Читать книгу Motive: Secret Baby - Debra Webb - Страница 8

Chapter Two

Camille Wells shivered uncontrollably as she waited for Nicholas’s answer. She didn’t care that she had just blurted out the fact that he was a father. Or that he looked completely stunned.

Right now, she didn’t care about anything but finding her baby.

He didn’t look directly at her, kept his face turned slightly to the left in an effort to shield that damaged side from view. “You should sit down.” The words were scarcely a whisper, wholly uncharacteristic for the gruff man he had become.

The beast. That was what the villagers called the scarred recluse who had purchased the cottage on the outskirts of town. And like the new owner, the cottage was damaged very nearly beyond repair.

With all that she knew, how could she still feel anything for him?

“I don’t need to sit down,” she argued. “I need to find our baby.” Evidently the reality of what she had told him hadn’t gotten through the first time. She had to make him understand.

He shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

Exactly the response she had expected. “We had sex, Nicholas.” She drew in a deep breath, summoned her patience. Time was wasting. They needed a plan. They needed to start looking. Now! “That’s how babies are made, or have you forgotten?” She trembled inside at the memory. What was wrong with her? Her baby was missing!

Another shake of his dark head. “But that was—”

“Nine months, four weeks, two days ago.” Just after dark…at the same place they’d last made love. Only this time she had been the one on the verge of getting married. The irony of the situation was almost laughable. But the pain in her chest, the ache in her very soul left no room for amusement. Her baby was missing. A baby she couldn’t remember giving birth to.

A baby whose first kick she couldn’t recall. A baby she had carried for nine months and she had absolutely no recollection of that time save for the first four weeks. Those precious days between making love with Nicholas and walking arm in arm with her father toward her fiancé, Grant Bridges.

How could she look back on any part of that time as precious when she had cheated on the man she was to marry? They had agreed to abstain from sex the final month before their marriage to make their wedding night even more special. And what had she done?

Grant. God, he had been so good to her. He had been perfectly willing to marry her and raise the child as his own. Marrying him without telling him the truth had been out of the question. Camille had told him everything. And he’d forgiven her. Even more incredible he’d still wanted to marry her. Camille had recognized the second chance and pulled herself back together. She would be Mrs. Grant Bridges. Her child would be raised by two parents and no one would ever know the truth.

Then, in one unexpected gust of gale force wind, everything had changed.

She had lost months of her life…her baby…the future she had planned.

Everything.

“But you were going to marry Bridges,” Nicholas argued as if that was a logical reason the child couldn’t be his. “Did you know…?”

She nodded, shuddered at the chill that had bored deep into her bones. “I found out a few days before the wedding.”

Suspicion reared its ugly head in his startlingly blue eyes. “But you were going to marry Bridges anyway.”

Not a question. An accusation. She squared her shoulders. “Yes. I told him about the baby. He was willing to marry me anyway.” She glared into those piercing eyes. “In fact, he insisted that it was the only right thing to do.”

Her words hit the mark. She saw the sting in Nicholas’s eyes. Good. He deserved it.

“When I wouldn’t have,” he suggested, fierce indifference pumped into his tone.

“Have you ever?” She hugged the blanket closer against the quivering she couldn’t quite conquer. “Think about it, Nicholas—you never were exactly reliable. You didn’t have the courage to stand up to your parents when it came to us. And then, when your grandfather died in the lighthouse fire, you deserted all of us.”

Fury tightened his jaw, sent a muscle there jumping rhythmically. “I had my reasons.”

That was the part that frosted her the most. “Oh, yes.” She angled her head and glowered at him. “It was for my own good. For the good of all of Raven’s Cliff. How could I forget?” Yet another logical excuse spawned by selfish, illogical reasoning.

“You don’t understand,” he snarled, that beastly side showing in his voice and in his eyes as he stared straight at her.

Camille didn’t flinch. It wasn’t easy. The left side of his face was disfigured from the lighthouse fire. The damage extended down his throat, along his left arm and the upper portion of that side of his torso. Camille had felt the raised, calloused skin that night they’d made love. But it hadn’t been until the clouds had cleared from the moon that she’d gotten a good look at his face. The sight had stunned her, sent anguish searing through her. Her reaction had hurt him. She’d tried to explain, to apologize, but he refused to listen. He’d pushed her away, deserted her, as surely as he had four years prior.

