Those Baby Blues

by Sheridon Smythe

  Brutal pushed forward and took control. “Sam, it's Brutal. Are the keys in the ignition?"

  "What's an ‘nition?” Sam asked, sounding small and scared.

  "The car keys,” Brutal repeated. “Do you see them near the steering wheel?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I see them."

  Brutal stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Do you know how to lock the doors?"

  "Uh-huh. I locked them already, and I'm not lettin’ her back in. She's mad at me, and it was an accident."

  There were more rustling noises, and Hadleigh had no trouble imagining Sam stirring restlessly in the seat.

  "I wanna talk to Mommy again."

  "I'm here, sweetie."

  "I wanna come home. She said she'd take me to get a puppy, but I changed my mind.” Sam sniffed.

  "Sam,” Brutal said, leaning over the phone. “When she comes back, do not let her in the car, no matter what she says."

  "I won't. I don't like her."

  "I want you to look around you. Do you see any signs?"

  Hadleigh grabbed Brutal's shirt sleeve in her excitement. “She can read, Brutal. She can read! Sam, listen to what Brutal says. Do you see any signs? Is there a sign on the building where the woman went to clean up?"

  "Just a minute."

  The seconds crawled by. Hadleigh held her breath, as she suspected everyone else was doing. Finally, Sam came back on the line.

  "I can't say it, Mommy.” Sam sounded peeved.

  "That's okay, sweetie. Just spell it out."

  "E-X-O-N."

  Hadleigh let out her breath, then drew air into her burning lungs again. There had to be a million EXXON stations. She caught the sheriff's eye. He rose and went to a map on the wall.

  "She's been gone an hour and a half. If we can determine which direction, then we can map out the EXON stations and narrow her location."

  "She doesn't know her directions!” Hadleigh said, her heart sinking.

  "I've got an idea.” Sheriff Striker resumed his seat. “Sam, this is Sheriff Striker again. Can you hear me okay?"

  "Yeah."

  "When you left town, did you see a red flashing sign?"

  Once again the silence seemed to stretch forever. Finally, Sam said, “No. I didn't see no red flashing sign. I saw a big cow, though."

  "A cow?” Sheriff Striker frowned and shook his head. “Was it a picture of a cow, or a real cow?"

  Sam giggled, and the sound was so sweet Hadleigh thought she would pass out. “A picture, silly! A big picture, and the cow was wearing a silly hat—"

  The sheriff's eyes widened. He snapped his fingers. “The Angus Feed Lot! It's a steak house on the outskirts of town. That means they went north."

  "Mommy?"

  Hadleigh struggled to keep her voice even, to hide her fear from Sam. “Yes, baby?"

  "That woman's coming back. She looks mad."

  "Don't let her in, Sam!” Brutal and the sheriff ordered simultaneously.

  The sheriff hurried to the door, motioning another officer into the room. He led him to the map on the wall and they began to converse in low tones.

  In the background, Hadleigh heard a thudding noise, then indistinct screeching. Sam shouted, “No! I'm not supposed to let you in! Go away!” The thudding noise came again, louder this time.

  Hadleigh realized someone was banging on the car window and screaming at Sam. The woman. The woman who had told Sam she was her real mommy. Slowly, with her heart galloping at an incredible rate, Hadleigh turned and looked at Treet. She didn't know why she had missed the implication the first time.

  He gazed back at her, his eyes bleak, his expression grim.

  He looked guilty as hell, and she thought she knew why.

  "It's Cheyenne, isn't it?” she asked. “Cheyenne took Sam."

  Brutal spoke before Treet had a chance. “It could be a crazed fan who really thinks Sam's her daughter."

  But Hadleigh shot his idea to hell and back. “But a crazed fan wouldn't know the circumstances, would they? And Cheyenne does, obviously.” Her gazed remained locked on Treet's. “Cheyenne knows, doesn't she Treet? She knows and she's not happy that her previous plans were thwarted."

  Sheriff Striker, apparently overhearing her statement, stopped talking to the officer, frowning at Treet. “Who's Cheyenne?"

  "Mommy? I wanna go home."

  It was Sam, her voice getting grumpier by the minute. When Treet gestured for the sheriff to step outside the office and away from Caroline, Hadleigh wanted to go with them. She wanted to hear his explanation.

  But she couldn't leave Sam.

