by Marta Perry
His eyes met hers, startled, and then he shrugged. “Up to them. I just never figured family mixed very well with military police work.”
Emilie snuggled against him, fingers curling and uncurling on the bottle, eyes beginning to droop.
“I see you hung around enough to learn how to give a bottle.”
His face relaxed in a smile. The effect was startling, warming his whole countenance and demanding an answering smile she couldn’t suppress.
“Not too difficult. Besides, I could always give the babies back if they got fussy.”
“Of course.”
Something hardened in her at the words. The three of them might look, to the casual observer, like a family. That observer couldn’t begin to guess how skewed that impression was.
Emilie had fallen asleep in Mitch’s arms by the time Brett pushed through the door, a clipboard in his hand. Anne inhaled sharply and saw Mitch’s already erect posture stiffen even more.
“Well?” Mitch’s voice rasped. “What’s the verdict?”
Brett’s green eyes were troubled. “Skipping all the technical details, the bottom line is the tests don’t exclude you, Mitch. Your blood type means you could possibly be the father.”
“Me and a million other guys,” he snapped.
Anne’s mouth tightened. He’d obviously been hoping against hope he hadn’t been caught. Maybe now he’d give up this pose of innocence and sign the papers. But she had to show him she’d keep pressing.
“About the DNA test—” she pinned Brett with her gaze “—I’d like it sent to McKay Labs. I’ve dealt with them before. And I want a copy of the results sent directly to me.”
Brett blinked. “That’ll need Mitch’s permission.”
“You’ve got it.” Mitch moved, and Emilie woke. Her whimper quickly turned into a full-fledged cry.
Brett looked ready to escape. “Expect the results in three to four weeks, then.”
Anne nodded goodbye, trying to reach for the diaper bag and her crying child at the same time. “Let me have her.”
Mitch handed over the baby.
“There, sweetheart, it’s all right.” She rocked the baby against her, but Emilie was beyond comforting. She reared back in Anne’s arms, wails increasing.
Mitch picked up the diaper bag. “You can’t drive home alone with her in that state.” He took her arm. “Come on. I’ll drive you and then call a cab.”
She wanted to protest, but Emilie’s sobs shattered her will. She nodded, letting him guide her from the room.
* * *
The baby’s wails seemed to fry Mitch’s brain as he followed Anne’s directions through the city streets to a high-rise apartment building. He needed to think this whole thing through, but thought proved impossible at the moment. Who would imagine one small baby could make that much noise?
He took a deep breath as the cry reached a decibel level that had to be against the law inside a small car. Okay, he could handle this. It was no worse than artillery fire, was it?
Besides, it would soon be over. He’d deposit them at Anne’s and call a cab. He’d be back in Bedford Creek in a few hours, and the only contact he’d have with Anne Morden and her baby would be when the DNA test came back, proving he hadn’t fathered this child.
A padded, mirrored elevator whooshed them swiftly to the tenth floor. He took the baby, wincing at her cries, while Anne unlocked the door. He wanted only to hand her back and get out of there.
She scooped the baby into her arms as the door swung open, and her eyes met his. “This may not be the best time, but I think we should talk the situation over, if you don’t mind waiting while I get the baby settled.” She managed a half smile. “It won’t take as long as you might think. She’s so exhausted, she’s going to crash as soon as she’s been fed.”
He pushed down the desire to flee, nodded, and followed her into the apartment. Anne disappeared into the back with the baby, and he sank onto the couch, wondering when the ringing in his ears would stop.
Anne had sold the house she’d talked about and moved here with the baby. He’d found that out in the quick background check he’d run. He glanced around. Expensively casual—that was the only way to describe her apartment. Chintz couches, a soft plush carpet, a wall of books on built-in shelves with what was probably a state-of-the-art entertainment center discreetly hidden behind closed doors—all said money. Assistant public defenders didn’t make enough to support this life-style, but there was wealth in her family. This woman was really out of his league.
No question of that, anyway. All she wanted from him was his signature on the parental rights termination—not friendship, certainly nothing more.
Sometime in the last twenty-four hours he’d given up any thought that Anne was somehow attempting to frame him. No, all she wanted was to safeguard her child.
Unfortunately the one thing she wanted, he couldn’t give her. Someone else had dated the unfortunate Tina; someone else had fathered her child. But who? And why on earth had the girl said his name? The answers, if they could be found at all, must lie in Bedford Creek.
The baby’s cries from the back of the apartment ceased abruptly. Anne must have put some food in Emilie’s mouth.
He got up, paced to the window, then paced back. What did Anne want to talk to him about? What was there left to say?
He sat back down on the couch, sinking into its comfortable depths, and reached automatically for the book on the lamp table. A Bible. It nestled into his hand, and he flipped it open to the dedication page. To my new sister in Christ from Helen. The date was only two years ago.
Anne came back into the room, her step light and quick. She glanced questioningly at the Bible in his hand, and he closed it and put it back where he’d found it.
“She settled down, did she?”
“Out like a light.”