He hadn’t given her a chance to tell him that what she really saw was the lines and angles of the handsome face he’d always had. The broad shoulders and powerful arms. The lean waist and the masculine contours of his chest.

As sorry as she was for all that he had lost, for the suffering he had endured from the burns, she would not feel sympathy for him. That soft feeling had vanished the night he made love to her and then walked away.

For a second time.

“I understand perfectly.” She reeled in her emotions. They were still wasting time. What happened between them made no difference. All that mattered was finding her child. “And frankly, I don’t care. I need to find my baby. Nothing else matters.”

He turned his profile to her once more, concealing the left side from view. The rigid set of his shoulders and the fists his fingers had balled into told her he was considering how to handle this situation.

No matter that she had never once been able to depend on Nicholas, no matter that until his sudden so-called death he had been viewed by all of Raven’s Cliff as a self-centered rich boy, Camille knew she could depend on him to help her.

Nicholas had learned something about responsibility in the past five years. At first she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, but during the better part of the past two weeks as she had lain in that hospital room under guard, she had come to terms with many things.

She had suspected that the recluse living in the cottage was responsible for a number of anonymous gifts to the village. Everyone had talked about how some philanthropic soul had heard of Raven’s Cliff’s tribulations and had decided to help. But Camille had recognized a pattern. As the then mayor’s daughter, she spent a lot of her time doing charitable work with her mother. On the few occasions when she had heard of the recluse’s presence in town, she had begun to mentally chart what she heard about his visits along with the unexpected donations that oddly coincided with those rare appearances. Like how badly Miss Louise Patterson had needed a new playground for her day-care center. There were numerous other instances she could think of, but now wasn’t the time to bring up her suspicions.

Still, those instances were solid evidence, in her opinion, that Nicholas had changed. He needed to assuage his guilt with good deeds. If playing upon that guilt was wrong, so be it.

She had to find her baby.

Anguish tore through her. “Are you going to help me?” She didn’t add the “or not” that filtered through her head. He couldn’t refuse her. She wouldn’t let him. He could help her. She was certain. A man who had been to such dark places could no doubt reason out the thinking of someone evil enough to steal a newborn baby.

As if she’d said the last aloud, Nicholas’s gaze drifted to the rough plank floors. Her heart thumped harder in her chest. Please, please say yes.

“What do you want me to do?”

Though he didn’t look at her, his voice told her he had resigned himself to the obligation. Part of her wanted to be angry that it had taken such prodding to secure his help, but the reality was she didn’t care. As long as he helped her it didn’t matter why.

Another harsh reality shook her with an impact that would surely register on the Richter scale. Where did they start?

“I…” She swallowed at the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. “I don’t know.”

Blue eyes tangled with her own of a paler shade. Her mind immediately considered the idea that their baby would likely have blue eyes as well.

She shook her head. Absolute focus was essential. “I was found abandoned and alone.” And half dead, she didn’t bother adding. “No one discovered the fact that I’d recently given birth until right before I regained consciousness.” The truth was the hospital staff had been so focused on keeping her alive that nothing else had mattered at first. Eventually when all other possibilities had been exhausted in an attempt to trace down the source of the near-lethal staph infection, the indications that she had recently given birth were discovered.

“Have they uncovered the cause of your amnesia?” At her questioning expression, he went on. “Raven’s Cliff is a small village. I heard through my housekeeper that when you awoke you remembered nothing since falling from the cliffs.”

Funny, nothing went without discussion in this small village and yet her child was missing. Someone had held her for months, delivered her baby, and then disappeared without anyone noticing. Evidently right here in Raven’s Cliff.

Her legs wouldn’t hold her anymore. She shuffled to the nearest chair and collapsed there. “The experts believe the amnesia is drug related. At first it was assumed that I’d suffered head trauma from the fall, but there was no indication of major or permanent damage.” She closed her eyes a moment before she continued. “The theory is that I was drugged for the duration. Then, before the drugs wore off, the staph infection worsened. Between that, dehydration and God only knows what else, I slipped into a coma. My last memories are of my wedding day.” She took a bolstering breath. “Then of waking up in the hospital.”

The psychologist working on her case theorized that perhaps the missing time was too painful to remember. Since she was physically recovered with no apparent reason for the lapse in memory, the cause had to be psychosomatic. She couldn’t rule out that theory, and quite frankly she didn’t care why she couldn’t remember. She only wanted to find her child.

