The Baby's Defender

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “Exactly.”

  “What a diabolical solution to this facility’s problems. I hope they close the place down after this.”

  “I expect the kerfuffle will die away with a change in administration and some policy and procedure adjustments,” West said, “but I wouldn’t hold my breath for a shutdown. Where would all these people go?”

  Cady shook her head. “Never mind. That was spite and frustration talking. What did you mean when you said you aren’t convinced my mother fell into the river?”

  West shifted in his seat and looked away.

  “You’re doing that I-don’t-want-to-come-right-out-and-tell-her thing again.”

  “This could be tough to hear, Cady.”

  “Tougher than all the nonsense we’ve been going through?”

  “You have a point.” He offered a grim smile, then sobered. “What if your mother is behind the attacks on you?”

  Cady gaped at him, then shook herself. “What part of ‘my mother’s mind is gone’ didn’t you understand?”

  “But I overheard a staff member who was being arrested say to the cops that May exaggerated some of her mental incompetence. That she was sly and devious and consciously used her disabilities to her own advantage.”

  Cady’s gut clenched. What West suggested couldn’t be right, could it?

  She shook her head. “The devious part to get her own way sounds like the mother I once knew. But it’s a huge leap to go from selfish and sneaky to ruthless and homicidal.”

  West’s sharp gaze never wavered. “But if she’s more competent than anyone knows, it’s not out of the question that your mother is behind the attacks on you.”

  Oxygen vacated Cady’s lungs. As she’d experienced too many times in her life before, her world imploded on her.

  * * *

  “But why?”

  The devastated wail in Cady’s tone ripped at West’s heart. “Didn’t you say May grew up in the house you inherited and that she was passed over for the inheritance?”

  “But how would she know any of that? Who would have told her? I didn’t. It was impossible to hold a telephone conversation with her. She didn’t track well enough with what was being said. At least, she pretended not to.”

  “I’m sure you notified the Twin Oaks of your move and the reason for it. Someone must have said something about it to your mother.”

  Cady’s shoulders slumped. “That makes good sense, until you get to the part about my mother escaping so she can kill me because she lost out on the inheritance. My mother was always a master manipulator to get whatever she wanted, but in the passive-aggressive sense. I never knew her to act with actual aggression. If Mom is involved, it’s as a pawn.”

  “Of who? Your father?”

  “I doubt it. He always hated my aunt’s place. Called it ‘The Mausoleum.’” Her amber gaze locked with his. “There is one positive aspect of this notion of yours, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If my mother is out there trying to kill me, it means she’s alive and not at the bottom of the Delaware.”

  The corners of West’s lips twitched and he failed in suppressing his smile.

  “What are you grinning about?” She looked at him askance.

  “You. You’re amazing. As if I needed more proof of what a good daughter—what a good person—you are. Even after all she’s done to hurt you, you’d rather have your mother alive, and possibly trying to kill you, than dead and gone. Let’s get out of here. We have some other avenues to investigate.”

  West took the sleeping baby from her mother’s arms and settled the little one into her car seat. Cady walked at his side out to the Blazer. Her expression was intense but guarded.

  “What’s going through that lively mind of yours?” he asked as he buckled Olivia’s seat into the SUV.

  She shook her head and did her own buckle. “When I’ve got the jumbled confusion sorted out, I’ll tell you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  As he started the vehicle, his cell ringtone started to play. He checked the screen. Brennan.

  He tapped the icon to answer. “Sitrep.”

  “We’ve got a situation, all right.” His buddy’s tone was grim. “You know Darius went to interview Mitch Landes, the neighborhood watch member who made up those gift baskets. He didn’t return home at a reasonable time, nor did he check in, so I went looking for him. Found him fifteen minutes ago at the hospital.”

  “The hospital!” The words burst from West’s mouth.

  Cady shot him a wide-eyed look. “Who’s in the hospital?”

  “Darius.” West hit the speaker button so she could be in on the conversation.