Anne sat in the chair across from him. Her dark hair curled around a face that was lightly flushed, probably from bending over the crib.
“You’re probably as beat as she is by this time.” She’d put in a couple of high-stress days, driving all the way with a baby, and on a mission like this.
“I could sleep a day or two. But Emilie won’t let me.”
She leaned forward and her hair brushed her shoulders, moving like a living thing. He had an insane desire to reach out, let it curl around his fingers, use it to draw her close to him.
Whoa, back off. Of all the inappropriate things he could be feeling right now, that was probably the worst.
“You wanted to talk.”
“Yes.” She nailed him with those deep blue eyes. “I hoped that you might be ready to sign the papers now.”
He should have seen it coming. She still wanted what she’d wanted all along, and the inconclusive blood test results had just given her another bit of leverage. But it wasn’t going to work.
“I know you don’t believe this, but I never went out with Tina Mallory. I did not father her child.” He took a breath, hoping he sounded calm.
She raised her chin stubbornly. “Then how do you explain Tina’s words?”
“I can’t. But there has to be an explanation somewhere. Someone in Bedford Creek must remember Tina, must know who she dated that summer. So while we’re waiting for the DNA results, I’ll do a little quiet investigating.”
Her hands twisted involuntarily, as if she were pushing his words away. He couldn’t blame her. She had what must seem to her to be incontrovertible proof of his guilt. All he could do was continue to protest his innocence.
“Bottom line is, I’m not going to sign anything that says I’m that child’s parent. I can’t, because it’s not true. In three or four weeks, you’ll know that as well as I do. Maybe by then I’ll be able to point you in the right direction.”
“I don’t want my private business splashed all over Bedford
Creek.”
“Believe me, it’s in my interest to keep it quiet even more than it is yours. I’ll be discreet. But I’m going to start looking at this problem like a cop.”
Her eyebrows went up at that. “Funny, I thought you always had.”
He reminded himself that cops and defense attorneys went together like cats and dogs. “Look, Counselor, I am what I am.” Her sarcasm had effectively doused that spurt of longing to hold her, which was just as well. He stood, picking up his jacket. “I’ll be on my way now. I don’t suppose we’ll see each other again.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong about that.” She stood, too, her gaze locked on his.
He gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re assuming that in three or four weeks you’ll have proof I fathered Emilie. I know you’re wrong.”
“Actually, that isn’t what I was thinking.” She took an audible breath, as if building up to saying something she knew he wasn’t going to like. “Emilie and I aren’t staying here. We’re going back to Bedford Creek until the results come in.”
“What?” He could only stare at her. “Why? Why on earth would you want to do that?”
“You’re right about one thing—the answers have to be in Bedford Creek. That’s where Tina became pregnant. That’s where the truth is. I can’t just sit here and wonder for the next month. I need to find out, no matter what.”
“After the results come—” he began.
She was already shaking her head. “I’m supposed to have a hearing on the adoption in a little over a month. Before then I have to resolve this, once and for all. And that means I’m coming to Bedford Creek.”
He lifted an eyebrow skeptically. “Don’t you mean you want to keep an eye on me?”
A faint flush warmed her smooth skin. “Let’s say I have a high respect for the power of a police uniform. I don’t want to see it used against me.”
He fought down the urge to defend himself. If a man found it necessary to defend his honor, it must be in question. He took a careful step back.
“No point in my telling you not to worry about that, is there?”
She shook her head. “I won’t interfere. You can pretend I’m not even there.”
“Now that I can’t do.” He smiled grimly at her perplexed look. “You’re forgetting—people in Bedford Creek already know you and Emilie came to see me. They’re probably speculating right this minute about where we are today. You can’t come back and pretend we don’t know each other, not in a small town.”
“I’ll say I’m there on vacation. You told me Bedford Creek is a tourist town. My presence doesn’t have to have anything to do with you.”
Obviously she hadn’t thought this far ahead. “Nobody would believe that. If you come back, we’ll have to keep up the illusion of friendship. And if we’re both going to be looking into what happened when Tina lived there, we’d better figure out a way to cooperate on this, or at least not step on each other’s toes.”
He could see just how unpalatable she found that, and at some level it grated on his pride. He wasn’t that hard to take, was he? It wasn’t as if he were asking her to pretend a romantic interest in him.
Her eyes met his, and he could read the determination there. “I suppose you’re right. You know a lot more about your town than I do. But I’m still coming. So that means we’re in this together, for as long as it takes.”
Chapter 4
“Now let me help you with that.” Kate Cavendish took the bundle of diapers from Anne’s arms before she could object. “Believe me, I remember how much you need to bring when you’re traveling with a baby.”
“I can manage...”
But Kate was already hustling up the front steps to The Willows, white curls glistening in the late winter sunshine. She propped the door open with an iron doorstop in the shape of a cat, then hurried inside. Anne lifted Emilie from the car seat.
It was silly, she supposed, to be made uncomfortable by so much open friendliness, but she just wasn’t used to it. She could only hope Kate’s enthusiastic welcome wasn’t because the woman thought Anne was here to see Mitch.
