Hero in the Nick of Time

by Marie Ferrarella

  Lambert was on his feet the moment he saw them approach. The other man, Taylor, echoed his movement, smiling benevolently. The doctor’s smile was wider as he took her hand in both of his in welcome. “Mrs. Sinclair, you do look stunning.”

  And he looked like the big, bad wolf, about to eat a sacrificial lamb for dinner, Cade thought. In a move that was purely unconscious on his part, Cade closed a proprietary arm around Mac’s waist. The momentary feel of bare skin against his hand sent thoughts flying through his mind that had absolutely nothing to do with why they were here. But everything to do with his possessive reflex.

  “Stunned is more like it,” she confessed as the maitre d’ helped her with her chair. Her eyes never left Lambert’s face. “My head is still reeling. I had no idea that you would work so fast.”

  “Permit me to introduce Phillip Taylor.” The lawyer, somewhat younger-looking than Lambert, leaned over to first shake hands with Cade, then with Mac as Lambert made the necessary introductions. Folding his hands before him, he resumed his conversation with Mac. “Ordinarily, we don’t move nearly this quickly, but times have been hard on several of the young women I know. Since you are so eager to adopt, I thought I would just get the preliminary ball rolling.” The smile was meant to put them at their ease. He’d had many years of practice with skittish patients and he did his job, he liked to think, well. It was second nature to him. “Do you have any preferences?” He looked from husband to wife, knowing in most instances, it was the woman who made the decision. “Boy, girl? Infant, toddler?”

  “Or perhaps an older child?” Taylor interjected quietly.

  Cade looked at him with interest. It was a struggle to smother the loathing he felt and keep it from registering on his face. “You place older children?”

  “By older, I meant four, five, possibly six,” Taylor clarified. With two fingertips, he smoothed down a pencil-thin mustache that was iron gray and half a shade darker than his hair. He sighed, looking into his glass. “These are very difficult times for some people.” His eyes shifted to Mac. “A little like that opening line by Charles Dickens.”

  “ ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times’?” Mac suggested.

  He nodded. His eyes washed over her and lingered with proper approval. “That’s the one. Beautiful and intelligent.” Taylor raised his glass to Cade. “Some men have all the luck.”

  In a move that came all too naturally, Cade placed his hand over McKayla’s on the table. “Not all, but pretty close to it.”

  Lambert nodded knowingly. His smile was kind, understanding and sympathetic. “And by that you mean because you don’t have a son to carry on your name.”

  Even the simple words cut deep. He had to keep his feelings at bay. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a daughter.”

  Mac caught the look of pain that passed fleetingly over Cade’s face and covered for him quickly, drawing attention away. “My husband doesn’t have an ego problem. He’d much rather have a daughter than a son.”

  “And you, my dear?” Lambert pressed “What would you much rather have?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to say a single word that might tip either man off that they were anything but legitimately seeking a child to adopt. “I don’t care if it’s either.”

  “As long as it’s healthy—” Taylor began to parrot. He’d heard the phrase ad nauseum.

  “As long as I can share my heart with him or her,” Mac interjected.

  The two older men exchanged looks, two residents of an exclusive men’s club sharing a mutual confidence that needed no words. Mac mentally held her breath.

  Taylor spoke first. “You are a rare woman indeed, Mrs. Sinclair.”

  “Julia, please,” Mac corrected him, using her alias. The faster they got the men to feel completely in control and at ease, the faster this would progress.

  “Julia, then. Let’s eat, shall we?” Signaling an intermission to the discussion, Taylor opened his menu. He barely looked at the page. Mac had a feeling that he knew what was written there by heart. “And then we can discuss the particulars regarding the adoption.”

  Adrenaline shot through her as she watched the men calmly regard their menus. It was all she could do to keep from leaping over the table, wrapping her hands around Taylor’s thin throat and demanding to know where her niece was.

  And wouldn’t that play well? she mocked herself.

  So instead, with Cade beside her, emotionally holding her hand and acting as a calming influence, Mac went through the motions of ordering a very light meal. After having made love with Cade, she’d been famished. Now she had absolutely no appetite to speak of. There was only a huge knot in the pit of her stomach. A knot that wouldn’t allow her to eat.

  When it arrived, Mac picked at her food, trying valiantly to hold up her end of the small talk. It was a losing battle. All she could think of was Heather. Where was she? Was she all right? Was she frightened? Would they really find her, or was this all just a futile charade?

  Lambert looked reprovingly at her plate. “Why, Julia, you’re not eating. What sort of example will you set for your child if you don’t eat healthily?”

  “There’ll be plenty of opportunity to set a good example once I have a child.” She pasted a smile on her face, the nervous mother-to-be. Giving up, she retired her fork on a battlefield of once carefully arranged salad. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lambert. I feel as if we’re so close now.” A flush borne of suppressed anger, not embarrassment, crept over her cheeks. “It’s like the jitters you get as a child the night before Christmas—”

  “I understand perfectly,” Lambert said, appearing to enjoy his role as a benevolent granter of wishes. “Well, perhaps we should stop torturing you good people and let you take a look at this.” Without waiting for concurrence from his partner, Lambert produced a small collection of photographs from his pocket and placed them on the table in front of him.