Nicholas remained silent for an endless minute as he obviously considered all that she had told him and whatever he had heard since she was found.

“We have no way of knowing where you were held,” he began, his tone somber.

Her chest tightened as she nodded her agreement.

“We have no idea who held you or why.”

Another nod of concurrence wasn’t necessary, and that was just as well. If she moved she might very well throw up. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d eaten, but the nagging desire to empty her stomach persisted, gained force with each passing second.

“And—” his gaze leveled fully on hers “—we don’t know if the baby survived beyond birth.”

Ice slid along every nerve ending, hardened in her blood. “There’s no reason to think otherwise,” she argued.

Was that pity in his eyes? Or regret?

“You said yourself that the experts believe you were drugged for all those months…”

He didn’t have to say more.

He was right.

Maybe someone at the hospital had even mentioned that possibility to her but she had wiped it out. Denied the potential.

No. She refused to consider it now. “Lots of babies survive prolonged drug use by their mothers.” Mothers hooked on illegal drugs delivered living babies all the time. There were problems, but at least the child was alive.

“My baby is alive.” She dredged up her courage and exiled the fear and uncertainty.

With one downward sweep of his dark lashes, the regret or pity she’d noted vanished and was replaced by the fierce indifference of the beast. “How do you know? The odds are not in your favor. Give me one valid reason we should even bother with a search and I’ll do all within my power to find your child.”

Your child, not our child. Fine, if that was the way he wanted to play it.

“I only have one,” Camille said, pushing to her feet so that she could look him squarely in the eyes. She swayed but steadied herself in time to prevent his reaching out to her. “I can feel it. Right here.” She released the blanket, allowing it to puddle around her feet, and pressed both hands over her heart. “My baby is alive. He’s out there waiting for me to bring him home.”

The undamaged corner of his mouth twitched. “And you know the child is a boy.”

Camille nodded. “Yes.” She hadn’t actually come to that conclusion until that moment, but somehow she knew with every fiber of her being that the baby was a boy. Her little boy.

He sighed, the sound weary, reluctant. “All right.” He pushed the tousled hair back from his face. “We’ll start with who found you. We need as much information as possible.”

That would be a waste of time. “Detective Lagios has gone over what he saw that night a hundred times. He was in a car chase with the Seaside Strangler. It was dark and rainy. The fog was thick. He almost missed seeing me lying there on the side of the road. He carried me to the clinic, and that’s all there is.”

“I remember.” Nicholas stepped closer, bent down, picked up the blanket and draped it around her shoulders once more. “If I’m going to help you, there’s one thing we must get straight right from the beginning.”

He was going to help her? She shivered. His touch did that to her. It made her furious that he affected her so easily. But then, he was the father of her child.

And the only man she’d ever loved.

Don’t even go there. She needed his help, nothing more. She couldn’t go back down that path.

“What’s that?” She fisted her fingers into the blanket and pulled it close.

“We will do this my way.” He held up a hand when she would have protested. “No negotiations.”

“Fine.” Anything. She only cared that they got started.

“We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

Tomorrow? No! “We have to start now.” Didn’t he get it? Her baby was out there. The idea that he hadn’t been fed…or bathed…tore at Camille’s heart. “Right now, Nicholas. No negotiations,” she reiterated, using his words.

“It’s after midnight,” he said quietly. “We can’t storm into a person’s house at this time of night and hope to achieve cooperation.”

Like she had done? She hadn’t considered the time. She’d come straight here as soon as she’d given her parents the slip.

“But—”

Banging on the front door made her jump. Her heart rocketed into her throat. Had her father tracked her here? He would not be happy. She hadn’t told her parents who the real father was yet…she’d let them believe the child was Grant’s. It was easier.

Now who was the coward?

Before she could mull over that idea, Nicholas had strode to the window next to the door and peered out past the curtain.

“It’s Chief Swanson.”

Goose bumps spilled across her skin. The chief thought she had hurt her baby. That she’d done the unspeakable. Had her father sent him here to bring her home?

More banging on the door jerked her from the troubling thoughts.

“Sterling, it’s Chief Swanson. I need to speak with you!”

Camille didn’t know what to do. Should she hide?

Nicholas held her gaze another moment. “Is there anything else I should know?” he asked.

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she shook her head.

