The Baby’s Bodyguard

by Alice Sharpe

  That left Hugo and Harrison Plumber. Both had suffered grievously at the hands of the GTM. No matter what Jack said, they seemed equally unlikely to be involved.

  What if it had been David? What if he’d had an accomplice and that accomplice was now looking for the money? But why threaten Hannah when, to her knowledge, she was doing nothing to challenge a single soul?

  There was a rap on her door and Fran stuck her head in. She quickly looked back out into the hall, then slipped inside.

  Hannah closed the program she’d been running on the computer as she said, “Is something wrong?”

  Fran settled herself in Hannah’s visitor chair. “You will not believe what I just heard. Steel yourself, it’s about you.”

  “Me?”

  Her voice dropped lower. “It’s about your love life and it’s juicy.”

  All Hannah could think of was that someone had figured out who Jack was and where he was currently living.

  She braced herself for the worst.

  Chapter Seven

  Fran’s eyes twinkled as she spoke. “I don’t know who started it,” she said softly, “I just overheard it in the coffee room. Two gals from maintenance were talking to each other.” Her voice dropped another decibel as she added, “One of them said you and David Lengell had an affair before he died.”

  Fran sat back in her chair, her eyes never leaving Hannah’s face. As far as Hannah was aware, Jack was the only one who knew she’d been dating David. He’d hardly had the time, opportunity or inclination to tell anyone about this….

  Fran apparently misread Hannah’s silence. “Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s not true. If I see them again—”

  “Even if it was true,” Hannah interrupted, “what would it matter? David is dead.”

  “It matters because if Hugo Correa gets wind you conducted an intra-office romance against company policy, it could jeopardize your job. And let me remind you, hon, I know all about the Frenchman down in Costa del Rio who fathered Aubrielle, but most of the people here don’t. If the rumor about you and David spreads, then it’s not a big jump to imagine it ending up with David as Aubrielle’s father.”

  See? Hannah’s conscience shouted in her ear. This is where lying gets you. This is where sneaking around gets you. But it was too late. If the rumor was circulating, then people would reach whatever conclusions they wanted. But what if this news reached David’s parents? She did not want to hurt them.

  Damn. Her biggest regret was having a relationship with David in the first place. At the time, it hadn’t seemed like that big a deal. He’d argued the policy was outdated, she’d agreed.

  “Please don’t talk to anyone about this,” she told Fran. “Let it die.”

  “I don’t get you. Why would you—”

  “Fran, there’s a lot going on right now. You don’t know all of it. A rumor or two is the least of my concerns.”

  Fran narrowed her dark eyes and tapped a finger against Hannah’s desktop. “Okay, missy, what’s up? Tell me everything.”

  No way was Hannah telling Fran everything, but the break-in and the broken window were now common knowledge and it was even possible Officer Latimer or one of the other policemen would come out to the foundation to ask questions. Also, if someone here was doing these terrible things, then maybe having it out in the open was the way to go. So, Hannah told Fran about all the scares she and her grandmother had experienced in the last two days, leaving Jack and his suspicions concerning the foundation out of it.

  She also omitted any mention of David’s money, though for a moment or two she was tempted to admit she’d dated him. On the other hand she could think of no way that information could help and a couple of ways it might work against her.

  “I can’t believe you’re going through all this,” Fran said when Hannah finished. “And you really have no idea what this person wants in your house or thinks you’re doing to them?”

  “None. If they’re trying to scare me to death, they’re doing a good job of it.”

  Fran nodded thoughtfully. “It’s like it’s two different people.”

  That was exactly what Jack had said the day before—two minds. Chills skittered between Hannah’s shoulder blades. One person having it in for her was bad enough.

  “If I hear anything at all, I’ll tell you, okay?” Fran said, her eyes earnest.

  “That would be wonderful. But don’t alert people, don’t set yourself in anyone’s sights, okay?”

  “Me?” Fran laughed. “Everyone talks to me, hon, you know that.” Her expression got serious and she lowered her voice again. “All this aside, I’m going to be truthful with you, Hannah. I simply don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t believe me? What do you mean? You don’t believe that someone threw a rock through my grandmother’s window or came into her house—”

  “No, I believe all that. I don’t think you’re telling the truth about you and David.”

  “I didn’t say anything about David.”

  “I know. You’ve been very careful not to comment on David at all. However, I’m remembering a couple of times when he came in to shoot the breeze with me and kept staring down here toward your office. And there was that time I thought I saw his car at your house, only you told me it wasn’t, and another when you were both at the theatre. I’m beginning to think the ladies I overheard were telling the truth and that the reason you want me to drop it is because you know it.”

  Fran’s face reflected the enjoyment she got out of knowing other people’s business. In retrospect, it seemed amazing to Hannah that Fran hadn’t figured out she and David were seeing one another long before. “Fran, will you please just let this drop?”

  “I just like to have my facts straight.” She bit the inside of her lip and added, “Did David ever give you anything?”

  Hannah very cautiously said, “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, you know. If you guys were so close, it must be comforting to have something special of his.”

  Was she hinting around about Aubrielle? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “Touchy, touchy,” Fran said, laughing.

