by Milly Taiden
“Have the police been to the house? Are they watching?”
Cindy shook her head. “Not that we’ve seen. We can't be sure though.”
Hope nodded. “And how is my mother?”
“Weak. Tired. She keeps calling for you. “
Nerves throbbed in her veins as Hope glanced at the clock, then sighed through her teeth. “We have nearly an hour. I don't think I can wait that long.”
Cindy debated silently a moment before nodding. “Let's go then. I'll drive slow, and we'll only be about twenty minutes early.”
There were several cars parked in front of her parents’ house. She recognized her father's and her aunt's. The moment they parked on the street in front of the house, anxiety began to clench in her stomach. Hope swallowed several times to rid herself of the nausea she was feeling.
Her cousin Robert came out to greet them, shaking her hand formally in a show of introduction, just in case they were being watched. She went inside and was bombarded by her aunt and her father, both of them hugging and kissing her.
Hope smiled, but quickly pushed her way to the bedroom where she knew her mother must be. There, propped up with pillows and surrounded by several thick blankets, lay her mom. The once strong, vital and gentle woman looked like someone had simply sucked the life from her. Hope suddenly knew that she must have had some role in doing this to her mother. A sob tore through her lips.
“Oh, baby,” Mrs. Sheffield murmured hoarsely, raising her bone-like hand. “Come hug me.”
They embraced, and Hope smiled and wiped the tears from the woman’s pale face. “I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me.”
“You thought I wouldn't know my own daughter?”
“I don't exactly look the same as I did before I left.”
“No, you're even more beautiful.”
Hope held a lock of her hair out in front of her. “You like it black?”
“I don't mean your hair, baby. I mean your face. You're glowing— just as an expectant mother should. I'm so happy for you.” She patted Hope's stomach. “I'm only sorry I won't see it born.”
“Don't say that, Mom. You’re going to be fine. You just need to be strong.”
Mrs. Sheffield shook her head. “Yes, I know. I’ll be strong, and now that I’ve seen you and I know you’re all right, I feel like I could dance a jig. What I mean is you can’t stay here. You have to leave. Go back to the baby and Brennan.” She laughed, and then fell into a fit of coughing before continuing. “I was so—surprised when I heard you married him. You always said you would, but I just never believed you. You do look happy though and—” She coughed again.
Hope reached for some water and held the glass to her mother's lips. Mrs. Sheffield drank, and then fell back against her pillow with a content sigh. Her cheeks were blooming with color now, which was a marked improvement from just the moment when Hope first arrived.
“I mean it, Hope. You have to go.”
With a deep sigh, Hope nodded. “Can I at least have an hour to catch up? I promise I’ll go, but I haven’t seen you and Daddy and Aunt Carol in so long.”
By the time Hope finished catching up, about two and half hours had passed. Her mother was asleep, but with each moment Hope was there, her looks improved. Cindy, nervous and fidgety, insisted it was time for them to go. Long tearful hugs were exchanged between all of the family, and Hope gave her mother a longing look before heading for the front door.
“Dad, will she be all right?”
Her father patted her cheek and smiled. “She needed to know you were all right. I think she’ll be fine now. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Cindy and Hope were quiet on the drive back to the Terrance residence. As they approached the house, Hope turned to give her friend a smile.
“Thank you for going to all of this trouble. I appreciate so much what you and Mark have done for me. And for my family.”
“You would have done it for us.” The woman laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “We’re glad to do it. Why don’t you and I have some sandwiches before you get on the road again?”
“Sandwiches sound good. It’s a long drive back, but I miss Michelle and Bren already,” Hope said as she vacated the car, glancing at the gray sky behind the house where the sun was just beginning to set.
“Hope Sheffield.” A very deep male voice spoke from behind her. Both women gasped together and turned to see a large middle-aged man approach via the driveway. “Are you Hope Sheffield?”
She couldn’t speak. Her tongue felt lodged in her throat and an icy cold tingle burst along her limbs. Afraid she might collapse, she reached a hand out for the car to steady herself.
“Who are you?” Cindy came around to stand in front of her as if to protect her. Hope could still say nothing as her vision tunneled. All she could see was this man before her in a dark suit, his gray eyebrows drawn together in a severe look.
A moment passed. “He’s a cop, Cindy. Aren’t you?”
She thought she might have seen a flicker of sympathy in his eyes before he nodded and reached back under his jacket for his handcuffs.
“Hope Sheffield, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Michelle Taggert.”
***
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Mark thought Brennan was probably going to pace a hole in the floor of the game room in Arrington Manor. The man couldn’t sit still for anything. His uncle and cousin had done everything to coax him into a game, to eat, anything to relax. It just wasn’t happening.
Watching the man with hawk’s eyes, Mark was impressed. Even with Hope’s letters insisting that Brennan Rawley was different, he still couldn’t believe it. He supposed he didn’t want to believe it, caring for Hope as much as he himself did. He had dried her tears when the prick had hurt her time and again. He had helped her move on when the guy did the only decent thing in his life and left her alone to get over him.
