Читать книгу Kidnapped At Christmas - Barb Han - Страница 12

Chapter Four

One look from the sheriff and Meg had to fight her instincts to draw away from him. That look, that same damn look of disappointment bore down on her.

Did he think she wanted the maniac who’d tried to kidnap her daughter to go free?

It made her sick to think this person could try again with another unwitting mother.

Based on his expression, he felt the same way. Another crime in his town, under his nose. They were racking up and she could see every stress crack in the dark circles cradling his eyes. But she also knew in her heart that he couldn’t help her or her baby.

Wyatt’s eyes were different. His were harder to read than the sheriff’s. Hesitation? Yes...well, maybe. Skepticism? Certainly. And something else she couldn’t make out. Or, more accurately, didn’t have the heart to try. Because it was disappointment in her.

Seeing that look in Wyatt’s eyes would crush her. And how stupid was that? They’d had a fling and Aubrey was the product. Meg couldn’t imagine life without her baby now that she was here, but she hadn’t exactly planned for any of this and was still winging the whole parenting thing.

“Mind taking one last look at the sketch?” the sheriff asked Stephanie, and Meg was grateful he’d redirected his attention.

Instinctively, she held her daughter a little closer to her chest, grateful this day hadn’t been much worse. Just the thought of anything happening to Aubrey...

No, Meg couldn’t go there. Not even hypothetically. Another pang of guilt struck like a physical blow because this whole scenario was too close to home. She had been ten years old when her best friend was abducted right before her eyes and Meg wasn’t able to remember a single detail. It had changed her life.

In this case, Meg was the mother who’d almost...almost...lost her child. A fresh sense of shame for not being able to bring peace to Mary Jane’s family washed over her, threatening to drag her to the ocean floor.

If only she’d been able to remember what had happened. Mary Jane’s family would have the closure that Meg could never give them. She’d seen the Fjords a handful of times after Mary Jane’s body had turned up. They’d seemed...hollow.

Mary Jane’s older brother, Jonathon, had been so affected that he’d had to be pulled out of school and, if memory served, he’d been too traumatized to return. She’d heard rumors that he was homeschooled after because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house.

After this experience of almost losing her own daughter, Meg could certainly understand the Fjords taking extreme measures to keep their son safe. Icy fingers gripped her spine thinking about the past.

All Meg wanted to do was take her baby home and shut out the rest of the world until she could stop trembling.

“I understand the work you do puts you in a precarious situation with folks.” Sawmill seemed to realize that continuing to ask her or Stephanie to recognize the kidnapper from barely a sketch was as productive as squeezing water from a cell phone. Meg appreciated the redirection. “Have either of you had any disagreements with clients or been threatened in any way recently?”

Stephanie issued a grunt as Meg shot him a look.

“We help women and children leave abusive households, Sheriff. Being cursed at and threatened comes with the territory,” she said.

He nodded and pressed his lips together in a look of solidarity.

“Does a particular incident stand out in your mind?” he asked, and there was a hint of respect in his voice.

“Are you saying this might be personal?” Meg asked. The case she would be testifying for in two weeks had been her main focus since having the baby.

“I wouldn’t be doing justice to this investigation if I didn’t come at this from every angle,” he defended.

He had a point.

“I’m working a case involving a ten-year-old. Kaylee Garza has been physically abused by her soccer-coach father, Randol Garza. It’s a typical abuse story in that the little girl has become a master at covering her bruises for school.” She looked up at the sheriff in time to see his jaw clench. Hearing about abuse was never easy, especially when it involved children.

Out of the corner of her eye, she also saw that Wyatt’s body language was intense. Lines creased his forehead, and tension brackets formed around his mouth. Any decent man wouldn’t take hearing what she was about to say lightly and he seemed to know what was coming. She wondered if he’d been subject to abuse as a child and that’s what made him seem so sympathetic now. “That is until he whipped her with a cord and she couldn’t sit down in class. The domineering father had been abusive to the mother and child for a few years. But this time, he went too far and Kaylee’s mother, Virginia, reached out to us for protection and legal help.”

“I’m familiar with that story. One of my deputies arrested Mr. Garza. I don’t mind saying we were shocked. He seemed like a decent man. Reverend Dawson spoke up on his behalf,” the sheriff admitted. “I didn’t realize that case was one of yours.”

