The Cop's Missing Child

by Karen Whiddon

  And what little boy didn’t need a father?

  Turning around various possibilities, she punched her pillow and tried to will herself back to sleep. She didn’t need this now. But what she needed and what she wanted, however, were two different things.

  Mac Riordan had shown her how to desire again. Being with him had made her appreciate her femininity and reminded her of all the ways a male companion and lover could enrich her life.

  But she knew better than anyone how this sort of sweet, sharp happiness could turn and plunge a knife into one’s chest. Did she want to risk such pain, letting herself care about this man she barely knew?

  * * *

  After leaving Emily’s, Mac headed home, showered and got ready to face the day. He stopped in a Patty’s Coffee Shop and snagged breakfast and several cups of piping hot coffee. The food helped with the unsettled feeling roiling inside him.

  Then as he’d done for years, he shoved his personal problems on the back burner and focused on his jobs.

  After checking on his trucking business and wishing his former dispatcher, Chris Pitts, had been a real employee, he headed downtown to the hospital. He wanted to talk to Renee. This case, at least to him, had suddenly grown incredibly complicated.

  With this latest wrinkle, was the stalker after diamonds, and if so, why the phone call from someone who, mistakenly or otherwise, believed he or she was Ryan’s biological parent? With Carlos’s former mistress and goon arriving in town together, Mac knew he needed to enlist help. He needed to talk to Renee first, and then he wanted to phone his buddy Joe back in Albany. He really hoped Renee could call in some outside law enforcement agency, maybe even the Feds.

  Arriving at the hospital early that Saturday morning, he headed up to Renee’s room, hoping she’d be awake and able to talk.

  She sat up in her hospital bed, evidently having just finished breakfast.

  “You got a minute?” he asked, stopping just inside her doorway.

  “Sure.” She dropped her fork and motioned to one of the visitor’s chairs. Flashing him an amused smile, she shook her head. “Ed called and filled me in on everything. I’m glad we’ve got the shooter and her accomplice in custody. Nothing much is going to happen with that until Monday when Judge Carrodine goes back to work.”

  He nodded. “I know. I wanted a minute of your time.”

  “Sure.” Leaning forward, she focused her direct gaze on him. “What’s up?” With her short hair and larger-than-life bravado, she could have looked masculine but didn’t. Instead, her shorn locks framed her heart-shaped face, emphasizing her femininity rather than detracting from it.

  Mac had begun to consider her a friend. “About the Gilley case. Things are escalating. Not only does the stalker seem to think he or she is Ryan’s birth parent but we’ve got two individuals in town who are part of Emily’s past. They claim to be looking for some valuable jewelry. On top of that, we still don’t know if any of these people tried to grab Ryan. I’m worried this person will try again.” He took a deep breath. “I think Emily and Ryan are in danger.”

  Renee leaned forward. “Even with those two in custody?”

  “Even so. Because I’m not a hundred percent convinced they are behind all this.”

  “Seriously? Crossing her arms and ignoring her bulky shoulder bandages, Renee frowned at him. “Who else could it be? If they really think Emily has their diamonds, maybe they wanted to grab the kid for insurance. You know as well as I do that holding him for ransom would be a viable way to get what they clearly think his mother has stolen.”

  “Too obvious. Neither one of them has even mentioned Ryan. But the caller did. This person—whoever he or she is—seems to think Emily stole his or her baby. They aren’t happy with my involvement with her.”

  Expression thoughtful, Renee considered his words. “I don’t know. Who are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure. Even though Tim Keeslar is supposedly out of town, I’d really like to talk to him. Because the stalker appears to be upping the intensity. I’m afraid he or she is going to make a move soon.”

  She’d gone utterly still. “How can I assist?”

  Carefully, he spoke. “If you have any contacts inside the FBI that could help, that would be great. I’m gonna call Joe and get him working on this, as well. I still need information on the adoption.”