  Cade noted the look of muted irritation on Taylor’s face. Had Lambert spoken out of turn or usurped his position?

  “What is that?” Cade asked.

  The wide hand lovingly stroked the pale blue cover. “Photographs of some of the children who need homes.” Lambert looked directly at Mac. “Children whose mothers cannot take care of them. Noble young women who want their children to have certain opportunities. Here, feel free to look.” With a small push, he moved the pictures toward Cade. “Look upon the face of your future child.”

  The doctor was getting carried away in his role, Cade thought as he looked at the photographs. Closeups taken with what looked to be a portrait camera.

  Heather’s face was among the camera shots. Cade could feel Mac tensing ever so slightly beside him. It was his turn to run interference. To divert attention away from her, he looked at some of the others, commenting on the faces as he looked, feeling his heart tighten in empathetic anguish at each new face.

  “You make it hard to pick just one,” he said, continuing to look.

  “I’d say take two—” Taylor laughed “—but they don’t come any cheaper that way, I’m afraid. For each child you see there, there is a mother who has expenses that need to be taken care of. In some cases, long, outstanding hospital bills—” He stopped abruptly as he saw the strange expression on Cade’s face. “Is something the matter, Mr. Sinclair?”

  Cade barely heard the question. His breath had stopped and there was a strange buzzing in his head. He was staring down at a little boy’s photograph.

  At Darin’s photograph.

  Chapter 13

  Mac had never actually seen a photograph of Darin Townsend, had no idea what Cade’s son looked like. But some inner instinct told her that the child’s face who was causing Cade to momentarily freeze had to be that of his own son. She knew it with a certainty that was unshakable.

  Her mind scrambling, she searched for a way to divert attention away from Cade until he got himself completely under control.

  The ladies’ room.

&
nbsp; Reaching for her clutch purse, she fanned herself with it as she let out a large breath. She flashed the two men an apologetic smile.

  “If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment, I’m afraid all this—” she indicated the opened album “—has made me very emotional. I need a moment to collect myself.” Rising to her feet, she told Cade, “I’ll be in the ladies’ room.”

  But it was Lambert who spoke instead of Cade. “Is there anything I can—”

  No, but you will, she silently promised him with a vengeance. Out loud, she was the portrait of geniality. “No, thank you. Just a little cold water on my neck and wrists should sufficiently revive me. I can’t tell you how excited this is making me.”

  With Mac making her way to the rest rooms, Lambert looked thoughtfully at Cade scrutinizing the photograph in front of him.

  Lambert smiled. The boy had been the start of it all. Ironic that his adoptive parents had suddenly decided to return him, saying they were not emotionally equipped to handle such a deeply saddened child.

  Despite that, Lambert bore a certain amount of affection for him.

  He tapped a well-manicured finger on the plastic surface covering the photograph. “I see you’re struck with Jeremy.”

  Cade looked up then. It all felt surreal. Lambert’s words, his own responses, everything. There was no other word for it except surreal.

  “Jeremy?” Cade echoed the strange name without comprehension.

  Was that what Darin answered to now? Jeremy? Cade forced himself not to look down at the photograph again, afraid that his pain would show through and give everything away.

  But if he thought anything was amiss, Lambert gave no indication. Instead, he turned the book around so that the photograph was right side up for him and looked down at it. He shook his head.

  “Yes, tragic the way the boy came to us. He and his parents were in a car accident. His parents never survived. The boy has no family to speak of, but I feel rather responsible for him. His mother was my receptionist,” he explained. “He’s exceedingly bright. You can tell by the eyes.”

  Anger warred with other, equally volatile emotions. For the first time in his life, Cade felt capable of extreme violence. Lambert was talking about his son as if he were nothing more than a pet, a puppy bred for certain qualities. Was that how the abducted children were chosen, for appealing qualities that made them easy to place, easy to be rid of?

  Cade struggled to keep his voice level, his tone friendly. “Where is Jeremy now?”

  “He’s staying with my wife and me.” Lambert turned the album around again so that Cade could view it easily, seeking to strike while the opportunity was there. He’d all but given up thinking of placing the boy; now there seemed a chance.

  “It’s a temporary arrangement that I must admit is beginning to take on permanent roots.” He toyed with his glass, but other than his initial sip, Lambert had left the contents untouched. He never drank when he negotiated. “I’m very fond of Jeremy, of course, but if someone were willing to give him a good home—the proper environment and that sort of thing, then I would feel as if my work was done.”

  You bastard. “What kind of money are we talking about?” Though Cade glanced at Taylor, it was Lambert’s eyes he looked directly into. He had a feeling that Lambert was the key person in this drama. “To get the adoption moving, I mean?”

  “For Jeremy?” Thin shoulders shrugged beneath an expertly tailored jacket. “Nominal, really.” He thought for a moment. “Standard court costs, lawyer’s fees. Perhaps a small reimbursement for having cared for Jeremy over the last year.”

  The mention of the time pulled Cade up short. “A year?”

  “That’s how long he’s been with us.”

