“All right then.” West settled back against his pillow.
Maybe he could snatch some rest for a bit and shake off this lethargy and the fog that seemed to encase him. If only he could shut down his thoughts. Why would the bicyclist turn himself in? Something was off about that behavior. Yet the odd stroke of conscience in a baby-snatcher ought to be a good thing for Cady. The bicyclist’s statement could lead to the identity of the attempted murderer or, at the very least, redirect the detectives’ suspicions away from Cady and onto a third party.
West’s eyes drifted shut as if the lids were attached to weights. Sometime later, a commotion out in the hallway roused him from a fitful sleep, and he raised himself up on his elbow in bed, ears perked. Cady seemed to be lashing out at someone—so out of character for her. Though he couldn’t make out the words, her shrill, almost hysterical tone ratcheted West’s heart rate into overdrive. He sat up and started to throw off his covers, but Cady marched into his room, clad in a hospital gown and robe and cuddling Olivia to her chest. A scowling Brennan followed directly in her wake. If storm clouds could have a face, it would be the expression on Cady’s at that very moment. A stocky, middle-aged woman in a gray pantsuit entered, frown lines bracketing lips pulled tightly together.
Cady turned and pointed a finger at the woman in the suit. “This person—” she pronounced the word person like it tasted rotten “—from Child Protective Services thinks she needs to take custody of Olivia while I am taken into custody.”
“Custody?” West’s gaze flew from Cady to the other woman and back again. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” pronounced Detective Rooney, crashing the party, “that we need Mrs. Long to accompany us to the station for questioning, and we need appropriate care for the child while the mother is with us, whatever length of time that may be.”
“Are you arresting her?” West glared at the detective.
“Not yet.” The man indulged his trademark smirk.
West’s hands closed into fists. “If you’re not arresting her, then why does CPS need to be involved?”
Rooney met West’s gaze with a too-bland expression. “I have no doubt an arrest will soon be made. Our baby-snatcher claims Mrs. Long hired him to do it.”
FOUR
Cady forced herself to sit still in the uncomfortable plastic chair inside the police station’s interrogation room. She’d been given something at the hospital to counteract the drug that had been injected into her against her will, so her mind was clear, but the spot where the needle had stabbed her ached when she moved her arm.
The rank odors of stale sweat and bad coffee assaulted her nostrils. But she would not give Detective Rooney or his partner the satisfaction of seeing her squirm or so much as wrinkle her nose. At least she could take comfort in the fact that Child Protective Services had found no grounds to take Olivia when all three of the Triple Threat Personal Protection staff members stepped up and said they would look after the child. As a mother who had not been deemed unfit by the court system, Cady’s permission for the guys to look after Livvy overrode any claim by CPS. Thank you, Lord. Now she simply needed to convince the authorities that she was not complicit in any of the horrifying events that had taken place.
Simple? Hah!
“How long have you been a drug user?” Rooney demanded.
“I’ve never used any drugs that weren’t lawfully prescribed to me and in the correct dosages.”
Rooney opened a file folder and glanced at a paper inside. “You tested positive for opioids in your system.”
“Excuse me, but someone injected me with the drug against my will. How else do you think they were able to simply throw me in the pond and walk away?”
“How do we know you didn’t inject yourself with a little too much of the drug and wandered into the pond by accident?”
Cady leaned toward the detectives. “First of all, I would never, ever endanger my daughter in any way, regardless of what some baby-snatcher claims about me. Second, as you well know from your access to my mother’s records, I watched her fry her brains on drugs over a period of years. I vowed then and have kept that vow that experimenting with drugs was taboo for me, and that goes, too, for the alcohol that wrecked my father and cost my sister her life.”
Detective Grace’s expression softened, but Cady’s words appeared to have no effect on the granite-faced Rooney.
“We understand your family has experienced more than its share of tragedy,” Grace said, “but addiction seems to run in families, so we have to ask, especially in light of the drug test results from the hospital. Considering those results, together with the testimony of the bicyclist and your family history, you can see why we might have reservations about your claims of someone out to get you.”
“Nevertheless—” Cady looked the woman square in the eyes “—that is the truth. I am the victim here—or, at least, the intended victim of a determined killer—and yet I am being treated like a suspect. You can see why I have little to no confidence in law enforcement’s commitment to uncover what is really going on, much less to protect me and my baby.”
Rooney grunted. “We can agree to disagree on the point of confidence in our abilities. Now, how about you tell us where and when you met Jason Green?”
“Who is Jason Green?” Cady blinked at the detective.
Rooney showed his teeth in a cold grin. “Come now. Don’t tell us you never knew the name of the man you hired to lure Mr. Foster from your side by pretending to make off with the baby so you could have an opportunity to feed your addiction.”
Fire flowed through Cady’s middle. How could anyone believe she would endanger her child or follow in her parents’ tragic footsteps after what happened to her sister, Tracy, and those other people in the crash that her drunken father had caused? But how could she defend herself against these charges when people looked at her background and assumed the worst? And why was this Jason Green person lying about her? Had the real perpetrator hired him to make false accusations, just like they hired him to snatch Olivia?