  “Listen, Fran—”

  “Forget it,” Fran said. “I was just curious. You know me.”

  Hannah was beginning to wonder if she did.

  JACK HAD NEVER SPENT SO MUCH time with an elderly lady and a baby. Of the two, the baby was the easier to get along with. He’d noticed the way Hannah hadn’t included her grandmother in any of their—okay, his—suspicions about the foundation; given the older woman’s propensity for talking without thinking, he appreciated that, but it made answering her questions a little tricky.

  The baby, on the other hand, couldn’t utter a single sensible word nor did she seem to understand any and in a strange way, he found that kind of refreshing. The kid had mastered living in the moment and he admired that.

  What he was having the most difficulty with was not being in the middle of things. When he’d pushed his way into Hannah’s life by volunteering to be Aubrielle’s bodyguard, he hadn’t understood how much downtime would be involved. Even his Zen-like exercises couldn’t help calm the anxiety roiling in his gut.

  Mimi must have noticed how impatient he was feeling, for she presented him with the stroller and suggested a walk. No way he was pushing a pink stroller around town. She promptly produced an alternative, a sling-type thing that could be strapped around him with the baby inside it. That had possibilities. A few minutes later, he’d strapped the baby to his chest and pulled on a jacket. Mimi, who had been unable to find her canning jars and so hadn’t been able to make her jam, agreed to be escorted to the neighbor’s house where she promised to stay until he came for her.

  On foot, he made his way down to the repair garage and found out Hannah’s car would be ready in two days. He also spied a truck he could trade his Harley for and made a deal for the guys to bring the truck out later that day. Then he walked to a restaurant where he ordered
a toasted sesame seed bagel slathered with cream cheese that was blessedly free of any charred bits, and ate it standing up as Aubrielle gazed at him with deep blue eyes.

  “Aubrielle is an awful big name for a little shrimp like you,” he told her as he brushed a crumb or two off her forehead. “I’m going to call you Abby. Better not tell your mom.”

  They all got back to the house in time to let the glass guys in. Jack could think of no way to get around eating the “well-done” grilled cheese sandwich Mimi presented. Stuffed and bored beyond endurance, he agreed to go back down into the nasty little excuse for a basement and check for Mimi’s canning jars. It seemed extremely unlikely that anything bad could happen to the baby or her grandmother as they watched the glass people install the new front window.

  Every box in the basement held old Christmas ornaments and decorations. There were enough garlands, felt stockings and twinkling lights to cover every surface of the house but there were no jars. He was in the attic checking out the piles of bags and trunks up there when Hannah appeared at the top of the ladder. A weak shaft of sunlight hit her face as she called out to him, illuminating her reddish-gold hair, making her look like a blushing angel.

  Damn, he needed to get out of this house, away from all these females.

  “Find the jars?” she asked.

  “Nope. I’m beginning to think your grandmother is imagining them.”

  “No, I’ve seen them around somewhere, maybe when I was moving my stuff in a few months ago. Give me a minute or two to think about it.”

  “What about work? Did you find out anything helpful?”

  Her brow creased for a second but she shook her head.

  “Hannah, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Damn it,” he snarled, getting to his feet and walking to the ladder opening. “I’ve been stuck here all day spinning my wheels. What the hell happened out at the foundation?”

  She shook her head, bit her lip and said, “Really, nothing. Nothing important, anyway. Right now there’s another matter to resolve—”

  “Oh, yes, I almost forgot, the great mystery of the missing canning jars.”

  “I am referring,” she snarled back, “to the great mystery of a guy named Hank Nebbins who is currently downstairs claiming you’re trading your Harley for an ugly green truck. Is that true?”

  “I can’t take Aubrielle anywhere on a bike,” he said.

  “Where do you plan on taking Aubrielle?” she asked, brow furrowing.

  She was obviously unhappy about the prospect of him transporting her daughter. “I don’t have the slightest idea but it’s good to be prepared,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t want you to lose your Harley because of my baby—”

  “Hannah? It’s a bike. It’s a thing. It’s more fun than some rides, but at the end of the day, that’s what it is, a ride.”

  “That’s very evolved of you,” she said, with arched eyebrows, making it very clear she thought he was full of it. She preceded him down the ladder. He followed, enjoying the occasional glimpse of her milky cleavage to say nothing of the flare of her hips.

  Evolved. Yep, that was him. He flashed to the afternoon they’d kissed. He suddenly wished he could snatch back the lost opportunity. Why had he gotten all noble? Give him the chance and he’d show her how evolved he was….

  Okay, okay, he was frustrated, that’s all. He’d spent the day accomplishing nothing, getting nowhere, stuck babysitting while a clock ticked off the minutes and now his supposed partner in honor, truth and the American way was getting all evasive.

  Something had to give. Soon.

  EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, Aubrielle evoked her infant privilege of fussing and that afternoon was one of them. While her grandmother walked the crying baby, Hannah finally recalled the baby swing a friend had passed along weeks before. She knew exactly where it was, too, on the top shelf of the closet in the room Jack was using. Her hands had no more closed around the swing when the crying stopped and her grandmother tiptoed down the hall past the door, carrying the now-exhausted baby in her arms.

