They made their way out of the reception center. Garrett stayed low, practically in a crouch, and Lexie positioned herself the same way. All the screaming and shouting was coming from a small group of people who had gathered at the far end of the courtyard.
"Police, nobody move," Garrett shouted out as they approached the group.
No one appeared armed, and none of the five people seemed to be on the verge of attacking. Instead, one of the terrified-looking women stepped aside and pointed to a thick row of sage bushes and Mexican heather. Huge oaks towered over the shrubs, making that particular section dark and a little eerie.
It got a lot eerier.
Because the woman pointed to a figure lying on the ground. A man crumpled in a heap, facedown.
And there was blood.
He'd been stabbed in the chest, and the bright red stain had spread across the front of his crisp white dress shirt.
But even with the blood and the awkward position of the body, Lexie had no trouble recognizing him.
Dr. Andrew Darnell was dead.
Chapter Fifteen
The dream caused Garrett to wake up, and not peacefully. His eyes opened with a jolt that he felt throughout his body. It was a dream of bullets and death and failure.
His failure.
He hadn't been able to stop anything, including Lexie being hurt.
He snapped his head toward her and found her sleeping beside him. She had no injuries like the ones in his dream. She was safe.
For now.
Because although it had only been a dream, Garrett knew that in reality, Lexie could have been hurt when they'd been waiting for Dr. Darnell. It could have been her lying dead on the ground. He wanted to promise himself that she wouldn't be in harm's way again, but it was a promise he couldn't make. Or keep. Lexie and he were in this together, danger and all, and he couldn't exclude her any more than she could exclude him.
He checked the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly 6:00 a.m. Being in bed at that hour hardly constituted sleeping in, but it was for them, considering the enormous task ahead of them. Still, Lexie and he needed sleep. They'd been functioning on pure adrenaline and willpower for way too long. A tired mind certainly wasn't going to help either of them.
So, exhausted from the police interrogation and Darnell's murder, they'd collapsed into the bed at the safe house around midnight. Both were still wearing their street clothes. They hadn't taken the time for pj's, and because exhaustion had cooled the passion, he hadn't slept on the sofa after all. It was simply too much of an effort to locate bedding.
Lexie made a sound, a soft moan, drawing Garrett's attention to her. And she reached out. For what, exactly, he didn't know. But he made himself available. Knowing it was a mistake and not caring, he pulled her into his arms.
"Garrett," she whispered, her voice warm with sleep.
She lifted her arms, first one and then the other, and slid them around his neck. She leaned in and kissed him. He kissed her, too.
Yeah, that was another mistake. So was the way he deepened the kiss with his tongue when she responded with one of those breathy moans that rumbled low in her throat. The moan continued until she pulled back.
"I'm sorry." She groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "I got caught up in my dream."
Well, he'd gotten caught up in the aftermath. "It must have been some dream."
"It was about you."
And judging from the sultry way she said it, her dream hadn't been about bullets and dying. "That's not a good thing to say to a man in your bed."
She looked him straight in the eye. "It wasn't adrenaline sex."
Garrett was having a little trouble following this conversation. "What wasn't? In the dream?"
"No. On the coffee table. I remember the attraction before that." She paused. Smiled. Grimaced. "I keep reminding myself that your lieutenant will punish you if you get involved with me again."
That was true. But there was another truth. "We're already involved."
She nodded. "Because of our child."
Maybe that was it. Lexie's bottom line for their involvement. Maybe it was his bottom line, too. Maybe their child and passion were all there was for her.
"Still, the dream was…hot," she added.
Garrett didn't intend to question her about it. Though judging from the slight smile that lifted the corner of her mouth, Lexie couldn't get it off her mind. Then the smile faded.
"Do you ever just want to forget, if only for a few minutes?" she asked. "Just for an instant, do you want to pretend that everything is all right? That our baby is over there in that bassinet?"
He wasn't sure where she was going with this, until she whispered, "I just want to forget for a few minutes, okay? I want to get lost in that dream with you."
And she kissed him again.
Garrett thought about resisting. He even tried. But she was right. Their kiss could make things feel better, if only for a short while. It was a much needed reprieve. With a high price, of course. However, at the moment all Garrett could think of was that she tasted even better than she looked, and that she was the best reprieve he'd ever been given.
Then things just spiraled out of control. It was as if a big neon sign were flashing in his head: Kiss Her, Kiss Her, Kiss Her.
So he did.
He placed one hand on her chin and slid the other around the back of her neck. He snapped her to him. Against him. Pressing hard. He kissed her as if she were the breath he needed in order to stay alive. As if this would be the last kiss either of them would ever experience.
She did her part. While his mouth devoured hers, she tightened the grip she had on him. He tightened his as well. He took and tasted and savored her, until he knew that kissing wasn't going to be enough. It only fueled the heat.
Touching made it worse.
Lexie started it, placing her hand on his chest. Specifically, her fingers circled his right nipple. It really didn't matter what part of him she clutched—he was one big erogenous zone.
Garrett released her chin so he could slide his hand between their bodies and touch her breast. She made a sound of pleasure and attacked his mouth.