“Hmmm—” Mark muttered to himself. He supposed this entire adventure meant it wasn’t the only decent thing in the man’s life.
“You say something?” Sir Rawley queried, looking up at him from his Scrabble game.
“No.” Mark shook his head, pushing himself from his position holding up the near wall. “I guess I could probably play a game though.”
“Indeed.”
The pudgy little woman named Meg began divvying the tiles out. The room remained silent except for the padding of Bren’s shoes on the carpet. The baby was asleep in her playpen on the opposite side of the room. The boys, Jareth and Jenson, were playing video games with headphones on so as not to disturb the adults.
Mark found the entire setting somewhat ironic. Hope had a good family at home. She and her parents had dinner together most Sundays. Her Aunt Carol was her shopping partner, and the ladies liked to hit the mall every few weeks, sometimes with Cindy in tow.
All he could do while Hope was on the run was worry about her safety and lament all that she was leaving behind, presumably forever.
Yet somehow, in this crazy situation, she had found a husband and a new family. A family that was worried about her in just the same way her family back home had worried and agonized all of this time.
Michelle stirred and raised her head, whimpering and looking around with dazed eyes.
“Someone’s awake.” Meg said, smiling and laughing a bit. Mark could hear the nervousness behind the sound as she tried to break the tension in the room. He watched Brennan stop and look over at the baby, waking from his sullen reverie. He forced a grin and hurried to pick the little girl up and kiss her forehead.
“I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” he cooed to her, his voice soft and adoring. “Let’s see about getting you some chow.”
“You’re first.” Sir Rawley nudged him, drawing his attention from Brennan’s exit. “Play your word.”
The four of them made small talk while they laid their tiles. Children's intuition told the two boys that the anxiety in the room was settling, so they removed
their headphones and started badgering each other over their games.
Mark felt his cell phone vibrate first, and he dug it out of his pocket by the time the first ring sounded. All eyes turned to him as he answered his wife’s call.
“Hey, darling.”
“They’ve got her, Mark. They just arrested Hope.”
***
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A few hours had passed between the time the officer arrested Hope at the Terrance house and their arrival at the police station. A swarm of cops descended on the place, questioning Cindy for a while, but apparently Mark’s wife held her own because they didn’t spend much time on her.
Now Officer Guillory pushed Hope into an interrogation room, then left her, closing the door behind him. She sat there, crossed her arms in front of her, and stared at the gray wall. Fear was coursing through her veins as she waited to find out what would happen to her. By the time the officer came back into the room, she was trembling.
He dropped a tape recorder onto the table and sat down in front of her. “Do you want legal counsel, Miss Sheffield?” he asked.
Hope shook her head.
Officer Guillory nodded and began setting up the microphone in front of her. “I'm going to ask you some questions then—”
The door opened, and Guillory looked up, his expression one of annoyance. “I'm conducting an interrogation here.”
“I know that.” The man spoke as if he were greater than everyone and anyone. “I’m her lawyer, Audrick Van Buren.”
Hope looked up in confusion at the tall, dark man, then understanding dawned as she tilted her head and saw Kay standing behind him. She murmured the woman's name, but Kay only gave her an apathetic glance as she handed the lawyer his briefcase.
“I trust I’ll be allowed a moment with my client?” Mr. Van Buren asked, then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down and began mulling through the papers in his briefcase.
Officer Guillory looked to each of the three of them, then sighed and left the room. As soon as he had closed the door behind him, Kay dropped her veil of distance and took hold of Hope's shoulder.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Hope nodded. “How did you know? How could you get here so quickly?”
“Brennan called us—” She stopped when Van Buren raised a hand. He stood, rounded the table and pressed a button on the recorder. Hope realized the officer had left it on, probably on purpose.
“Go ahead, dear,” Van Buren told Kay, and she smiled like a love-struck teenager before returning her eyes to Hope.
“He called us just after you left New Durma and asked me to get Van down here as soon as I could, just in case. We left on the first flight we could get.”
“Thank you, Kay. I didn't think—well, you were the last person I expected to see.”
“You're a part of the family now, Hope. It is my duty to help you.”
“Thank you, again. Kay, I want you to tell Brennan to file the marriage certificate and go. I gave Mark strict instruction, and he knows what to tell Brennan to do. Make sure he does it. Mr. Van Buren, now what?”
“They'll question you. Want to know where Michelle is. Are you going to tell them?” Kay asked.
“No, I can't. She's the reason I'm in this position. Her safety means everything to me. Besides, I don’t know where she is anyway. “
“There will be a hearing to set a trial date and bail. I'll push for the hearing as soon as possible,” Van told her.
“Yes, I want to get all of this over with.”
Audrick looked at her critically. “Kay told me your story. I have to be honest; because you won't give the baby's location, it is unlikely we can get you out on bail. I’ll do my best.”