Angry words on her tongue, Cady opened her mouth to lash out, but a sharp rap on the door stalled her outburst. Detective Grace went to the door and opened it a crack. Cady couldn’t quite catch what was said in a whispered exchange. Then the detective flung wide the door and motioned someone inside.
“Your lawyer is here,” Grace announced.
A mature woman of medium build dressed in a skirt suit stepped into the interrogation room.
“My lawyer?” Cady asked.
“Deborah Treach,” the suited woman said, extending a business card, which Cady accepted. The card proclaimed the woman to be a criminal defense attorney.
The lawyer stepped around to Cady’s side of the table. “A man named Westley Foster called Reginald Platte about your situation. But Reggie handles only estate law, so he gave Mr. Foster my number, and here I am. Don’t say anything further to these people.” The woman placed a firm hand on Cady’s shoulder and gazed sternly at the two detectives. “Are you charging my client with anything?”
Rooney pursed his lips like he’d sucked on something sour and crossed his arms over his chest without a word.
Grace shook her head. “Not at this time.”
“Good,” said the attorney. “Then we’re leaving.”
Prompted by the lawyer’s nod, Cady got up and headed toward the door.
Treach held it open for her and turned toward the cops. “I understand you only have the preliminary lab report, indicating opioids in Mrs. Long’s bloodstream. But you don’t yet have the doctor’s notes. I possess both. You might be interested to know that the medical opinion is, and I quote, ‘there is no physiological sign of long-term opioid use,’ so if you’re trying to make a case for addiction being the motivator for alleged bizarre behavior by my client, that theory does not hold water. And if you continue to sing
le-mindedly pursue Mrs. Long as your suspect in these dangerous occurrences, you won’t like how it looks in court that you are persecuting the widow of one of our esteemed Army Ranger combat veterans. Especially because you insist on dredging up ancient family history, rather than considering Mrs. Long’s personal clean record and exemplary life to date.”
Gloating might be in bad taste, but Cady didn’t bother stifling the small smile that spread her lips. She did, however, restrain herself from performing a fist pump. Her smile faded as she and her lawyer left the interrogation room and headed up the hallway toward the exit. West had to have done some fast work to get a lawyer down to the precinct to spring her so quickly. And the lawyer had to have done some fast work to get herself up to speed on Cady’s history—past and present—as well as obtaining the medical documents. Did this fast work mean that West had also become privy to the dark details of her childhood? Her heart squeezed at the thought.
“Your friend is waiting for you in the lobby,” Deborah Treach said.
“Which one?”
“Westley.”
“He’s out of the hospital?”
“Can’t keep a good man down, I understand.”
Cady halted and turned toward the lawyer. “Thank you for what you did for me in there.”
“My pleasure.” The woman smiled. “I have all the respect in the world for an abuse survivor.”
“You’re one?”
The light in the woman’s gaze dimmed as she nodded. “Ex-husband, not parents.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Treach.” She stuck out her hand toward her new friend.
The woman took Cady’s hand and pressed it between both of hers. “Call me Deb. I would be very surprised if the cops don’t back off from their interest in you now and do some wider digging, as they should have done in the first place.”
“That would be so wonderful.”
“Agreed, but I’m still your lawyer. Call me immediately if they try to talk to you about anything at all. I want to be present.”
“You have my word. I don’t want to go through that again all by myself.” Cady shuddered.
They continued a short way up the hall and then entered a foyer where the front desk was located. Cady’s heart leaped as West rose quickly from a seat against the far wall. His gaze searched her as if assuring himself that she was all in one piece.
Cady forced her lips upward into a smile. She was glad to see him. Oh, yes! But she dreaded the conversation she needed to have now. She owed it to him to explain the story of her life that had landed her, undeservedly, on the suspect list, but she hadn’t the first clue how to rip the cork off the noxious brew and pour it out into the open.
* * *
West’s heart ached at Cady’s determination to hide stress and fear behind a brave smile. The woman had as much guts as any soldier he knew. She was concealing something big and bad from her past, that much was clear. But he also understood she must have her reasons, which made the necessary violation of her privacy that much more repulsive. However, he and his guys needed to know whatever it was that the cops knew, especially if it had any bearing on the attempts on Cady’s life.
“Hey,” he said, opening his arms to her.
She walked straight into them and allowed him to enfold her in a hug. Her slight body shuddered and relaxed against him as tension slowly ebbed from her. Bad idea for him to hold her like this—at least as far as his own heart was concerned. But she needed someone to lean on right now, in every sense of the word. If that person could be him, he was honored to serve. She stirred and West released her.
“How is Olivia?” she asked, gazing up at him.
“A text from Brennan a few minutes ago said that she’s napping, but he figures she’ll wake up howling to be fed pretty soon, so we’d better get you home.” West turned toward the lawyer and held out his hand. “Thank you for whatever it was you did in there. You got quicker results than I thought possible.”
The woman smiled and shrugged, accepting his handshake. “Detective Rooney is like a bulldog with a juicy steak when he gets a certain idea in his head, but he can be redirected if given a solid reason. I like to think I gave it to him.”
