The Baby's Defender

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  West consulted his watch. “Then we’d better not be late. If we head out soon, we should have plenty of time.”

  The infant monitor chose that moment to register Olivia’s awakening cries. “We’ll have to wait until Livvy is fed and changed, then bring her with us.”

  A half hour later, Cady strapped her daughter into the car seat in the rear of her Chevy Blazer while West settled into the passenger seat. He was wearing his side arm, which comforted her for the protection it offered and repelled her that a firearm was necessary. He’d suggested she bring her gun in her purse, but she’d firmly declined. Accessing it to defend against a home invader was one thing, but armed-and-dangerous-pistol-packin’-mama-in-public-with-a-baby wasn’t an appealing persona for her. West was protection enough.

  Pausing beside the driver’s door, she scanned the area. Goose bumps prickled up and down her arms even as a pleasantly cool, early fall breeze ruffled her hair and the small branches on a red oak tree in her spacious yard. Was someone hiding in the shadows, watching her every move? The quiet neighborhood of stately older homes, most of them brick, seemed peaceful, not another human being in sight—though the pungent odor of burning charcoal betrayed that somewhere close by, someone had lit their grill. Was this outward serenity a facade like the stillness of a lake’s surface concealing a monster in its depths?

  Shaking herself free of macabre speculations, she opened her car door. They needed to get going if they expected to make the lawyer’s office before closing time. Cady backed the car out of the driveway, leaving Darius and Brennan still searching every inch of the house. Her skin crawled at the idea that someone might have unfettered access to her home through a hidden entrance or passageway, but at least if the guys discovered one, they would have an explanation for how someone was getting in and they could seal it off. What a comfort that would be!

  She glanced over at her adult passenger to find West’s head drooping toward his chest and his eyes closed. He really had left the hospital too soon, but apparently his call of duty overrode good sense. She’d let him sleep, perchance to snore. The thought drew a grin on her face. He’d be so mad at himself when he woke up.

  Mere minutes later, she cruised along the edge of the small but attractive Robinson Park. The area, featuring many trees, a pond, a fountain and a gazebo, was sparsely populated this late afternoon. A young couple strolled along a path, hand in hand, and a middle-aged woman sat on a bench tossing crumbs to the pigeons. The law office came up on her right, across from the park, but signs prohibited curbside parking and the small, three-space lot next to the office was full. Sighing, Cady drove on for half a block and turned into the park’s paved area for vehicles. They could walk from here.

  As she stopped the Blazer, West’s head came up with a jerk. “You let me sleep?” The question sounded part accusation, part astonishment.

  No doubt the astonishment was at himself over the fact that he’d drifted off in the first place, and the accusation was divided between himself and her.

  “Will wonders never cease?” She laughed. “Westley Foster is human, after all!”

  West scowled, evidently not mollified by her attempt at humor. “Have you kept an eye out to see if we were followed?”

  “Ugh, no. I should have considered that possibility.” Cady’s pulse quickened as she glanced from side to side. Could one of the cars cruising up the street contain a threat? Impossible to tell, which only increased the temptation to be anxious.

  West muttered something in an angry tone under his breath. “It’s okay. My fault, not yours. Some protector I am!”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. It takes a while to recover from being mostly dead.”

  This time her humor had the desired effect, and he chuckled. As he’d shared with his squad members and their families that his mother had been enamored with the film, The Princess Bride. She’d named him Westley after the hero, who spent a few pivotal scenes being “mostly dead” and undergoing a hilariously incredible recovery process to ultimately save the day.

  As they emerged from the vehicle into the fresh air, that icky-itchy sensation of being watched threatened to overtake Cady again. Was she imagining things because West had suggested they might have been followed, or was her subconscious picking up clues her outer awareness hadn’t registered?

  West’s head swiveled back and forth, gaze alert. “No one in the cars rolling past on the street seems to be paying attention to us or even slowing down. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t being smart in their tailing. I have no way of knowing if any of them followed us from your neighborhood. If only I’d—” He clamped his jaw shut and didn’t finish scolding himself, though he was probably completing the job in his head.

  “No point indulging coulda-woulda-shoulda,” Cady said. “I’m sure we’re fine.”

  How deeply she wanted that statement to be true. But how unlikely that it was—not when someone had tried to smother her and then to poison her and ended up nearly killing a dear friend instead. What a helpless feeling to know someone wanted her dead, but not to have a clue who it might be or why.

  One step at a time, she told herself. They were on a mission to the lawyer’s office up the block and across the street. Hopefully, said mission would yield helpful results. They really needed to get answers about what was going on.

  They started up the sidewalk that skirted the park with Cady pushing Livvy in the stroller they’d retrieved from the rear of her SUV. West strode beside her. Livvy gurgled and cooed and batted the balmy air with her tiny hands, apparently enjoying the sunny-day outing.

  Since their arrival, several more pedestrians had entered the park—a family group with a slouching teenager and two small children who ran in the grass, as well as an elderly man walking along the path with the help of a cane. Nothing and no one appeared the slightest bit out of the ordinary or in any way a threat. Cady’s shoulders relaxed marginally.

