by Kara Lennox
“You’re welcome. Thanks for your part, too. How’s Sara?”
“She’s great.” Aubrey decided not to mention Charlie Soffit’s visit. “Lyle, you’ll check into the possibility that Cory murdered Patti, won’t you? She would never have willingly given Sara to that monster, so there must have been some foul play involved.”
“I’ll handle Cory’s interrogation personally.”
That did not fill Aubrey with confidence.
She returned to the living room and reported the good news. Everyone seemed overjoyed—except David, who looked decidedly troubled.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him privately a few minutes later. Charlie had left, and Beronica had returned to the kitchen to resume cleanup. Only Wayne, David, Aubrey and a sleeping Sara remained in the living room.
“Cory said he’d kill me,” David said, his voice breaking. “He said if I sent the cops after him, he’d track me down and shoot me like a rabid dog in the street. And if he couldn’t do it personally, he had friends who could.”
“That was just talk to scare you,” Aubrey said, though she could certainly understand why her cousin was unnerved. “He’s not the Godfather, he’s a two-bit drug dealer. He’s behind bars and likely to remain there for some time, particularly if you report the death threat.”
“Still…” David laughed nervously. “Now I know how you felt the last few days.”
“It’s not much fun,” she agreed, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. “But I really don’t think you have to worry. In fact…” She looked at her watch. It was almost eleven o’clock. “I was thinking I might take Sara home now. Lyle assured me I would be safe.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that,” David said. “About Patti naming you as Sara’s guardian.”
“What?” Aubrey was suddenly alert to a new danger. A few days ago, David had agreed Aubrey was the logical one to raise Sara. But that was before they’d known Patti was actually dead. And now it seemed his feelings weren’t so clear-cut.
“I’m Sara’s closest living relative. Plus, I have resources you don’t—money, connections. If I were to adopt Sara, she wouldn’t want for anything. She could attend the best private schools, travel the world, land the best job or the wealthiest husband, whatever she wants. Think about it. You’re an assistant college professor who lives in a run-down frame house in a questionable neighborhood.”
Aubrey could not believe what she was hearing. She looked to Wayne—surely he would jump in and disagree with David. But to her horror, he was nodding. “You must agree, Aubrey, that he has a point.”
“But Patti wanted me to raise Sara.”
“And we all know how sound Patti’s judgment was,” David said. “I’m not sure the courts would take her wishes too seriously. She gave her baby to a drug dealer, after all.”
“She did not—I don’t believe this.”
“I only want what’s best for Sara,” David insisted.
“Oh, right. When did you suddenly become so avuncular? Where were you when Patti was pregnant and needed help? You turned her away. You refused her money. You didn’t go to the hospital when Sara was born, even though I notified you.”
“Patti wouldn’t have welcomed our presence,” Wayne said.
“You weren’t around for the 2:00 a.m. feedings and the ear infection that sent us to the hospital,” Aubrey continued relentlessly. “You saw her all of, what, twice since she was born?”
“Aubrey, you have to understand,” Wayne said, his tone condescending. “Patti made it very difficult for either of us to play a role in Sara’s life. But now that she’s gone—and now that I’ve seen Sara, spent time with her—I realize we made a mistake in not trying harder to heal the breach. I would like to spend what little time I have left with my only granddaughter. Is that so hard to understand?”
Aubrey got the distinct impression that Wayne and David had discussed this earlier. “Are you saying you won’t let me take her home?”
“This is her home now,” David said. “I won’t have her living in that house, vulnerable to unsavory influences. Charlie Soffit, for God’s sake. Would you actually let that man have a role in my niece’s life? And Beau Maddox. A low-life bounty hunter. He shot your own brother, for chrissakes. I’m not at all sure your new friends would be positive influences on Sara’s life.”
“Oh, and your newfound interest in Sara wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’ll someday be a multimillionaire, would it?” Aubrey had taken off the gloves. If David was going to fight dirty, so was she.
