In Protective Custody

by Beth Cornelison

A tidal wave of emotion crashed down on Max. If he’d thought he’d gotten the sentimentality out of his system earlier in the evening when he’d held Elmer, he was wrong. Just looking at Emily’s son filled his chest with a tender ache that squeezed the air from his lungs.

  If only he and Jennifer had had the baby she wanted….

  Guilt and disappointment crept over him. If only. How many times had he considered the if onlys?

  He huffed and refocused his thoughts. No point living in the past. He couldn’t go back and change things for Jennifer, couldn’t change the way his marriage had ended. And yet, somehow, this baby might be his chance to redeem himself.

  Even if he couldn’t give his wife a baby, he could make sure that his sister had a chance to mother her son.

  This time he wouldn’t fail.

  Chapter 6

  Laura had a plan.

  Not an elaborate one, but a plan nonetheless. In fact, the beauty of her plan was its simplicity.

  As she carried her small bag of clothes and toiletries to the car, she weighed the merits of her idea to get Elmer away from Max. It could work if she kept her cool.

  But was it the right thing to do?

  Before last night, she’d have said undeniably yes. Yet she’d witnessed Max’s affection and dedication to Elmer firsthand now, and she’d begun doubting the wisdom of her plan. The idea of betraying Max bothered her, too. Throughout the night as they’d tended to Elmer, Max had considered her needs first. For sleep, for room temperature, for extra pillows to prop on while she gave the baby his bottle. He’d insisted she rest in the early morning hours, when Elmer was particularly cranky, and he’d stayed up, pacing the floor with the fussy baby on his shoulder.

  He’d been attentive both to her and Elmer, though she could tell he’d needed the sleep just as much as she did. Guilt plucked at Laura, even as she made her plan to take Elmer to the police.

  But considering the danger Elmer could be in if the gun-toting crazies caught up with them, didn’t she have a responsibility to take the baby to the cops? She had to trust the professionals to sort out who had custody rights. Maybe Max was Elmer’s rightful guardian, but she’d leave that decision to the authorities. What mattered was that she honor her responsibility to Elmer, first and foremost.

  Protect the baby.

  She headed back into the room. When she’d left, Max was calling the hospital to check on Emily.

  “I’ve got her baby,” he said quietly into the receiver. “And I’ve got to lay low for a while. I don’t want his family to find us. I thought I’d use your cabin, if that was okay.”

  Laura paused at the door and focused on what Max mumbled into the phone. Clearly he was no longer talking to the nurse about Emily.

  “No, he’s dead.” Max paused, grunted.

  Who was dead? A numbing chill settled over her.

  “You don’t know the half of it, man. It’s one hell of a mess. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Max jerked his head up as if he’d just noticed her standing in the doorway. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll check in with you when I can. Thanks, buddy.” He set the receiver in the cradle with a soft click. “Ready to go?”

  “Who’s dead?”

  Silently, he began gathering his possessions into a plastic bag.

  She leveled a cool glare at him. “Who is dead?”

  His returned stare was just as stony. He hesitated. “Elmer’s father.”

  A fresh prickle of suspicion crept up her spine. She glanced to the car seat where Elmer was sleeping. “How did his father die?”

  “He was shot.”

  Ice filled her veins. “Wh-who shot him? Did…you?”

  “No, not me.” Max raked fingers through his inky hair. “It’s really better for you if you don’t know too much. If you want out, now’s a good time to go. I’m not stopping you.”

  She chafed her arms and shook her head. “If the baby is in danger, I can’t leave him with you.”

  “Then I guess we’re still at an impasse. Shall we get moving?” Max picked up the car seat and headed outside.

  Without answering the other half of her question.

  Laura quashed the jittery twinge in her belly and followed Max to her car. When she pulled the car to the door of the motel lobby to check out, Max took the key from the ignition.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing personal. I’d just hate to be wrong about you and have this little baby fall into the wrong hands,” he said with a forced grin that fell short of its mark.

