Читать книгу The Detective's 8 Lb, 10 Oz Surprise - Meg Maxwell - Страница 11

Chapter Five

Last night, Nick had woken up to the sound of a baby crying and thought he was dreaming, then remembered. Timmy. And when Timmy had magically quieted down, Nick had bolted up.

Georgia.

Right next door. It had taken him a while to fall asleep, but he did, only to wake up a few hours later to the same cries. Then the same magic quiet. Then he heard the very faint sound of her singing some kind of lullaby.

He hadn’t been able to fall back asleep that last time.

He’d wondered what she was wearing. What she was thinking. If he should knock on her door and offer to make some coffee.

But he hadn’t gotten out of bed. He’d sat up, consciously unwilling to check on Georgia and the baby.

Which was interesting, considering that he’d hired her as his live-in nanny.

You want her close but not too close, he knew.

He’d heard her tiptoeing around at five o’clock, heard the front door gently click. Then he’d sprung out of bed. In the kitchen he’d found she’d made a pot of coffee and left a note: Took Timmy to Hurley’s to meet the family and start my first morning as baker. Back at lunchtime.

He glanced at his watch. It was just about lunchtime. For the past several hours, he’d been parked on the living room couch, the box of case files for the past two years on the coffee table. He’d been too distracted to go through the case files last night, but now they were all fresh in his head, his little notebook full of reminders, schedules and any helpful information. This afternoon, he’d start with the most recent and work his way back. First up: a visit to Harriet Culver, whose greyhound eleven-year-old Jason Pullman had dognapped, then the Pullmans. Harriet was in her early sixties, but perhaps she had a relative or a neighbor who liked how he’d handled the case and thought he’d make an excellent babysitter for the week. Or maybe the Pullmans were connected to Timmy—someone who thought Nick had something to do with how Harriet had been so kind to dogless Timmy when it had been Harriet’s own doing.

He pulled the next file, shaking his head. Penny Jergen, a twenty-four-year-old local beauty queen with a mean streak whose entire wardrobe, including shoes, were stolen and never found. The only evidence? Ashes from a bonfire in a clearing on the outskirts of town, a glittery pink scarf left behind with a rock holding it down. Clearly, someone wanted Penny to know all her clothes and shoes were dust. He’d never cracked that case, and Penny Jergen glared at him in town. If she’d had a baby and had had to leave her infant with someone, he doubted it would be him.

But he’d add her to the list. She’d been difficult, to say the least, and he’d been kind and patient, since her demeanor had reminded him of his sister when she’d been hurt and angry or frustrated. Maybe someone connected to her liked how he’d handled Penny and that someone was Timmy’s mother.

He’d have to backtrack through all these people. He sighed. Sounded tedious and draining. But somewhere in these boxes was the key to Timmy’s mother. So he’d do it.

The doorbell rang and he jogged over to open it. It was Georgia with Timmy.

“You don’t have to ring the doorbell,” he told her, again struck by how damned pretty she was. She wore a denim skirt and a pale yellow ruffly tank top, the swell of her belly even more visible in this outfit. “This is now your home for the week.”

“Still seems strange to just walk in.” She set Timmy’s carrier on the coffee table next to the box of case files. “Any luck on finding Timmy’s mother?”

He sat down and slid the Jergen file back into the box. “Not yet. But I have a long list of folks to see today. My not so brilliant plan is to casually ‘run into’ them and conversationally check up on their cases. I’ll look for any signs of nervousness. You can tell a lot by someone’s expression, by what they do with their hands.”

Though he’d certainly misread Georgia’s back in April. He’d tossed and turned last night thinking about it. Why hadn’t he recognized what was right in front of his damned face? He’d allowed her to suffer under that man’s abusive thumb—while pregnant with Nick’s child—for four months. And what if the bastard hadn’t gotten himself killed? Georgia had said she’d had enough, that she was going to ask for help, but that hadn’t gotten her very far before.

He looked at Georgia’s belly. Five months and there would be a little person in her arms, his child, his son, his daughter.

Nick was man enough to admit he’d been scared before in life. But nothing scared him more than impending fatherhood.

“You know,” she said, “maybe Timmy and I could come along. It would probably be easier to get a reaction out of someone who was actually looking at her own baby. Or at a five-week-old relative.”

He considered that. “I don’t know. None of these folks fall into the dangerous category, but I’m not comfortable bringing you and Timmy on police business.”

“Unofficial police business, though.”

He smiled. “I suppose. I guess it would help. Good thing about a small town is you know where people generally are. Harriet Culver will be having her usual 1:00 p.m. lunch at Hurley’s with her sister, Gloria. We’ll find the Pullmans at their son’s baseball practice at 3:30 p.m. And Penny Jergen works at the coffee shop her aunt owns. She’s on till five.”

“Where will you find me on Mondays at ten?” she asked with a smile. A beautiful smile. One he hadn’t seen since their night in Houston, he now realized.

“Well, you’re a newcomer,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “But I’ll have you profiled in no time.”

She smiled again, but it faltered a bit. “Actually, this Monday at ten I have a checkup at my obstetrician’s office.” She hesitated for moment and added, “Perhaps you could come with me.”

He almost choked on his coffee.

“I can feel the baby kick inside me. It’s what made this feel very real for me. I think you’ll feel similarly if you see the baby on the ultrasound.”

“I don’t know, Georgia,” he said, turning away, his skin feeling tight again.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. The baby will be here soon enough and then it’ll be very real. I just thought—”