“I don’t need money,” David said.
“Oh, don’t you? Then just exactly what was it I heard the partners talking about earlier, at the funeral?” Now she realized she’d piqued Wayne’s attention, and she remembered he didn’t know anything about his partners’ suspicions. Maybe it wasn’t her place to tell him. But it was a little late to turn back now.
“What the hell are you talking about?” David demanded.
“Jim Thomason. And the guy with the toupee—”
“Mark Jeeter,” Wayne supplied impatiently. “What did they say?”
“I don’t know the specifics,” Aubrey said. “But it was clear they believe David is guilty of some financial misdeed. And Beau told me the police did some investigating—as they investigated everyone in the family,” she hastened to add. “It’s routine. But they found something more than routine debt when they investigated you, David. I believe the word they used was obscene.”
She let the accusation rest on the air for a few seconds. Maybe she’d gone too far. She had, after all, eavesdropped on a private conversation. And the police information was secondhand.
Wayne suddenly looked unutterably weary. “We’re all exhausted,” he said. “And we’re probably saying things we don’t mean. This whole situation will look much brighter in the morning. I suggest we all get some sleep.”
“I’m not leaving without Sara,” Aubrey said mulishly.
“Of course not, my dear. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like. For God’s sake, we’re a family. Maybe we should try acting like one.”
AUBREY PUT SARA TO BED on a pallet in her room. Neither of the men objected to that, of course. Neither of them wanted to change diapers. If Sara lived here permanently, Wayne would no doubt immediately hire a nanny.
Aubrey could take him at his word and live here, too. But she thought Sara would be much better off in her unassuming little house, raised as normally as possible. All that privilege and money hadn’t done Patti a world of good. Or David, for that matter, she thought, her earlier surge of affection for him having disintegrated.
Tired as she was, Aubrey couldn’t sleep. Sara, possibly picking up on her restlessness, woke up fussy at about midnight. Aubrey got her up, gave her a bottle of water, then walked with her. She walked the halls upstairs, then from room to room downstairs, and finally out the front door. The idea crossed her mind that she could jump in her car and drive off, but she dismissed it. Such impulsive behavior would only hurt her chances later of getting custody of Sara.
The night was beautiful—clear, a little cooler than it had been recently, with just a hint of breeze. Aubrey paced the huge front porch, then the driveway, then found a seat on the bench by the fountain, where she’d sat talking with Beau after the gas leak.
Her mind raced with turmoil. Would David and Wayne really take Sara away from her? She was as bonded to this child as Sara’s own mother had been. With Aubrey’s love and guidance, she was sure Sara could overcome her questionable birth parentage. Without it, who knew?
And that wasn’t all that troubled Aubrey. Her thoughts returned again and again to Beau. She tried to tell herself that of course he didn’t take any money. If he had, Cory would have ratted him out immediately. Right? Unless Lyle hadn’t told her that part. Maybe he considered her a suspect, in possible collusion with Beau, and his nicey-nicey act was part of some plot to get her to spill her guts.
Sh
e would feel a lot better if she could simply see Beau, talk to him. But he’d stayed away, a fact that didn’t bode well for his innocence—or for any future relationship they might have. It scared her to admit she would even consider a relationship. But it scared her more to think of a future without Beau, forever and ever without Beau.
Maybe she should tell him how she felt. Or she could talk to Lori Bettencourt, who might have some insight on how to handle the situation. Though she’d only spent a few minutes with the neophyte bounty hunter, Aubrey had felt an instant connection with her, as if the two of them could become friends.
But even as she considered revealing her newly discovered love, something inside her clamped down. She’d spent so many years hiding her feelings or masking them with animosity. The idea of leaving herself so vulnerable made her insides freeze up with fear. If he rejected her now, it would be so, so much worse. They’d connected on some intimate level that went beyond physical lovemaking, wonderful though that had been. The connection was real. But she had no idea whether it was anything Beau wanted to sustain. After all, he’d made it almost to thirty with no serious relationship.