“Garza is fighting the charges against him, and—” she glanced at the sheriff “—he has a lot to lose if Kaylee and her mother’s claims turn out to be justified, which they will.”

The sheriff stared at her for a long moment. “He coaches the reverend’s daughter on that team.”

“That’s right. There are a few prominent members of the community who have daughters who play for him, as well. Doesn’t mean he didn’t beat his daughter so hard there were blood blisters on her bottom and legs. Her mother has fallen down the stairs or into a cabinet five times in the past eighteen months, which makes her one the clumsiest people alive or a victim. Given that she was once captain of her college long-distance track team, I seriously doubt she has issues with coordination.”

The sheriff leaned back in his chair, examining her as though he was checking her sanity or truthfulness. “My office is aware of the claims.”

Hearing about and being witness to such abuses, especially with children, was by far the most difficult part of Meg’s job. She couldn’t allow herself to focus on that side of the equation for too long or it would be crippling. The bright spot—the good that she would cling to in situations like these—was how much Kaylee and Virginia’s lives were going to change. Meg had a chance to guide them to a better future and a more fulfilled life. She couldn’t erase their pain, but she could give them the blueprint for their future. In her five years of working for One Child—One Advocate that was the part that kept her going, kept her fighting even when a case seemed hopeless.

“One of your deputies is married to Alysa Estacado,” Meg fired back. “She’s Garza’s cousin. My client asked for this case to be handled by another law enforcement agency and we petitioned the judge on her behalf.”

“Mrs. Garza had a tough upbringing. Seems I remember there were drinking problems in her family,” Sawmill said.

“If you’re saying what I think you are, yes. My client has had her difficulties with alcohol. She’s sober now and ready to work,” Meg defended.

The sheriff seemed to be contemplating what she said. She could see the road ahead with this case was going to be difficult based on his reaction to the allegations and her client’s history. She could only pray the case would be moved, as requested. It was a challenge she accepted with open arms because she could make a difference in Kaylee’s life. She could give Virginia a fresh start so she could be the mother she said she wanted to be. Fighting for that was worth every sideways stare she got from people—from the reverend to the sheriff himself.

“I’m not trying to convince you of the merits of this case,” she finally said.

Sawmill hesitated like he was about to say something, but his lips thinned and he nodded. “Any other cases I should be aware of?”

She didn’t have the heart to defend any more of her clients, considering only the most difficult-to-prove cases ended up on her doorstep. “I’ll send a list of names who might be worth investigating.”

“I’ll need more than that. I want histories, too. I’m especially interested in the past few months. Anyone you think might have a vendetta against you or Ms. Gable,” he said. “There’s a possibility someone targeted your child in order to show you what it would feel like to have your baby ripped from your arms.”

More icy fingers gripped her spine at the suggestion somehow her work was putting her daughter in danger. A scary thought struck. Could Wyatt use that in court to take Aubrey away from her?

Would he?

“I’ll email the list with as much detail as I can provide as soon as I get home. I don’t have to remind you everything I share is confidential.” This was over. Aside from the fact that she had nothing else to contribute, he had already given up on her ability to help. Besides, what happened earlier most likely didn’t have anything to do with her current caseload. She’d barely been back to work since having the baby.

There’d been threats before and they were idle. She was always quick to point out to the abusers that if anything happened to her they would be the first stop for the sheriff.

A little voice in the back of her head said that this time no one was threatening. Someone had taken action and they’d done it while the baby was with Stephanie, which would make it harder to tie the crime back to revenge against Meg.

If Meg didn’t know any better, she’d get excited about the possibility of forensic evidence nailing the kidnapper. She knew enough to realize that, unlike crime shows on TV, forensics wasn’t the be-all and end-all answer for most crimes. Furthermore, it took time to process a crime scene. She could only pray that this whole episode was random and that the attacker would be caught before he could make an attempt on another innocent child.

Meg wanted, no, needed to take her baby home. She stood. She knew the drill, so she preempted the sheriff. “If I can think of anything else, I’ll call.”

Wyatt caught her arm as she walked toward the door. “Where are you going?”

“Home. Let’s go,” she said with a finality that he should know better than to argue against.

One glance at him said he fully understood. He released his grip, and she didn’t stop walking until they made it into the lobby. Facing the sea of journalists out there looking for a story wasn’t exactly her idea of reducing stress.

“Maybe we could huddle together and shield the baby,” she said to Stephanie.