  A year. Not three. But then, Lambert could be, and undoubtedly was, lying. There was no reason to think the man would be telling the truth about this.

  The boy in the photograph was not some fictional child named Jeremy, but Darin. Cade would have bet his soul on it.

  Like a sympathetic uncle, Lambert leaned forward and asked in a confidential tone, “Are you interested in adopting Jeremy, perhaps? I know that you said you and Julia wanted a daughter, but believe me, Jeremy is something special.”

  “Yes,” Cade said quietly, “I can see that he is.”

  He glanced toward Taylor again. For the most part, the man had been silent throughout the discussion, but the lawyer apparently was more interested in the contents of his glass than he was in the lives of the innocents who were being bandied about.

  As he began to say something to Lambert, Cade became aware that someone was standing just to his side. When he looked up, he saw the waiter hovering, waiting for a break in the conversation.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Sinclair?” When Cade nodded, the man continued. “There’s a phone call for you. I’m sorry, but our portable telephone is not working at the moment. But you can take the call at the reception desk.” He pointed toward the entrance.

  “I’m sorry. It’s probably something to do with work. I told them where I could be reached. They seem to work round the clock there.” Rising, Cade hoped that the nebulous excuse would suffice.

  “Think nothing of it. I’m accustomed to my work interrupting every phase of my life,” Lambert said, laughing as he waved Cade on.

  It had to be Redhawk calling, Cade thought as he picked up the receiver. No one else even knew he was here. He hadn’t gotten in touch with his own office since he and Mac had arrived.

  But when he got on the telephone, it was Mac’s voice he heard.

  “Are you all right?”

  Stunned, he scanned the immediate area. Was she using her cell phone? And where was their everpresent shadow during all this? He just assumed that the P.I. was somewhere close by.

  “McKayla? Why are you calling me?”

  She stood, watching his back from the recesses of the alcove that housed both rest rooms and the bank of three telephones between them. “I’m at the pay phones right behind you.” She saw him begin to look over his shoulder. That was the last thing she wanted if he was being watched. “No, don’t turn around, just keep looking toward the door. I wanted to get you away from the table before Lambert started asking questions. You turned as white as fresh oatmeal.” She paused for half a second, knowing that even hearing the question was going to hurt him. “Was that Darin in the album?”

  “I think so.” If he told her he was positive, she’d only think he was talking himself into it. There were a great many changes that occurred between three and six. But that had been Darin. He knew that as well as he knew his own name.

  The significance of his words hit Mac with force. How many other families had this scum with a fatherly smile torn apart? “Let’s get them.”

  “No, we’re going to play this out. If we spring the trap too soon, some of the other people involved might escape detection. Or worse, the records might be destroyed, and then we won’t be able to locate all the children that have been kidnapped in the name of the almighty dollar.”

  Mac moved closer to the wall, lowering her voice even more as a woman passed her on the way to the ladies’ room. “What makes you think there’re records?”

  Cade laughed shortly. “Easy. That kind always keeps records. Call it a sort of a self-glorification.” Chronicles for other people to see and be in awe of. In this case, it would be other, lesser members of the black-market ring.

  They’d both been away from the table for several minutes now. He didn’t want Lambert getting suspicious. “Why don’t you come back from the ladies’ room first, and then I’ll join them at the table?”

  “Okay.” She began to hang up, then stopped when she heard the sound of his voice coming from the receiver, calling her name. “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being concerned. For coming to save my tail.” He’d never had a woman do that before.

  “Anytime. And Cade?”
r />   “Yeah?”

  She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her. “We’re going to get through this.”

  They had no other choice. Anything else was unthinkable. “Right.”

  Cade set the receiver back in its cradle. Darin. He’d found Darin. After three barren years, during which it appeared as if his son had been swallowed up by the very earth, he had finally located Darin.

  He’d wanted this so badly for so long, it was almost impossible to believe he was finally on the right path.

  It took every fiber of his self-control not to follow through on his instincts and confront both men when he returned to the table. Confront them with the truth and demand to have his son returned before another breath was drawn.

  But he knew that nothing but denials would come of that. His hands tied, he continued with the charade he had already counseled Mac to keep up. It wasn’t just his son and her niece he had to think about. There were a lot of Darins and Heathers at stake here. It was a hell of a responsibility, and he knew he couldn’t afford the luxury of acting on his own feelings.

  But when this was over, when the names and locations of the other stolen children were found, he wanted to be closeted with Lambert and Taylor for just five minutes. Five minutes with them, his bare fists and raw emotions. To even the score for Darin and to pay them back, just a little, for what he’d gone through.

  “Sorry that took so long.” Cade slid back into his seat.

  Lambert waved the words away. “No need to apologize. A man’s work has to come first.” The genial smile took them both in, coming to rest on the closed album. “So, have you made your decision yet?”

  Cade exchanged glances with Mac. It was important not to arouse any undue suspicions. “We’d like to adopt the little girl.” He flipped the page over to Heather’s photograph. “This one.”

  He touched the page with the tip of his finger. He had a responsibility to Mac. She was his client and he was working this case to recover the eighteen-month-old little girl. Finding Darin was a bonus he meant to collect on once his duties were properly executed.