  She scowled, knowing she’d used those exact words last night. But did his distrust bother her more or did the fact he had a reason not to trust her?

  While he darted inside with the key, she closed her eyes and firmed her resolve. She had to act. Soon. The snippets of conversation she’d overheard and new doubts she had about the situation made her decision easier.

  Protect the baby.

  When he returned, Max had a small bag in his hand. He handed the sack to her along with the keys as he climbed in the car.

  “What’s this?” She unrolled the top of the bag and peeked inside.

  “Breakfast. Comes with the price of the room. I grabbed a few things off the buffet. Thought you might be hungry.”

  While he buckled his seat belt, she pulled items out of the bag. An apple, two bagels, packs of jelly and cream cheese and a blueberry muffin.

  A warm, fuzzy feeling puddled inside her, clashing with the cold suspicion. “That was…sweet of you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now let’s hit the road. We’ve got ten hours of driving before nightfall.”

  Laura pulled the wrapper off a bagel and took a bite, mentally psyching herself for what she knew she had to do. She glanced over to the passenger’s side of her Honda where Max leaned the seat back to nap.

  “Did you call the hospital?” she asked.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “How is Emily?”

  “Same. I’d hoped by now she’d be improving, but…at least she’s no worse.” Max sighed. “Follow this road to I-20 then head east. Wake me up when we hit Birmingham. Okay?” He covered his mouth as he yawned.

  “Sure.”

  Within minutes of hitting the road, Max’s deep, even breathing told her he was asleep, and she used the opportunity to study him. His cheeks and chin were covered with black stubble that gave him a dangerous look. His rumpled hair and fatigue-lined face added to his menacing appearance.

  Still, memories of his awestruck expression, the tenderness of his touch as he’d held Elmer the night before shattered any illusion that this man would ever hurt the baby in his care. In the wee hours of the morning, as he’d struggled to master the art of feeding and burping a cranky baby, she’d been even more certain Max had this baby’s best interests at heart. His dedication couldn’t have been faked. His love for the child was written in his eyes.

  But that didn’t mean he had a legal right to the child.

  I’ve got her baby.

  What if he wasn’t the baby’s uncle? What if Elmer’s mother was desperately searching for her kidnapped child?

  And who had killed Elmer’s father? She thought of the men with guns who’d shot at them yesterday and shivered.

  Shoving the questions aside, she focused on the matter at hand. Escaping from Max. With the baby.

  For the next hour, she prepared herself for action. She played the scenario in her head and examined her plan for flaws. The only hitch she saw lay with the man next to her. She hadn’t wanted to like him, to feel any sympathy or gratitude toward him. She, of all people, knew how emotional attachments to people only confused matters and made things more difficult, more painful. Distancing herself from Max was the only way to do this and keep her heart intact.

  “Max?” Her voice quaked, and she cleared her throat to try again. “Max, wake up.”

  He grunted but didn’t open his eyes.

  “I heard a noise, Max. Something’s wrong with the car.”

  Nothing.


  Reaching over, she jostled his arm.

  “Ow! Watch the shoulder,” he grumbled.

  She winced. “Oops. Sorry.”

  He dragged a hand down his face, his bristly beard making a scratching sound on his palm that skittered through her.

  “What kind of noise?” His craggy voice matched his sleep-hazed face when he glowered at her.

  “A thumping noise.” Springing this on him while he napped nettled her conscience, but she knew the plan had a better chance of working if he was less alert.

  Her nerves danced with uneasy anticipation. She had to make him believe her. Stay cool.

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Well, it doesn’t do it all the time.” She cringed inwardly, when she saw suspicion flicker across his face.

  “It’s probably nothing. Don’t sweat it.” He stretched his arms and got comfortable again.

  “There! Did you hear that!” She gave him her most convincing I-told-you-so look.

  “No,” he returned, his face impassive.