West grinned. “Glad to have you in our corner.”
“Call me if you need me.” Deb waved and headed out the door.
With a hand on the small of Cady’s back, he urged her in that direction, too. She went with a head-lowered docility that betrayed exhaustion. Or perhaps dread. She had to realize they needed to have a difficult conversation.
Outside, the sun had drifted toward the horizon, and a cool breeze stirred Cady’s ponytail. “It’s been a very long day.” She sighed.
“It has,” West agreed. “Darius is waiting up the street with your vehicle. He’ll drive us to your place. When we get there, as soon as you feed Baby-bug, I want you to hit the sack. We’ll look after her.”
She glanced up at him. “You’d better mind doctor’s orders and get some rest also.”
He grimaced. “I’m getting tired of hearing that, but I’m also just plain tired, so I suppose you’re right. Brennan has volunteered for the first half of the night watch, and Darius will relieve him at zero one hundred, so we’ve got it covered.”
They came in sight of the Blazer parked at the curb not far ahead. Darius stood, leaning his back against it with his arms crossed, as if he were at ease, but the regular swiveling of his head let West know that his buddy was on high alert. Good on him.
Cady stopped and touched West’s arm. He halted as she gazed up at him with shadowed eyes. “Could we save the soul-baring until morning when at least you and I will be fresh?”
West brushed her tense cheek with his fingertips. “I think that’s a wise idea. And just so you know, there is nothing you could tell me that could possibly make me think less of you.”
She whirled away and took jerky strides toward the vehicle. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Her words drifted to him over her shoulder, and his heart shriveled. How bad could her secret past be that she doubted the steadfastness of friends who had already walked through deep grief and loss together?
* * *
The next morning around 7:00 a.m. found West seated at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. At least for the moment, tea had lost its appeal. Darius, just coming off night duty, and Brennan, fresh from six hours of shut-eye, shared the table with him. For a time, they sipped their brews in grim silence.
“We made it through one quiet night,” Darius rumbled.
Brennan scowled into his coffee. “But we’re still no closer to finding out how an intruder got into the house. I asked Cady yesterday, while you were still in the hospital, if someone else could have a key from before she got the place, but she told me she had the locks changed right after she moved in, and she updated the security system as soon as she started having that uneasy ‘watched’ feeling she told us about.”
Frowning, West sat back and stretched his long legs out beneath the table. He deeply appreciated Cady’s listening to her instincts and taking precautions, but he hated that such a thing had been necessary. Unhappily, rekeying the locks hadn’t stopped the mystery intruder.
“We have a lot of investigating to do,” West said, “above and beyond protecting Griff’s widow and daughter. Here are our assignments for today—I want Cady to lay out anything else that was in the gift basket from the neighborhood watch committee. It will all need to be examined for threats, and whoever packed the basket will need to be interviewed at some point today. But the interview can wait until after Cady and I make a second run at getting those house plans. This time, we have to succeed. I’m feeling fit this morning, so I’ll be hard to take by surprise. Darius, grab a few winks and then dig into this Jason Green character. He’s our link to the enemy behind all this.”
“
Negative, boss,” Darius said. “You know firsthand that in the field I’ve operated many times on far less sleep for far longer than this. I’m looking into Green immediately.”
West grinned. “No argument here. Keep us updated. First, find out if he’s still in custody, then work from there—who he is, what he’s into, where he hangs out, his contacts, everything and anything you can find out.”
“What about me?” Brennan sat up straight.
“You’re guarding the house while the rest of us are on our missions. Make yourself useful tapping on walls and poking into the most unlikely places for any hidden passages. We know our Cady didn’t dream up that attack in her bedroom.”
“Amen to that,” Cady said as she strolled into the room clad in jeans and a T-shirt and carrying her wide-awake daughter. “Knowing you guys were on duty, I slept like the proverbial log—well, except for when this little peanut decided she was hungry.” She bounced Livvy in her arms and bestowed a smile upon them all.
West’s mouth went dry. Who knew a woman could be so appealing with a faint pillow crease still marking one cheek?
Cady stepped up close and handed Baby-bug off to him. “Entertain her while I whip up some of my famous chocolate chip pancakes with sides of eggs and bacon. I assume you soldier-types are fans of rib-sticking breakfasts.”
“You know it.” Brennan grinned from ear to ear.
“A woman after my own heart.” Darius chuckled. “Er, I mean, stomach.”
The pair of guys laughed heartily, but West barely managed a faint guffaw. He ducked his head and focused on dandling Livvy on his knee. It wouldn’t do to let anyone see how very much Cady was a woman after his own heart. If anyone were paying attention, his growing feelings must be written plainly on his face. He had to get his wayward heart under control. Too much was at stake to be distracted by inopportune thoughts of romance. He clucked at Baby-bug, and the infant blew cooing bubbles as she waved fisted hands at him. A genuine smile grew on West’s lips. If only he didn’t long to take this tiny cutie under his wing as his daughter for real.
The Baby's Defender Page 5
