Epiphany

by Rita Herron

  The heat of his hand branded her through the material of her dress. He cradled her tummy as if he were cradling a newborn’s head. Her own eyes brimmed over at the sight of the rugged cop being so tender.

  “Trevor, tell me about your baby.”

  He went rigid. His hand froze. His head jerked up and his eyes blazed with shock. He pushed himself up off her and wiped his face.

  “I need to get us out from under that limb.”

  She caught his wrist, her fingers not able to span it. “Please. I want to know about you.”

  He twisted out of her grip and sent her a hard glance, two spots of red blazing in his cheeks. “Did Amanda tell you?” he asked flatly. “She had no right.”

  Merry shook her head, her heart aching at his deliberate attempt to hold his emotions in check. “You told me.”

  “I didn’t tell you anything. You don’t know me, and you don’t need to. I’m just your baby-sitter.”

  His cold tone couldn’t mask the pain in his voice.

  “Don’t close yourself off from me, please. You’re so much more than that.” She paused for an instant. “I have never in my life seen anyone so gentle, so tender, as you were just now. You lost your baby, didn’t you?”

  His head jerked, as if he’d been hit. “You might not want to hear the answer to that question. You might think your trust in me is misplaced.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He turned to her, his eyes dark and bleak. “It was a rainy Christmas Eve, a lot like this one. Lisa was seven months pregnant, uncomfortable and bored. She wanted to go to a party. I went, even though I didn’t want to.” He took a sharp breath and stared at his fists clenched on the steering wheel. “She drank. I ragged her about it, telling her it wasn’t good for the baby. She got angry and stalked out of the house in an icy rain.”

  He shrugged jerkily. “She fell. The doctors said the placenta was torn. They couldn’t save the baby. I think Lisa was relieved. She’d hated being pregnant. After that, we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

  As he’d talked, tears gathered in Merry’s eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She ached for him. “Christmas Eve. Oh, Trevor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  He glanced up at her, his eyes glittering in the darkness. He shook his head.

  “I’m going to check the damage.” He wrenched the driver’s side door open, the metal screeching loudly, and got out.

  Merry watched him pace the length of the thick trunk that stretched at least twenty feet from the hood of the truck to the ground. Twice she saw him brush at his cheeks. Eventually he stopped, faced the giant tree and kicked it, hard.

  The truck shuddered and the sound of wood screeching against metal broke the silence of the night.

  A massive contraction engulfed her. She felt as though every muscle had spasmed. Twisting in her seat, she tried to do what Trevor had suggested, lean her weight on her right side. Sucking and blowing rapid breaths, she did her best to relax.

  When she did, she felt a tremendous pressure in her groin. Her heart slammed against her chest. Was the baby coming?

  Trevor blinked the haze from his eyes and kicked at the damn tree again. It hurt his toe and took his mind off Merry for a few seconds.

  The tree was three times as long as he was tall, and its circumference was bigger than his thigh. He looked around, not sure if he was hoping for help or concerned about the faceless killer who, if his theory was correct, had murdered Merry’s husband and had tried to murder her and her unborn child, as well.

  Retrieving Merry’s cell phone from his pocket, he saw that he had a weak signal. He dialed 9-1-1. The connection was staticky, but he was able to give their approximate location and explain the situation.

  The dispatcher told him exactly what he’d expected to hear. There were accidents and emergencies all over the Atlanta area. She asked him if he knew how to deliver a baby, and offered to try to patch him through to a hospital for instruction.

  “That’s not necessary,” he said, grimacing. He knew the basics. He’d taken a Red Cross emergency childbirth course while Lisa was pregnant. Knowledge wasn’t his problem.

  Fear was his problem.

  “Put my call in the queue,” he said, tilting his head and the phone, trying to keep from losing the signal. “And call Captain Jones of the Twenty-third Precinct. Let him know our location and that Mrs. Randolph is in labor.”

  He pocketed his phone, rubbed his hands down his thighs, then climbed back into the truck.

  “You okay?” He sent a worried glance toward Merry, huddled against the passenger door.

  “Sure.” But she didn’t sound okay.

  “I’ll have us out of here in a minute.”

  Thank God for four-wheel drive. He shoved the gearshift into reverse and hit the accelerator.

  Metal screeched. The truck shuddered and strained. The wheels spun. He accelerated more, quick-shifted into first, then back into reverse.

  Branches and leaves scraped against the windshield as the truck’s engine roared.

  Then, with a spring-loaded lunge, the vehicle moved a few feet before the wheels started spinning again. Trevor eased off, to let the engine cool a bit.

  Merry sent up a prayer of thanks that the awful roar of the engine had stopped. She moaned in pain, clenching her teeth against the scream that was gathering in her throat. Her body was drenched in icy sweat that had her shivering from the inside out.