He turned his attention to the door and opened it. “It’s late,” he said to the chief.

Swanson removed his hat and shook himself to send the water flying from his overcoat before stepping across the threshold. “This couldn’t wait.” His gaze landed on Camille and he blinked, clearly startled. “Miss Wells,” he said with a dip of his head.

“Chief.” She couldn’t keep the antagonism out of that one word. How could this man, a man who had known her for most of her life, believe she’d hurt or abandoned her child?

Nicholas closed the door and folded his arms over his broad chest. “What couldn’t wait?”

The chief turned his hat in his hands as if he didn’t look forward to passing along whatever he’d come here to say. “Someone has leaked your identity.”

The news sent a tremor of fear through Camille. Though Nicholas looked unfazed, she was certain he had to be worried as well.

“How did that happen?” he demanded. “Only you, Lagios and the village’s legal counsel knew.”

The chief pressed his lips together and moved his head solemnly from side to side before admitting, “I can only assume someone overheard a telephone conversation between me and Andrei.” He blew out a burdened breath. “I hate to think that any of my deputies would have done such a thing, but there’s just no other explanation. We both know that most folks around here, my staff included, aren’t going to feel any sympathy for you.”

Camille’s shoulders sagged with the weight of what this meant. The citizens of Raven’s Cliff would not be happy that they had again been misled by one of their own. Between her father’s betrayal, Fisher’s and Gibson’s, the whole village was overwhelmed. One more infraction might just send any number of normally good citizens over the edge. Battle-fatigued already from a serial killer, a mad scientist and a terrorist group, anything could happen.

“I received a dozen calls in the past two hours,” Swanson explained. He looked from Nicholas to Camille and back. “They’re already talking about the curse.”

The curse. Dear Lord. Camille closed her eyes and caught herself as she swayed again. This was too much. Nicholas needed to be focused on helping her find her child. He didn’t need this insanity right now.

“I appreciate your warning me,” Nicholas said, his tone resigned. “I don’t care what the people of Raven’s Cliff think of me. You know what I came here to do. I’ve waited far too long as it is.”

Judging by the chief’s grave expression, there was more bad news. “It’s not going to be that simple, Nicholas.”

Nicholas flinched at the familiarity. “What do you mean?”

“Some of them have put two and two together. They’ve reasoned that you’ve been here for the better part of the past five years. So have their troubles. That makes those who usually lend no credibility to the curse think twice.” He fumbled with his hat a bit more. “They want you gone. Now. Tonight.”

“No.” Camille didn’t realize she’d said the word aloud until both the chief and Nicholas turned to her. Her face flushed. “He…” She might as well say it. “He can’t leave.”

“Miss Wells,” the chief said patiently, “unless he’s broken a law I have no cause to run him out of town, so don’t mistake what I’m here to do.”

“What are you here to do?” Nicholas asked pointedly, drawing the chief’s attention back to him.

“I’m here to warn you. It’s a damned shame that some folks have to act this way, but it’s only human I suppose. The fact of the matter is, I can’t guarantee your safety, considering.”

Considering. Fury bolted through Camille. “That’s ridiculous.” She took a step in the chief’s direction. “When I was in the hospital, I had around-the-clock security. If you can do it for me, you can do it for Nicholas. Post a deputy outside.” She thrust her hand toward the front of the cottage. “I would think you would’ve already taken that measure.”

The chief shrugged. “I’ll do all I can, Miss Wells. But the people of Raven’s Cliff are pretty worked up. They’ve been through a lot. Some folks aren’t thinking rationally.”

“I appreciate your efforts,” Nicholas said. “But I can handle this myself.”

“I don’t—” Whatever the chief would have said was interrupted by his cell phone. He pulled the phone from his belt. “Swanson.”

Camille’s burst of adrenaline abandoned her, leaving her weak and feeling defeated. What did they do now? Finding her child had to be priority. If anyone got in the way—

The chief’s call ended and he tucked the phone back into his belt, dragging her attention to him once more. “Looks like we’re about to find out just how ugly this is going to get.”

The air in Camille’s lungs evacuated.

“There’s a riled-up mob headed this way. My deputies are trying to dissuade them, but they’re not cooperating.”

Before Nicholas or Camille could respond, the sound of angry shouts erupted outside.

The chief rushed to the window and looked out, then turned back to Nicholas. “They’re here.”