Читать книгу The Baby's Bodyguard - Stephanie Newton - Страница 10

When they were partners, Ethan wouldn’t have waited to call Bridges. If he hadn’t been able to sleep because of the puzzle of evidence crowding his head, he would’ve called him in the middle of the night, or in the early hours of the morning. New information would’ve meant an instant call, day or night.

But he and Bridges hadn’t been partners in more than two years.

Ethan hadn’t even talked to his former partner in close to nine months. Without the day-to-day working relationship and with the secret nature of the job that Bridges did, there wasn’t as much as Ethan would’ve thought to build a friendship on. And truthfully, at the time, Ethan hadn’t cared.

Now he needed help to put together the random pieces of this case. Because of the trauma surrounding the event, there were things Ethan didn’t remember about the night Amy died. Hopefully Bridges could put those things in place.

The voice was grumpy and sleep-thickened, but sounded the same. “Bridges.”

“Still aren’t checking caller ID, I see.”

“Ethan Clark. You better have a good reason for waking me up at one in the morning, my friend.”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, I’m awake. What’s going on?” Sleep had disappeared from Bridges’ voice. A field agent got used to being awakened in the middle of the night. Ethan waited for the twinge, the little giveaway that he missed the job he used to do in the FBI when he was partners with Bridges. It wasn’t there.

With concise, short sentences, Ethan filled in his former partner on what had happened in the last two days, only leaving the fact that he believed his son might still be alive. “I just can’t figure out how all this ties in to what we were working back then or why someone would reach out to me now.”

Bridges was silent on the line. Then, “Ethan, you have to know that we searched every piece of ash from that explosion. There was nothing. Cantori was smoke, like he’d never existed.”

“I know.” The knot in his stomach was back. He dug in his pocket to find the roll of Tums he’d bought at the convenience store earlier and thumbed off a couple. “What about the girls?”

“We never found where he was keeping them. The only thing I could ever figure is that the operation is tight, with only a few key players. You know that—you’re the one who was in with them.”

It was true. “What about your confidential informant?”

“You don’t remember?”

The question he’d been dreading. And because Booth Bridges had been his partner, he had to be honest. “Everything is hazy, Booth. I tried to wipe it all out of my memory for two years.”

There was silence on the line. Then his former partner cleared his throat. “The CI was killed in a car accident a few weeks after you went in. The wreck was cleared by local cops as accidental, but neither of us thought it was an accident.”

Ethan had a vague recollection. “He was eliminated.”

“Yes, I think so.” Bridges sighed heavily. “We can’t protect you, Ethan.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that these are very dangerous players. If you open this back up, you’ll need to watch your back. These guys—they play for keeps.”

Anger roared through Ethan. Deftly, with the familiarity of long practice, he pushed it back, though his voice shook with the effort. “I think I’m in a position to be aware of that.”

His partner’s breath came across the line in a rush. “Of course you are. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, Ethan.”

“Even if I had nothing personally at stake, I don’t know how I could let this go. If they are selling babies, then there’s a lot more to this than we realized. More than a simple trafficking-for-profit scheme.” As if that wasn’t bad enough. His lip twitched. Frustration. Anger again.

Like an echo of his own feelings, frustration came through the line in his former partner’s voice, as well. “Right now all you have is an unidentified child, and I’m not sure what you want me to do with that.”

“We’re handling it. Local P.D. are on it and the FBI out of Mobile is involved in her case. What I need is information about the case that we worked. If it wasn’t about selling those young girls, what was it about?”

The line went quiet. Ethan could hear the clink of ice falling into a glass and liquid splashing in after it. Then, “For years, we’ve been going at this from the angle of trafficking women and coming up with nothing. Maybe I can run this new information by someone at Crimes Against Children and see if I turn up any complaints. It’s a stretch, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Ethan stared into the darkness at the lights on the opposite shore. “Thanks, Booth. I owe you one.”

“No. I don’t think you do. I think we all owe you, Ethan.”

Stuffing the sigh down, Ethan said, “Keep in touch,” and as Bridges hung up on his end of the conversation, he resisted the urge to throw the phone. He hated feeling like he’d just been dealt the pity card, but if Bridges wanted to follow this through out of some misguided sense of a debt owed, so be it.

At least he would see where it led.

A few blocks away, Kelsey laid a very sleepy baby into the porta-crib. Janie’s golden curls were still damp from the bath, and she sighed in her sleep, her mouth moving just a touch, like she missed her thumb. Too cute.

