The Cop's Missing Child

by Karen Whiddon

  “Hey, Mac!” Ryan grinned, sauntering over toward Mac and holding up his hand for a fist bump. Smiling, Mac bumped him back.

  “I brought doughnuts,” he said, holding up the box and drawing Ryan’s gaze back to him from Joe.

  “Ryan already ate breakfast,” Emily put in, her pinched voice matching the flatness in her eyes.

  “Please, Mom? Can I have just one?” Ryan pleaded, alternating jumping up and down and shooting covetous looks at the doughnut box.

  Mac wanted to side with Ryan but, afraid if he did so he’d have the opposite effect, said nothing.

  “Please, please, please?” Ryan kept on. “Just one teeny chocolate glazed doughnut? Pleeeeeease?”

  Finally, with a small smile at her son, Emily gave in. “Just one,” she said, ruffling his head. “And you’ll have to eat it on the way to school.”

  Crouching down, Mac lowered the box to Ryan’s level, letting him open it. “Choose whichever one you like.”

  The boy didn’t even hesitate. “That one,” he said, snagging a chocolate-topped doughnut. Mac handed him a napkin, unable to tear his eyes away as Ryan bit in with obvious delight.

  “Hi, there,” Joe ventured when no one made a move to introduce him to the child. Like Mac, he crouched down, putting himself at the same height as Ryan. “I’m Joe, Mac’s friend.”

  “Hi.” Barely glancing at him, Ryan focused all his attention on his sugary treat.

  “I’ve got to take Ryan to school,” Emily said, eyeing Mac and then Joe from under her long lashes. “Do you want to wait outside in your car? I should be back in five minutes or so.”

  Careful not to show how hurt he was that she rightly no longer trusted him enough to let him wait in her living room while she was gone, he nodded. “Sure.”

  As he trudged to his patrol car with Joe and the rest of the doughnuts, he couldn’t help but wonder if she meant to return. He couldn’t blame her if she went on to other things and left him sitting alone in her driveway.

  “Ryan doesn’t look at all like I expected,” Joe said thoughtfully once they were safely inside the patrol car. He flashed Mac a halfhearted smile. “Though I swear I can see Sarah in him.”

  Mac felt too queasy to smile back. He opened his glove box and removed the DNA test kit he’d brought. “I was going to give her this, but now I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

  Frowning, Joe looked from the book to him. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

  And that, for Mac, pretty much summed everything up in one neat sentence. Still, that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  He and Joe waited silently, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Seven minutes later, Emily pulled in alongside them. He started to get out of his car, but she motioned him back.

  “We can talk right here,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “In the car?” he asked, stung yet again. “I’d really like a little privacy.”

  Wearing the pained expression of a martyr, she made a show of checking her watch before reaching for the back car door handle. “You’re the one who brought a friend.”

  Point taken.

  Getting in, she dipped her chin in a nod at Joe, then returned her attention to Mac, eyeing him like a fly trapped in a web watching a spider.

  Mac eyed Joe, considered asking him to leave, then thought better of it. He noticed his friend watching Emily in the rearview mirror rather than turning around to face her.

  “What do you want?” she finally asked.

  Taking a deep breath, he leaned over the console and placed the doughnut box next to her on the backseat. “As I’ve said, I’d like a DNA test.” He crossed his arms. Despite the pain and contempt he saw flash in her eyes, he held his ground. “That’s the only way we’ll know for certain.”

  “And then what?” Despite the slight tremor in her voice, she held her head high. “If he is your son, are you planning to sue for custody? You have to know I’ll fight you with everything I have.”

  He dipped his head, not sure how to answer. He owed her the unvarnished truth, but he was no longer one hundred percent confident he knew what the truth was.

  “I don’t know,” he finally told her. “Let’s deal with that bridge when we cross it.”

  “I see.” The bitterness in her tone told him she didn’t really. “I’ll go by the drugstore and pick up a DNA test kit.”