“Hold on a minute,” Wyatt argued. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Walking out the front door,” she said slowly, like she was talking to a two-year-old.

“I can see that. The question is why?” Something about Wyatt made her want to stick around and tell him what was going on. Was it a look? His body language? The sympathy she believed she saw in his eyes?

“Because I can tell when I’ve lost a battle,” she said with a little more heat than she’d intended. “There’s nothing else we can do or say in there.”

He stood for a long moment in what seemed like a dare. The first one to move lost.

Wyatt took in a sharp breath, a concession breath. “Fine. Let me take you and the baby out the back way to avoid media attention.”

Meg held her ground. Her heart thundered against her rib cage as Wyatt disappeared into the sheriff’s office. He returned a few seconds later as a deputy motioned for her to follow him toward the opposite hall.

“I’ll grab the truck, circle the block and pick you up.” Wyatt was a study in determination. His outer appearance was calm, too calm. There was a raging storm swirling beneath the surface and Meg didn’t have the energy to withstand the gale-force winds. Not tonight.

Emotions torpedoed through her so fast that she didn’t have time to process them. Aubrey was stirring and she didn’t want her little girl to pick up the tension in her mother when Wyatt spoke.

Before she could agree or argue, he disappeared. He was probably trying to help, but she didn’t need someone walking into her life and taking over. She could think for herself and he needed to see that she’d been fine on her own and especially if the two of them could end up in a courtroom someday.

They could talk in the morning when she had a better perspective and time to gather her thoughts. Meg never fared well when she was caught off guard. She needed to mull things over because all her best decisions came out of respecting her need for time to process information.

As Wyatt walked away she turned to the deputy. “Can you take us home?”

He hesitated and then nodded before leading them out the back and to his SUV. Meg buckled up and held on to Aubrey.

Stephanie flashed eyes at Meg and asked under her breath, “What are you doing?”

“Taking my daughter home,” she said plainly.

“What about him?” Stephanie motioned toward the truck that was now behind them.

“Aubrey comes first. She needs to eat, and both he and I need a minute to cool down. There’s been a lot thrown at both of us today and we need time to process everything before we make an attempt to figure this out,” she said.

“Does that mean he’s planning to stick around?” Stephanie’s brow went up.

“I have no idea what his plans are. He accused me of trying to use Aubrey to get at the Butler fortune.” The accusation still stung and she hadn’t had time to process the fact that he was a Butler.

“What does he have to do with the Butlers?” Stephanie didn’t hesitate.

“Turns out he’s one of them but he didn’t seem happy about it,” Meg said. A self-made man like Wyatt wouldn’t care about the money. The family had been through a lot of trauma since Mr. Butler’s murder. The eldest Butler, a female, had been attacked. Another person, Madelyn Kensington, had been summoned to town by the family lawyer in order to be told Mike Butler was her father. A jealous ex had followed Madelyn and nearly killed her. And one of the Butler twins, Dade, had gotten involved with a local woman who barely survived a stalker.

“That family has certainly had their troubles. But he couldn’t have meant what he said to you,” Stephanie said.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Did you see the way he looks at you?”

Her friend was hallucinating if she thought Wyatt had any feelings left for Meg. He’d been clear about enjoying his single life before. Heck, the times she’d slept over at his place she realized he didn’t even have two coffee mugs. What person didn’t have two coffee mugs? One could be dirty. Meg didn’t have the energy to analyze it again. The message had been clear. Wyatt preferred the number one.

The realization had been a good wake-up call for Meg because she’d been starting down a slippery slope of developing actual feelings for the cowboy-turned-restaurant-mogul. What a disaster that would’ve been.

“I wish someone looked at me like that,” Stephanie said under her breath.

Yeah? Wyatt’s steel eyes had been serious, intense. Stephanie was probably misreading the situation.

Aubrey yawned before starting to fuss. Meg repositioned her daughter and spoke in a soothing tone.

The deputy pulled onto the parking pad and Meg thanked him for the ride.

Aubrey fussed and fidgeted as Meg climbed out of the back seat. “Will you deal with him? I need to take care of her. She’s hungry and I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll take care of the cowboy,” Stephanie said, and Meg’s heart squeezed. Would Wyatt be attracted to Stephanie? She was beautiful. Was Meg seriously jealous of her best—Meg couldn’t bring herself to say only, but it was true—friend? “Besides, we need to get the cars home. We left them at work, remember?”