  “I agree. Because, unless Carlos Cavell stole this baby directly out of a hospital, there have to be records somewhere.”

  He held his breath, watching her to see if she knew she’d just stated what he believed to be the truth behind Ryan’s appearance in Emily’s life.

  Continuing, she appeared oblivious. “I’ll see what I can find out,” Renee promised. “I should be out of here by lunchtime today, according to the doctor. I’ll go directly to the office and get to work.”

  “While I appreciate that, I think you’d better rest.” Mac patted her hand. “You just got shot, remember?”

  “I wouldn’t even call it that,” she said, her mouth twisting wryly. “The bullet just grazed me. I’m fine. As soon as they discharge me, I can go back to my normal life.”

  Mac managed a smile and a nod. Grabbing his car keys, he turned to go. Next up, he’d call Joe and get him to start working on the case. Joe had contacts inside the FBI who could really come in handy.

  Letting himself out, he got in his car and pulled out his cell.

  Joe picked up on the first ring, as though he’d been expecting the call. “Hey, buddy.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Quickly he outlined the situation.

  When he’d finished, Joe whistled. “I had no idea things were heating up so much down there.”

  “Will you see what you can find out about Franco DiSorinne and a woman named Desiree Smith?”

  “Is that her real last name?”

  “It’s what’s on her ID.”

  “Okay. Will do. I’ll be back in touch as soon as I find out something.”

  Hanging up, Mac allowed himself a slight smile. Joe always had his back, even though he now was two thousand miles away.

  Satisfied he’d done everything he could for now, he shifted the cruiser into Drive and headed home. He’d spend a few minutes working on the trucking business before driving out to Emily’s that afternoon to check on her.

  * * *

  Finally going back to sleep, Emily didn’t get up for a few more hours, glad it was Saturday. When she woke, she wasn’t too surprised to find herself missing Mac. Her body felt pleasantly sore from their lovemaking the night before.

  Still, she was glad he’d left—especially since she had an inquisitive son who would be sure to ask a lot of questions that she wasn’t ready to answer.

  Stretching lazily, she showered and then headed into the kitchen. She brewed herself a pot of coffee, heavily doctored it with cream and artificial sweetener and drank a cup while gazing out the back window.

  Fear no longer ruled her life, she realized. For the first time she could remember, she actually felt anticipation and hope for the future. She felt strong and capable and ready to deal with anything. It’d been nice to know so many people in her new hometown had her back.

  Especially Mac. Smiling, she shook her head. Baby steps, baby steps... She’d deal with her burgeoning feelings for him as they came.

  When Ryan finally woke up around nine, she made blueberry pancakes, letting him eat them in front of the TV while he watched his cartoons, something he only got to do on Saturday mornings.

  Pouring herself her second cup of coffee, she wandered out onto the patio. The bright blue, cloudless skies promised a hot day, but at this time of the morning, the outside temperature hovered in the low 80s.

  Watching a squirrel raid one of the bird feeders, she took a seat in her favorite rocking chair, the one she’d bought from a display outside of a restaurant. She’d purchased the chair because it represented the kind of home she’d never had. It was one of the few possessions she’d brought with her to Texas. When
she’d married Carlos, she’d hoped they could build that kind of home, but it hadn’t worked out. So now, she and Ryan were working on making it on their own.

  And now she was thinking of Mac. Again, images of him intruded into her world.

  Last night had been...fabulous. She stretched her body, aching in an unfamiliar yet recognizable way. Though the last thing she’d intended was to get involved with anyone, she couldn’t deny their connection.

  Thinking about more coffee, she wandered back inside. Still watching cartoons, Ryan glanced up at her and smiled. The sight of his freckled face filled her with joy. She collected his plate and took it into the kitchen to wash up.

  She filled that morning with mundane tasks, trying not to think about the stalker, the two people currently being held by the sheriff’s office or about Mac. She sorted laundry, started the wash, dusted and vacuumed, taking comfort in the ordinary domestic chores.