  “No need. I already have one.” Heart hammering in his chest, he held it out. He’d ordered it first thing after arriving in Anniversary. “I’m going to use the same lab the sheriff’s department uses. Renee said we can get faster results that way.”

  Instead of taking it, she crossed her arms. “I don’t have to do this, you know. I can make you get a lawyer, and we can go to court. I can delay this for months, maybe even years.”

  At her words, Joe tensed but said nothing. Mac could tell from his friend’s profile that Joe wanted to jump into the conversation in Mac’s defense. While he appreciated that, Mac was glad he didn’t.

  Aching, Mac regarded Emily. “Yes, you could do that. But I have to think you’d want to know the truth, too. For yourself and for Ryan.”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it.

  “Not to mention getting rid of the stalker. If it turns out Ryan is my son, this other person will have no claim on him.”

  As his words registered, she swallowed hard. Finally, mouth twisting, she took the proffered box. He couldn’t help but notice how her hands trembled as his did. “You might not be his father, you know.”

  “I know,” he said, though he didn’t believe that for an instant. “Your stalker and your former husband could be the birth parents.”

  At his ready agreement, she stiffened. “Yes. Or there’s a third possibility. Neither of you could be a genetic match. Ryan could be exactly as he was presented to me—a baby whose mother gave him up for adoption—someone completely unknown.”

  Joe quietly snorted. They both ignored him.

  “Anything’s possible,” Mac finally said.

  Emily stared at him. The hope she couldn’t hide, along with the stark pain in her beautiful eyes, nearly undid him. “I never meant for this to happen,” he muttered, trying to pretend Joe wasn’t eavesdropping on the entire conversation. “You, me, none of that.”

  “Really?” Again she crossed her arms, shooting several glances at Joe, as though wishing he’d give them some privacy and leave. “What did you mean to happen exactly? You came into our lives, ostensibly to help find my stalker, comforted me, pretended to care about me...”

  Her voice broke, and she turned away to stare out the window. The way she hunched her shoulders told him how hard she tried to hold on to what had to be the shattered remnants of her self-control.

  More than anything, he wanted to take her arms. It was part of his penance that he couldn’t.

  Half of him wanted to ask for the DNA test kit back, to tell her never mind and ask if they could simply go back to the way they’d been before. He’d seen a glimpse of the possible future, a future so full of hope and love and happiness that he’d scarcely dared to believe it. But he’d known then as he did now that if they were going to try and forge such a potential life they could have no lies in between them. Ah, but that didn’t make him want it any less.

  Still, he knew that no matter the outcome he had a right to know the truth. They had a right to know. Ryan had a right to know, too. Even Emily had to see that.

  He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Clearly, he had hurt them both. Hell, if she felt one tenth as bad as he did, it’s a wonder she could even look at him.

  The future he’d begun to envision had also vanished, like wisps of smoke in a gale force wind.

  “I’m not going to leave Anniversary, you know,” he finally said. “No matter what happens.”

  At these words, she turned to face him, every angle of her body speaking defiance. “I don’t care what you do.”

  They both knew this was a lie.

  Wh
en he didn’t immediately respond, she nodded. Then, clutching the DNA test kit, she climbed out of his car and went back to her house, her back ramrod straight and her gait stiff. Unlocking her front door, she slipped inside, never once looking back.

  Mac shot Joe a warning look, letting him know he’d better not say a word. Then he started the car and drove off.

  * * *

  Once inside, Emily crumbled. Tossing the stupid DNA test kit as far as she could, she stomped into her kitchen, pouring herself a big mug of her own coffee, dumping his down the drain. She’d be damned if she’d drink his.

  Before she’d realized it, half an hour had passed. Almost out the door, her house phone rang.

  Caller ID read Unknown Caller. Maybe...heart suddenly pounding, she answered.

  “I’m glad I caught you before you left for your job,” the metallic voice said. Due to the amount of distortion, she couldn’t make out whether the caller was male or female. It sounded like a sexless computer android.

  “I’m not playing your game.” Emily kept her voice even. “I’m sick and tired of you hounding me.”

  “Tough,” the computer-generated voice sneered.