Unfortunately, that deep, hot contact, coupled with the touching, caused another neon sign to start flashing in his head, a warning. Lexie might want sex, but she might not be physically ready for it.
Plus, he didn't have a condom.
"What's wrong?" she asked as his hand froze. So did the rest of his body.
"We can't have unprotected sex," he said with some difficulty. "And I don't have a condom."
She groaned, cursed, groaned again, and buried her face against his neck. Not good. It was a highly sensitive area for him, especially with her warm breath fanning his skin.
"Mercy. I don't think I've ever wanted something this much. You," she corrected. "I want you, and no amount of denying it will help. This wasn't a diversion. This was acting out a fantasy."
Oh, man. This was torture. Pure torture. And he knew it couldn't get any better. Well, not for him, anyway. But he could sure do something about Lexie.
Garrett turned, shifting her as well so that her back was against the headboard. She reached for him, in the right place. Or rather, the wrong place. She reached to pull his body against hers.
He kissed her and gathered up her hands. "We can't do that, but I can take the edge off."
She stared at him a moment. "I can take the edge off for you, too," she offered.
Oh, that was tempting. "Better not. One of us needs to stay sane."
"I can stay sane." Since her eyes were already unfocused, he knew that wasn't true.
"No. You can't." Well, she wouldn't if he did this right. And Garrett intended to do it right. They'd been dancing around this for days. Heck, since the moment they'd met. Maybe it was the fatigue or the spent adrenaline, but he didn't want to dance around it this morning.
"Besides," he said, to remind himself more than to remind her. "You might not be ready
for sex."
"I'm ready."
And to prove her point, she angled her hips so that her sex touched his. His eyes crossed. Since he couldn't possibly stay sane with her doing that, he eased back and occupied her mind with something else.
He unbuttoned her shirt, dipped his head down and kissed her cleavage. She was small. Firm. Perfect. And she responded by trying to make his eyes cross again. Garrett dodged her touch and did some touching of his own. He didn't stop the kisses on her breasts as he unzipped her jeans and slid his right hand across her stomach.
Then lower.
Past the waist of her jeans and into her panties. Such as they were. A swatch of silky fabric.
He touched her, easing his fingers over her skin. Lower. Easing his fingers inside her. She made a sound—the most erotic sound he'd ever heard. And he wanted to hear it again, so he continued touching her. Stroking her. Until Lexie was moving in rhythm against his fingers.
"You, too," she said, groping for his zipper again.
He stopped her by pressing his hand over hers. She added some pressure that made him question if he'd really be able to do this without turning it into full-blown sex.
But Garrett knew he could.
This was the right thing to do.
It helped that Lexie stopped struggling when he increased the strokes with his fingers. He stayed gentle. Well, as gentle as she would allow. She added pressure, increased the friction by pushing against him.
Her scent surrounded him. He took her mouth, wanting to feel and taste her. She was close. So close. Her body trembling. Her breath gusting. Her hips moving at a pace as old as time.
He felt her shiver against his fingers. He deepened the kiss. Deepened the pressure. He slid his body between her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around him. Pushing. Pressing. Taking.
"Yes," she said.
And she shattered.
She latched on to him, taking everything he was giving her. Everything. The tension left her body, and she collapsed against him.
"Give me a second," she mumbled through the rough gusts of breath.
"For what?" Garrett was doing some heavy breathing of his own.
Lexie moistened her lips, kissed him. "I can take the edge off for you, too."
He didn't doubt that. In fact, as locked and loaded as he was, one touch should do it. But they weren't going there. Because he didn't think this taking-the-edge-off stuff would last long. If he got naked, and if Lexie started touching him, he wasn't sure he had enough willpower to resist her.
Garrett kissed her gently. And not as foreplay.
Lexie obviously had no trouble interpreting that kiss. "This isn't fair to you."
"It is fair. Trust me, I had fun."
"Not as much as I did," she grumbled.
Since he was still in major discomfort and was testing the strength of the fabric of his boxers and his jeans, he didn't smile right away. But Lexie's smile coaxed his to life.
"I owe you," she said. And she went back for another round of kissing. Real kissing. With her tongue.
The doorbell rang. The sound shot through him, and for a second, he felt like a kid who'd just been caught stealing cookies. Not exactly a bad metaphor. That guilty-pleasure feeling was quickly replaced by another. This could be a visit by someone who had information about the baby.
Or it could be someone who wanted them dead.
On his feet in an instant, Garrett grabbed his shoulder holster and hurried to the door. He looked out the peephole and spotted a man outside. Garrett recognized him. It was a fellow cop.
"I have something for you," the officer stated when Garrett opened the door. He handed Garrett two huge cardboard boxes stacked one on top of the other. Both were stuffed with manila folders.
"The P.I. you hired managed to locate these. We copied a set for the lead investigator and for Lieutenant O'Malley, but we thought it'd go faster if you went through them as well. Your brother said to remind you that we can't use the files to charge anyone with anything. Not officially, anyway. But you might be able to get some leads."
Garrett glanced at the files, and when he realized what they held, he thanked the officer and practically slammed the door in his face.
