Читать книгу Peek-a-boo Protector - Rita Herron - Страница 9

Sam silently cursed the man trying to run her off the road, jerked the wheel to the right to avoid careening into the embankment then swung the car onto the graveled drive toward her house.

The baby wailed from the backseat as if she sensed the danger, and Sam sped up, glancing over her shoulder at the lights bearing down on her.

“He’s not going to hurt you, little one,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you and find your mama.”

But the man sped up, too, moving closer on her tail.

She hit the accelerator, shooting forward, and he lost control for a moment and skimmed a tree. The skid gave her just enough time to throw the car into park, grab the baby from the backseat and race inside.

She slammed the door, put the baby carrier on the floor then grabbed her shotgun. Outside, the sound of the car roared nearer, gears and tires grinding, then the engine died and a door slammed.

Emmie wailed louder, kicking her feet and waving her fist, and Sam’s temper rose. Why would someone want to hurt this baby?

Sam’s hands shook as she moved the curtain aside and glanced out the window. She needed to call 9-1-1, but there wasn’t time. The dark sedan was parked off the drive by a thick pocket of trees, and the silhouette of a man slithered through the shadows, creeping toward the side window.

“I’ll be right back, sweetie,” she said softly. She slowly opened the door, then inched outside onto the porch and around toward the side. The man was crouching low in the bushes, weaving toward the window. The sound of glass shattering sounded over the wind. Panic hit her again.

He was trying to break in.

Her insides knotted. She had to protect the baby. “You’re not going to get to Emmie,” she muttered as she raised the gun, braced it against her hip and aimed. The bushes rustled, wind whipping through the trees, but she fired at the bushes, gritting her teeth at the kick.

A curse rent the air, the bushes rustled again and she fired a second shot. Another curse echoed through the wind, then the man jumped up and ran toward the woods and his car. She fired again, determined he know she meant business. The shell pinged off the gravel near his feet. He jumped into the car, started the engine, swung the car around and tore down the drive, slinging gravel in his wake.

She was trembling, but waited until he disappeared then ran inside and locked the door. Emmie was crying harder, her cheeks red, her sniffles twisting Sam’s heart.

She scooped the precious baby into her arms and began to soothe her. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s all right. The bad man is gone now.”

But she had a sinking feeling he would be back.

She stroked Emmie’s back, swaying her gently in her arms and pacing frantically in front of the window to make sure the man didn’t return as she dialed 9-1-1 again.

AT JOHN’S REQUEST, the lab confirmed that the blood on the floor of Sam’s house was Honey’s. They still had to compare the baby’s blood and DNA with Honey’s. Meanwhile, John had to tell Samantha Corley what he’d learned, that it was Honey’s blood on her floor.

His phone buzzed on his way to her house, and he snapped it open. “Chief Wise.”

“Chief, a 9-1-1 call just came in from Samantha Corley’s house.”

Again? Dammit.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “What now?”

“She said someone tried to run her off the road and followed her to her house.”

He adjusted his holster and weapon, grabbed his jacket and rushed to the door. “I’m on my way.”

John flipped on the siren and raced toward Sam’s. The wind beat at his car as he swerved around slower traffic, beeped at a truck to move over and let him by, then swung onto the mountain road leading to her place.

Five minutes later, he veered onto her driveway, scanning the woods as he flew up her drive and scanned the perimeter of her property. Dark clouds hung heavy in the night, the threat of bad weather ominous.

He screeched to a stop behind her car, wielded his gun in case the perp was lurking around, then walked toward the porch, his senses alert. Trees rustled, an animal howled and the ping of falling rocks echoed from the neighboring woods.

He climbed the steps, then knocked. “Samantha, it’s John.”

His pulse raced as he waited, but finally he heard the lock shifting and the door opened with a screech.

The sight of Sam terrified and holding a baby in her arms made his chest clench and pulled at heartstrings he didn’t know he had.

Heartstrings he’d only felt one other time—years ago when he thought his high school girlfriend was carrying his baby. He’d been willing to sacrifice his career and dreams to do right by the child, but his father had called him a fool. His father was right. Later he’d learned that the girl had lied to him, that the baby wasn’t his.