  The act of digging through the closet had reminded Hannah where she’d seen her grandmother’s canning jars, too. She was moving boxes when Jack came into the room, the transaction with the truck apparently concluded.

  “What are you up to?” he asked.

  “I’m looking for my grandmother’s jars. I think I saw them in this closet when I was storing some of my stuff after the move.”

  He sat on the edge of the futon, got to his feet and paced the floor. His lurking presence began to get on her nerves. She set aside a small sealed box to get to the larger, more promising-looking one beneath it.

  “I think I found them,” she said.

  “What’s this?” Jack asked. As she pulled out the box of jars, she looked over her shoulder. He’d picked up the smaller box.

  “I don’t know—”

  “It’s addressed to Donna Gonzales. Isn’t that David’s mother?” He turned it to show Hannah the label she’d affixed months before. Hannah had obviously moved the box from her apartment to the house instead of mailing it.

  “Yeah, she has a different last name than David. I thought I’d sent it. No wonder she never responded. I’d better get it off tomorrow—”

  “After what you told me about David’s stash? Maybe there’s something we can use in this box. At least we could look.”

  “I guess,” she said, racking her brain to recall what she’d put in the box. The trouble was she’d been several months pregnant, her house had just been burglarized and they’d just buried her grandfather. She’d been so frazzled that there were lots of things she had done at the time she could barely recall doing now. There’d also been all the people from work who had helped her move. In retrospect, she supposed it was inevitable things got mixed up.

  Mimi spoke from the doorway. “Aubrielle’s down for a nap so we don’t need the swing now. Oh, are those my jars?”

  “Yes,” Hannah said, dragging the big box out of the closet.

  Mimi came into the room to look in the box, then she turned her attention to Jack. “I have to ask you, Jack, how did Aubrielle get sesame seeds in her hair?”

  “Sesame seeds?” Hannah said.

  Jack looked a little embarrassed. “I had a snack when we were out walking. A seed must have fallen off a bagel. Sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s no big deal, I just wondered,” Mimi said with a warm smile.

  “You went walking with my baby?” Hannah said. “When?”

  “Today.”

  “Why?”

  “It was that or go stir-crazy. I think she liked it.”

  Mimi laughed, but Hannah felt her blood chill. She did not like the idea of Jack getting that comfortable with Aubrielle. Well, of course he’ll get comfortable with her, just as she’ll get comfortable with him.

  “That baby will have you wrapped around her finger before you know it,” Mimi said, patting Jack’s shoulder. “Would you carry the jars into the kitchen for me?”

  “Sure,” he said, and, leaning down, lifted the box from Hannah’s lap. “I’ll be right back,” he said with a meaningful glance at the smaller box.

  The box and what it held suddenly seemed a lot less worrisome than Jack Starling. He’d traded his bike for a truck, he’d carried her baby around town all afternoon and felt comfortable enough doing it to actually eat with her strapped to his chest, and now her grandmother was domesticating him.

  She had to get him out of here.

  Jack came back into the room wielding his pocket-knife. Within seconds he had the flaps of the smaller box open and despite her racing thoughts, Hannah got caught up in the mystery of its contents.

  “Oh, I remember now,” she said as moved aside a layer of tissue paper. “His passport is in here. It’s in an envelope with a couple of letters from his mother.”

  Jack lifted out several old music tapes and Hannah smiled when she saw them. “David listened to
different music when he did different things. Heavy rock for biking, classical for flying, like that.”

  “Why did you have them?”

  “These are some his brother gave him. He brought them to me because I was the only one he knew who still had an old tape player. I thought his family might want them back.”

  There were also a couple of VCR tapes in the box, one of David’s first solo landing when he got his pilot’s license and another of a cousin’s wedding.

  A large envelope was tucked underneath a knit cap and a couple of dog-eared paperbacks David had lent her. Hannah carefully removed a handful of photos, none of them with her in them—those she’d kept—two letters and the passport. She handed the passport to Jack, who opened it and scanned the pages.

  “Well?” she said.

  “He’s got a stamp for Ecuador,” Jack said.

  “When is it dated?”

  “Thirteen months ago. The twenty-eighth of April.”

  “When he said he was in Arizona.”

  “Ecuador is very close to Tierra Montañosa.”

  “Yes,” she said. “He lied. He could very well have gone over the border—”

  “Or met someone in Ecuador. Someone from the GTM. But he’d need an accomplice from the Staar Foundation.”

  She was about to protest but didn’t. He was right. Everything she knew about David pointed to the fact he would need someone else setting things up. For one thing, he didn’t speak Spanish well.

  For the first time, she really believed her old boyfriend had sold out his company and been responsible for multiple deaths.

  And that someone else she knew had helped him.

  Chapter Eight

  “We need to find out if anyone else from the Staar Foundation traveled to Ecuador a year ago April. Do you remember?” Jack demanded. He’d gotten to his feet and was pacing the cluttered room.

  “No. As far as I know, no one did. I’m not sure how I can find out if someone wants to keep it a secret.”