  "I said NO!” Sam shouted suddenly, to the woman Hadleigh now suspected was Cheyenne. “Stop banging on the window, you're giving me a headache!"

  Any other time, Hadleigh would have reprimanded Sam for her rudeness. But not this time. Cheyenne didn't deserve Sam's respect. “Sam, just ignore her, okay, honey? We're trying to figure out where you are so that we can come and get you."

  "She's making ugly faces at me,” Sam said in an aggrieved voice. “She's shaking her fist, too. She looks really mad."

  "Don't look at her.” Hadleigh clenched her hands, wishing she could put them around Cheyenne's neck for scaring her daughter. “She can't hurt you, sweetie. The doors are locked, remember?"

  "Yeah, ‘cos I locked them. You aren't mad?"

  "No, I'm not mad. You did the right thing.” Hadleigh searched for a happy topic. She had to keep Sam talking, because if she lost contact with her, she was afraid she'd lose her mind. “Sam, did you like the movie?” The thudding in the background continued. Hadleigh could only pray that Cheyenne didn't break through the car window.

  "I didn't get to watch all of it."

  "Oh. But did you like the part you did see?"

  "Uh-huh. Mommy, it's raining. That lady's gettin’ wet."

  "Don't pay any attention to her, darling. She did a bad thing when she took you away."

  "Will she go to jail?"

  Hadleigh hesitated. “I don't know, Sam. Maybe.” If Hadleigh had any say in the matter, she most definitely would.

  "Ha ha! My mommy says you're going to jail!” Sam's singsong voice rose as she taunted Cheyenne from the safety of the locked car. “And you're gettin’ wet!"

  Suddenly, Sam screamed.

  Hadleigh's heart lodged somewhere near her tonsils. “Sam? Sam! Talk to me! What's happening?"

  "She—she cracked the window, Mommy, with her shoe!"

  Oh, God. Mouth dry, Hadleigh tried to think. What should she tell her?

  Brutal came to the rescue. “Take the keys out of the ignition, Sam,” he ordered. “If she breaks through the glass, take the keys and run. Go inside the gas station and lock yourself into the bathroom."

  Hadleigh heard the sound of keys jingling.

  "I got ‘em,” Sam said, her voice quavering. “She's still hitting the window with her shoe."

  "Which side is she on?” Brutal demanded. When Sam didn't immediately answer, Hadleigh translated the question.

  "Is she on the side where the steering wheel is, Sam?"

  "Uh-huh. Mommy, can you come get me? I'm scared, and I wanna go home. I wanna play with Caroline!"

  "Yes, baby. We're coming to get you. Just do what Brutal said, okay? If she gets inside the car, run into the service station and hide in the bathroom. And stay put.” Hadleigh grabbed the desk, wishing she could jump through the phone and hold her daughter tight. “And Sam..."

  "Huh?"

  "If she catches you, be bad. Be very bad. You won't get into trouble."

  Getting permission to be bad immediately cheered Sam. “Really?"

  "Yes, really."

  "Okay, Mommy."

  The door behind Hadleigh opened. The sheriff stuck his head inside. “I think we've got her location."

  "Thank God.” Hadleigh leaped from her chair. She urged Caroline forward in her place. “Caroline, talk to Sam, okay?"

  "Okay. Haddy?"

  Hadleigh looked down into Carolin
e's puzzled gaze. “Why did my mommy take Sam instead of me?"

  Her heart did a crazy flip-flop. Hadleigh shook her head. “I can't explain it to you now, sweetheart. Later, okay?” And later it would be Treet explaining to his daughter why Caroline's own mother had kidnapped Sam instead.

  Followed by Brutal, Hadleigh joined Treet and the sheriff in the hall. “I'm going with you,” Hadleigh stated.

  "It would be better if you stayed here and kept her on the phone,” Treet said.

  Hadleigh shot him a look that should have given him frost-bite. “I don't think I need you to tell me what to do, Treet. If you had been honest with me in the beginning, I doubt Sam would be in this position.” She angled her chin and transferred her gaze to the sheriff. “She's my daughter, and I'm going with you."

  Trudy emerged from the office, her expression so stricken Hadleigh flinched. “Sam not on phone now. Phone ... gone dead."

  "Let's move it,” the sheriff said.

  Brutal started to follow, but Treet stopped him. “You need to stay here in case she calls back and needs instructions on what to do."

