“I heard she and her husband are still married, but they abandoned the children when they were younger. Now she’s wanting to cozy up and make nice.”
The two women talked as though Sonya were invisible.
“I don’t see Brandon putting up with that for long. The last time she showed up, he was real quick to show her the door.”
Sonya’s ears perked up at Brandon’s name.
“I don’t know, Olivia.” The woman paused to check her makeup in the mirror. Sonya was starting to feel like a fifth wheel. “Brandon’s his own person. He’s not going to let his mommy run his life, but it looks like she might be wearing him down.”
“I didn’t say she was trying to run his life. It just seems to me she’s pushing for something that’s not going to happen. I don’t think she’s wearing him down at all.” The woman stepped into one of the vacant stalls, still talking.
Okay, that was it. Sonya couldn’t stand here and listen to them spout their gossip any longer.
Olivia patted her nose. “I think she’s just after him because he’s a success. He’s slightly famous around here and she wants a piece of the status.”
“What status?” Sonya blurted.
The officer paused in her reapplication of lip gloss and stared at Sonya as though seeing her for the first time. Sonya thought police officers were supposed to be observant. Honestly.
The officer said, “Excuse me?”
“Brandon is a friend and I don’t think he’d appreciate your speculation on his family relationships. No offense, but it’s not really your business unless he makes it so.” She held up a hand to forestall the woman’s words. “And your conversation wasn’t my business, either. Sorry for butting in.”
But she really wasn’t.
She opened the door and stepped out without another word, heart beating so fast she was afraid it might leap out of her chest. She’d never done anything like that before in her life.
A small smile slipped across her lips. But she had to admit, it had felt good. And right.
The next words she heard wiped the smile off her lips.
“I said no, Mom. Now drop it.”
Brandon’s cold tone was enough to send shivers up her spine.
“But, son—”
“I’ve got work to do. Let me walk you out.”
Sonya bit her lip as she watched Brandon take his mother’s elbow and direct her toward the exit. Hector blew out a sigh. “One day he’s going to have to forgive them.”
“Who?” she asked.
“His parents.” He snapped his lips closed then said, “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Seems like I’m hearing a lot of stuff today,” she murmured.
“You’re what?”
She glanced at him. “Nothing.”
Brandon came back into the building and headed for his desk. Tension radiated from him and Sonya hated it for him. “Goodness, he has some real issues with his family, doesn’t he?”
Hector shot her a sharp look. “If you grew up with his parents, you would, too.”
“I wasn’t being critical,” she apologized.
He shrugged. “I was being defensive.” He looked at his partner, who’d stopped to speak to another officer. “And he doesn’t need my defense. He can handle it himself.”
“He doesn’t talk about his family much.”
“No, he doesn’t. It’s a topic he avoids, and if you value your hide, you’ll stay away from it, too.”
Sonya simply watched the man she was starting to care way too much for. She wanted to know what his childhood had been like. She wanted to know how he’d risen up and become a respected citizen, a decorated cop. But that was for him to tell her. She might be curious, but she wouldn’t listen to gossip. She wanted the facts from him.
He finally broke away and came back to his desk.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I’m fine. Personal stuff that shouldn’t happen in the office. She knows I don’t appreciate her showing up like that.”
Sonya frowned. “Then why would she do it?”
“No worries, my friend,” Hector said before Brandon had to answer. He waved the photo and changed the subject. “So we’ve got a suspect who has a mark on his shoulder.”
“Right.”
“Fuzzy enough not to be able to make it out, but we’ll give the guys who like to play with photos a chance to clear it up a bit.”
“Great.” Brandon still looked as if his attention was elsewhere. Then he gave a visible shake and rolled his shoulders as though pushing off the stress his mother’s appearance had put him under. “All right. Here’s the deal—” His phone rang. He glanced at the screen then at Sonya. “It’s Holt, my buddy at the lab.”
“Oh, good,” she breathed.
“Hello?”
He listened and Sonya strained to hear what Holt was saying, but couldn’t catch a word. Brandon nodded. “All right, thanks for letting me know. And thanks for staying late to run the tests. We appreciate it.”
He hung up and looked at Sonya. She gulped. “He did the DNA test, didn’t he? And got the results?”
“He did.”
“And?”
“You and Heather Bradley are a one hundred percent match,” he said.
ELEVEN
Brandon watched her absorb the news. He couldn’t say he was especially surprised. Not after seeing her next to Don Bradley.
Sonya pulled in a deep breath. “All right, so what does that mean? The parents I grew up with stole me?” Her jaw hardened. “I don’t believe it.”
“It could be they had no idea you were a kidnapped child. It could be you were a black-market baby. Someone kidnapped you and sold you to the highest bidder, so to speak.” Brandon spoke gently. She’d had a shock. And while it looked as though she was dealing with it, he knew she was in for some rough times ahead. He found himself wanting to be there for her. He reached around the desk and took her hand. It trembled in his.