  “Apparently,” Brennan went on, “he was the victim of a hit-and-run when he was crossing the street to our company vehicle after the interview.”

  West’s stomach clenched. “If he’s in the hospital, he must be alive.” God, please let him be alive.

  “Barely,” Brennan said. “He’s still in surgery. And it gets worse.”

  “How can that be?”

  “This Mitch guy he went to talk to was walking Darius to his vehicle and was hit, as well. He didn’t make it.”

  Cady let out a sharp cry and slumped in her seat.

  West’s insides went hollow. “We’ll be there as fast as we can.”

  Cady jutted her stubborn chin. “Darius cannot die. There have been too many losses in our lives already.”

  West laid a hand on her shoulder. “Praying is the best thing we could be doing while we drive.”

  She nodded but with a slight frown. West understood. She was conflicted about prayer because she’d been experiencing a crisis of faith since Griff was killed. Yet, her heart was right even if her head was confused, and no one could convince him otherwise. She’d figure it out. He was going to have faith enough for them both right now. He ended the call with Brennan and got the vehicle on the road.

  “Lord,” he began quietly, “You know all about this situation. Keep watch over our brave friend, Darius. Guide the medical staff in all their decisions and procedures. We ask that You preserve his life and restore him to us whole. And, further, we cry out to You for answers and solutions in this dangerous situation when someone out there is after Cady and doesn’t balk at hurting others who stand in their path.”

  Small hums of assent and murmured amens came from Cady as he spoke.

  “Please watch over my mother,” she broke in, her voice cracking, “wherever she is, and help us find her.”

  “Amen to that,” West confirmed. And let it not be her who is targeting Cady.

  They subsided into silent conversation with the Almighty and their own musings. The tires gobbled up the highway, but not nearly fast enough for West. Judging by the way Cady fidgeted in her seat, she was as anxious as he was. Brennan hadn’t called back with an update like he would if Darius was safely out of surgery. No news could be bad news. West’s stomach churned.

  “I don’t get it.” Cady broke the taut silence when they were about ten miles away from their destination.

  “What don’t you get?”

  “All of it, to tell you the truth. None of these attacks make sense. Who would want to hurt me this badly that others are getting hurt trying to stop them?”

  Her rush of words stopped on a soft choke, and West reached over and gripped her hand. Entwining their fingers was starting to feel so natural his heart ached. He was falling hard for this woman, and the timing couldn’t be worse.

  She squeezed back, took a deep breath and fixed her gaze on him. “But what I’m wondering about right now is the hit-and-run. Why did this creep try to shoot me, but then not use the gun on Darius and the neighborhood watch member? A bullet is precise. A vehicle as a weapon seems—well, sloppy.”

  “It was effective—at least partly. One man is
dead.” West rolled his shoulders as if adjusting a weight. “But maybe you gave yourself the answer. Perhaps the killer isn’t a good shot. He missed you, after all.”

  “He missed me, yes. Thank God for that.”

  Her words held deep emphasis. At least she was finding things to be thankful about.

  He returned both of his hands to the wheel. They were navigating through suburban traffic now. Soon, they reached the hospital parking lot. He grabbed the car seat from the back and carried a now wide-awake Olivia into the building. Such a shame the little one was being carted in and out of one medical facility after another the past days instead of spending her time peacefully at home in her own familiar environment. Of course, that home had not proven to be a safe haven, and it wouldn’t be until they got to the bottom of how someone was getting inside.

  The receptionist at the front desk directed him and Cady to the surgical floor. They boarded the elevator and glided upward. Soon the door slid open, and Brennan stood directly in front of them with his phone to his ear and the other hand reaching toward the elevator button.

  “There you are,” Bren said, pocketing his phone. “I was just going to call you while I went down to the cafeteria to grab a cup of joe and a sandwich.”

  “Update?” West stepped out of the elevator with Cady at his side.

  She was clenching her fists so hard her knuckles were white. Instinctively, he stepped closer to her. If Bren was about to pronounce the worst about Darius, her reaction could be extreme.