Since then his trust in women was shot.

He’d vowed to focus on his goals, never to let a woman sidetrack him again.

But Sam, who fought so hard to protect others, especially children, was shaking and terrified. Not for herself, either. That was obvious.

She was frightened for the innocent little girl in her arms.

He couldn’t help himself. He stepped inside, shut the door behind him then pulled her up against him. “Are you okay?” he asked gruffly.

She leaned against him, a testament to her emotional state, and sighed against his chest. “Some man tried to run me off the road,” she whispered hoarsely. “He followed me home, then tried to break in the window.”

Anger surged through him, and he tightened his grip on her, the baby calming as the two of them held her between them.

“It’s all right now,” he said. “I’ll catch this SOB.”

She pulled away slightly, composing herself, her eyes tormented. “John, I think he wants the baby.”

John’s jaw tightened. “What makes you think that? It could have been someone else, some man disgruntled from one of your cases. Don’t forget that Leonard Cultrain is out of jail and has a grudge against you.”

She frowned. “It wasn’t Leonard. Think about it, John. Last night a woman was hurt here in my house. But I didn’t see the man and can’t identify him, so why come after me?” She turned a panicked look up at him. “He wanted Emmie, John, and he came back to get her. I think he might hurt her, too, just like he did the mother. That’s the reason the woman hid the baby in my closet.”

His blood ran cold. If this maniac hurt the baby, it would be over John’s dead body.

She paced away, rocking the little girl in her arms with such love that again John’s chest clenched.

Sam would make a wonderful mother.

He had to tell her the truth about Honey.

But hearing that her best friend might have stolen this child, or if the baby was hers, that they were in danger, wouldn’t be easy.

And the worst-case scenario—Honey might be dead.

SAM TOOK A CALMING BREATH, grateful for John’s presence. Slowly her adrenaline was waning, and Emmie was starting to whimper again and needed to be fed.

“Let me get her a bottle,” she said.

“We need to talk, but go ahead and take care of the baby first,” John said. “I’ll check the window for prints and forensics, then board it up for the night.”

She nodded. “There’s some extra plywood and a hammer in the garage.”

He nodded, and she hurried into the kitchen with the baby while he went outside. She felt his absence in the room the moment he stepped away from her. When he’d pulled her up against him and cradled her and Emmie, she’d felt protected.

Maybe for the first time in her life.

Which was a fantasy. She couldn’t rely on anyone else—she had to stand on her own.

She always had.

Except for Honey—when the doe-like girl had befriended her years ago, Sam had clung to her sweetness. The two of them had bonded over lost families, a lack of love and the toughness they’d been forced to adopt to survive.

Memories of high school flooded her as she heated the bottle, hugged the baby to her and watched her eat, her tiny hand gripping Sam’s as if she was afraid she would lose her, too.

“I don’t know where your mama is, precious, but I’ll take care of you until she comes back.”

A pain seized her chest. What if Emmie’s mother didn’t return? What if she was lost, hurt?

Even dead?

No, she couldn’t think like that. The baby’s mother was coming back. John would find her and reunite them.

Her pulse spiked. When had she ever trusted, or had faith in, a man?

But she instinctively knew that John was the real deal. He would do what he said. He’d been a hero in the town when they were young, a football star.

And the boy every girl had wanted.

His father had been a politician and had pushed him hard.

And although she’d never admitted it, she’d secretly harbored a crush on the guy herself.

But boys had paid no attention to her. She was awkward and shy, not like Honey who was vivacious and sweet and feminine. Despite her background, Honey turned all the boys’ heads and had made varsity cheerleader her freshman year.

Odd though that John was one of the few guys in school who’d never hit on Honey.

Of course, he’d never paid attention to her, either. Why should he now?

His family had money and prestige where she was just one of the foster kids everyone pitied. The gossip about her father being a dirty cop, causing his own wife’s death, haunted her, as well.

Honey had been the only one who’d understood…

The door squeaked open and she froze, her nerves on alert, but she breathed out in relief when John poked his head in. “It’s me, Sam.”

She pressed a finger to her lip gesturing for him to be quiet, then eased the baby into her infant seat to sleep. Tonight she’d put together the portable crib so the sweet child would have a bed.