  Without argument, Brutal nodded.

  * * * *

  In the back seat of the sheriff's car, Treet eyed Hadleigh's stony profile and sighed. He didn't blame her for being pissed at him. Hell, he was pissed at himself for ignoring the possibility that Cheyenne could be involved with Sam's disappearance. The crazy model hadn't shown an interest in her daughter in four years; he'd never dreamed she would start now.

  As they sped through the rainy night, siren's wailing, light's flashing, Treet attempted to apologize. “I guess I should have considered Cheyenne."

  "Yes, I guess you should have,” she retorted, staring straight ahead. “And while you're guessing, maybe you should have guessed that I had a right to know that Cheyenne knew about the switch."

  She was right again, Treet thought, mentally kicking himself. “I didn't want to worry you.... “He stifled a curse. “No, the truth is, I didn't think we had a reason to be worried. Cheyenne has never come around, or called. In fact, I don't think this would have happened if Todd hadn't taunted Cheyenne about us—” He stopped abruptly as she swung around to stare at him in disbelief.

  "Something else you failed to mention?"

  "I didn't think it mattered."

  "Well, think again. Obviously it did matter."

  "Hadleigh—” Treet reached out, then let his hand drop back to the seat. The chasm between them kept growing wider, and what he was about to say wouldn't help matters. But he knew he had to tell her now, rather than later. “Hadleigh, there's something else."

  She lifted a sarcastic brow, her eyes bright with tears he knew she was determined to hold back. The hands folded in her lap visibly shook. “And in your infinite wisdom, you think this is something I should know? I'm flattered, Treet.” Her burning gaze bore into his. “So what is it? Something else you didn't think would matter in the scheme of things? Are you going to tell me that you and Cheyenne are secretly married, and this little kidnapping scheme was all planned so that you could take Sam from me?"

  Her ridiculous suggestion roused Treet's anger. “You know that isn't true."

  "Do I?"

  "Yes, you do,” he growled. “Because if there was a grain of truth in your statement, I wouldn't be in the car with you—I'd be in the car with Cheyenne."

  "So what is it? What's the big confession?"

  Aware that the sheriff and his deputy were shamelessly eavesdropping, Treet lowered his voice. “When Cheyenne and I signed the papers giving me custody of Caroline, there was a tiny clause ... giving Cheyenne the right to visitation."

  "And since Sam is your rightful daughter—and hers—she now has the right to visit Sam.” Her voice shook. The tears she'd been holding back spilled over and streamed down her face. She seemed unaware of them, making no move to wipe them away. “Well, that's just great, Treet. Just great. I guess that means I can't file kidnapping charges against her, doesn't it?” Then, beneath her breath yet loud enough for him hear, she whispered, “I wished I'd never met you."

  Her words stabbed Treet, driving pain deep into his heart.The sheriff slowed the patrol car, pulling onto the shoulder and braking. He twisted around to look at them through the protective grill. His deputy followed suit. “You mean to tell me that I'm not after a kidnapper?” Sheriff Striker asked.

  "She hasn't attempted to see Caroline since she was six weeks old,” Treet stated coldly. “I had all but forgotten about the custody clause."

  "Doesn't mean diddly-squat, Miller. If the woman has visitation rights to see her daughter, then she hasn't kidnapped her."

  "She took my baby from the hospital when she was born,” Hadleigh said. “I'd say that was kidnapping!"

  "Maybe, but that's out of my league. You'll have to talk to a lawyer about filing charges.” The sheriff continued to look at them, and something in their tense, desperate expressions must have touched him, for he sighed and said, “I guess I can pretend I never heard that outrageous story about switched babies, and I can't deny that this woman sounds dangerous.” He slanted them a stern look. “But once we get her back, you'd better figure out a way to keep her, because I'm only gonna do this once."

  "Thank you, Sheriff."

  Treet unclenched his teeth. “Yeah, thanks, Sheriff. And don't worry, when we get her back, we don't intend to let her out of our sight again."

  * * * *

  "Looks like we found her,” Sheriff Striker said, cruising slowly past a silver Cadillac. He pointed to the shattered window. “See?"

  Hadleigh followed his finger, resisting the urge to leap out and scream for her daughter. Cheyenne had parked in a shadowed area, away from the bright lights of the service station.

