Читать книгу The Christmas Child - Linda Goodnight - Страница 10

Kade pushed back from the laptop perched on Ida June’s worn kitchen table and rubbed the strain between his eyes. Hours of poking into every law-enforcement database he could access produced nothing about a missing mute boy named David. He’d chased a rabbit trail for the past hour only to discover the missing child had been found.

Hunching his shoulders high to relieve the tightness, he glanced past the narrow dividing bar into Ida June’s living room. Davey still slept, curled beneath a red plaid throw on the 1970s sofa, a psychedelic monstrosity in red, green and yellow swirls that, ugly as sin, proved a napping boy’s paradise. In sleep, Davey had released his beloved book to fall in the narrow space between his skinny body and the fat couch cushion. Sheba lay next to him, her golden head snuggled beneath his lax arm. She opened one eye, gave Kade a lazy look and went back to sleep.

“Traitor,” he said, softly teasing. The boy had taken one look at the affable dog and melted. Sheba could never resist a kid. When Davey went to his knees in joyful greeting and threw his arms around her neck, Sheba claimed him as her own. He’d shared his lunch with her, a sight that had twisted in Kade’s chest. The kid had been hungry, maybe for days, but he’d shared a ham sandwich with the well-fed dog. Whatever had happened to Davey hadn’t broken him. It may very well have silenced him, but his soul was still intact.

Kade rubbed a frustrated hand over his whiskered jaw and asked himself for the dozenth time why he’d gotten involved. He knew the answer. He just didn’t like it.

Leaving the pair, he poured himself another cup of coffee and went to finish the laundry. At the moment, Davey wore one of Kade’s oversize T-shirts and a ridiculously huge pair of sweats tied double at the waist. Now, when he awoke, Davey’s clothes would be as clean as he was.

Once the boy had been fed, cleaned and his clothes in the washer, Ida June had barked a few orders and gone to work at the little town square. With Kade’s less-than-professional assistance, she’d been erecting a stable for the town’s Christmas celebration. She’d promised to have it finished this week, and leaving Kade to “mind the store” and “find that boy’s mama,” Ida June had marched out the door with a final parting shot: “Promises are like babies squalling in a theater—they should be carried out at once.”

He was still smirking over that one. His mother’s aunt was a colorful character, a spunky old woman who’d outlived two husbands, built her own business and half of her own house, drove like a maniac and spouted quotes like Bartlett. And if anyone needed a helping hand, she was there, though heaven help the man or woman who said she had a soft heart.

Kade removed Davey’s pitiful jeans and sweatshirt from the dryer and folded them next to clean socks and underwear before tossing the washed sneakers into the stillwarm drier. He set them on tumble with one of Ida June’s fragrant ocean-breeze dryer sheets and left them to thump and bang.

He wasn’t much on shopping any more than he was on doing laundry, especially at Christmas when the holly, jolly Muzak and fake everything abounded, but a single man learned to take care of business. The boy needed clothes, and unless Sophie Bartholomew or Ida June offered, he’d volunteer.

Sophie. The wholesome-looking teacher had played around the edges of his thoughts all day, poking in a little too often. Nobody could be that sweet and smiley all the time.

“Probably on crack,” he groused, and then snorted at the cynical remark. A woman like Sophie probably wouldn’t know crack cocaine if it was in her sugar bowl.

His cell phone jangled and he yanked the device from his pocket to punch Talk. With calls into various law-enforcement agencies all over the region, he hoped to hear something. Even though he was a stranger here, with few contacts and no clout, his federal clearances gave him access to just about anything he wanted to poke his nose into.

It had been a while since he’d wanted to poke into anything. When he turned over rocks, he usually found snakes.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The year undercover had skewed his perspective. He wasn’t looking for snakes this time. He was looking for a boy’s family.

One hand to the back of his neck, the other on the phone, he went to the kitchen window and stared blindly out at the gray sky as the voice on the other end gave him the expected news. Nothing.

He figured as much. A dumped kid might be big news in Redemption but to the rest of the world, Davey was another insignificant statistic.