  “Darius is out of surgery,” Brennan said. “The doc says the next twenty-four hours will be critical. We just have to wait.”

  Cady burst into sobs, and West had no hesitation about gathering her trembling body close against his chest.

  NINE

  “I’m so sorry.” Cady broke away from West’s arms. Being that near him felt both comforting to her soul and dangerous to her heart. “I didn’t mean to lose it. Partly it’s relief that Darius is hanging in there. Another part is grief that this happened at all.” She scrubbed hot tears from her cheeks with the heels of her hands.

  “Understandable.” Brennan’s voice came out a little rough, as if he, too, were controlling strong emotion.

  “Can we see him?” West asked.

  “Not yet,” Brennan said. “He’s in recovery, so I told the charge nurse I was popping down for a bite while I had the chance.”

  “Let’s all go.” West ushered them back into the elevator car.

  Ten minutes later, they sat in a cafeteria booth. The guys had each bought a ham sandwich, and Cady had been talked into a salad that she was scarcely able to pick at for the knots in her stomach. West and Brennan must be keyed up, as well. They’d barely tasted their sandwiches. Mostly they sat nursing their beverages of choice—West and Brennan with straight black coffees and Cady with a nonfat, decaf latte. She glanced at her little daughter next to her. Any minute now, Livvy would demand to join the refreshment club, too, but for the moment she was blowing bubbles and waving her fists in front of her face.

  “Uh-oh!” Across from Cady, West’s head came up as he stared at something behind her.

  Cady turned to look. Detective Rooney was closing in on them with the usual slightly sour set to his mouth. Her heart sank. Now what? Was this guy going to try and pin the hit-and-run on her in spite of the fact that she’d been out of town with West at the time?

  “Ms. Long and Mr. Foster,” he drawled out as he stopped in front of their table. “It’s a pleasant surprise to find you here, too. I came to interview Mr. Abernathy, but now I can take care of business with all of you.” The man pinned Brennan beneath a stern glare and pulled out his little notebook. “I understand you were not with Mr. Creed when he was struck by the vehicle.”

  “That is correct.” Brennan took a sip of his coffee and offered no free information.

  Cady hid a smile by turning her attention toward Livvy, who had begun to make small fussy noises, a prelude to outright crying.

  “And you found out about the accident how?” Rooney pressed.

  “First, it was no accident. Second, when my buddy didn’t return home in a reasonable time period, I went looking for him. By the time I traced his route to the home of the man he’d gone to visit, the crime scene on the road had been processed and vacated, allowing traffic to pass once more. An upset neighbor who was out in his yard told me what happened, so I rushed to the hospital.”

  “What was Mr. Creed doing at the home of Mr.—ah—” Rooney consulted his notebook “—Mr. Landes?”

  “He’s the guy that packages up all the welcome baskets for the neighborhood watch, but I assume you know that.”

  Rooney’s shoulders drew back. “Of course, we know that, but what I want to know is why Mr. Creed was attempting to do our job for us? I warned you about—”

  West rose from his seat to his six-foot-two-inch height. “What I want to know is why your people weren’t doing their job. Apparently, the killer figured Mr. Landes knew something incriminating and told Darius about it, or why run them both over? Had you or someone from the PD interviewed Landes yet?”

  Rooney turned so red that Cady sucked in a breath. She began unbuckling her daughter from the infant seat.

  “We interviewed him,” Rooney snarled, “but he was adamant that it wasn’t possible the basket delivered to Ms. Long was tampered with—not on his watch.”

  Cady rose and faced the detective with her hungry, whimpering child in her arms. “A likely story to give the police when he feared being held liable for someone’s poisoning. Mr. Landes may have told Darius a different story.”

  Rooney scowled. “We won’t be able to find out until Mr. Creed wakes up.”

  Cady smiled at the man. “I’m glad to hear you’re thinking positive about Darius’s recovery. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my daughter wants to be fed.”