  The car looked empty.

  "She—she might be hiding behind the seat,” Hadleigh managed to croak. Terror held her in its grip, threatening to paralyze her limbs. What had happened when Cheyenne broke through the window? Where were they? Had Sam gotten away? Hadleigh tried the door handle on the cruiser, vaguely aware that Treet was doing the same on the other side.

  The handles wouldn't budge.

  "Sheriff—open the door! I've got to see if my daughter's in the car."

  She nearly tumbled from the patrol car as the sheriff popped the release. It didn't take her long to realize the car was empty. Her terrified gaze met Treet's over the hood of the car.

  Dry-mouthed, she said, “She's—she's probably inside."

  "Yeah, let's go."

  Together, they loped across the parking lot to the brightly lit coffee shop inside the service station. Sheriff Striker and his deputy parked the car and hastily followed them inside.

  Hadleigh spotted Cheyenne immediately, sitting in a booth nursing a cup of coffee. The supermodel was hard to miss, even as bedraggled as she was. Her flaming hair lay plastered to her head, darkened by the rain and knotted by the wind. There was a streak of mud across one high cheek bone, and her peasant-style blouse was torn at the shoulder seam. A shoe—minus the heel—perched on the seat beside her.

  Cheyenne looked up and spotted them, revealing a developing bruise beneath her eye. Her gaze widened, then narrowed on Treet. “I figured she was talking to you,” she snarled, tossing her soggy hair over her shoulder. It hit the vinyl booth was an audible splat. “You should count yourself lucky, Treet, that you didn't have that demon child for the last four years."

  Treet's fingers curled around Hadleigh's arm to stop her headlong rush toward the booth. “Don't,” he whispered in her ear. “She'd like nothing better than to slap an assault charge on you."

  Sheriff Striker and his deputy crowded in behind them. Hadleigh was trembling from head to toe, itching to fly at this woman and scratch her eyes out. Cheyenne had taken her child, and then had the audacity to call her baby names. Her list of transgressions was growing by the minute.

  Apparently Hadleigh's fury was more than obvious, for the sheriff took her other arm.

  "W
here's Sam?” Hadleigh demanded, wishing looks could at least inflict injury. “Where is she?"

  Cheyenne stared at Hadleigh, looking her over before making a face. “Good grief, Treet. I'd heard you weren't getting out much, but I hadn't realized how bad it was. Who is this, the maid?"

  "This is Samantha's mother,” Treet ground out. “The woman I intend to marry."

  The model flung back her head, exposing her slim throat as she laughed. “You'd do anything to get what you want, wouldn't you, Treet? Even to the point of marrying a little nobody."

  Hadleigh was speechless, both over Treet's announcement, and Cheyenne's too-close-to-the-mark observation. With a powerful surge, she broke free of their hold and stalked to where Cheyenne sat in the booth. She leaned over, placing one hand on the table and the other on the booth behind Cheyenne, trapping the woman's hair between her palm and the vinyl seat.

  "I'm going to count to three,” Hadleigh snarled, bringing her face close so that Cheyenne could see that she wasn't making an idle threat. She was satisfied to see Cheyenne's pupils dilate with alarm. “And if you don't tell me where my daughter is, I'm going to—"

  "She's in the bathroom,” Cheyenne said hastily. “That's where she ran after she tripped me, and after she hit me in the eye with my cell phone. That kid is a—"

  "Good. She did what I told her to do for a change.” Hadleigh whirled and headed for the restrooms; she'd noted the sign upon entering the store. When she had widened the distance, Cheyenne shouted after her.

  "She's my daughter! You can't stop me from seeing her!"

  "Wanna bet?” Hadleigh mumbled beneath her breath. If it took every cent she had, Sam would never have to face this woman again.

  Reaching the bathrooms, she stopped and knocked on the door, her heart pounding with anticipation of holding her daughter again. “Sam, baby? It's Mom. Open the door."

  After a short silence, a muffled voice asked, “How do I know it's really you?"

  Smart girl, Hadleigh thought, smiling through her tears. “Because I know that you're scared of storms."

  "Lot's of little girls are scared of storms,” Sam reasoned.

  Hadleigh leaned weakly against the door, chuckling. “Sam, it's really me. I promise.” When Sam didn't respond, Hadleigh prompted, “Sam? Can you hear me?"