Garrett looked over his shoulder. He knew Lexie would be there, and she was.
"What is it?" she asked, her palm flattened over her heart.
"Dr. Darnell's adoption records."
Garrett didn't have to add that their daughter's file was likely in his hands.
* * *
LEXIE DIDN'T DARE get her hopes up, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that this might be the miracle they'd been looking for.
Garrett deposited the boxes on the coffee table. Neither of them wasted any time. She grabbed some files; he did the same.
After thumbing through several, Lexie learned that some contained scanned photos of the babies. Others were filled with handwritten notes of delivery times and adoptive parent info. They also contained the names of the birth mothers, but she figured those were likely to be bogus. After all, Darnell wouldn't have wanted a way for the mothers to prove that he'd stolen their children.
"There are dozens," Garrett mumbled. "And there are probably a lot more than this. God, how many lives did this man ruin?"
"Too many."
Theirs included. Because even when they found their child—and they would—they couldn't get back those weeks they'd lost. And Lexie would never forget the trauma this man had caused them. Never. It was too bad he was dead. She would have preferred him to be rotting in a jail cell. Besides, if he'd been alive, they possibly could have gotten the info from him.
The first four files were for infant boys, so she put those aside and continued going through the stack. The next was a girl, but she'd been born nearly three months earlier. Still, Darnell could have doctored the dates, so Lexie took a closer look. The baby looked like any other newborn, and Lexie didn't recognize anything distinctive. Not that she would. After all, she'd never seen her daughter's face.
Garrett and she continued the hunt. Sitting side by side on the sofa, each took a folder, thumbed through and then put it aside when the facts didn't match. With each file she discarded, Lexie could feel her hopes fading.
Until she got to the sixteenth folder.
There was a photo and sketchy details, and though some of those details weren't a precise match, it was the first one that seemed a real possibility.
"This could be her," Lexie said after she cleared her throat. "Though the dates don't match."
She passed the folder to Garrett, or rather tried to, but he didn't take it. Instead, he stared at it a moment, stood and yanked his wallet from his pocket. Almost frantically, he thumbed through some old photos, then held one out for her to see. It was a picture of two boys, one about six years old, the other about four. In the older boy's arms was a newborn—obviously, a girl, since she was wrapped in a pink blanket.
Garrett placed the photo on the table. "The baby is my sister, Katelyn." He placed the open file next to it and pointed to the picture of the adopted baby. "That's our daughter."
Lexie's heart began to race out of control. The rush of blood didn't help her breathing, and she suddenly felt light-headed. She picked up both the photo and the file and compared them.
There was a strong resemblance.
Too strong for it to be a coincidence.
She flipped through the pages in the file. There wasn't much. "Baby Dearman" had been born June 1st. The actual date Lexie had given birth was June 15th, but it was close enough. The child had weighed seven pounds, one ounce and was twenty inches long. Lexie had no idea if that information was correct.
"She's in perfect health," Garrett said, pointing to the doctor's notes. "No birth defects."
Lexie and he each gave a hearty sigh of relief.
The birth mother was listed as Alice Dearman, but other than the bogus name, the age and physical description fit Lexie to a tee.
"This is our child."
Garrett pulled Lexie into his arms for a celebratory hug. It only lasted a few seconds because both of them were anxious to see what else was in that file.
"The blood type matches mine," Garrett informed her. "We even have her footprint here so we can make a positive ID. We won't have to wait for DNA tests to make sure we have the right baby."
She could feel the excitement emanating from him, but her own chilled when they reached the last page. Lexie scanned through it twice, to make sure.
It felt as if someone were squeezing a fist around her heart.
Baby Dearman had already been scheduled for adoption. Her soon-to-be adoptive parents were identified only with the initials S.R. and M.R.
"Hell." Garrett swore.
And Lexie swore right along with him.
Because the adoption was scheduled for the following day.
A mere twenty-four hours from now, their baby would be handed over to a new family. If they didn't stop it.
That wasn't the worst part.
S.R. and M.R. were U.S. citizens, but they were abroad. They lived in an unspecified city in Egypt. Where the child would be flown.
Sweet heaven. If she went, it might take years of diplomatic red tape to get her back.
If ever.
That if ever chilled Lexie to the bone. It might already be too late. Her child could already be on a plane headed to the Middle East.
"Look." Garrett tapped the bottom of the page, drawing her attention there.
The man who'd authorized the adoption was none other than Darnell's attorney, Irving Kent.
"We're going after him," Garrett said. "Now."
Chapter Sixteen
Garrett hit the brakes of their rental car in front of Irving Kent's restored Victorian house. The attorney was home. Or he had been just five minutes earlier. They'd used their old ploy. Pretending to be a telemarketer, Lexie had phoned the residence, and Kent had answered.
"Now what?" she asked.
Sitting in the seat beside him, she was well past being tense. She was armed, ready and riled. Garrett wasn't sure he'd be able to hold her back. Heck, he wasn't sure he could hold himself back. The man responsible for their little girl's disappearance was in that house.
The Cradle Files Page 12