“Mr. Van Buren, I want you to be totally honest with me. Without me giving up Michelle, there's no way this will ever be resolved, will it?”
The man stared at her a moment, then looked at Kay who nodded her head. “Honestly? It is highly unlikely. Their main priority will be to save the baby. I will, however, do my best.”
Van and Kay began to discuss things between themselves, and Hope slipped off into her own world. Michelle had to be kept safe. That was all that mattered. Wouldn't she be safe as long as she was not given into the care of her family?
“I want to see the judge,” Hope blurted suddenly, captivating the couple with her determined voice.
“A judge?” Kay questioned.
“Yes, whoever will be presiding over this case. I want to talk to him— or her.”
“Why?” Van asked as he carefully set down a set of papers.
“I won't bring her back until I can be sure she won't be returned to her grandparents. I have to be assured of her safety.”
“Do you think he would hurt her even if she is only with him a short time? She is just a baby—”
Hope was shaking her head furiously. “The thought of her anywhere near that man makes me sick.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, I—”
Officer Guillory knocked before entering the room then, eying them all carefully. “Are you finished yet? I need to question her.”
“I don't think so.” Van stood. “I have advised my client not to answer any of your questions at this time.”
Hope simply stared at him, not answering. Officer Guillory sighed heavily, grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. He quickly cuffed her hands behind her back and began to lead her from the room.
“We'll let you know, Hope.” Kay called, betraying the cool exterior she had been trying to maintain in the presence of the office. Hope smiled and nodded, completely trusting.
“It seems your feelings toward her have changed,” Van commented, staring down at her with love.
“Good deduction, counselor.” Kay grinned. “She's too sweet and innocent to be a real criminal. God, I hope they treat her well, Van. She—”
“Don't worry,” he grinned roguishly. “I have friends here, too.”
*
After Guillory handed Hope off to another officer for booking, he returned to Van Buren and his assistant before they could leave. He placed his hand on the door frame and watched them a moment.
Before speaking, he closed the door to give them privacy. “I want you to know I gave Ms. Sheffield every consideration before I brought her in.”
The assistant started forward, a furious look on her face, but Mr. Van Buren placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I appreciate that, Officer Guillory.”
“I could have picked her up the moment she got back into town, but I allowed her the time with her mother.”
“That was very good of you,” Van Buren acknowledged, inclining his head, and he slid his briefcase from the table and approached the door, prepared to push his way past the office.
“If she’ll tell us where the baby is, I can help her. I’ve got to get that kid back.”
Van Buren stared him down, unresponsive.
Guillory stared back, trying the “cold, dead look.” It didn’t seem to have an effect on the attorney.
“I’m gonna trust you here, Van Buren. You get the kid back here, okay?”
Still no answer, but a flicker of something in the big man’s eyes. Feeling comfortable with his decision to trust the man, he continued.
“Here,” Guillory handed him a business card and felt a little twisting pain in the center of his back. He would get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out about this, but he was only about seven days from retirement. Regulations be damned, he told himself.
“A private investigator?” the attorney said, a black eyebrow arching high in question.
“When Justine Taggart objected to her parents’ custody of her daughter, she said her sister could corroborate her story. Her sister was never located, and Justine was considered just a lying prostitute.”
“You think a PI can find her?” the woman asked, pressing forward to look at the card in her attorney’s hand.
Van Buren l
aughed, tucking the card in his pocket. “I’d wager a bet that Johnny Pollard has already found her.”
Guillory shrugged, cocked his head then left the room.
***
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Hope's cell was livable. It was not at all what she had expected when she had thought of being incarcerated. Somehow roaches, rats, and enormous biker women had always entered her mind. It was small, but not overly dirty, and she was the only occupant. The bed's mattress was a thin, lumpy quilt-like material, but she was doing very little sleeping anyway, so that didn’t matter.
Tomorrow she would meet with the judge, and she had asked Kay to bring her something nice to wear from her parents’ home. She hoped her old clothes would still fit her. She hadn't packed much as this was supposed to be a short trip.
When the doors down the hall clicked as they were unlocked, she stood, thinking it would surely be Kay. Instead she was surprised to see a man in dark clothes. When he turned, she smiled, tears in her eyes. It was her pastor, Father Andrew Bertaut. He was holding a satchel in his hands, and he smiled as he reached out and handed it to her through the bars of her cell.
Hope sat down on her bed as they let the priest inside, and she opened the bag to find one of her suits.
“How are you, Hope?” Father Bertaut asked, his voice gentle and soft, like a whisper.
“I feel much better just with you here. Did Kay send you?”
“When she went to speak with your father and to pick up your things, your mother thought to ask if you had seen a priest.”
“Goodness, I'm not on my deathbed, Father.”
He smiled and nodded in agreement. “I thought perhaps you might need some support,” he admitted.
“I do. Did they tell you I meet the judge tomorrow?” He nodded again. “I'm so nervous. I don't want to ruin things, but Van said I should just tell the truth. I just—what if I say the wrong thing?”