  She tried to sit up straight, but her little guy had other ideas and her body was paying attention to him. He was doing his best to get out, and the pressure was becoming unbearable. Merry needed to push.

  “Trevor?” she gasped.

  He cut the engine and reached for her hand.

  “Dammit, Merry, you’re ice-cold and soaking wet.” His face distorted with worry. “There’s an emergency kit in the back. I should have thought of it before. It probably has a blanket in it.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  A faint beam of light outlined the contours of his face.

  “What was that?” Merry asked.

  “What?”

  “I saw something.” She huffed as the urge to push became almost unbearable. She wished she had something to bite on. “Didn’t you see it?” she demanded. “A light. Maybe—a car.”

  Trevor looked in the rearview mirror. “I was beginning to think we were the only people out tonight.” He squinted, then turned to look back through the rear window. “It’s a big SUV—no, wait. It’s a Hummer. I’ll flag them down.”

  With a groan, Merry leaned back against the seat. “It could be Lawrence. He has a Hummer.” She laughed weakly. “Maybe he’s come to finish the job himself.”

  LAWRENCE SAW THE taillights up ahead and the branch across the road. It had to be Merry. There was only one set of tracks on the road, and he hadn’t passed another vehicle.

  This was perfect. A deserted road, a damaged vehicle, a deadly ice storm. He readied his weapon just in case, but with any luck, he wouldn’t need it.

  Maybe they’d been injured, in which case he’d just drag them out onto the frozen ground and watch them die. Whatever was necessary, he’d do, and not lose a wink of sleep.

  What he’d told his current lover back in his bedroom was true. If you want a job done right, do it yourself. He should have taken care of Merry personally, a long time ago.

  As he approached the vehicle, he saw that it was a big white truck, and that it seemed to be trapped under the fallen tree. It was too dark to see if anyone was inside, but better safe than sorry.

  Lawrence slowed and made a huge circle, heading back the way he’d come. He needed a good running start.

  TREVOR WATCHED the taillights of the Hummer grow smaller. “Whoever he is, he turned around,” he said. “Maybe he saw the tree branch and knew he couldn’t get through.” He cursed under his breath.

  “Irresponsible jerk. He could have checked on us.” Trevor flashed the emergency lights. “If he has any
decency, he’ll come back, make sure we’re all right.”

  “Lawrence told me his custom Hummer can go anywhere.”

  Trevor heard the barely controlled panic in her voice. Her face was pink and glowing with sweat. Her hair was soaked and plastered to her forehead and neck. Her cheeks puffed out as she did the breathing exercises taught to expectant mothers.

  The sight of her sent his brain reeling back to the night his life had changed forever, the night his baby had died before it even had a chance to live.

  Sickening terror pooled in his gut and sent tremors through his tense shoulders. What if he had to deliver Merry’s baby? Could he? He gripped the steering wheel in an effort to stop his hands from trembling.

  “Trevor?” she gasped. “The pains are only about—five minutes apart.” She squealed and clenched her fists.

  “I know, hon. I know.” He reached over and took one fist in his hand, forcing her fingers apart so he could get a grip. She squeezed his fingers with surprising strength as another groan escaped her throat.

  In the rearview mirror, Trevor saw the taillights of the Hummer brighten. “I think he’s stopping.”

  “Oh, dear God, why did I think I could do this?” Merry cried.

  “Hang on. Just a little while longer. I think the guy’s turning around.”

  As Trevor watched the tiny lights behind them move and twist, an uneasiness grew under his breastbone. Merry had said Lawrence had a vehicle just like the one approaching them. He also had the best reason in the world to want Merry’s baby dead. A massive fortune was at stake.

  “Merry, do what I told you to. Lower the seat back and try to lie on your side. In the class I took, they said that could slow the labor.”

  Merry’s fingernails dug into his wrist. “I don’t want to slow it. I want to get this over with,” she rasped through clenched teeth.

  He touched her damp cheek. “Look at me, Merry. I want you down in the seat until I’m sure about this guy in the Hummer. Okay?”

  Her emerald eyes widened. She nodded.

  “I’m going to meet him and talk to him before I let him near the truck.”

  “Do you think it’s Lawrence?” she huffed. “Do you think he’ll try to hurt us?”

  “Just playing it safe.” He shot her a quick, reassuring smile, then reached under the driver’s seat. “Here. This is a small-caliber SIG.” He held out the weapon, trying not to let his worry show on his face.

  He couldn’t voice the suspicion that burned like a banked coal in his chest.

  Merry eyed him warily.

  “Take it, Merry.” He opened the driver’s side door. “I’ll be right back.”

  The icy rain had stopped, but the road was slick and treacherous. In the distance, he saw the headlights of the Hummer coming closer.

  Trevor slid his weapon in and out of his holster a time or two, then flexed his fingers.