  A strong hand closed around her upper arm. “I may have snoozed off in the car, but I’m wide-awake now,” West said quietly, steel underlying his tone. “You and Baby-bug are safe with me.”

  A bicycle whooshed past, the rider snaking out a hand and grabbing the stroller’s handle. The sheer force of the cyclist’s speed ripped the stroller from Cady’s fingers.

  “Livvy!” Cady cried as bicycle and stroller veered onto a dirt path leading kitty-corner through the park. The elderly man scurried to the side with his mouth agape as the cyclist sped past.

  West’s hand grabbed hers, and they surged forward in pursuit. A fist gripped Cady’s heart. They had to reach Olivia! Cady was slowing West down. He was practically dragging her along as those military-grade legs ate up the ground.

  Cady jerked her hand from his. “Go, go!”

  He glanced back at her with wide eyes, even as they continued to run. The man faced a cruel decision. Leave Cady to her own devices or rescue the baby.

  “Go!” she screamed at him again, waving him on.

  Decision made, he charged ahead like a juggernaut in pursuit of that cyclist and the stroller’s precious cargo.

  Cady stepped up her pace, but someone leaped from a clump of bushes and knocked her to the grassy turf. The breath left her lungs in a high whistle.

  A stocky figure wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over the head pinned her arms and torso to the ground, much like this morning’s attacker had rendered her helpless. Only this time she was facing her assailant, but the person’s face was completely in shadow. A gloved hand pressed hard against her face, swallowing her screams. Something stung the tender flesh in the fold of her elbow, and the world faded quickly away.

  * * *

  Only two more strides and he’d be able to snatch the stroller from that diabolical bicyclist. From behind, the guy appeared to be a slightly built male with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head. West and his quarry had nearly reached t
he end of the park. Who knew where the kidnapper would go with his precious cargo next? He pushed himself into greater effort, ignoring the unaccustomed weakness in his limbs and the tingling in his extremities that could signal an impending seizure. No time for that nonsense. If sheer willpower could hold one of those off, he was going to do it.

  Suddenly, the cyclist released the stroller even as he executed a 90-degree turn. West dove forward and grabbed the baby’s carriage. Olivia’s terrified wails wrenched his heart, though she appeared to be uninjured. She was still securely strapped into her seat of the style that snapped in and out of the stroller’s frame for convenient infant transportation.

  Breathing harder than this exertion would usually cause, an eerie detached-from-body sensation pressed in on West. He fumbled for the anti-seizure medication in his pocket and finally managed to pop one into the space between his cheek and gum where his body would rapidly absorb the medicine.

  Forcing himself to focus, he scanned the area for any sign of the man or his bicycle, but they were gone. Not that he’d be free to chase after the kidnapper, anyway. Olivia was his first concern and Cady a close second. He scooped the squalling, kicking child into his arms. Baby-bug began to quiet immediately as comforting human contact cradled her. Those tear-wet amber eyes, so like her mother’s, blinked up at him as she wrapped her tiny fingers around the thumb of the large hand that held her close.

  Sirens began to close in on the area. Evidently, someone had called the cops. He couldn’t stand in place and wait to be questioned. He had to find Cady. She’d be worried sick about Olivia. He was a little amazed she hadn’t caught up with him and her daughter by now.

  Retracing his steps, his gaze searched the park grounds for any sign of Livvy’s mother. Her svelte figure, crowned by golden hair, was nowhere to be seen. A cold fist began to close around West’s heart. He walked faster, retracing his steps.

  A scream sounded from the vicinity of the pond. Cuddling Baby-bug close, West raced toward the spot. Several people stood at the pool’s edge crying out and pointing at something in the water. As West neared the location, a teenage boy, clad in jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt, waded in, grabbed a limp wad of clothes and started dragging it out of the water.

  Not a wad of clothes.

  West’s pulse stalled and then skyrocketed. He knew that floral blouse paired with black leggings.

  West reached the teen and his precious burden in time to employ a free arm to help him pull Cady from the water and lay her on the grass. Her pallor and bluish lips did not bode well.

  Please, God!

  West knelt beside her still form and felt for a pulse in her neck. There was a faint one, but that wouldn’t last long. She wasn’t breathing. His insides went still and cold, senses sharpened, like he’d entered the combat zone. Gently, he laid Olivia on the grass near her mother and went to work performing CPR.

  Thirty chest compressions, two rescue breaths.

  Thirty chest compressions, two rescue breaths.

  Thirty chest compressions, two rescue breaths.

  He was an automaton, focus absolute, registering nothing and no one else. Saving this woman—if she could be saved—was all that mattered in his world.

  Suddenly, Cady’s body convulsed and water spewed from her mouth. Her lungs gasped in a rattling breath. Coughing spasms wracked her as her eyes popped open and fixed on his face.

  Thank you, God!

  Her wild gaze darted everywhere as she strove to sit up.

  West pushed her back down. “Olivia’s fine. She’s right here beside you.”