That was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if they’d returned together. She’d taken two days to organize this trip. Surely she could take a brief vacation in Bedford Creek without the whole town jumping to conclusions about why she was here.
Kate was probably just delighted to have paying guests at this time of the year. No matter how many tourists might show up in the summer, early March was clearly a quiet time in Bedford Creek. She glanced up at the mountain ridge that cut off the sky. It was sere and brown, its leafless trees defining its bones. She shivered a little.
“Here we go, sweetheart,” she said to Emilie. “We’ll just pop you in the crib while Mommy unloads the car, all right?”
Emilie wiggled, her arms flailing in the pink snowsuit. After three hours in the car, she was only too ready to practice her new crawling skills. She wouldn’t be pleased at the crib, no matter how enticing Anne made it sound.
As they reached the center hall of the Victorian, Kate hurried down the winding staircase. The colors of the stained-glass window on the landing tinged her hair, and a smile lit her bright-blue eyes at the sight of the baby.
“Oh, let me take her, please. I’d just love to hold her.” Kate held out her hands.
Emilie leaned her head against Anne’s shoulder for a moment, considering, and then smiled, her chubby hands opening toward the woman. Emilie had apparently decided anyone who looked like Mrs. Santa Claus had to be a friend.
“You little sweetheart.” Kate settled the baby on her hip with the ease of long practice. “We’re going to be great friends while you’re here, I can just tell.”
“Thank you, Kate.” Anne touched Emilie’s cheek lightly. “I appreciate the help. It will just take me a few minutes to unload.”
“Take your time.” Kate carried the baby toward the wide archway into the front parlor. “We’ll get acquainted. I’m surprised Mitch isn’t here to get you settled. He’s always so helpful to his friends.”
Was that a question in Kate’s voice? Maybe this was her chance to refute any rumors the woman had heard. Or started, for that matter. She moved to the archway.
“Mitch and I aren’t that close. He probably didn’t even know when we were arriving.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did.” Kate turned from the breakfront cabinet, where she was showing Emilie a collection of china birds. “He keeps track of things. And when his old Army friend’s widow comes to visit...well, you can just be sure he’d keep track of that.” Kate’s round cheeks, like two red apples, plumped in a smile. “It’s so nice that you could keep in touch.”
“Old Army friend...how did you—” Leap to that conclusion—that was what she was thinking, but it hardly seemed polite to say so. She’d mentioned that she was a widow when she’d checked in the first time. Kate seemed to have embroidered the rest.
“Wanda had all sorts of ideas about why you were here.” Kate tickled Emilie’s chin. “I told her, “Count on it, that’ll be why. Mitch’s friends from the service have dropped by four or five times since he’s been back in Bedford Creek. That’s why Anne and her baby are here, too.’”
Mitch clearly knew his town a lot better than Anne did. She owed him an apology for thinking he was wrong about the stir her presence would create. As he’d said, she needed a reason to be here.
Anne opened her mouth and closed it again. What exactly could she say? Wanda, the dispatcher, had probably floated some much more colorful theories about Anne’s visit. If Anne denied Kate’s story, she’d just fuel the curiosity. She certainly wasn’t going to lie about it, but maybe the safest thing was to say nothing and let them think what they wanted.
“I’m sure Mitch is busy.” She settled on noncommittal. “I probably won’t see much of him while we’re here.”
Kate sw
ung around again, eyebrows going up in surprise. “Not see much of him? Well, of course you will. After all, his house is right across the street.”
“Right—” She stopped. Anything she said now, she’d probably regret. Instead she headed back to the car for the next load, fuming.
So Mitch lived right across the street, did he? He might have mentioned that little fact about The Willows at some point in their discussion. He hadn’t wanted her to come back to Bedford Creek at all; that had been clear. He certainly didn’t want her to join in his investigation. But apparently he felt that if she did come, she should be under his eye.
Well, they’d get a few things straight as soon as possible. She was used to doing things on her own, and that wasn’t about to change now—
It looked as if she’d have a chance to tell him so in the immediate future, because his police cruiser was pulling up directly across from The Willows.
Mitch got out. He closed the door, hesitated a moment, and then headed straight for her.
“Anne. I see you arrived safely. Any problems?”
“Not at all.” She tried for a cool politeness. It would help, she thought, if she didn’t experience that jolt of awareness every time she saw his tall figure. “We just got in a few minutes ago.”
“I’ll take that.” He reached for the suitcase she’d begun to pull from the trunk, but she tightened her grip.
“I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can.” His hand closed on the bag, his fingers brushing hers. “But why should you?”
“Because I don’t need any help.” Mitch Donovan had to be the only person in her life with the ability to make her sound like a petulant child.
They stood staring at each other, the bag trapped between them. Then his lips twitched slightly. “Something tells me that’s your favorite saying.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being independent.” She’d had to be, even when she was a child, even when she’d been married. She didn’t know any other way to behave.