Acid burned his gut—an ulcer, he suspected, though he’d avoided mentioning the hot pain to the shrink. Being forced by his superiors to talk to a head doctor was bad enough. No one was going to shove a scope down his throat and tell him to take pills and live on yogurt. He didn’t do pills. Or yogurt. He’d learned the hard way that one pill, one drug, one time could be the end of a man.

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. He was so tired. He couldn’t help envying Davey and Sheba their sound sleep. He ached to sleep, to fall into that wonderful black land of nothingness for more than a restless hour at a time. The coffee kept him moving, but no amount of caffeine replaced a solid sleep. He took a sip, grimaced at the day-old brew and the growing gut burn. Yeah, yeah. Coffee made an ulcer worse. Big deal. It wasn’t coffee that was killing him.

In the scrubbed-clean driveway outside the window, a deep purple Ford Focus pulled to a stop. The vehicle, a late-model job, was dirt-splattered from the recent rain, and the whitewalls needed a scrub. Why did women ignore the importance of great-looking wheels? The schoolteacher, brown hair blowing lightly in the breeze, hopped out, opened the back car door and wrestled out a bulging trash bag. Curious, Kade set aside his mug and jogged out to help.

“What’s this?” he asked.

The afternoon sun, weak as a twenty-watt bulb, filtered through the low umbrella of stratus clouds and found the teacher’s warm smile. There was something about her, a radiance that pierced the bleak day with light. Kade’s troubled belly tingled. She attracted him, plain and simple—a surprise, given how dead he felt most of the time.

Her smile widening, Sophie shoved the black trash sack into his arms. She had a pretty mouth, full lips with gentle creases along the edges like sideways smiles. “Davey needs clothes.”

“You went shopping?” She’d barely had time to get here from school. And why the hefty bag?

“No.” Her laugh danced on the chilly breeze and hit him right in the ulcer. “I know kids, lots of kids, all sizes and shapes, who outgrow clothes faster than their parents can buy them. I made a few phone calls and voilà!” She hunched her shoulders, fingers of one hand spreading in the space between them like a starburst. “Davey is all fixed up.” Perky as a puppy, she hoisted another bag. “This has a few toys in it. We were guessing size, so I hope something fits. The rest can go to the shelter.”

“Bound to fit better than what he’s wearing now.” She was going to get a kick out of his impromptu outfit.

“How is he?” she asked as they carried the bags inside.

“Exhausted.” Kade dumped his bag in a chair inside the living room and hitched his chin toward the ugly couch. “He’s slept like a rock most of the day.”

“What did the doctor say? Have we heard any news on where he came from? Where’s Ida June?” Shooting questions like an arcade blaster, Sophie moved past him into the room. A subtle wake of clean perfume trailed behind to tantalize his senses. Sunshine and flowers and—he sniffed once—coconut. She smelled as fresh and wholesome as she looked.

Amused by her chatter, he slouched at the bar and waited for her to wind down. “You finished?”

“For now.” She stood over Davey and Sheba, a soft smile tilting her naturally curved lips. “Is this your dog?”

“Was until this morning.”

She gave him that happy look again. She was lucky. No one had wiped away her joy. Life must have always been good in Sophie’s world.

“A boy and a dog is a powerful combination,” she said.

“Sheba’s a sucker for kids.”

“So is her master.”

“Me?” Where did she get such a weird idea? He did his job. Did what he had to. And a dose of retribution was only just.

“So tell me, what did the doctor say?”

“Dehydrated and run-down but otherwise healthy. Nothing rest and nutrition won’t fix.” He’d been careful to ask the right questions and the child showed no signs of physical abuse. No outward signs.

“What about his voice?”

Kade nodded behind him to the kitchen. “Let’s talk in here.”

“Sure.” Smart Sophie got the message. He didn’t want to talk near the boy, not with the suspicions tearing at the back of his brain. With a lingering glance at Davey, she followed Kade to the kitchen.

“Want some coffee?” he asked.

“It’s cold out.” She rubbed her palms together. “A hot cup sounds great if it’s already made.”

“Coffee’s always made.”

She raised a dark, tidy eyebrow. “Chain drinker?”

“Safer than chugging Red Bull.”