Tears hovered on her lashes, but didn’t fall. “So. I’m Heather Bradley. I guess the next step is to let the Bradleys know, right?”
“Yes.” He picked his phone up from the desk. “I’ll call Don and ask him if we can meet.”
She nodded and sniffed. “Today. I want to do it today. If he has the time.”
“I’d rather tell him in person. Over the phone seems pretty cold.”
“Yes. In person is probably best.”
Hector tapped his pen against his desk. “Do you want me to look into your parents’ past? See if I can find any record of adoption or how they came to have you?”
Brandon saw a flurry of emotions cross her face, and then she nodded. “Yes. I’ve come this far. I might as well find out the whole story.” She twisted the strap on her purse. “If I don’t, I’ll just wonder.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Hector made a few notes. “Also, I would think you would want to do DNA tests with the Bradleys.”
Sonya blinked. “Why?”
“For their peace of mind, for one thing. Just for extra confirmation.”
Brandon dialed the number. Don picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hello, Don. Brandon Hayes here. I was wondering if you’d have some time to speak with us again.”
“I’m at my office. Could you come here?”
“Of course. What time?”
“Anytime.”
“We’re on our way.”
“You have some news, don’t you?” He asked the question hesitantly.
“Yes.”
“All right.” Now the man sounded downright nervous. “I’ll be waiting.”
Brandon hung up. “All right, let’s go.”
Sonya stood. “I’m ready.”
Hector held up a hand. “Hold on a sec.” He had his phone pressed to his ear, listening. He nodded and hung up. “I ran down the Bradleys’ son, Donald Junior. He’s an accountant for Grand
National Bank in Texas. He’s been at a conference in San Diego for the past three days. He flies home tomorrow.”
“Is he really there?” Brandon asked.
“He’s there. He’s one of the main speakers and hasn’t missed a session.”
“Then he’s not the one after me,” Sonya mused.
“Unless he paid someone,” Brandon muttered. He looked at Hector. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
Brandon escorted her down to where he’d parked the car and helped her in. She had her seat belt fastened by the time he climbed behind the wheel. “Are you all right?”
She let out a sigh. “I’m stunned, Brandon. My brain is whirling, and I don’t know what happened or how my parents ended up with me. A kidnapped baby. I don’t know why my mother had the baby bag and birth certificate in her closet or how it came to be there because I’d never seen it before that day. I don’t know a lot of things, but I’m ready to find some answers.”
He reached over to clasp her hand in his. Her strength and determination only made him admire her more. “You’re a pretty amazing woman, you know that?”
She let out a low, humorless laugh. “No, I’m clinging to God with everything I have in me when all I really want to do is go home, bury my head under the covers and pretend this is all a bad dream.” Tears floated to the surface again. And again she held them back. She lasered him with an intense look that shot straight to his heart. “I’m so glad I have you working on this with me, though. I really don’t know what I would do without you,” she whispered.
Her words rocked him, but didn’t stop him from pulling her into a hug. “We’ll get through this. I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe and we have the answers you need.”
“What if I never find them, Brandon? What if we just keep going in circles?”
He laid a light kiss on her lips, his desire to comfort her so strong it nearly strangled him. “Well, if you never find the answers, I guess that means I’m going to be around an awfully long time.”
She flushed and he swiped a stray tear. “Thanks,” she whispered.
“Welcome,” he whispered back. Then let her go to start the car.
The twenty-minute drive to Don Bradley’s office passed in a comfortable silence, both of them lost in their thoughts even though Brandon continued to keep an eye on their surroundings, alert for any hint of danger. But while his eyes roamed, his brain spun with his feelings for the lady beside him. She’d wiggled her way into his heart when he hadn’t been looking. And that scared him. He hated to admit being afraid, especially since not much scared him.
His feelings for Sonya had him tied in knots. So what was he going to do about it?
Nothing.
She was a client.
Then you’d better stop kissing her. The thought taunted him. There was no way he wanted to lead her on, but the thought of her walking out of his life when all of this was over was simply unbearable.
He glanced at her. She had her eyes closed and her head against the window. Probably praying.
Maybe he should try it.
God? You know I believe in You even though I’ve been mad at You for a while now. Is it too late to ask for Your help? Not necessarily for me, but for Sonya. She really needs You. She believes You’re there for her. She’s hanging on to You. Could You just keep us safe? And help us figure out who wants us dead?
The prayer felt strange. And familiar.
He felt her gaze on him. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” The word lacked heat. It was a gentle rebuke that made him shoot her a rueful grin.
“Yeah. I wasn’t really thinking. I was…praying.”
That got her attention. Her brows shot up. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you prayed.”
He snorted. “I pray. Just not very often.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve been…mad at God. About a lot of stuff.”
“Like your mom?”
He sighed. “Yes. Like my mom. And even my dad. But mostly my mom.”
“Will you tell me why?”
He glanced at her again. The compassion in her eyes twisted his heart inside out. How could she do that to him with just one look? “I didn’t have a horrible childhood, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Oh. Well, yes, that’s kind of what I was thinking.”
