by Rita Herron
“If the little girl is yours,” Slade said in a low voice, “then you can easily prove it by giving us a DNA sample.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Dennis snarled. “Now leave before I call the police and file harassment charges.”
Slade returned his stare with a cool mask. “We’ll leave for now. But your decision not to cooperate only makes you look guilty.”
“I’m protecting my family and well within my rights,” Dennis said. “Now get out before I throw you out myself.”
NINA BACKED AWAY AT the rage in Dennis Lucas’s eyes.
Diane placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “I’ll walk them to the door, Dennis. Stay here, have a beer and watch Tiff.”
He stared at them for another long moment. “You don’t need a P.I., you need a shrink, Miss Nash. Go see one, and don’t bother us again.”
Slade started to speak, but Nina took his arm. “Let’s go, Slade.”
The men continued the silent stare-off for another second, then Slade conceded with a nod. “If I find out you’re lying about any of this,” he said, “I’ll be back.”
Nina tugged him through the sunroom door, then Diane guided them back into the kitchen. But she stopped and picked up a hairbrush, then gave Nina a sympathetic look.
“This brush belongs to Tiff. Take your DNA and you’ll see that Tiff is not Nina’s child.”
Nina gasped in surprise. “Why are you helping us?”
Diane squeezed Nina’s arm. “Because I’m a mother, and if it will put your mind to rest, then I understand. I never approved of the way my mother and brother treated you.”
Tears burned the back of Nina’s eyes. “I…don’t know what to say.” She glanced at Slade, thinking they didn’t need to take the sample.
But Slade plucked a couple of hair strands from the brush and dropped them into a small envelope he had inside his jacket before she could respond, then Diane escorted them to the front door.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Diane said.
Nina thanked her again, moved by her understanding and compassion.
She and Slade walked back to his SUV in silence, but as soon as she settled in the passenger seat, she spoke. “I don’t think Diane had anything to do with Peyton’s disappearance.”
“You’re too trusting, Nina.”
She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Not really. But she seemed genuine, and she did offer up the DNA.”
Slade started the engine, and pulled out into the subdivision and headed back toward Sanctuary. “Still, her husband’s reaction made me wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“Even if Tiff is theirs, he might know something. Mrs. Hood could have asked for his help in doctoring paperwork or arranging for an adoption.”
Nina leaned her head against the headrest. “And if Peyton was adopted, the records are probably sealed, so I may never know where she is.”
Slade covered her hand with his. “If Lucas was complicit, I’ll force him to talk. Finding out which adoption agency, especially if it’s a private agency, and the name of the lawyer who handled the adoption, would be a lead.”
Nina’s emotions bounced between hope and despair. “That is, if they used a lawyer. For all we know, Mrs. Hood paid someone to steal Peyton and take her away. She might not even be in the country.” Nina’s throat clogged with fear. She’d tried not to let her imagination travel that route, but she had to face reality.
Slade’s closed look confirmed she could be right. This investigation might only lead them to a certain point, and then the trail could turn cold.
She closed her eyes, willing her courage to return. But suddenly Slade cursed, and yanked the SUV sideways.
She jerked her eyes open, and saw a car racing up too close behind them.
“What’s wrong?” Nina asked.
“That car nearly hit us a minute ago.”
They were approaching a bridge over a bypass, and suddenly the car roared closer again, and this time sped up and passed them.
“Dammit,” Slade muttered as he hit the brakes to avoid slamming into it. But instead of slowing, his car accelerated.
He pumped the brakes, tightening his fingers around the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. But the SUV flipped up on two wheels, tires squealing.
“Slade—”
“Hold on, the brakes aren’t working!”
An oncoming car blared its horn when he crossed the line, and Slade jerked the car to the right, skimming the guardrail.
Sparks flew, the sound of metal scrunching rent the air, then the SUV slammed into the side and spun out of control.
Nina screamed and Slade cursed as they careened over the side of the bridge, hit the pavement below and began to roll.
Chapter Twelve
Slade’s chest pounded as the car spun upside down and skidded toward another vehicle. Metal screeched. Glass shattered. The air bags exploded, popping him in the face and chest, and the front of the car was crunched so tight, he couldn’t move his legs.
Dammit. He needed to get them out.
He glanced sideways to see if Nina was all right, but she wasn’t moving.
“Nina, honey, are you okay?” He struggled to find her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Nina, talk to me. Are you all right?”
Fear seized him when she didn’t respond.
He dug in his pocket, found his Swiss army knife, flipped it open and ripped at his air bag, then hers until he could see her face. She looked so pale that sweat beaded on his skin. A scrape marred one cheek, and blood dotted her forehead. “Nina, baby, you have to talk to me.”
But she still didn’t respond.
Frantically he felt for his phone, but before he could punch 9-1-1, a siren wailed, and he realized someone else had called in the accident.
Or had it been an accident? His brakes had completely failed….
Nina moaned, and he angled his upper body sideways. His legs were trapped, his right knee throbbing, but at least he could feel them, so that was a good sign. He gently stroked her cheek.