  Outside, she heard the distinctive sound of the postal truck delivering the mail.

  Walking out to get it, when she opened her mailbox, Emily frowned. Stuffed inside, along with the usual catalogs and bills, was a special delivery envelope addressed to her.

  Seeing it, she froze. Since she hadn’t ordered anything, she could only think it had been placed there by her stalker rather than the mail carrier.

  Immediately, she called Mac.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he told her, his deep voice sending warmth through her suddenly cold body. “I’m on the other side of town. Don’t touch anything, okay? As a matter of fact, wait for me inside your house.”

  Agreeing, she hurried back inside, locking the dead bolt behind her.

  Mac arrived in less than seven minutes, which meant he must have driven as fast as he could without using lights and sirens. He jumped out of the car, looking reassuringly big, his muscular shoulders straining the fabric of his shirt. As he strode up her sidewalk, his massive, purposeful presence quickened her pulse against all reason. Again, she flashed back to the night before, and her body flushed all over.

  Chiding herself, she opened her door and met him halfway. It took every ounce of self-possession she had to keep from throwing herself into his arms.

  Damn. She had it worse than she’d thought.

  As he gazed at her, standing so close she could feel his body heat, she knew he was thinking about it, too. Her instinctive response to this realization was so powerful that she shivered and moved away.

  She cleared her throat and tried to focus her scattered thoughts. “It’s in the mailbox,” she told him, her voice husky.

  He nodded, his nearness still overwhelming. “Wait here,” he ordered, his voice as rusty as hers had been.

  Of course she couldn’t. Hurrying along after him, she stood back a respectful distance while he opened the metal box and peered inside.

  First he extracted her regular mail, handing the letters and catalogs and flyers to her. Then, working carefully, he removed the padded envelope marked Priority.

  “So far, there’s nothing to worry about. This came through the postal service,” he told her, showing her the stamps. “The postmark shows it originated in Dallas. The postmark is smudged, but it looks like it was mailed yesterday or the day before. There’s no return address.”

  She nodded. Raising her eyes, she found him watching her, the heat of his gaze making her sway toward him.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked softly, the intensity in his voice palpable. “I can take it with me and open it in the sheriff’s office, or we can cut it open right here, right now.”

  She forced a smile, aware she fooled neither of them. “I have to see what’s inside.”

  Nodding, he pulled the precut tab. As he scanned the contents, his face shut down. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, he passed her the papers.

  Instead of a note, there were photographs. Printed on an inkjet printer, the poor quality attested to inferior paper. Each and every one of them was of an infant, clearly in a hospital bassinet.

  Gazing at them, at first she didn’t comprehend. Then, when she did, she didn’t understand. “These are...Ryan. At birth. Before I adopted him, I’m guessing.”

  “Yes.” His voice, choked and raw, mirrored her emotions.

  Disoriented, she looked up, trying to process not only this but Mac’s reaction. Expression shuttered, he looked like a man in pain.

  The photos proved that this stalker was truly her worst fear come to life. “Ryan’s actual birth parent, someone who might not have willingly given him up.” Just thinking of what that meant shattered her.

  “Emily...” Mac reached for her, hand on her shoulder, his gentle touch oddly comforting.

  “They mean to try and get him back, to take him away from me.” Her fear and misery felt like a heavy weight pressing on her chest. “I can’t let them do that. He’s my son, my baby. He’ll be lost without me. And I...”

  Unable to finish the sentence, she bowed her head, the hot ache in her throat threatening to overwhelm her.

  With a muffled curse, he pulled her close, wrapping her in his strong arms. Grateful, she let him hold her. The suffocating sensation that had begun to tighten her throat eased somewhat.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he said placing a light kiss on her forehead before holding her at arm’s length. “We need to talk. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  Folding her arms around herself as if the gesture could bring some warmth, she waited.