  Ignoring this, Emily continued. “If you really feel that Ryan is your child, why the secrecy? Don’t worry, I know Carlos had a mistress. He had more than one, so if this is Desiree, you’ll still have some proving to do. Come forward. Let’s meet and see if we can hash this out.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone line told her she’d succeeded in startling her caller.

  “You lie,” the person said.

  “No, I don’t.” Keeping her tone light, Emily sighed. “It seems Ryan is a popular child. I’ve already got one person claiming to be his father who has asked for a DNA test. What’s one more? Why not add your name to the mix?”

  Again the caller went quiet. When he or she spoke again, the androidlike tone sounded thick and even more unsteady. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” Emily answered, then winced at her unfortunate choice of words. “Either put up or shut up.”

  “Stupid woman. I’ll meet you. At your place. Look for me, because I won’t be calling to let you know when to expect me.” There was a click, and Emily knew her stalker had hung up. Whether it was Desiree, Franco or a complete stranger, Emily knew she’d finally set things in motion toward a conclusion.

  Placing the phone back in the cradle, she realized she was shaking. Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone in her house any longer. She snatched her purse off the counter, hurried to her car and went in to work.

  Luckily, the vet clinic was busy all day and time flew by. She skipped her daily run, vaguely afraid to go near the park, and grabbed a quick sandwich from the deli down the street. She ate at her desk, explaining she had a lot of paperwork to catch up on due to her absences.

  Whenever the image of Mac came to mind, she ruthlessly pushed the thoughts away. But as the day wore on, she found herself wondering if she should tell him that she’d spoken with her stalker. Someone needed to know what she’d done. Since Mac had a vested interest in catching this person, too, filling him in would be a smart idea.

  So what if the idea of seeing him again had her stomach tied in knots?

  She waited until thirty minutes before closing time to call his cell phone. He answered on the second ring, the deep timbre of his voice sending a jolt into her heart.

  Though she knew she could simply tell him what she’d done over the phone, she suddenly wanted to see him in person.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  “Name the time and the place and I’ll be there.” The hopeful huskiness in the statement made her regret her impulsive decision.

  She couldn’t back out gracefully—not now. “Come over around seven. That’ll give me time to fix Ryan dinner.”

  “I can come earlier and bring something. Chicken, pizza, burgers you name it.”

  Wearily, she closed her eyes. “No, thank you. I need to talk to you while Ryan is occupied. His favorite television show comes on at seven. He won’t be listening in if we talk in the kitchen.”

  After the vet clinic closed, Emily picked Ryan up at the day care and went home. She cooked Ryan’s favorite hamburger-and-macaroni dish, and they ate together. Despite the ball of worries lodged in her stomach like lead, she choked some down and managed to smile and nod as Ryan recounted his day at both kindergarten and day care.

  Dinner finished, Ryan went to take his bath before his show came on, and she washed the dishes. Every sound, from a particularly insistent blue jay outside to Ryan turning off the faucet, had her jumping. If real life were like the campy horror movies she used to watch when she was younger, the stalker would be jumping out of her closet at any moment.

  Luckily, that didn’t happen.

  Trying to laugh at her fears, as it grew closer to seven, she couldn’t keep herself from checking out her reflection in the mirror. After brushing and then spiking up her hair, she smoothed a little lip balm over her lips and waited for the doorbell to chime. She refused to pace or give in to the temptation to keep taking peeks out the window.

  Despite her halfhearted attempts to act normal, she didn’t fool her son.

  “Mom?” Ryan asked, emerging from the bathroom already in his pajamas, his dark hair still damp. She breathed in the clean scent of Ivory soap and hugged him tight, only releasing him when he protested.

  “What’s up, kiddo?” she asked.

  “Is someone coming over?”

  Since he didn’t know anything about what had happened, she nodded. “Mac is, sweetheart. How did you know?”

  He grinned. “You’re still wearing your work clothes and makeup, Mom.” Lifting his small hand for a fist bump, he crowed in triumph, making her smile. “Normally, you change.”

