Once he got back to the cottage, he found himself too restless to concentrate on a plan for tracing Julie’s last months.
Just when he stepped outside to take a walk down to the dock, his cell phone rang.
“Hello?” He stopped on the front porch.
“Dean, Harry here.”
“Hey, Harry. I have some more work for you. How would you feel about a few days in New York?”
“Somehow I don’t think I’m going to have time to take in a Broadway show.”
“You find what I need, and I’ll buy you front row tickets.” He explained what he wanted done, gave him a list of Julie’s friends, her employer and favorite restaurant. “There’s nothing left at her apartment. The super had it cleaned out after she disappeared. The stuff is in storage. I already looked through it once. The main objective is to locate a man she had a relationship with—a very quiet relationship.”
“I’ve got all I need. I have a couple of other cases right now. I can go on Thursday.”
Dean wanted to tell him to forget the other cases, but a couple of days wasn’t going to make a huge difference at this point. He asked, “Do you have the financials on Dr. Boudreau?”
“Uh, yeah. Let me flip to my notes.” After a pause, he said, “She did go to the hospital after your sister was transported to the ER, but the nurses said Julie was already gone by then. Someone snatched Julie’s medical record at some point. As far as the financials go, nothing. No big deposits. No new car. No credit card payoffs . . . in fact she missed her last student loan payment.”
“Hum. That’s probably because of the baby.”
“What?”
“She just had a baby—that’s probably why she’s behind.”
“You’ve got your wires crossed, buddy. I’ve been all over her employment records—you see, I know a lady . . . well, that’s really beside the point—anyway, Dr. Boudreau didn’t have a baby. No time off. No medical insurance claim.”
“You’ve made a mistake.”
“No mistake. She hasn’t missed a day of work since she started at Boston General. Her departure was abrupt because of her father’s health. I think they would have noticed a little thing like a ninth-month pregnancy.”
Her father had seemed in fine health to Dean. Molly had never once mentioned that as the reason she’d come back. It was all about the baby.
The phone fell away from his ear. His entire body caught fire as the little things fell into place.
How stupid could he have been?
Chapter 17
“You know, it does piss me off,” Riley said.
At first Mickey had felt awkward, nervous, and exposed being this close to him. She didn’t want to open herself and be played for a fool. But the longer they were together, the more relaxed she became. He’d been talking pretty much nonstop since they’d snuggled close for warmth. She didn’t know if he was trying to take her mind off of her painful injury, or trying to unload things that had built up over the past eighteen months, but she didn’t care. She loved the sound of his voice. He could talk all night long and she wouldn’t tire of hearing him.
“What pisses you off?” They were lying on the ground now, next to the small campfire he’d built. She didn’t want to admit that there was something good about the fact that he’d been down here smoking, so she didn’t remark about the lighter. Her head rested on his shoulder. He’d taken his coat off and put it on the ground beneath them and hers went over them. The little blaze and their shared body heat kept them pretty warm. The only thing that was cold was her unshod foot, and that was probably a good thing.
“Just yesterday Clay and I had this big talk about . . . well, it was about something that I was wishing I could undo. He was all, ‘step up and be a man,’ and ‘you have to deal with what you’ve done,’ and ‘anything worthwhile involves risk.’ And look at what a coward he’s been!”
Mickey’s hand had slowly worked its way from being balled against her own chest to resting on his; she could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath it. “I know how awful it is to be lied to. I can’t say I blame you for being pissed.” She paused. “But. . . .”
He didn’t jump on it right away, but he finally prompted. “But?”
“When do you think it would have been better to tell you? When you were little? If your parents had stayed married, it might have been best to let things be. And I can see why your mom didn’t break the news as soon as you came here. Things were sort of a mess as I recall—you were in trouble already.
“I suppose it would have been better if they’d told you before they were married.” A thought struck her that was so strong it nearly made her own heart do a double beat. “Maybe they were afraid you’d be so upset, they couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t what?”
“Get married. It seems to me that your mom and Clay waited a long time to be together.” Mickey knew all about waiting for someone you cared about.
He just grunted.
“And at least you know your parents—your birth parents—loved each other. Sometimes I think my parents always hated each other. Maybe that’s why my mom and I aren’t . . . good together. I’m the reason she married my dad in the first place.”
“We’ve got that in common then. Mom married Dad, I mean Peter, because of me. I guess maybe that kind of marriage never works out.”
“I’ve always said that babies are not a good reason to get married. You have to be responsible for the child, but really, why compound your mistakes? I can tell you, the kid isn’t any better off in the long run.” She realized she sounded like she was lecturing and decided to let the subject drop there. She was actually amazed that he was handling this as well as he was. She guessed he’d done some growing up in the past months, too.
After a few minutes, he said, “I guess I don’t have to worry about inheriting alcoholism any more.”
She knew from the start that Riley didn’t drink because he feared ending up like his dad. With that danger removed, would he start drinking like the rest of that crowd he hung with? She must have made a noise of distress, because his arm tightened around her.
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on going on a bender now.”