  She pulled the car over on the shoulder of the two-lane road and stopped. “Well, I did, and I think you should take a look under the hood. I don’t want the engine to blow up or something.”

  He gave her a weary, withering glance. A why-are-women-so-stupid-about-cars look. “The engine’s not going to blow up.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. She’d debate her knowledge of engines later. “How do you know? How do we know a bullet didn’t damage something in the engine yesterday when those thugs shot at us?”

  “If there was a problem with the engine, we’d have discovered it last night. Now, drive, would you? I want to make the cabin by dark.” He closed his eyes and sighed.

  “We won’t make the cabin by dark if we break down somewhere.”

  He looked at her through narrowed eyes and growled. “You’re not going to drop this until I look under the hood, are you?”

  She met his disgruntled glower without blinking.

  Protect the baby.

  Focusing on the good she was doing for Elmer, rather than the injustice she planned for Max, she shook her head. “Please? I just want to be sure nothing’s wrong.”

  Max glanced to the backseat where Elmer slept peacefully, then scowled at her as he opened the car door. He grumbled something about women and brick walls and climbed out.

  Her stomach clenched, and her heart thudded as he walked a step or two away from the door.

  He’d be all right. He was more than capable of fending for himself. Just do it.

  Max lifted the hood, and for a couple of minutes, she waited while he examined her idling engine. When he closed the hood with a bang, Laura jumped, her nerves drawn tight. He stepped around to the side of the car, smug satisfaction on his face.

  Drawing a deep breath, Laura moved her foot off the brake. He must have read her intent in her expression, because his own face hardened, paled with panic. He lunged for the door.

  But not fast enough.

  Laura punched the accelerator, and the car rocketed forward.

  “No!” His roar mingled with the clunking spray of gravel.

  She sped down the road. Her pulse pounded in her ears. The bitter taste of anxiety rose in her throat.

  Don’t look back. Don’t look.

  But she did.

  Her gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror.

  Max stood bent over, his hands on his knees, his head down.

  While she watched, his head came up and, even with the growing distance between them, she read the anguish, the horror in his face. And anger.

  Squeezing the steering wheel tighter, she sucked in a shaky breath. And drove on.

  Max would be all right. She’d send the police to pick him up—after she turned Elmer over to the authorities and the baby was on his way back to his rightful guardian.

  Max watched the plume of dust settling around his feet. A fist of despair clutched his chest. He’d known she might try something like this. So why, why did he play into her hands like such an idiot? Fatigue was no excuse. Not when so much was at stake.

  She’d taken Elmer, damn it. Damn it!

  He’d screwed up. Lost his nephew. After less than twenty-four hours. That had to be some kind of record.

  How did he tell Emily he’d lost her baby? He’d sworn to protect her son. Instead, he’d let an interfering do-gooder snatch Elmer right from under his nose.

  Anger swelled inside him to match his disgust with his own failure. That sneaky, nosy, conniving little…

  He huffed and kicked the gravel with the toe of his running shoe. Where would Laura take Elmer, and how did he get the baby back?

  Rolling his shoulder to loosen the stiffness, he started walking in the direction she’d driven. For all his fury with her, he knew at some deeper level that Laura would never hurt Elmer. The woman who’d stayed up with him all night, rocking his squalling nephew and cooing endearments, wouldn’t hurt a flea. Not intentionally.

  But her ignorance of the whole situation, her good intentions could easily ruin everything.

  He had to find her, find Elmer before she blew everything. The Rialtos were still out there looking for them. The police would take Elmer away while they sorted out the mess. No good could come of this latest debacle.

  Max muttered a curse under his breath as he strode down the side of the road, fuming. He’d fumbled the ball big-time, but he wasn’t about to concede the game. He’d find Ms. Laura Dalton, one way or another.

  And heaven help her when he did.

  The Greasy Spoon Diner appeared much as the name of the establishment implied. Laura sat in her car considering her options before deciding the diner was as good as any place to stop. She’d already tried to call 911 on her cell phone, but this far out in the boonies, she had no signal.