“I took a plaster cast of the footprint near the window,” John said. “It looks similar to the one from last night, so you may be right. This may be the same guy who attacked the baby’s mother. But there weren’t any fingerprints so he must have worn gloves.”

“You think he’s a professional of some kind?”

John shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Anyone who watches crime shows these days knows to wear gloves.”

“True.” Which made his job harder.

“Did you see what kind of car he was driving?”

She shook her head. “No, it looked like some kind of dark sedan, but he was behind me and his lights were blinding.”

“You said he rammed into you intentionally?”

She nodded. “Yes, at least twice. I was afraid we might go over the side of the mountain.”

“I’ll see if he left paint from his car on yours and take a sample.” Her eyes clouded over as if she was reliving the scene, and he rubbed her arms with his big hands. “I’ll find him, Sam, I promise,” he said. “Just give me time.”

She stared into his eyes and the tension seeped from her, yet another kind of tension vibrated between them. She longed to have him hold her again.

Then his gaze turned hooded, his jaw tightened and a wary expression darkened his face. “Sam?”

Alarm rippled through her. “What is it, John? Did you find something?”

He nodded. “Let’s sit down.”

Her pulse spiked, but she allowed him to lead her to one of the kitchen chairs. He claimed the one opposite her and planted his beefy fists on his knees. “I did get some interesting results from the fingerprints in the car from last night.”

She swallowed, nerves tingling as she realized he thought the news would upset her. “Whom do they belong to?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, then he cleared his throat. “Your friend Honey Dawson.”

Sam’s breath caught. Honey? Honey had driven the car here?

Pain and panic ripped through her as she remembered the blood on the floor in her kitchen.

Dear Lord…Honey must have been in trouble and she’d come to her for help.

But why hadn’t Honey told her she was pregnant? And who would want to hurt Honey?

She jerked her head toward the infant seat. And the baby…The little girl had baby fine, soft blond hair. And those green eyes…

Was Emmie Honey’s little girl?

JOHN SAW THE WHEELS TURNING in Samantha’s mind and knew she assumed the baby was Honey’s. But he was a cop and he had to go on facts.

And the facts were stacking up against Honey.

“Emmie is Honey’s,” Sam said with newfound awe in her eyes as she stroked the baby’s soft curls.

“We can’t say that for certain,” John said. “Remember, the car was stolen.” He paused, knowing Sam wouldn’t like his train of thought, but he was a cop and had to look at the facts. “Honey might have stolen the baby, too. Maybe this guy is trying to recover the child for himself or for the parents.”

“No. That’s crazy. Honey would never kidnap a child.” Sam’s dark brown eyes flashed with anger, and her shoulders snapped up in a defensive gesture. “This is Honey’s little girl. She looks just like her.”

“DNA will have to tell us that, Sam,” John said. “Until then, we can’t make assumptions.”

Sam laid a hand on the baby seat as if she expected him to tear the little girl from her. “Honey would never steal a child, John. I know her. And Emmie—I should have known. Honey always talked about naming her kids after Dallas Cowboy players. Emmit was one of the famous running backs during the Dallas Cowboys’ glory days.”

“Look, Sam, I understand she was your best friend, but it’s obvious that Honey was in trouble. She’s been gone over a year now. You have no idea what kind of mess she’s gotten herself into.”

Sam folded her arms. “I know Honey would have to be desperate to steal a car. That she came to me for help and I wasn’t here for her.”

John silently cursed. “Sam, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Honey.”

“What did happen to her? I saw all that blood,” Sam said, her tone full of terror. “Do you think that man…that he killed her, John?”

He hesitated, hated to give her hope and then have her disappointed. But he also hated to squash that hope. “I don’t know,” John said. “But at least we know who we’re looking for. I’ll file a missing persons report on Honey, and hopefully someone will come forward with information.”

She nodded, stroking the baby’s cheek with her finger, tears welling in her eyes. “I hope so, John. Honey wouldn’t want her little girl to grow up without a mother.”

The pain of Sam’s past reverberated in her voice, and his heart squeezed. Sam had always seemed so strong, tough, a fighter.