Protected (Jacobs Family Series Book 2)

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Who do you think provided everything in the nursery?”

  Travis stopped short, a look of confusion momentarily wiping out the expression of certainty he usually wore.

  Erin would have laughed if she wasn’t so furious at him. How dare he judge her life?

  “I meant to ask you about that. I wondered how you managed to put his room together so quickly.”

  “Not alone. I do have friends. Put that in your book. Write it down. Erin Jacobs has friends.” The tears were close again so she crossed her arms and bit her bottom lip. She felt childish but better.

  “Tell me their names, Erin.”

  “What?” Surely she had heard him wrong.

  “The names of the folks who helped you. The people who brought the things for Joshua. What are their names?”

  She stared at him for ten seconds, then twenty. When she was sure he wouldn’t rescue her by changing the question, she turned and walked out of the barn.

  Seventeen

  The body search had continued for three days.

  By the time the police left, Derrick had set a record for sober days. A record he intended to end as soon as Detective Carmichael got off his back.

  The man was intent on pinning Tara’s death on him, but Derrick hadn’t forced her on to the boat—the old guy in the berth next to his had been happy enough to testify to that. He also hadn’t pushed her off, at least not that he could remember. And why would he?

  He did care about his ex-wife. He loved her in his own way. She was simply too difficult to live with.

  “We are going to rule the death an accident, Mr. Pitcher.”

  “Well, it was an accident.”

  “But we retain the ability to re-open the investigation.” The man stepped closer, and fear tripped down Derrick’s spine. This fool had the ability to send him away, a place that Derrick had heard enough about. He had no intention of going to prison. He planned to spend the rest of his days out on the open water.

  “Should any additional information come to light, I’ll be back.”

  Derrick forced a smile. “I hope so. Losing Tara, well, it’s a terrible thing. If you find that it wasn’t an accident, then I’d like to see the person responsible—”

  “Save it, Pitcher.” Carmichael’s voice was soft but solid as an iron rail. “Save it for someone who believes you’re innocent.”

  Then he turned and walked away.

  Eighteen

  Travis and James took the stairs two at a time, waving at Angela but not stopping to chat.

  “The woman looks at you like she could eat you up with a spoon,” James ribbed him.

  “Don’t start with me.”

  “Kicking my butt around a racquetball court for an hour did not improve your attitude, bro. Maybe you should have eaten lunch instead of an energy bar.”

  Rather than answer, Travis slapped him on the back and continued around to his cubicle, then dropped his keys next to his shoulder bag.

  He spied what had been left face open across his keyboard. The growl he emitted caused James to pop his head up over the top of the partition.

  “Problem?”

  “Have you seen this?” Travis shook the paper clutched in his hand, feeling blood rush to his face and thrum in the veins at his temple.

  “Can’t say I have. Mostly carries local school news, obits, general small town stuff.”

  “He’s done it now—little acne-pocked shrimp of a boy.” Travis opened the paper and slapped it down on top of a stack of folders.

  “I warned Mr. Chance Stubber.” He spat the name as he snatched up his keys. “I told him this case was sealed, but no, he had to splash Erin’s picture across the front of his paper anyway. Because she’s a beautiful woman, because she’ll sell papers, he thinks he has a right. We’ll see who has rights.”

  He had pushed open the door to the stairwell when he heard Moring. “Williams, my office. Now.”

  The look on Director Moring’s face said her lunch wasn’t settling any better than Travis’s. Of course, she’d probably had lunch. She at least appeared calmer than Travis felt, meaning she didn’t resemble a wild bear.

  “He took the photo as we walked out of the initial hearing. I told him the case was closed and Miss Jacobs had no comment.”

  Moring’s right eyebrow shot up. “Was Miss Jacobs incapable of speaking for herself at the time?”

  Travis reached for his tie, adjusted the knot, and rephrased his explanation. “No, of course not. I merely suggested she might not want to speak with the papers since the judge had sealed the case. Erin agreed.”

  Moring studied the photo for a moment, then sat back in her chair and peered at him over her steepled fingers.

  “The photo, even the story, is not our problem.”

  “But their privacy is at stake, and Joshua’s anonymity—”

  She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Everyone already knows. I heard about it twice, and it hasn’t even been a week—once while I waited for my car to be serviced and once in the grocery checkout line. Word travels quickly. The Livingston Daily was merely reporting what everyone discussed over their back fence yesterday.”

  Travis glared at his boss, but held back any retort. He was starting to realize his initial course of action would feel great but solve nothing. Pummeling the adolescent reporter would only earn him a formal reprimand.

  “No, I didn’t call you in here to discuss the front page story. I was contacted this morning by the Methodist DeBakey Heart and Vascular Center.” She paused, stood, and walked around her desk. When she took the seat next to him, Travis had the irrational urge to check his cell phone, see if he’d somehow missed a call from his parents. Why was she speaking to him about the most reputable heart hospital in Austin?

  Sweat broke out on his brow.

  “They have an elderly patient there—a Mrs. Dorothy DeLoach.”

  “The name is familiar.” To Travis his voice sounded as if it were coming from the far end of a tunnel.