“You’d better not; I’ll kick your ass.”
He laughed. “As if you could.”
She raised her head and looked at him. “Don’t underestimate me, Riley Holt.”
“I won’t . . . ever again.” His hand slipped behind her head and he kissed her.
As his lips touched hers, Mickey’s heart skyrocketed. It felt . . . right. She did understand about waiting for someone. And the joy of reunion robbed her of her breath, filled her soul with light and launched long-buried hopes.
When he stopped kissing her, his thumb caressed her cheek. “How’s your ankle?”
She ran her tongue along her lips, not wanting to lose the taste of him. “What ankle?”
He laughed, then pulled her head back onto his shoulder. “Try to sleep. At first light, I’ll go for help.”
She dutifully closed her eyes, but knew there was no way she was wasting this time sleeping. She could sleep when she was alone in her room.
After a few minutes, he startled her by speaking. “I wonder if I’ll have to change my name.”
She was glad there was no bitterness in the question. She cuddled closer. Then a thought occurred to her that made a chuckle bubble forth.
“What?” he asked.
“My mom’s going to be so disappointed you’re not a Holt.”
Molly held the phone away from her ear. Lily’s voice carried easily across the space. She was definitely opposed to Molly’s allowing Mickey to go after Riley. And at this moment, Molly was beginning to question herself. It was almost ten o’clock and neither child had reappeared. Clay had been looking everywhere; neither car had turned up.
But Molly knew Mickey had a good head on her shoulders. And Riley—well, Riley was just frustrated, and understandably so. But he was a good kid; he’d
grown up a lot in the past couple of years.
The fact that Mickey hadn’t come back told Molly that she’d found him. She was certain it was just a matter of time before they came home.
About five minutes before, Molly had called Karen and let her know what was going on. It was difficult to gauge her reaction because Karen simply hung up.
As Lily unloaded via the phone, a loud pounding sounded at Molly’s front door. She let Lily continue to vent and went to the door with the cordless phone in her hand.
The second the latch was undone, Karen shoved her way inside. “What do you mean, letting Michaeline go after a boy who might be unstable? He’s done something to her, I just know it! I’ve called the sheriff.”
Molly put the phone back to her face. “Lily, I have to go; Karen’s here. I’ll call you back in a bit.” She didn’t wait for Lily to agree before she disconnected.
Karen had steamrolled on into the kitchen. The second Molly showed her face, Karen began again. “I should have known better than to let Michaeline spend time over here. You Boudreaus are nothing but trouble.”
Molly had planned on calming a distraught mother, gently helping her see that there really was no danger, but this attack flipped her switch. “That sounds odd coming from the wife of the man who dealt drugs to teenagers.”
“Ex-wife!” Karen said through gritted teeth. “Riley has kidnapped her—”
“Hold it!” Molly raised a hand. “Just hold it right there! First of all, you know that’s not true. Secondly, here it is almost ten o’clock and you hadn’t bothered to wonder where she was? If I hadn’t called, you’d still be over there painting your fingernails.”
Karen started to open her mouth.
“I’m not finished! As of yesterday, Riley Holt was a wonderful young person. You wanted Mickey to spend time with him—it was your own daughter you thought was odd.”
“If he’s hurt Michaeline—I’m going to take everything the high and mighty Holts have.”
Molly wanted to slap the woman. “I was wrong about you. Earlier today I told Mickey that mothers always want what’s best for their children—but I truly doubt that’s the case with you. You’re only thinking of yourself.”
A man’s voice sounded from the door between the kitchen and living room. “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”
Molly spun around to see Dean filling up the doorway. “How did you get in?”
“Front door was open.”
“Well, go close it—with yourself on the outside.” She didn’t have the patience to deal with him at this moment. What they had to discuss needed to be done as calmly and as privately as possible.
Karen hurried to Dean’s side. Her tears flowed freely. “Her nephew has kidnapped my daughter!” Her hands clutched her chest. “Oh, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Dean stood unmoving, staring at Molly in a way that said he hadn’t heard a word of Karen’s theatrics. Everything about his posture said something was very wrong.
“Karen,” Molly said, “you should go home and wait for the ransom call.”
“Do you hear? Do you hear how she makes light of my baby’s disappearance!”
Finally Dean’s gaze moved from Molly and he looked at Karen. “Go home.”
Completely undone, Karen ran out of the house. The front door slammed behind her.
Molly said, “Thank you. She’s making this situation impossible. Riley got angry and went to hide someplace and Mickey thought she might know where he was and went to find him. They should have been back hours ago. Lily’s beside herself. And now Karen—”
Dean took a step closer and Molly could see he was furious.
“Where’s the baby?” he asked in a cold tone that whistled through her like a winter wind.
It was all Dean could do to keep from grabbing Molly and shaking her. But he needed answers, and he doubted shaking would free them. After he’d ended his conversation with Harry, he had shaken a few things—and it hadn’t made him feel any better.
“Right over here in his pumpkin seat. What’s the matter with you?” She put a little more space between them, stepping closer to the baby. He was glad to see she was afraid.