  “Just a moment.” The detective held up a forestalling hand. “I received a call from the Phillipsburg PD. They say your mother disappeared from her care facility weeks ago and is extremely mentally unstable. They also said she grew up in the house where you live. It’s possible in her mental state that she headed for home.”

  “How? She has very limited resources.”

  Rooney shrugged. “She might have caught a ride with someone out of Phillipsburg or cadged money for bus fare. We are to be on the lookout for anyone who matches her description—especially on the streets among the homeless.”

  “I appreciate any help finding her.”

  “We’ll find her.” The detective jerked a nod. “With you off the suspect list, I now have a new prime suspect.” Rooney smirked, turned on his heels and tromped away.

  Cady turned desperate eyes on West. “How did the Phillipsburg PD know about the situation with me and my house—and that my mother used to live there?”

  Color flushed West’s cheeks. “You can blame me. I told them the whole story while we were at the Twin Oaks. Did you not want them to have the full picture and understand the urgency of locating her?”

  “What I didn’t want is for my mother to be a murder suspect.” Her tone was harsh, but Cady couldn’t seem to help herself. “Don’t you understand that she simply isn’t mentally capable?”

  “The staff at Twin Oaks seemed to think she’s far more capable than she’s let on.”

  “Deception from her, I can believe. Murder, no.” She stomped away with her daughter toward the ladies’ room.

  She returned fifteen minutes later to a subdued atmosphere in their booth.

  “Did you hear something about Darius?” She gazed from West to Brennan and back again.

  “Nothing new.” Brennan shook his head.

  West cleared his throat. “We’ve decided that I should take you and Baby-bug home. There’s nothing we can do here. Brennan can keep us posted.”

  Cady opened her mouth to protest,
but snapped it shut. West spoke the truth. There was nothing they could do here—especially her and Livvy. If she were honest with herself, she had to admit exhaustion dragged at her with every step.

  “All right.” She nodded.

  West and Brennan shared slightly openmouthed looks.

  “What? You were expecting an argument?”

  “No, ma’am.” West rose, a tiny smile playing around his firm mouth. “Let’s be on our way.”

  Fifteen minutes later, West pulled into Cady’s driveway, and her spirits lightened. She did love this old place, even though she’d lived here only a short time. West gallantly opened her door for her, then went around and retrieved Olivia.

  “Time to get you out of that car seat for a while.” Cady reached over and tickled the bottom of her daughter’s chin as West ushered them up the stairs to the front door.

  Why did his hand in the small of her back feel so right? Why did it feel so wrong, at the same time? She wasn’t over Griff yet, that was why. Maybe if she could make some sense out of her husband’s death, she’d be able to move on. Please, God, help? Like such a pitiful prayer was going to make a difference. Cady heaved a long, silent sigh while West unlocked and opened the door.

  They stepped into the foyer, and something soft crunched beneath Cady’s feet. She halted and the breath froze in her lungs. Someone had been in the house during their absence. Whoever it was had trashed the place. The tiered planter by the foyer window had been upended and dirt, along with the sorry remains of spider plants, had been strewed across the area under and around her feet. A framed photo of Griff and her on their honeymoon had enjoyed pride of place on the entry table, but the precious keepsake now lay faceup on the hardwood floor. A starburst of shattered glass obscured their smiling faces, as if someone had ground their heel on top of the picture.

  A guttural moan tore from Cady’s constricted throat.

  * * *

  West thrust the baby carrier into Cady’s hands and swiped his pistol from his side holster. They could go into full retreat, leave the house and drive away as fast as possible, but that wouldn’t bring Cady and Olivia any closer to the ultimate safety of discovering and stopping whoever was perpetrating these heinous acts. Besides, the killer had proven that he or she was able to attack anyone anywhere, anytime. West would be better able to protect his charges in the smaller environment of the home’s interior—that is, if the intruder still lurked inside. Something about the deep stillness of the house suggested they were alone, but he couldn’t be certain until he’d cleared every room.