  There were too many coincidences, too many unexplained things. Merry’s husband had been killed right after they’d found out she was pregnant, and if she hadn’t been sick that day, she’d have died, too. The first victim of the Widow Maker had died eight months ago, and Merry had been attacked less than five months later. Her brother-in-law, who would be heir to the Randolph fortune if Merry’s baby died, drove a Hummer.

  As the terrifying thoughts flashed through Trevor’s brain, he noticed the Hummer speed up—so fast that the driver had to have floored it!

  “Son of a—” The jerk was going to ram the truck!

  What the hell could he do? His first instinct was to return to the truck and Merry, but he couldn’t stop the damn vehicle unless he could disable the driver. With a quick glance at the pickup, Trevor pulled his weapon and started running straight at the Hummer, praying he could get a good shot at the driver.

  If he failed, Merry and her baby could be killed.

  Chapter Six

  Lawrence saw the man running toward him and scowled. What the hell was he doing? The man’s leather jacket blew back and Lawrence spotted his holster. He squinted. The guy was holding a pistol.

  He must be the day detective. Excitement fluttered in Lawrence’s breast. His instinct had been perfect. Merry was in that truck.

  He stepped harder on the gas. He wasn’t going to be stopped now. His goal was too close. He hunched over the steering wheel, prepared for the impact. His custom-built Hummer was made to withstand a direct hit. The pickup would fold like an accordion. The man wouldn’t even slow it down.

  His breathing accelerated along with his vehicle. He glanced down at the speedometer. Forty. Forty-five.

  He was about to pass the detective, who had leaped to the opposite shoulder of the road and braced himself, holding his weapon in two hands.

  Lawrence cringed, counting on the safety glass and his speed to deflect the detective’s bullets. He’d take care of him later.

  A bullet hit the driver’s side window with a crack. A second one clanged against the metal of the door. Then Lawrence heard an explosion and the wheel jerked to the right, breaking his grip.

  Lawrence screamed in frustration as he fought to regain control of the weighty military-style vehicle. The detective had shot out his left front tire. The Hummer bounced off the road, flipped around and landed in a ditch. He gunned the engine, but the wheels spun.

  The Hummer could extract itself, but Lawrence needed to settle down and drive calmly. He took his foot off the gas for a second.

  He glanced around. The detective had rounded the vehicle and was walking straight toward the front, gun at the ready.

  Irritated almost beyond endurance, Lawrence cursed and retrieved his automatic weapon. He lowered the driver’s side window and stuck the machine pistol out, holding it awkwardly in his left hand.

  He wildly fired off a spray of bullets, his arm jerking painfully. The detective hit the ground.

  TREVOR LIFTED HIS HEAD in time to see the Hummer’s headlights bearing down on him. The bullets hadn’t come that close, but he’d hit the ground instinctively. He’d be no good to Merry if he were wounded.

  He rolled to his left and took aim at the vehicle’s right front tire. He squeezed the trigger and heard the tire pop. Now both front tires were flat. That should put the Hummer at a disadvantage.

  The vehicle backed up and whipped to its left, sideways to Trevor’s position. He aimed for the passenger window as he saw it roll down.

  Trevor squeezed the trigger and heard his shot ricochet off metal.

  Dammit. His position on the uneven, muddy ground was too awkward.

  As he braced his elbows for a second shot, feeling the inadequacy of his Ruger against the machine pistol the driver was using, a spray of automatic weapons fire peppered the ground around him.

  He ducked his head and hunched his shoulders.

  The firestorm stopped.

  He raised up, prepared to roll.

  A second round burst from the Hummer, spattering the ground like deadly hail.

  A dull thud slammed into his right calf and a sting like a mosquito bite slapped his ankle.

  He’d been hit.

  MERRY HEARD the vicious rat-tat-tat, like a handful of firecrackers going off. Were they gunshots? Each one ripped through her as if it had been aimed at her heart.

  Trevor was out there, exposed.

  She tried to raise her head, to see who was shooting at him, but her body wasn’t cooperating. Her baby demanded her attention. She lay on her side, trying to stay relaxed, but knowing each contraction was bringing her closer to the point of no return. The point of having her baby.

  Her mind was crystal-clear and the thoughts that whirled through it were unbelievable, yet at the same time they made a deadly, shocking sense.

  Trevor thought Lawrence had hired Bonner to kill her. She hadn’t believed him. But now—

  Seeing the Hummer roaring up behind them had planted the ugly thought in her mind.

  Lawrence was always in need of money. Zach had complained about him many times. His gambl
ing debts, his debauched lifestyle, his arrogant refusal to work in the family business.

  Was it possible? Could Lawrence have killed his own brother? Could he have masterminded the Widow Maker killings?

  After Zach died, Lawrence had been so sweet to her. Had that all been an act?

  She gave in to the urge to scream as another contraction bore down on her.