The answer revealed more than he’d intended. He went to the counter, more aware of her than he wanted to be and wondering, even though he didn’t want to, what it would be like to be normal again the way she was. Normal and easy in her skin. Maybe that’s what made her so pretty. She wasn’t movie-star beautiful, although she warmed the room like an unexpected ray of sun across a shadow. Dark, soft, curving hair. Soft gray eyes. Clear, soft skin. Everything about Sophie Bartholomew was soft.

“What did the doctor say about Davey’s voice?”

“He found no physical reason for Davey not to speak, though he did recommend a specialist.” Kade poured two cups and held up the sugar bowl. Sophie shook her head. Figured. She was sweet enough. Kade loaded his with three spoons and stirred them in. “We’ll have to leave that to social services.”

Sophie grimaced. He got that. Social services did what they could, but who really cared about one little boy?

“Then there must be something mental or emotional, and he doesn’t appear mentally handicapped.” She accepted the offered cup, sipped with her eyes closed. Kade, a detail man courtesy of his career, tried not to notice the thick curl of mink lashes against pearl skin. “Mmm. Perfect. Thanks.”

“Which leaves us with one ugly conclusion.” He took a hot gulp and felt the burn before the liquid ever hit his belly. The more he thought about what could have happened to Davey, the more his gut hurt. “Trauma.”

“I wondered about that, but was hoping …” Her voice trailed off. She picked at the handle of her cup.

“Yeah, me, too.”

Sophie’s fingers went to her lips, flat now with concern for the little boy. She painted her fingernails. Bright Christmas red with tiny silver snowflakes. How did a woman do that?

“You think something happened that upset him so much he stopped talking?”

Jaw tight, Kade nodded. “So does the doc.”

And if it took him the rest of his life, somebody somewhere was gonna pay.

Sophie studied the trim, fit man leaning against Ida June’s mustard-colored wall. In long-sleeved Henley shirt and blue jeans, dark brown hair combed messily to one side, he could be any ordinary man, but she suspected he wasn’t. Kade McKendrick was cool to the point of chill with a hard glint to wary eyes that missed nothing. He was tough. Defensive. Dangerous.

Yet, he’d responded to Davey’s need with concern, and he had a wry wit beneath the cynical twist of that tight mouth. He didn’t smile much but he knew how. Or he once had. Her woman’s intuition said he’d been through some trauma himself. Her woman’s heart wanted to bake him cookies and fix him.

A little troubled at the direction of her thoughts, she raised her coffee mug, a shield to hide behind. She didn’t even know this guy.

“What could be so terrible that a child would stop speaking?” she asked. “I can’t imagine.”

Something flickered in the stolid expression, a twitch of muscle, the narrowing of coffee-colored eyes in a hard face.

“I plan to find out.”

“I heard you were a cop.”

“Listening to gossip?”

She smiled. “Not all of it.”

The admission caught him by surprise. He lightened, just a little, but enough for her to see his humor. She didn’t know why that pleased her, but it did. Kade needed to lighten up and smile a little.

“I am.” He went to the sink and dumped the remaining coffee, rinsed the cup and left it in the sink. “A cop, that is. Special units.”

“You don’t want to hear about the other rumors?”

He made a huffing noise. “Maybe later. You don’t want to hear about the special units?”

“Maybe later.” She smiled again, hoping he’d smile, too. He didn’t. “The important thing is Davey. Your police experience should help us find his family.”

“Us?”

“Well …” She wasn’t a person to start something and not follow through. She’d been there when Davey was found and she didn’t intend to walk away and leave him with all these unanswered questions. “I know the community really well. People trust me. They’ll talk to me. I don’t know the first thing about investigating a missing boy.” She stopped, frowned. Davey wasn’t missing exactly. “Or rather, a found boy, but I know how to deal with people.”

Kade raised a palm. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s early yet. Someone may come home from work tonight, find their son gone and call in. Problem solved.”

“Do you think they will?” she asked hopefully.

“To be honest?” He dropped his arms to his sides, shot a look toward the living room. “No.”