The doctor had said that she needed surgery as soon as possible, maybe as soon as next week, to put a shunt in her heart, giving her time to grow until they could do the full reconstructive surgery. She was trying to find the right doctor to follow Janie’s care here in Florida. The red tape to get an unidentified child transferred from one state to another for state-funded medical care was going to be difficult—actually, she wasn’t sure it had ever been done. But Janie deserved a bright future. In the meantime, Kelsey would be vigilant and try to keep her as calm as possible.

She gave the baby’s back one last pat and turned toward the bathroom. Seeing and interacting with multiple children on a daily basis was one thing, but caring for a toddler minute by minute was exhausting—especially after the day they’d had at Children’s Hospital.

They were close to finding out who Janie really was, though. Closer than Kelsey had imagined they would be at this point, thanks to the medical records. She squeezed toothpaste on her toothbrush and reached for the water, turning it on and quickly off again as she thought she heard the sound of something outside.

Her heartbeat picked up speed. She didn’t hear it again. Maybe it was just her imagination. Or an animal in the trash cans. Maybe he hadn’t found anything to his tastes, so he’d ambled on to check someone else’s garbage. She resisted the urge to check under her bed for the baseball bat she kept. She didn’t have to—she knew it was there.

She turned the water on again, straining her ears to listen as she brushed her teeth. Glass broke and she swallowed a mouthful of toothpaste.

That hadn’t been her imagination.

That sound had been in her kitchen. Her legs were quaking, blood rushing in her ears. She ran for the bedroom door and closed and locked it silently, flipping off the lights at the same time.

Now what? Did she stay and take her chances on the police getting there in time? She felt her way across the room to her bedside table, finding her cell phone and stuffing it in the pocket of her sweatpants.

She grabbed the bat from under the bed. Hovering over the baby’s crib, she considered her options.

Stay and hide. Pray the baby doesn’t cry.

Make a run for it out the patio door.

The safety of the baby was her first priority. And if she stayed in the house with an intruder, the baby would be at risk. But what if someone had waited outside?

She breathed a prayer, one she’d said since childhood. Please God, go before us and behind us. Guard us and protect us.

Kelsey heard a door open down the hall. There really was someone in her house. Nausea burned in her stomach. She had to make a decision.

Coming closer. Oh, dear God, help.

Janie’s new medicine was in the diaper bag. She grabbed it off the floor and threw it over her shoulder. She had to leave now, if she was going to. Making the decision, she put the bat down and lifted Janie from the crib. Don’t wake up, don’t wake up.

She crept to the glass doors, her legs weak, the baby’s weight heavy in her shaking arms. Her breath was coming in quick gasps. She had to calm down and think.

From the vantage point in here, the patio looked clear. If she went straight out the back without being seen, she could cut through the neighbor’s yard and be at Ethan’s boat in less than five minutes. She had to get out without being noticed. The night was dark, no moon to speak of. If she didn’t make noise, if the baby was quiet. If the intruders were busy in the house.

So many ifs. She had to take the chance, though. Janie’s safety, her safety, depended on it.

Now or never. Her heart pounding loud enough to wake the baby on its own, she flipped the lock, slid the glass doors open and stepped out, silent in her bare feet.

Don’t wake up, don’t wake up.

She ran.

The slate pavers on her patio cut into her feet, but she didn’t slow down or cry out. She had to get through the trees to the street behind her house. Holding Janie close to her chest, she thumbed the two on her phone, where she’d programmed Ethan’s number. As it rang, she heard a shout from behind her. From her house. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Do not follow me.”

Janie lifted her head. “It’s okay, sweetie, go back to sleep.”

“Ethan Clark.”

Relief flooded her at the sound of his voice, but he was still so far away. “Ethan, someone—in my—house. I ran. I’m not sure—I think—they followed.”

“What? Where are you?”

She had to stop for a second. She had to breathe. Flattening herself against the fence in the neighbor’s yard, she glanced back at her house. A light flashed in the window. A flashlight?

The door slammed open and she heard more shouting.

She whispered urgently into the phone. “They’re coming!” She ran. The marina was about four blocks from here, but she was on the street now. She could run faster. She hitched the baby up in her arms. Janie whimpered but didn’t cry.

Her pursuers crashed through the bushes in her neighbor’s yard half a block away.

She tried to glance back to see where they were, stumbled and nearly went to her knees. Her cell phone skidded to the curb. She left it.

One wish. One prayer. Safety.

Something whizzed past her ear and she heard a metallic thud in the mailbox closest to her. Was that … oh, no, it was. They were shooting at her.

Help.

It was as close to a prayer as she could get, especially when she had a few choice words she’d like to say to the people shooting at a baby.

A shout came from in front of her. “Kelsey, run for the boat!”

She didn’t hesitate. Here was help.