  Moments later, they were swarmed with emergency personnel. Quicker than West thought possible, he was back in a hospital bed with more IV fluids being pumped into him to accelerate the final flushing of the poison, and Olivia and Cady were in another room just up the hall. On preliminary examination, it appeared that Cady had been injected with something that knocked her out and was then thrown into the pond to drown, but that was as much as he’d gleaned in all the kerfuffle in the ER before they were separated.

  West stared in disgust at the needle in his hand. How long did he need to be sidelined again? And which people were going to arrive first, demanding answers about what happened, answers that he dearly wished he possessed? His teammates or the cops? Within a minute of his speculation, both groups of people nearly collided in his doorway.

  “Badges first,” Darius said, motioning toward Detective Rooney and a thirtysomething woman of average height and build who was probably his partner.

  Rooney grunted and took the invitation with a scowl, trailed by the female detective, who at least wore a pleasant expression. Darius sauntered in after them. West wasn’t fooled. Tension radiated from his teammate’s muscular shoulders and sharp gaze. He was itching for a fight but had no target. Yet.

  “Is Brennan on guard outside Cady’s door?” he asked Darius.

  “You got that right.”

  “Good call.”

  The two of them exchanged wolfish grins. It was great to work with a pair of guys who didn’t need direct orders to know what to do next.

  “Fill us in on what happened.” Rooney’s sharp tone inserted itself like a knife into the taut atmosphere.

  “Do you mind if we record this session?” his partner asked, producing a handheld recorder. “I’m Detective Leticia Grace, by the way.”

  The woman certainly had a better manner with witnesses than her older partner. Even her surname inspired trust. Rooney, on the other hand, was probably within spitting distance of his retirement, and if West had ever seen burnout, he was looking at it in the graying detective. The guy was putting in his time with entrenched cynicism and no heart in the job.

  “Okay by me,” West answered and delivered his account in terse, no-frills phrases as if reporting on a military mission.

  Despite the recording, Rooney was taking written notes on a small pad. He paused in his scribbling, lifted his pen from the pad, and speared West with a narrow-eyed gaze.

  “Let’s summarize. You’re saying some joker on a bicycle snatched the baby buggy and raced off with it. You and Mrs. Long gave chase, but Mrs. Long got left behind. The baby-snatcher released the buggy at the end of the park, and you recovered the baby. The cyclist got away, and you have no description of the suspect except the impression that he was a young male dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over the head and cross-trainers.”

  “That’s correct. Bystanders at the park may have seen the rider’s face, but I did not.”

  “How about a description of the bicycle?”

  “It was blue.” West shrugged. “One of those commuter bikes with wide tires and upright handlebars. Common as dirt. I wish I could think of something distinctive about it.”

  “That’s all right,” said Detective Grace. “Uniformed officers are continuing to interview witnesses at the scene. Hopefully, we’ll glean more details.”

  “Will you share them if you do?”

  Rooney’s amused sneer communicated a negative answer loud and clear. “What do you know about how Mrs. Long ended up in the pond?”

  “Nothing. What do you know?”

  The detective’s face went stony. “She says some guy pounced on her and injected her with something. She doesn’t remember going into the water.”

  West sat up in bed and met Rooney’s hard-eyed gaze. “Then you owe her an apology for suspecting her in the poisoning incident and for ‘dreaming up’ her attack in the night. Outside forces are at work here.”

  Rooney’s too-bland smile sent a tingle down West’s spine. “We don’t have all the facts yet. You don’t, either. Nor do we have any witnesses who corroborate her story.”

  There the detective went again, implying that there were things he didn’t know about Cady’s past that were pertinent to the situation. He was going to have to press her for answers
about the issue that he hadn’t pursued this afternoon. He and his guys needed to know if Cady was guarding some dark secret that could contain the key to keeping her and Olivia safe, not to mention catching and stopping people who clearly didn’t balk at endangering an infant in their quest to eliminate Cady.

  “Ri-i-ght!” West’s tone oozed sarcasm. “She arranged for her own baby to be snatched and then injected herself and threw herself into the fountain pool? How ridiculous!”

  Rooney opened his mouth, but his phone rang and he left the room with his ear to his cell. Detective Grace excused herself politely and followed her partner.

  West locked eyes with Darius. “What is going on around here?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question.” Darius crossed his arms over his barrel chest.

  “We’d better find out then. Did you finish your fresh canvas of the house and property?”

  “We did, but with the same result as before. I think we need those house plans ASAP.”

  “I’m sorry Cady’s and my expedition was derailed.”

  “Perhaps that was a secondary intent of the attack.”

  “You mean, other than eliminating Cady?”

  “Yeah, that,” Darius said with a deep growl.

  Rooney strode back into the room, grinning like a cat with a mouse’s tail under its paw. Grace strolled in behind him, her smile more muted but definitely of the pleased variety.

  “The bicyclist just turned himself in,” Rooney said. “We’re off to interrogate him now. I expect to have some answers to our questions very soon.”

  The detectives hurried from the room.