Something in the sudden clip of his voice chilled Sophie’s bones. She frowned and leaned forward, propping her arms on the metal dinette. Ida June must have had this thing since the 1950s. “Have you worked in Missing Children before?”

She was almost certain he flinched, but if he did, he covered the emotion quickly.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Sophie waited for an explanation, but when none was forthcoming, she asked, “Do you have any ideas? Any thoughts about where he came from or what happened?”

“A few.” He crossed his arms again. She recognized the subconscious barrier he raised between them. What had happened to this man to make him so aloof? For a people person, he was a challenge. For a Christian, he was someone to pray for. For a single woman, he was dangerously attractive. What woman wouldn’t want to delve behind those dark, mysterious eyes and into that cool heart to fix whatever ailed him?

“Care to share?” she asked.

He cocked his head, listening. “Davey’s awake.”

Sophie hadn’t heard a sound, but she pushed away from the table and hurried past Kade to the sofa and the little boy who’d had her prayers all day. Behind her, a more troubling and troubled presence followed. She was in the company of two mysterious males and they both intrigued her.

“Hi, Davey.” She sat on the edge of the couch, the warmth of Davey’s sleep-drenched body pleasant against her leg. Kade’s big dog, a golden retriever, slid off the sofa and padded to her master. He dropped a hand to her wide skull and stood like a dark slab of granite watching as Davey looked around in that puzzled “Where am I?” manner of someone waking in a strange place.

“Remember me? I’m Sophie. My students call me Miss B.”

The towheaded child blinked stubby lashes and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He sat up, the blanket falling to his waist.

Sophie grinned up at Kade. “Your shirt?”

A wry twist to one side of his mouth, Kade nodded. “My sweats, too. His clothes are in the dryer.”

Davey pushed the cover away and stood. The oversize black pants puddled around his feet. Sophie laughed. “I need a camera.”

Davey looked down, and then, too serious, glanced from Sophie to Kade and back again, eyes wide and uncertain.

“Guess what? We have some great new clothes for you. You want to look through the bag and find something you like?” She dragged the bag from the chair with a plastic thud against green shag carpet and pulled open the yellow tie. “There’s a very cool sweatshirt in here. And wait till you see this awesome jacket with a hood and secret zip-up pockets.”

She was rewarded when Davey realized her mission and went to his knees next to the bag. Sophie held up a T-shirt. “What do you think?”

He nodded eagerly, then plunged his hands into the sack and removed a pair of cowboy boots. His whole body reacted. He hopped up, stumbled on his long pants and would have gone down if Kade, swift as a cat, hadn’t caught him. “Easy, pard.”

“I think he likes his new duds.”

Davey held the boots up for Kade’s inspection. Sophie watched with interest as the man pretended to consider before nodding his head. “Shoulda been a cowboy myself.”

Davey’s face broke into a wide smile. He plopped onto the floor and shoved at the too-long pants to find his feet. Sophie’s smile widened. “Here, Davey. I think you could use some help.”

Kade moved into action. “Why don’t we find some jeans first and then try the boots?”

But Davey was already shoving his small feet into the brown-and-white-stitched footwear. His foot went in with an easy whoosh of skin against leather. Thrilled, smile wide enough to crack his cheeks, he leaned in to hug her from the side. Sophie’s heart pinched. The boots were obviously too big, but Davey behaved as though she’d given him the best Christmas present of his life.

He levered himself up with her shoulder and attempted to clomp around, still grinning. The sweats puddled on the floor and tripped him up again. Kade reached out to steady him, expression inscrutable. “Grab him some jeans. I’ll help him change.”

Sophie did as he asked, touched when Kade hoisted Davey under one arm and carted him, boots, jeans and all, sweats flopping in the empty space beneath Davey’s feet, to another room. Sheba padded softly behind, her nose inches from Kade.

Minutes later Sophie heard a clomp, clomp as the trio returned, Davey dressed in clean jeans, a Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt and the too-big boots. Kade had dampened the child’s pale hair and brushed away the bedhead.

“Well, don’t you look handsome?”

Davey beamed and clomped to her. Sheba followed, her nose poked beneath his hand as though expecting him to fall at any moment and prepared to catch him.