“What’s the matter with me?” He raised a brow and put his hand on his chest, but he forced himself to stand in place and not crowd her. “I’ll tell you what’s the matter with me. Someone killed my sister for her baby.” He raised a finger and pointed. “That baby right there.”
Molly’s hand covered her heart and she swayed slightly, looking like her knees were going to buckle. He didn’t step closer to catch her. She could fall on the floor for all he cared.
She finally asked, “How do you know?”
“I know that you weren’t pregnant. It was pretty easy to deduce from there.”
Molly sat heavily in a kitchen chair. “Well, actually,” she pressed her palms against the tabletop and licked her lips, “this is good.” She paused. “Very good. I didn’t know where I was going to begin.” She looked at him. “I was on my way to tell you when Lily called and said Riley had disappeared.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and remained standing.
The baby started to fuss. Molly spoke softly to him and touched his cheek, then set the seat to rocking. After that she looked at Dean and held his gaze. “Believe what you want. It doesn’t matter now.”
“That’s all you have to say before I call the police?” He held his cell phone ready.
“I’d like to explain what happened. It’s not at all what you’re thinking.”
“By all means, explain.”
“What I told you before was true. I don’t know who the father is, or why Sarah came to Boston and to my clinic—she was not the norm for our maternity cases, so she caught my attention right away. I didn’t know she was using an assumed name, but I did get the definite feeling that she was hiding from someone. I deduced it was an abusive partner, but that was only my guess. She never said.
“She made the first gesture toward friendship. And after that, we spent a bit of time together. I really liked her; she was fragile and smart and slightly distant—but still warm and genuine. She was lonely.”
He interrupted. “An easy mark.”
Molly gave him a look that surprised him. She wasn’t afraid, she was angry. “The more I think about it, I think I was the mark.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I think she picked me, I think she groomed me for what she was going to ask me to do.”
“She asked you to kill her.”
“I didn’t kill her! Do you want me to finish, or are you ready to call the cops?”
He gave a curt nod for her to continue.
“She told me she had no family. She’d made it clear that the baby’s father didn’t know of his existence. She said the father was dangerous. Plenty of women run from abusive men to protect their pregnancies, but those fears are usually tempered with some form of caring . . . a hope to reunite, for the impossible happily-ever-after. But Sarah was adamant the father could never, never know of this child.
“When she went into labor, she waited to come to the clinic until it was too late to transfer her for delivery. I know that was no accident. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. I delivered Nicholas, and then they were transported by ambulance at my insistence. She could hardly fight four of us off. Then she and Nicholas disappeared from the hospital ER.
“Two days after the baby was born, she showed up at my apartment early in the morning. She looked frightened. She asked me to take the baby for a couple of days.”
“For Christ’s sake, give me some credit! You want me to believe she gave you her baby?”
Molly leaned across the table and jabbed a forefinger against the surface. “She forced me to take him!”
“What?” He couldn’t believe she would take such a wild turn in her story. “By gunpoint, or some other deadly threat?”
Mol
ly stood back up. Her chin was set at a defiant angle as she looked him square in the eye. “Your sister was scared out of her wits. She was afraid of the man who fathered her child. That morning she said she had to take care of something that would remove the threat, so she and the baby could start over. Maybe she planned on killing him! I don’t know. All I know is that if I hadn’t taken the baby, she was going to leave him at a hospital or a church. I told her she’d never get him back. Her response was, ‘At least he’ll be safe.’
“Whoever this father is, he is serious bad news. I’m sure that’s who killed Sarah—or had her killed.”
“But you don’t know anything about this mysterious man?”
“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Sarah actually called him evil—and it chilled my blood when she did. She was serious.”
Dean had never known his pragmatic sister to dramatize. “Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I started to. I was almost out the door when I realized the danger that would pose to the baby. Sarah had extracted my promise to protect him from his father, no matter what. If I had gone to the police, all the father would have had to do was walk in and prove paternity—the baby would be his. And if he didn’t, Nicholas would have been swept into the social services system—oh, the things I’ve seen come out of foster care. I just could not turn this tiny boy over.
“I was Sarah’s friend—perhaps her only friend at the time. You cannot imagine how desperate she was to protect this child. I couldn’t break my promise.”
“So you packed up and left Boston, just like that? Left your own career, took the chance of being caught—for someone else’s baby.”
“For Sarah’s baby. She was my friend. I coaxed this child’s first breath. I made a promise to her. My God, someone murdered her. I had to protect him. That’s all I was thinking about.”
“And you passed him off as your own. Why?”
“I hadn’t planned it that way. I just ran. Then when I arrived here, someone assumed he was mine. I decided that was the easiest way to keep him safe from the father, should the man start looking. And then I realized that anyone I told could be implicated if charges are brought against me. I couldn’t risk that either.” She turned her back and took a couple of steps away. Her voice was much quieter when she said, “She told me she didn’t have any family. If I had known about you, I would have contacted you.”
Promises to Keep Page 27