  Through the restaurant’s plate-glass window, she saw a pay phone. The sooner she called the police, the sooner she could quit worrying. Once the authorities took custody of Elmer, her responsibility to the infant would end. She could head home and put this troublesome event behind her. She needed to cut her ties with the baby before she grew too attached, so attached that leaving him would shatter her fragile soul. This was for the best.

  So why did her lungs feel like lead? Why wasn’t she racing to make that call? Hadn’t the past thirty minutes of agonizing guiltily over Max proven why deeper personal involvement would be a mistake?

  She didn’t need the grief, the heartache of worrying over Elmer’s and Max’s fates. She’d done her part, gone above and beyond the call of duty already, hadn’t she? When she rescued stray animals, she managed to turn the critters over to the capable hands of a new owner without this much consternation.

  Of course, Elmer was a baby, not a dog.

  Laura’s shoulders sagged. Despite her warnings to herself, she’d let his pitiful wails permeate her soul. When his tiny fingers grabbed her pinky, he might as well have grabbed her heart. She’d tried to keep an emotional distance, but she wasn’t sure that was possible with a tiny, helpless baby like Elmer. Despite the inevitable pain, her responsibility was clear-cut. She had to turn him in. Mustering her courage and convictions, she climbed out of the car.

  After unloading Elmer in his baby carrier from the backseat, she made her way inside the small restaurant some thirty-odd miles from where she’d ditched Max. The tangy scent of the bacon sizzling on the grill greeted her. Patsy Cline crooned from a neon jukebox in a front corner of the diner, and a thin haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

  “Mornin’, honey,” the stout, apron-clad woman behind the counter called when Laura walked in.

  “Hello. I need to use the phone. Can I get change for a dollar?” She set Elmer’s baby seat on the counter then fished in her purse for a dollar bill.

  “Ain’t he a doll!” The woman behind the counter, her gray-streaked brown hair slicked back in a limp ponytail, flashed Elmer a toothy grin.

  Laura smiled politely. “Thank you.�
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  A strange combination of pride, as if Elmer were her own baby, and longing, since he wasn’t, tangled around each other and knotted in her throat.

  The waitress punched a button on the cash register, which popped open with a ding, and traded Laura’s bill for coins.

  “Phone’s back that way.” The woman directed her with a hitch of her gnarled thumb.

  “Could I impose on you to heat this bottle for me?” Laura handed the woman a bottle of formula she had fixed earlier that morning.

  “Sure thing, hon.” The woman ambled off with the bottle, and Laura made her way to the back of the diner, lugging Elmer in his car seat to a booth beside the phone.

  Jingling the coins in her hand, she drew a deep breath.

  You’re doing the right thing.

  She paged to the front of the worn phone book that dangled from a chain and found the number for the sheriff’s department. Fishing out a quarter from her change, she dropped it in the slot.

  He’s beautiful.

  The unbidden memory of Max’s wonder-filled expression sent an arrow of doubt through her resolve. Last night, his love for Elmer had been obvious.

  With trembling hands, she picked a dime from the coins in her palm.

  He has fingernails.

  The dime missed the slot. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcefully blocking Max’s husky voice from her mind.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” she muttered to herself.

  By now her hand shook so badly she missed the coin slot with her second and third attempts, too.

  Nothing personal. I’d just hate to be wrong about you and have this little baby fall into the wrong hands.

  The dime hit its mark and clanked as it fell into the pay phone. She jabbed the first button with determination.

  Whose hands would Elmer go to if she called the sheriff? Most likely, some undetermined foster home until his custody could be sorted out. Laura’s stomach pitched.

  She wouldn’t wish her years of drifting through the foster system on her worst enemy.

  She pushed the next button with less conviction.

  She’d been in foster homes for more than ten years after her mother died. She knew some kids got lucky, found loving people to care for them and nurture them.