“I think the clothes are a hit,” Kade said.

“The boots are for certain.” Sophie dipped in the bag. “Davey, we might as well go through these and see what else you like. You can keep anything that fits.”

As they rummaged through the hand-me-downs, Sophie was a little too aware of Kade kneeling beside her, his taut arm brushing hers as they pulled clothes from the sack. There was a stealthy danger about him, a rigid control she assumed came from his work in law enforcement. Special units, he’d said. Now she wondered what he’d meant.

She was holding a blue dress shirt under Davey’s chin, his little arms spread wide to test the sleeve length, when they heard a car in the drive.

“Ida June?” she asked.

A minute later, the doorbell chimed. “Apparently not.”

Kade shoved to his feet and went to answer. Sophie heard voices but thought nothing of them until Kade returned, trailed by a man in a business suit. Sophie’s pleasure seeped away.

“Hello, Howard.” She knew the social worker from school and the times he’d come to interview teachers about a child’s well-being. Good at his job, professional and thorough, she’d always been glad to have him in a child’s corner. Until today.

“Sophie, how are you?”

“Great.” She’d been better. “Is everything okay? Davey’s doing fine here, as you can see. We’re sorting through some clothes my students donated.”

“Nice of you to take an interest. Tell your students thanks. We appreciate all you’ve done. Both of you.”

“No problem. Davey’s a good boy.”

“The Cunninghams will be glad to hear that.”

Dread pulled at Sophie’s belly. “The Cunninghams?”

“The foster family. We got lucky. They can take him today.”

Sophie made a small sound of distress. “He’s doing fine here, Howard. Why not leave him with Kade and Ida June?”

“Neither has foster-parenting credentials or clearances. The Cunninghams are paper-ready.”

“You’ve known Ida June forever and Kade is in law enforcement.”

“The system doesn’t work that way. Sorry. The Cunninghams are a good family with experience with special-needs children. He’ll do well with them.” Howard hitched the crease of his navy slacks and went to one knee in front of Davey. “My name is Mr. Prichard, Davey. You’ll be coming with me today. There’s a family waiting to meet you. You’re going to like it at their house.”

Davey frowned, bewildered gaze moving from Howard to Sophie and Kade.

“Howard,” Sophie said, beseeching.

“I have a job to do, Sophie. Our department comes under enough fire as it is. We have to follow procedures.” The social worker rose, matter-of-fact. “If you’d gather his belongings, he can take them along.”

“This is all he has.” The plastic bag crinkled as she pushed at it. A few hand-me-down clothes and an oversize pair of boots.

“More than most have, sad to say. Come along, Davey.” The man grasped Davey’s hand and started for the door. Davey jerked away and ran to Kade, throwing his arms around the familiar man’s legs. Sheba whined and pushed against Davey’s back. He fell against her neck and clung.

“Let him stay.” Kade’s voice was hard as granite.

Howard ignored the request. “Come now, Davey.” When the boy didn’t obey, the social worker scooped Davey into his arms and headed to the car. Davey squirmed but didn’t make a sound. The silence was more terrible than any amount of crying.

Sophie followed, fighting tears, her throat clogged with emotion. She pushed Davey’s beloved book into his hands. “It’s okay, Davey. I know the Cunningham family. They’re nice people. I’ll call you. I’ll come over and see you. We’ll find your family. I promise. I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

Tense fingers caught her arm. Kade, face as hard as ice, said, “Don’t make promises.”

Sophie stopped in the driveway next to the black Taurus and forced an encouraging smile as the social worker buckled the little lost boy into the backseat. Beside her, Kade said nothing, but anger seethed from him, hot against the evening chill. She lifted her hand, waved and held on to the fake smile while the car backed into the street and pulled away.

A cold wind swirled around her, lifted her hair, scattered scratchy brown leaves across the pavement. The dark sedan turned the corner, out of sight now.

Sophie lowered her hand and stood dejected in the bleak afternoon. What a sad way to spend Christmas.

Be with him, Jesus.

Even though her prayer was heartfelt, Sophie knew little comfort. The sight of Davey’s tormented face pressed against the window glass with silent tears streaming would stay with her forever.