“Nina, wake up, honey. We’ve been in an accident.”
Slowly she opened her eyes, but they looked glazed and disoriented.
“We crashed,” Slade said. “But I hear sirens, so an ambulance will be here soon. Where are you hurt?”
She frowned, lifted a scraped hand and pushed the tangled hair from her face. “What?”
“Are you in pain?”
Her brows furrowed, and she shifted slightly.
“Stay still,” he said. “Wait until the medics check you out.”
“My legs…” she whispered, panic lighting her face. “I can’t move them.”
TERROR SEIZED NINA. Her head was aching, but she couldn’t feel her legs. “Slade, I can’t move…”
“Shh, don’t panic. The front end of the car is crunched,” he said. “The rescue workers will have to cut us out.”
Outside, sirens screeched, the fire truck roared to a stop, footsteps pounded on the asphalt and voices shouted.
Slade glanced up to see a firefighter and policeman kneeling and looking through his shattered window. “Are you two hurt?”
“We’re trapped,” Slade said.
The men exchanged concerned looks. “The ambulance is on its way.”
Slade pulled Nina’s hand in his and squeezed it between both of his. “Hang in there, Nina.”
She clung to his hand, desperately holding on to her composure while she heard the men outside shouting orders. Noises sounded, more voices yelling. The ambulance arrived, the rescue workers manipulating the Jaws of Life, and someone shouted that a news crew had arrived.
The next hour blurred as the firemen worked to release them. Metal scraped, machinery ground and sawed through metal, jarring the car and her aching head and body.
Slade cradled her hand against his chest, kissed her palms and stroked her face, talking to her the entire time the firemen worked. His gruff voice helped calm her, and
finally she heard voices murmuring they almost had them out.
Her breathing hitched as the metal gave way, and her legs were freed. Numbness had crept in, but pinpoints of pain stabbed her as feeling began to return.
“Nina?” Slade asked.
She massaged her leg with her hands. “My ankle hurts.”
A small smile tilted his mouth. “That’s actually good news.”
Relief poured through her, but the medics insisted she shouldn’t move.
“We have to board you until we transport you to the hospital and the doctors check you out.”
She nodded, sucking in a sharp breath and closing her eyes as they secured her neck and body on the board and carried her to the ambulance. A camera flashed in her face, a half-dozen people scrambling around, and she tried to see Slade, but lost him in the commotion.
More voices drifted through the haze.
“My name is Sheriff Driscill,” a male voice said. “What happened?”
“My brakes failed,” Slade said. “Examine the SUV and see if they were tampered with.”
Nina gripped the sides of the stretcher. Was it possible someone had tried to kill them?
FURY ROLLED THROUGH SLADE. He wanted to know why the hell his brakes had failed and, if there was foul play, who was responsible.
They both could have died.
Maybe that had been the plan….
“Why do you suspect foul play?” the sheriff asked.
“I’m a private investigator,” Slade explained. “And I’ve been working a case.”
Sheriff Driscill scratched his head. “What case?”
Slade explained about the investigation.
Driscill made some notes in a pad he pulled from his pocket. “I’ll have a crime unit take a look.”
Slade thanked him. “I’d like to ride to the hospital with Nina.”
The sheriff took Slade’s business card, then Slade joined the medics. His knee was throbbing, and he had a cut on his arm he’d let them take care of when they arrived at the hospital, but he had to make sure Nina was all right.
She opened her eyes when he climbed in the back of the ambulance, and he perched on the stretcher across from her and cradled her hand in his.
“Slade?”
Dammit, he hated to see her beautiful face bruised. “Are you in pain?”
“My ankle and head hurt, but I’m okay.” She licked her lips. “What about you?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
Her breathing hitched. “You said the brakes failed?”
He clenched his jaw. “Yes.”
“You think they were tampered with?”
“I’d bet my life on it,” Slade said bitterly. “And if whoever did this thought they’d scare me away or kill us, the only thing they did was piss me off.”
She smiled, although she winced in pain, and he squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be all right, Nina,” he said softly. “Just rest. I’ll take care of everything.”
Protective instincts pulsed through him. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, remind himself that they were both alive.
He wanted to strangle the son of a bitch who’d tried to kill them.
The siren began to wail, the ambulance roared away and he vowed to get vengeance and find Nina’s little girl.
THE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR hours became a fog of blurred memories in Nina’s mind. The doctors and nurses treated her cuts and abrasions, wrapped her ankle, which thankfully wasn’t broken but sprained, took X-rays, an MRI and a CAT scan and decided she was lucky.
But every bone in her body ached. And nightmares of careening off that bridge filled her restless sleep.
Other times, she saw Peyton standing a few feet away, so close she could almost touch her, but each time she reached out her fingers, her little girl slipped away.
She woke with tears on her cheeks, her chest hurting.
Slade sat beside her, looking rugged and angry, his clothes tattered from the accident, and a bruise discoloring his scarred cheek. But he’d stayed with her all night around the clock, and even exhausted, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in a gruff voice.