Ethan didn’t hear a gunshot, but he saw the muzzle flash and heard the metallic thud as the round hit a mailbox feet from where Kelsey ran with the baby. Silenced weapon, which meant professional.

That Kelsey had been able to escape at all was pure miracle.

From somewhere he pulled calm, clear thinking. He put a bullet in the ground near where he’d seen muzzle flash. Another into the bushes. He heard a muffled cry.

All he needed was to keep the gunmen busy long enough to give Kelsey time to get safely on the boat.

A baby’s wail lifted on the air.

The calm disappeared. Someone had sent killers after an innocent woman and child, and not for the first time. Anger spilled into rage. He fired another shot toward the bushes.

“Ethan, we’re on board.” Kelsey’s voice came to him from the boat as a silenced shot hit the pole next to him, showering splinters of wood.

The weapon the hitmen were using was made for close-quarters hits, not the distance shots they were taking, but the impact of the bullets was too close for comfort.

He ran for the boat.

He had it idling already, but the lines were still attached to the pier. He turned and fired behind him at the bushes again, where at least one of the gunmen was hiding.

Ethan threw the bowline into the boat, and as he ran for the stern, he saw Kelsey pulling in the stern line. “Good girl.”

He jumped on board as she cleared the line and followed, ducking as another shot slammed into the tower. “Baby?”

“Safe below.”

“Get down there with her. You need to be under cover.” Ethan climbed the tower to the bridge and pushed the throttle slowly forward, easing out of the slip. As he cleared the pilings, a round hit the GPS, blowing it to smithereens.

He took a deep breath.

In the harbor area, he was the law. And the law said no-wake. He consoled himself with the thought, as he slammed the throttle forward, that not even he would write a ticket for someone speeding away from a professional hitman.

The lights of the marina faded quickly into the distance. He wouldn’t take a bet that the hitmen would do the same. If they were hired to do a job, they wouldn’t quit until it was done. He was going to need help keeping Kelsey and Janie safe.

As they traveled deeper into the bay, the night settled heavy around them. Safe—for now.

He slowed the boat to a stop and sat, letting his heart rate settle, letting his thoughts settle. The night sounds of the bay were as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. The song of the frogs in the estuary, the soft slap of the water against the side of the boat, the deep growl of a gator somewhere off in the distance.

He flicked a piece of glass off the bridge—what remained of his GPS. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need it to know where he was in this body of water. He took a deep breath for the first time in what seemed like hours.

“All clear?” Kelsey’s soft voice was laced with exhaustion.

Ethan dropped down the ladder to the deck below. “For now.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, resting her head on his chest, her long hair falling out of its clasp to slide against his skin. The smell of sweet herbs drifted up from the strands. “I was so scared.”

He held on to her, just held on. It had been so long since he’d been held by another person. Since he’d held someone. He’d forgotten what it was like.

Ethan patted her back, much the way he would Janie’s. And found a creeping sense of peace that he didn’t expect. He closed his eyes, letting the night sounds and the feel of her in his arms give him rest.

She sniffed and moved a half step back. It was dark, but he could still see her eyes, searching out his. “I prayed for help. And there you were.”

“I don’t think there was anything miraculous about it, Kels—I was just here.” He didn’t want to step away from her; he wanted to fix this. He wanted to hold her again. Feel her hair against his chin, her head against his chest, feel that sense of belonging when he’d felt like a piece of driftwood for the last two years.

But he didn’t take her back in his arms.

It wasn’t that he felt unfaithful, exactly. Just weird.

She walked to the deck rail and looked out. “Prayers don’t always get answered, not like that. Not even just in the nick of time.”

He knew about unanswered prayers, and he wondered when it was that her prayers had gone unanswered, wondered if he should ask. But he settled for, “I know.”

He’d been praying for guidance and protection for his son. That they would find him. But how did he learn to trust in God again? How had she?

“I guess you do.” She didn’t look at him. “And I’m sorry for it.” Shaking the mood, she turned back. “So what now?”

Ethan didn’t hesitate. This was a question he knew the answer to. “Now we get you somewhere we can keep you safe. Both of you. Somewhere with high walls and high-tech security. I know just the place. It won’t be long.”

He climbed the ladder to the bridge and started moving the boat forward, but his thoughts—those were with a black-haired social worker down below. One with a heart the size of the Gulf of Mexico and shadows that came into her eyes once in a while.

High walls and high-tech security, he’d told her. He hadn’t mentioned the team of highly trained security specialists his brother and his wife had staying on holiday at their bed-and-breakfast, Restoration Cove. If anyone could keep her safe, they could.

He just hoped it would be enough.