But maybe love, real love, required some risk.
Sara was quiet now, asleep. The bottle and the walking had done the trick. Aubrey stood and headed up the steps to the front porch. As she reached for the door, a hand settled lightly on her shoulder.
She whirled around, instinctively covering the baby with both arms, a scream in her throat. Then she saw it was Beau.
“Damn it, Beau. Can’t you ever approach like a normal person?”
BEAU RECOILED slightly. This wasn’t the reception he’d been hoping for. God, she looked pretty in the soft light of the front porch, her hair loose and tousled from sleep, her nightshirt failing to disguise the intriguing shape of her breasts.
“The gates are open,” Aubrey continued. “You could have just driven down the driveway. What did you do, scale the fence instead?”
“I wasn’t sure I was welcome.”
“I’m not sure you are, either,” she said cautiously. “Where have you been? Why the disappearing act?”
“Rex got a call just when I caught up with him. He needed help with a takedown. He got hurt and needed to go to the hospital—just some stitches, nothing serious,” he added when her look changed to one of concern. “But I ended up processing our bail-jumper. And that can take hours.” It had taken a few more hours to work up the courage to return to the Clarendon mansion. Now that his professional services were no longer needed, he didn’t have a clue where he stood with Aubrey.
“Well, your absence was noted,” she said, a little more friendly now. “Lyle was sure you’d murdered Cory in the woods, nabbed the million dollars, and that you were en route to Venezuela.”
“Ah, hell, that just figures.”
She opened the door. “Come on inside,” she said, sounding almost resigned. “Everyone else is in bed. I’ll get us something to drink. Any particular reason you’re showing up now?”
“Isn’t it enough that I wanted to see you? And the kid? I just got a glimpse of her earlier. She’s okay, isn’t she?” As he followed Aubrey toward the kitchen, he studied the sleeping baby, whom Aubrey had propped on her shoulder. She looked fine, but Beau knew nothing about babies. He’d almost never been this close to such a small one.
“She’s fine.” Aubrey went to the huge, stainless-steel fridge and opened it, studying the contents. Then she turned back to Beau. “Would you like to hold her while I get our drinks?”
“Who, me?”
“Come on, it won’t kill you.” She held the sleeping child out to him. Reluctantly he took Sara, holding her at arm’s length for a few seconds, until he realized that wasn’t going to work. The baby was waking up, and she didn’t look happy about the change of sleeping arrangements. Her face crumpled and she let out a sob.
Tamping down panic, Beau cradled her against his chest, trying to mimic the way Aubrey had held her, but she didn’t stop fussing.
“Jiggle her a little bit,” Aubrey suggested. He got the distinct impression she was enjoying this, that she’d done it to make him uncomfortable.
He did as ordered, jiggling and rocking back and forth. Miraculously, the baby quieted. She relaxed and snuggled up against him. She felt kind of like a puppy, he realized, and he liked puppies, although he’d never admit that aloud. He continued to rock her, pacing around the huge kitchen. Sara’s eyes drooped, and soon she was asleep again.
Grinning, Aubrey poured out two huge glasses of cold milk and set them on the table. “I’ll take her back if you want,” she said, holding out her hands, no doubt figuring he’d jump at the chance to unload his burden.
“Not yet. I’m just getting the hang of this.” Beau felt this strange, alien creature inside himself—a creature that wanted to hold on to the baby. It felt…nice, holding a child, keeping it safe, making it feel secure. Was this why women wanted babies, why their biological clocks ticked? He’d never imagined he would have children, but he’d never seen the appeal before. Of course, the crying, spitting up and dirty diapers were a pretty high price to pay for a few moments of maternal bliss—or paternal, in his case.
After a few more moments he handed the baby back to Aubrey, hoping she didn’t notice his reluctance. If she did, she said nothing. She settled down in a chair at the kitchen table and drank her milk. Beau did the same.