  “Mrs. DeLoach is from Huntsville, though she’s been in an assisted living facility in Austin for the last several years. She does, however, still follow the local news.” Moring reached out and tapped the newspaper on her desk. “When she saw this, she insisted the hospital staff contact us.”

  “Why? What… I don’t understand.” Travis stood, unable to contain his agitation.

  “Mrs. DeLoach believes Joshua is her great-grandson.”

  “How—”

  “Travis, sit down.”

  He walked back across the room and willed the thoughts stampeding through his brain to slow.

  “Until this morning, Mrs. DeLoach thought she had no living relatives. She’s eighty-six, by the way.”

  Travis told himself he had to remain objective, forced his heart to remember that Joshua belonged in the best possible environment—and that might be with his biological family.

  “Two days ago, her granddaughter, Tara DeLoach, was declared dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Lost at sea and presumed dead. It’s the reason Mrs. DeLoach is back in the hospital. She sounds like a tough woman, but understandably the shock took its toll. I spoke with her briefly, as well as the attending physician and the detective assigned to the case.”

  “How did the granddaughter die?”

  “Apparently a boating accident.”

  Travis stared at the carpet and tried to assimilate all the information Moring was throwing at him.

  “And no one has been looking for this baby?”

  “According to Detective Carmichael, there are some domestic issues, but they’re ruling Tara’s death an accident. I want you to take Joshua—and if possible Miss Jacobs—”

  “Jacobs?”

  Moring held up a hand, unaccustomed to being interrupted.

  “It’s a request, not an order. DeLoach is not petitioning for custody of Joshua, but she would like to meet Jacobs—”

  “That flies in the opposite direction of standard
protocol!” Jumping up, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “Would you please stop interrupting me? This is a unique situation. I realize customarily there is no contact between birth parents and foster parents; however, as I was saying, Mrs. DeLoach is not petitioning for custody. She wants to meet Miss Jacobs, and after speaking with her physician, I don’t believe she has long to live.”

  Moring stood and moved back behind her desk. “Should she decide to fight this, and she certainly has the financial means to do so, she could tie it up in court for many years. Take the baby to see her. Use your charm, if you have any, to persuade Jacobs to go with you. Go tonight if you can, but no later than tomorrow.”

  Travis tried to think of what to ask next, but came up blank. His world was rocked, and he could imagine what effect this news would have on Erin and Joshua. He had turned to go, when Moring called him back.

  “You’ve always been a good dresser, Travis. I assume you wear those ridiculous ties to put children at ease. DeLoach is old money, very traditional. See if you can borrow something a bit more… normal.”

  —

  Erin clutched Joshua as thunder rattled the windows and lightning split the night sky outside the hospital. Walking down the softly lit corridor, glancing at the framed oil paintings artfully placed along the walls, she had the tipsy feeling of walking through a dream. The Methodist hospital was certainly unlike any other facility she’d ever visited.

  Travis’s hand at her back kept her steady. Tonight he wore his court suit, but this time with a demure, midnight-blue tie. She glanced down at her burgundy blouse and calf length, denim skirt.

  “You look fine.” His eyes met hers as they stopped outside room 321. “Ready?”

  She nodded, and he knocked on the door.

  A surprisingly strong voice commanded them to enter.

  Erin doubted the story no matter how many times she replayed it in her head, but she couldn’t deny the way Mrs. DeLoach’s eyes shone with love when they landed on Joshua.

  Her skin faded to nearly the whiteness of the sheets. Dorothy DeLoach wore a rose- colored nightgown. Eyes sharp and bright blue—the exact color of the babe Erin held in her arms—peered out of a face wizened by a life’s worth of age lines. And though her hair was thin and wispy, it had been carefully combed.

  “Joshua DeLoach,” she proclaimed. “It is good to see you before I leave this life behind.”

  Her words held no bitterness. As she spoke, she patted the linen coverlet. “Bring him to me, please.”

  “Mrs. DeLoach. This is Erin Jacobs, and I’m Travis Williams.”

  “Yes, of course. The young caseworker Director Moring told me about. She didn’t mention you were so tall.”

  Erin moved closer to the bed, her heart tripping with the rhythm of the rain against the window. This woman had the ability to rip her world apart.

  “Stop trembling, child. I read about you in that paper. You’ve rescued alligators, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “If you’re brave enough to handle a beast with teeth powerful enough to rip your arm off, you can approach one very old lady.” She reached out, and Erin placed her sleeping baby into her arms.

  “He’s grown so since I saw him last.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but didn’t spill. “Joshua—you were named after your grandfather. Never forget that, dear one. I did not know what happened to you, but I believed God would watch over your soul and he has. He has little Joshua.”

  Erin sank into the chair beside the bed, no longer trusting her legs to hold her. Only Travis’s hand on her shoulder kept her from flying apart.

  When thunder again rattled the windows, Joshua squirmed, opened his eyes, and peered at his great-grandmother.

  “I will see Tara soon, and I will give her your love.” Now the tears did fall, trailing down her weathered cheeks. She made no move to brush them away, neither did she apologize for them. Instead she sat there, quietly weeping, as Joshua reached up and touched her with his tiny fingers.