  A muscle worked in his jaw. His eyes were tortured. She didn’t understand why, but he seemed to be struggling with some sort of awful pain. “Though I don’t recognize those pictures, I’m guessing they were taken right after Ryan was born, in the NICU.”

  Helpless, she nodded, willing him to continue.

  “First off, you don’t have to worry about Ryan’s mother coming to try and reclaim him.” The harshness of his voice spoke of great emotion, though she could read nothing in his shuttered gaze.

  “How do you know this?”

  Swallowing hard, he appeared to struggle to speak. “Because I believe Ryan’s mother—” his voice cracked, despair darkening his features “—was my wife, Sarah. She died in a car accident on the same day he was born.”

  At first, she didn’t comprehend. Then, ice spreading through her veins as she stared at him with dawning horror, she gasped. “That means you’re—”

  “Ryan’s biological father.”

  Chapter 10

  Emily felt sick. Raw emotion overwhelmed her. Backing away, she stumbled, nearly going to her knees. Terror shot through her, fear laced with fury. “Get away from me.”

  “Wait.” He moved toward her, regret and longing warring in his eyes. Expression grim, he reached out as though to grab her. Somehow, she evaded him, rushing away from him, from the man she’d believed was her friend but who’d turned out instead to be her darkest enemy. She couldn’t bear the sight of him.

  “Get the hell away from me. You’d better leave, right now—before I call the police.”

  Since he was, in essence, the police, he didn’t comment. Instead, he kept coming, his broad shoulders heaving as he tried to breath. “Listen to me. Please. I’m not your stalker. I swear to you I’m not. I don’t know who that is.”

  “Then who are you?” she cried, despair and anguish twisting her insides.

  “A man who’s spent the past five years searching for his son.” He let out a long, audible breath. “You have no idea what that’s like.”

  She stared at him and she struggled with her confusion. Feeling as if the sky had turned to ice, then shattered and began crushing her, she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Regret flickered in his gaze. “I believe Ryan is my son. Five years ago, my wife was in a car wreck, and he was born prematurely.” He cleared his throat, apparently trying to find the right words. “She died delivering him, and while I was burying her, my baby was stolen from the hospital.”

  Perplexed
, she made a choked, desperate sound. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but what are your reasons for thinking Ryan is that child? If I remember right, your baby was born in an Albany hospital. I lived in Manhattan when I adopted Ryan.”

  “I haven’t figured out all the details,” he admitted, lifting his chin.

  She no longer cared. “This is ridiculous. How dare you come here with this pile of—”

  “It’s true,” he insisted.

  Straightening her spin, she looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry you had such an awful thing happen to you, but you’re mistaken about Ryan. He’s not your missing child.”

  He took a step toward her, stopping only when she gave him a withering stare and yanked open the door.

  “I think you need to leave,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “Ryan is my son.” He lifted his chin.

  “You have no proof.”

  “No, I don’t.” His mouth twisted. “Therefore, I’d like a DNA test. If you won’t consent to one, I’ll get an attorney.”

  Stunned and horrified, she could only stare. For a moment, she couldn’t even breathe. “And then what?”

  “And then we’ll have to see.” Posture rigid, he moved away. He didn’t turn and look back at her before climbing into his car and leaving.

  * * *

  “I’ll die before I let him take Ryan.” Pushing her uneaten salad around in her plate, Emily let her dejected resolve show. She’d only thought things had been bad with the stalker and Desiree and Franco. This claim by Mac felt like the proverbial last straw.

  Jayne eyed her, sympathy darkening her gray eyes. “Do you think he’s your stalker, too?”

  “No.” Emily passed her hand over her eyes, wishing she could somehow make this all go away. “That’s the weird part. This other person—I don’t know if it’s a man or a woman—also believes they are one of Ryan’s birth parents.”

  “What about the mistress?”

  “It could be her,” Emily admitted. “And I still haven’t figured out Franco’s part in all this.”

  “Maybe he thinks he’s the father, too.”