“Yes. Right. Thanks.” Seeing Wyatt again was throwing Meg for a loop. She buried those unproductive thoughts and darted inside the house before Wyatt could catch up to her.

Inside, she made a beeline for the kitchen to prepare a bottle, which was difficult while trying to soothe a crying baby. Meg had more experience than she cared to think about, and a rogue thought had her wishing for a partner to help. Not just a partner, her mind protested—the child’s father. Wow, her thoughts were careening out of control.

Aubrey belted out a cry that made Meg’s heart fist.

“You’re okay,” she soothed, gently bouncing up and down while finagling the formula and the bottle. She couldn’t breastfeed and feared that was one hit in what would be a long line of disappointments for her daughter.

Meg also noted that in seeing the cowboy, as Stephanie had called him, again that she longed for ridiculous things like a family and a home. What would she want next? A minivan? A dog?

Where would that leave all the families who depended on her? And where would that leave her heart when the fairy tale didn’t come true?

If her own mother could walk out on her and not look back, why would anyone else stick around?

* * *

“I HAVE A right to see Meg and her baby,” Wyatt insisted. He already realized convincing Meg’s friend to let him inside the house was a losing battle and he should walk away, give the situation some breathing room. He could admit to being part bull when he decided to dig his heels in. His were firmly ground this time.

“I’m really sorry. She needs time,” Stephanie said.

Arguing wasn’t going to do any good, but Wyatt almost laughed out loud at the thought Meg needed time. “How much? Another year?” There was more anger and frustration in his tone than he’d intended.

Stephanie shrugged.

“She’s already had...what?...nine months, plus the baby is how old? How much more time does she need,” he countered, clinging to his sinking ship. Wyatt didn’t normally lose his cool. He’d built a million-dollar chain of taco stands because of his ability to make good decisions under pressure. As much as he tried to convince himself this was no different, he failed.

Another helpless shrug came from Stephanie.

The timer he’d set on his phone beeped. If he didn’t get going he’d miss his meeting with the Butler family. He was tempted to walk away from all of this, from all of Cattle Barge, and never look back. Hell, he had enough on his plate as it was with the expansion of his taco chain. His intention in Cattle Barge had been simple. Put to rest once and for all the fact that he wanted nothing to do with being a Butler, and maybe have a little hot sex with an old flame. Okay, since he was baring his soul, he wanted to have a lot of hot sex with the woman he couldn’t seem to keep out of his thoughts in the past year. But that was about as realistic as getting water from a rock. Or, in this case, walking inside that house.

Seeing Meg hold a baby—potentially his baby—should’ve been a bucket of ice water on the fire between them. Should’ve been. He was scratching his head as to why that didn’t seem to be the case.

“She has my cell. If I don’t hear from her in the next few hours I’m coming back and I’m walking inside that door,” he warned.

“Understood.” Stephanie’s hands came up, palms out, in the surrender position. “Like I said before I’m sorry for my friend. I think we’ve all had a rough morning and need a little time to calm down and sort this mess out.”

Since pressuring Stephanie for answers was as smart and productive as firing the guy who runs the cash register because the girl on the line messed up, he decided to cut his losses.

“Fine. I’ll be back,” he said, realizing it came off more as a threat than a promise.

Wyatt stalked to his truck and took his seat, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Next up?

Deal with the Butlers.

Wyatt would thank Stephanie for her help when he returned. After all, it wasn’t her fault he was in this predicament, and he didn’t need to take his frustration out on her. He could’ve done a better job handling his emotions when talking to Meg. There were a few words he’d take back if he could in hindsight.

In his defense, this situation was emotionally charged without the attempted kidnapping. This also made him wonder if Meg and her baby were safe. He scanned the area. There weren’t many houses on this stretch of farm road. He’d been grateful for his truck, given the drive in. Stretches of road needed maintenance. Maybe he could convince Meg to move closer to town when she was thinking straight again. Being closer to supplies and conveniences would be better for her and the baby.

Whoa. Where’d all that come from?

Where Meg chose to live with her daughter was her business. The little girl in the house had gotten to him. He could admit it. Even though he still wasn’t ready to believe she was his child, she seemed like a good baby. A sweet helpless little thing. She’d done nothing to provoke a criminal to rip her out of Stephanie’s arms. Something had been bugging him since leaving the sheriff’s office. The sheriff seemed intent on Meg, but the baby had been taken from Stephanie. What was going on with Sawmill?