  Travis retrieved the box of Kleenex from her bed stand, and Erin pulled a bottle from the diaper bag at the same moment Joshua’s first cry joined the music of the storm outside.

  “Would you like to feed him?”

  “You take him, dear. It’s been over thirty years since these hands have fed a baby. Tara was the last in fact.”

  “Can you tell us about Tara, Mrs. DeLoach?” Travis perched on the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “If you feel well enough to talk about this.”

  “At my age, it’s important to talk about things while you still can.” The old woman peered out the hospital window, out at the lights of the Capitol dome. “Tara was, is, my granddaughter. I say is because even though she no longer exists in this life, she continues in the next.”

  “What happened?” Travis leaned forward as Erin settled Joshua into her arms and resisted the urge to clap her hands over her ears.

  “Tara grew up with her parents in Livingston.”

  “Did she go to school there?” Erin asked. “I feel like I should know her, but the name… it’s not ringing a bell.”

  “Probably because at school she went by her first name—Abigail.”

  “Your granddaughter is Abigail DeLoach?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think my sister knew her. They didn’t really run in the same circles, but I’m pretty sure they shared a few classes. Once… one time she came over to our house. We’d rescued an owl, and she wanted to see it. That’s why… why her voice was familiar.”

  “And also explains why she contacted you. Tara never would have left her child with someone she didn’t trust.” Mrs. DeLoach plucked at the cover. “My granddaughter married badly. She was convinced life had passed her by. Her parents had died, and she thought she was alone—but she wasn’t.” She slapped the coverlet for emphasis. “When a nice looking man came along, gave her attention, she fell for him. Without learning anything of his past.”

  Joshua cooed as he sucked greedily on the bottle.

  “But I checked Derrick Pitcher out, and I didn’t like what I found—a few petty charges dropped, bad associates, blank spots in his history. More than that, he was a little too interested in my fortune. Money had never been an issue between us before…”

  Erin met Travis’s gaze and waited for Mrs. DeLoach to continue, caught in the web of her story.

  “Your money became an issue?” Travis asked gently.

  “After she married Pitcher? Oh, yes. The first year he blew through Tara’s annual allowance in two months. She made excuses. The second year I issued an ultimatum, but she chose her foolish dreams over family—family! I always knew she’d come back.” Her lips began to quiver. She raised her head higher, and Erin had a glimpse of the proud woman she once was. “And she did—three times.”

  “With Joshua?” Erin asked.

  “Not the first time a little over a year ago. She’d been married to Pitcher for nearly five years. With no children to inherit her fortune, and no yearly allowance, the man had begun to show his true colors.”

  “Infidelity?” Travis’s voice took on its edge. Both women glanced at him.

  Mrs. DeLoach only scoffed. “Yes, and worse. Oh, Tara never told on him. Heaven knows why she’d still protect the man. The second visit was four months ago. She was quite pregnant by then, with dark circles under her eyes. That’s when I started working on little things for the baby—like the blanket with his name.”

  Erin flinched at the mention of the blanket, another puzzle piece slipping into place.

  “So Pitcher is Joshua’s father?”

  “Not according to him. In fact, he divorced her when he found out she was pregnant. Claimed it wasn’t his child, and I talked her out of paternity testing. The fewer ties between my grandchild and that man the better. It was the one time she listened to me. Their divorce was final before Joshua was born. Seems he didn’t want to be inconvenienced by a child. Tara wore hope like a cloak she’d bought a
t Macy’s though. She thought when he saw the baby he’d change his mind.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Oh, no. Wouldn’t even look at him when she took Joshua over there. So she moved back to Austin and found an apartment close to downtown.”

  “You said she visited you three times.”

  “The last time was two weeks ago.” Suddenly, she looked her full eighty-six years—tired and more than a little sad. “There was something wrong, something worse than usual. She wouldn’t tell me what, except to say Pitcher had contacted her. He needed money, which was normal. She was nervous, very protective of the baby.”

  Mrs. DeLoach raised her eyes to Travis’s, then sought out Erin’s and reached out a trembling hand to her. “I sensed a desperation in her. I told her we could handle Pitcher. I reminded Tara she could always depend on her family and her roots.”

  Her voice grew feeble as her strength wilted. She seemed to fade into her pillow though she never took her eyes off Joshua. “Those are the two things you can trust—your kin and the place you come from. She told me she loved me, but I knew that. Never doubted it. Families love each other, take care of each other, no matter what.”

  “You didn’t see her again?” Travis asked.

  “I didn’t, but I will. One glorious day I will.”

  Nineteen

  Travis visited the ARK again six days later. He found Evelyn England caring for Joshua while Erin was at the Huntsville State Park.

  “Alligator made its way on to the interstate where a car spotted it. She went to retrieve the poor thing and put it back in the lake.”

  Travis felt all his blood drain to his toes.

  Evelyn shook her head and actually wagged a finger at him. “You knew she rescued more than cats and dogs.”

  “I read the article in the paper, but I thought the alligator part was journalistic exaggeration. Is that safe?”

  “Wouldn’t be for you or me.”