think back. "But you couldn't find me."
"I tried, Jake. I tried so hard, but you'd just disappeared without a trace."
Jake barely recognized the low moan that escaped his lips. "Oh, God, Courtney, I'm so sorry I left."
"Why?" She couldn't stand the pain in his voice. "For taking control of your life at a time when it was spinning out of control? How can you regret that after all you've accomplished?" Her voice melted right along with her heart. "You should be proud. I know I am."
"It's not that, I'm just sorry you had to go through having a child by yourself." Thinking of all the repercussions, he sucked in his breath. "Facing your family alone must have been tough."
"They've been great," she assured him. "With me and with Janey."
"Janey." He repeated the name like a prayer. "And she's beautiful, like you," he whispered, certain it must be so–despite not having seen her up close.
"Well, she has her father's dark hair," she told him. "If we get out of here, I've got a ton of photos in my billfold."
"Pictures?" His mind was numb. His mouth just kept repeating what Courtney was telling him. His heart healed at the thought of having a child–with Courtney. "Blue eyes? Ten toes and fingers? Your laugh?"
"Yes. Yes. And God, I hope not," Courtney teased, overjoyed at his reaction. "I can't wait for you to see her."
"But I have seen her–my daughter," Jake whispered, still enthralled.
“What?”
“After you showed up on your own at Templeton’s, I began following you. By the way, I heard you’re not too astute at spotting a tail,” he ragged, referring to the update Brian had given him regarding Michael’s timely intervention.
“Three against one is pretty tacky, even for you, Ciora.” Courtney recalled that particular butt chewing all too well. “So you must have seen us at the park?”
“Yep.”
Courtney could well imagine Jake’s conclusion. “You thought Janey belonged to Barry?”
“Seemed logical to me.”
“I’m sorry.” And she truly was.
“Don’t be. Wise guy that I am, I plan to kill him after we get out of here,” he teased, still trying hard to assimilate everything he’d been told.
"No need,” Courtney assured him. “Barry’s always been a good friend of mine. We’re colleagues and, well, I thought things might work out. We were compatible enough and Janey needed…someone.
A fierce protectiveness rushed through Jake, the likes of which he’d never known before. “Dammit, if I only had my cuff key," he cursed, rattling his wrists against the metal. "But carrying your key while you work undercover would be about as stupid as packing your badge."
"That's it!" Courtney squealed.
"What's it?"
"The cuff key." Within her restrictions, she jumped up and down. Jangling the bracelets against the metal loop. Why hadn't she thought of it before? "We can uncuff ourselves."
"We can't. I told you I don't–"
"I know," she interrupted breathlessly. "You don't have one." "Right." Jake watched Courtney bob up and down as she spoke. What the hell was wrong with her? Didn't she get it? "You don't need the key." She giggled with relief. For the first time since they'd been brought
downstairs, she figured they may get out of this dungeon yet. "Courtney–" "Really, Jake," she insisted. "I'm not kidding. Find me something. Anything. I can pick the lock." "You what?" "Trust me. I can pick it," she swore, running out of patience. "How do you think I got into Dirk's
office?" She cursed herself silently for jamming her makeshift pick into the flowerpot when she'd heard
someone coming. "Holy Sh–" Jake struggled and strained. "I can't reach my pants pockets." "Dammit," she swore. "Of all the days to wear my hair
down. No hair pins." Frantic, she stretched
her leg out and ran her shoe around the floor in every direction as far as she could reach, hoping–no
praying–to find something. "What about a tie tack?" he asked. "Would that work?" "I don't know if it's long enough." Too excited to stand still, Courtney paced the one or two steps
leeway she had. "But I'll try." Jake finagled and cussed, trying to make his large hands and long fingers do the impossible–
backwards, no less. After three unsuccessful attempts, he pulled off the back. "Damn." The tiny gold plug hit the floor. "What?" Courtney held her breath. "You didn't–" "No," he assured her. "I just dropped the back." "Careful," Courtney urged, almost glad she couldn't see exactly what he was doing. "Now slowly
pull the pin out of the material." "Got it," he told her, feeling the sweat bead across his forehead. "I'm going to toss it over." "Okay." She strained to see in the darkened basement as he threw the tie tack…only to have it
glance off her foot…and bounce. "Oh, God, Jake." She shrieked in frustration. Clanking and stomping, but to no avail. "What the hell happened?" Jake barked, tugging against his restraints to try and get a closer look. "It landed in the floor drain." Her voice cracked with disappointment. "There's a lousy damn drain
right here."
"Okay." Jake thought his head would explode, but he needed to stay calm for Courtney's sake. "Chances are, it would have been too short to pick the lock anyway."
"I left so early I didn't even put earrings on this morning." She tried her best to strain the frustration from her voice. "What now?"
Then it dawned on him. Jake bent both knees so he could lean over and run a finger beneath the knot of his tie. "I might have just what you're looking for."
Courtney's heart skipped a beat. "You do?"
"Yep." He deftly removed the long, tie pin connecting both sides of his collar and smiled. "I think this will actually work."
"This is our last chance, Jake." Courtney bit her lower lip. "For God's sake, be careful."