She pushed her hair from her face, wincing as she attempted to sit up. He yanked another pillow from the closet and eased it behind her back.
“Thanks.” Glancing down, she realized the hospital gown had slipped off her shoulder, and she adjusted it, feeling naked and vulnerable.
“You didn’t have to stay,” she said.
His frown deepened. “The sheriff called. The brake lines to my SUV were definitely cut.”
A small gasp escaped her. “So someone intentionally caused us to crash.”
He nodded. “That means we must be getting close, that we’ve got someone worried.”
“So you think Peyton might be alive?”
He was so quiet she didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, when he did, his tone was flat. “I don’t know. But obviously someone knows what happened to her and doesn’t want us to uncover the truth.”
SLADE’S CELL PHONE buzzed, and he flipped the phone open. “Blackburn.”
“This is Roan Waldorp, Mr. Blackburn. I want you to leave my family alone.”
Slade frowned. “I’m conducting an investigation into a missing child, Mr. Waldorp, so I’m questioning everyone connected to the hospital fire eight years ago.”
“I know exactly what you’re doing. My wife suffered enough trauma back then, and I won’t allow you to come to our home and upset her by implying that we did anything illegal.”
“Mr. Waldorp,” Slade cut in. “Who arranged for you to adopt that little girl?”
“That’s none of your business. My wife and I lost a child, then were lucky enough to adopt another one. A perfect little girl and she’s ours, so leave us alone.”
He slammed down the phone, and Slade gritted his teeth. A perfect family. One the man didn’t want disturbed.
“What was that about?” Nina asked.
“Waldorp warned me to stay out of his life.”
Nina sucked in a harsh breath, and Slade punched in the number for GAI. While Nina had slept, he’d phoned to inform him of the accident—and the brakes being tampered with.
“Gage, it’s Slade again.”
“How’s Nina?”
“Awake now, and feeling better, I think. But Waldorp was pissed that we’d questioned his wife about their adopted daughter. Can you ask Ben or Derrick to check into that adoption?”
“Sure. As a matter of fact, Derrick said that Brianna arranged a meeting with one of the social workers from the state adoption agency.”
“I’ll be there. Anything else?”
Gage made a sound of frustration. “I checked out the Hood family’s alibis for the night of the fire. Two of William’s buddies confirmed he was in a bar with them that night until midnight.”
“His buddies could be lying for him.”
“It’s possible,” Gage conceded. “Mrs. Hood’s alibi holds up, as well. I found an article about the society party she attended, and phoned three of the people in attendance. They all corroborated her story.”
“But she could have hired someone to kidnap the baby and paid for the adoption.”
“True. But we have no proof yet.”
“How about William’s wife, Mitzi?”
“According to her father, she was home all night.”
Like a father wouldn’t lie to protect his daughter.
Another voice echoed in the room, and Gage paused, then spoke a second later. “Ben wants to talk to you about something he found.” Gage transferred the call, and a second later, Camp’s voice echoed over the line.
“Blackburn, I’ve been checking into Nash and the Hood family, digging up old phone records. It might not be anything, but Mr. Nash made several phone calls to a lawyer in Sanctuary in the weeks before and after Nina gave birth.”
Slade’s suspicions rose. “Calls that could have
indicated he was arranging an adoption?”
“That’s what I was thinking. Do you want me to talk to the lawyer?”
“No, thanks. I’ll pay him a visit. What’s his name?”
“Stanford Mansfield.” Camp paused, and Slade heard him pop his knuckles. “Blackburn, this is interesting, too. Mansfield’s father and Nina’s father attended college together. They also belong to the same Rotary club.”
Slade stewed over the connection. A coincidence maybe, but if the men were friends, they might have exchanged favors.
“Check out his financials around that time period,” Slade said. “See if Nash made any large withdrawals.”
“I’m on it.”
“Thanks. Good work.” Slade disconnected the call and saw Nina watching him. She looked tired and pale, the bruises on her cheeks and arms more pronounced in the daylight.
“What’s going on?”
Slade swallowed hard. He had to tell Nina the truth—he’d promised her he would, no matter what he learned.
But how could he tell her that her father might have arranged for an adoption behind her back? That he might be responsible for taking away her child?
NINA NOTICED THE SUBTLE tension lining Slade’s jaw. Something was wrong.
“Slade?”
He shifted. “I need to go question a lawyer named Stanford Mansfield.”
Nina sensed he was avoiding her gaze. “What does he have to do with this?”
Slade hesitated. “There were several phone calls between him and your father around the time Peyton went missing.”
“You think my father paid this lawyer to arrange for an adoption behind my back?”
Slade’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know, Nina. I’m just following the leads. That’s why I want to talk to Mansfield.”
She threw off the covers, searching for her clothes. “Let me get dressed. I’m going with you.” But pain sliced through her ankle, and she winced and gripped the bed to keep from falling.
Slade caught her in one arm. “Whoa, you aren’t going anywhere. You need to rest.”