“She’s exhausted from the ordeal, of course, but a little too wound up to sleep normally. And she’s been eating like crazy. God knows what that cretin was feeding her. Thank God he’s finally behind bars.”
That stopped Beau cold. “Cory?”
“You didn’t hear? The cops caught up with him a few hours ago. He was dumb enough to return to his apartment. He had a bite mark on his arm and the same kind of gun that our sniper had. Lyle seems to think they can make quite a case against him—and possibly tie him to Patti’s death, too.”
“That’s good news.”
“They didn’t find him in a white Firebird, though.” She paused, as if waiting for a reaction from him. When he said nothing else, she continued. “And he only had a small portion of the money with him.”
Suddenly, with a bolt of clarity, Beau saw what was going on here. He set down his half-full milk glass, so hard he sloshed a bit of the liquid over the side. “You think I took it.”
“No, of course not!” she said hotly. “It’s just an oddity that needs to be explained.”
“You think I caught Cory, took the money, left him just enough that he could start over someplace and made up some story about a white Firebird.” He could not believe this.
Aubrey’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Sara, perhaps sensing the tension, stirred and fretted.
“Does that story sound familiar?” he prodded her.
Finally she managed to find her voice. “Lyle thinks—”
“I don’t care what Lyle thinks. I care what Aubrey thinks.”
“Okay. Okay, it did cross my mind. But maybe I have a devious mind. And if you tell me it’s not true, that Cory got away clean, I’ll believe you.”
“I told you once exactly what happened,” he said, barely holding in his temper. It was a good thing she had a baby in her arms, or he’d have gotten right in her face, just to make sure he was perfectly clear. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know how many times I told you your brother pointed a gun at me, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t believe me then and you won’t believe me now.”
“But I want to believe you now.”
He raked his hands through his hair. This was so pointless. “You know why it took me so long to come back here tonight? Because I had to work my courage up. I wanted to find out if we had a chance, even a small chance, of making a go of it. Guess I would have done better to go out and get drunk. Obviously we’ve got nothing if you think I’m the kind of guy who would—”
He turned and stalked out of the kitchen.
“Beau,
wait. This came out all wrong,” she said, trotting behind him to keep up. “God, I’m not even sure I’d blame you if you did take the money. You certainly earned it.”
He couldn’t let that pass. He whirled around, almost running into her. “I don’t want your forgiveness for sins I didn’t commit. I want you to look me in the eye and know in your heart that I am not the kind of man who would shoot my best friend or let a murderous, kidnapping drug dealer go free for a few bucks. But when you look me in the eye, I see suspicion. And I can’t live with that, even if you can.”
He turned again and completed his escape.
Chapter Fourteen
“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.” Beau collapsed to the floor. He hadn’t done that in a while—a hundred push-ups. His arms burned, and his every pore rained sweat.
“Nice show,” Lori said from her desk, where she was working on some skip-traces at her computer. “What demons are chasing you?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea…” He stopped to gulp some water from a bottle. “…what you’re talking about.”
“Just that you only come in here and work out like a maniac when something’s bothering you. Damn, I hate this guy,” she muttered at the computer. “He’s got enough identities to start his own football team.”
Well, hell. Lori was pretty perceptive, but Beau already knew that. She was going to be a helluva bounty hunter when she got trained up a bit.
“Does it have to do with the Clarendon baby?” she asked. “Duh, of course,” she added before he could answer, thumping herself in the head with the heel of her hand. “What have you been working on nonstop for the last few days?”
“That’s it, all right,” he agreed. “It ticks me off I didn’t get the reward.” He’d tried to tell himself a thousand times over the past twenty-four hours that that’s what had him tied up in knots. He should have gone after Cory. He’d suspected the drug dealer was involved somehow with Patti’s death and Sara’s disappearance. But he couldn’t convince himself to stray too far or for too long from Aubrey. And that had probably cost him the reward.