  “You’re right. I guess I can’t put anything past you, huh? Your show’s about to come on, so you’d better turn the TV on.”

  The words had barely left her mouth when the doorbell chimed, instantly sending her heart into overdrive.

  “That’s him! That’s him!” Ryan yelled, running toward the door.

  “Wait!” she shouted, going after him, reminding him she needed to look through the peephole, but she was a few seconds too late.

  Not knowing who was on the other side, he yanked the door open just as she reached him.

  Chapter 12

  Luckily, Mac stood on her doorstep rather than the stalker. After shooting Mac a stay-put glare, Emily turned the same look on Ryan. Upset and furious, she grabbed her son and moved him back. “How many times have I told you we don’t open the door without checking to see who’s out there?”

  His blue eyes widened at both her tone and her actions. “But you said Mac was coming over. I knew it was him ringing the doorbell.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” she chided, still shaking from the burst of adrenaline. “That could have been anyone. We have to be careful. You know that.”

  For a second, Ryan looked like he wanted to argue. Then, apparently thinking better of that, he hung his head, his lower lip wobbling. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

  She hugged him close and breathed a kiss on his forehead. “Okay. But promise me you’ll remember next time, okay?”

  “Okay.” Sniffling, he raised his head. Then he grinned, eyeing the paper bag Mac held. “Whatcha got?”

  “Ryan!” About to apologize, she closed her mouth as Mac crouched down, holding the bag out toward Ryan.

  “Why don’t you look and see?” Mac said.

  Reaching for the bag, her son had the presence of mind to glance at her for permission. She yanked her gaze away from Mac’s and slowly nodded, giving her permission.

  With that, Ryan snatched it and yanked it open. “Cookies!” he breathed. “Oh, Mom. Can I?”

  “May I,” she corrected automatically. Though she limited sweets, occasionally she let Ryan indulge. “Yes, you may.”

  “Can—may I have a glass of milk to go with them?” />
  Though she kept a pleasant expression on her face, she felt awkward, dealing with her son in front of the man who might be his biological father. Still, she kept her voice neutral and consoled herself with the knowledge that her son didn’t suspect anything was amiss. “Of course, if you promise to use the coaster on the coffee table. I’ll bring it to you in a minute.”

  “Thank you so much!” Impulsively, Ryan gave Mac a quick hug, then tore off to the living room to plunk down in front of the television just as the opening credits started for his show.

  Still feeling self-conscious, she avoided meeting Mac’s gaze. “He’ll be busy for the next half hour. Come on into the kitchen.”

  As she led the way, she could feel his eyes burning into her back. She had to fight an overwhelming—and completely stupid—need to turn and walk into his arms and let him hold her. Instead, she busied herself pouring Ryan’s milk, feeling the heat of Mac’s gaze as she carried it out to her son.

  When she returned, she flashed him a halfhearted smile and pulled out her chair at the kitchen table, motioning for him to do the same. She tried not to watch as he settled his large body, dwarfing the ordinary chair.

  To give him credit, he didn’t try to rush her. Instead, he simply placed his tanned hands on top of the table and waited.

  “Where’s your buddy?” she asked, stalling despite her resolve.

  “He and Renee went out,” he said, unsmiling. “They’re old friends who go way back.”

  Swallowing, she nodded. For her part, she took an inordinate amount of time getting settled, unable to keep from fidgeting. This felt more uncomfortable than she’d thought it would.

  Finally, once she was seated, she squared her shoulders and looked directly at him, surprised at how painful that was. “I asked you to come over because I got a call from the stalker today.”

  A sharp intake of breath as he leaned forward was his only reaction. Pretending his nearness didn’t affect her, she relayed the conversation, tumbling her words over each other in an effort to get them all out.

  When she’d finished, Mac sat back, jaw clenched. “Are you sure that was wise?” Emotion deepened his sapphire eyes, changing them to midnight. “What if this person—let’s say you’re right and she actually is one of your former husband’s mistresses—has grown more unstable? What if she’s dangerous? You know she said you would pay.”