“My parents were teenage sweethearts. They got pregnant when my mother was sixteen. Instead of having parents raise us, we were all more or less like siblings. In the early part of our lives, my parents pretty much just ignored us. They partied. We were in the foster-care system a few times. Then they got us back after they took parenting classes and promised to party less.” He narrated the story as though telling about someone else’s life. It was the only way he could talk about it without the bitterness rising up to choke him. He looked at her. Felt her hand rest against his upper arm. He shrugged. “They started studying and going to school. Once we were old enough to be latchkey kids, we were. Mom became a nurse, Dad a mechanic. They worked all the time and we three kids fended for ourselves.”
“But you turned out all right.”
“We did. We had some good neighbors who kind of looked out for us. We even went to church with some of the other children in the neighborhood, catching a ride with whoever was going.” He sighed. “It wasn’t a miserable existence, but it wasn’t ideal, either.” He paused. “I wanted parents like some of the other kids had. The ones who came to the school plays and football games. I was quarterback and neither one of my parents ever made it to one of my games.”
“Oh, Brandon, that’s so sad.”
“Exactly. And so now you know. I was angry for a long time. Then I pushed it aside and focused on making something of my life.”
“And what about your mother? She came to the station today.”
“Yes. My mother.” He shook his head. “She’s trying to make up for lost time, I guess. She wants me to come to dinner Sunday.”
“Are you going?”
“No.” He heard the flat, cold word leave his lips. It effectively ended the conversation. That, and the fact that they’d arrived at their destination. He turned into the parking lot and found a spot under a shady tree.
He opened the door and stepped out of the car. His window exploded and he heard Sonya scream his name.
TWELVE
Sonya screamed again as the next bullet caught Brandon in his left shoulder. He went down. The few people in the parking lot took cover and grabbed for cell phones.
She scrambled across the seat to the open driver’s door and grasped his hand to help pull him back into the car. He slammed the door, his fingers searching for the seat button to push it back as far as it would go.
“Are you all right?” she gasped, terror pumping the blood through her veins in double time. “Let me look at it.”
“It’s a scratch. Call 911.”
Sonya saw that his color was only a couple of shades lighter than normal and his shoulder wasn’t bleeding much. She found her phone and punched in the three digits.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone’s shooting at us.” She gave the address, wondering if the woman could understand her shaky words.
“Units are on the way. Stay in a safe area if at all possible.”
Another shot took out the back window.
Brandon muttered something under his breath but Sonya didn’t catch it. He lifted his head and stared out the back. “I see him. Stay here.”
“What?”
But he didn’t answer. He shoved the driver’s door open and bolted toward the large industrial-sized trash can for cover. A bullet dinged off the metal. Sonya debated whether to run after Brandon, go for the building or stay put.
He made it to the next building and used one of the concrete columns in front as a shield. Another bullet. And another.
; And then he was across the street.
Sonya opened her door and waited.
No bullets came her way.
She looked out the back window and saw a figure on the second floor of the parking garage across the street lift his gun, turn and run.
Sirens sounded. She made the final decision not to let Brandon face the would-be killer alone.
She bolted from the car and followed in his footsteps.
*
Brandon had seen the man with the gun on the second floor of the parking garage. This time he wasn’t getting away. Ignoring the throbbing of the wound in his shoulder, he raced into the garage, his weapon held in both hands, pointing down.
Footsteps sounded above him. He raced toward them. A woman with a baby started to get out of her car. Brandon used his left hand to flash his badge. “Get back in the car and lock the door, then get out of the garage.”
She gaped at the badge and the gun, then obeyed without question, her face pale and scared. He heard her start the car. He waited until she was headed for the exit before moving to the ramp that would take him to the second floor.
Brandon could hear the sirens. He needed to call in his location and request backup, but he didn’t dare stop yet. He came to the end of the ramp.
Stopped and listened.
Nothing. No more footsteps. His heart thundered in his chest and his adrenaline flowed, but he kept his breathing even, his focus on the sounds and even smells around him.
From the second floor, he heard the sound of a car cranking. The shooter? Or another innocent person getting ready to ride into the path of danger?
Pulling in a deep breath, Brandon rounded the corner, weapon ready. Tires squealed on the concrete and a black Honda headed for him. Brandon caught sight of the masked face behind the wheel. He aimed his weapon and fired at the front left tire.
The rubber exploded and the car spun.
Running feet sounded behind him and he whirled to find other officers on the scene. He flashed his badge and turned back to the car.
And the now escaping suspect. “Freeze! Police!” The man never stopped. Brandon raced to the edge of the garage and looked over. “Cut him off! Cut him off!” The shooter ignored the stairwell and went for the ramp on the other end of the garage. “He’s coming your way on the ramp!” he yelled to the officer below him. The officer responded by changing his direction and heading for the ramp. Brandon gave chase. The officers behind him followed.
Her Stolen Past Page 9
