The Cop's Missing Child Page 8

  “He wanted a son.” Odd how even now with the other man long dead, the thought could infuriate Mac. Unwilling to wait for the adoption to go through the proper channels, which took time, when Carlos had wanted a son, he’d simply hired someone to steal one.

  “Yes. He wanted a son. I would have been happy with either a boy or a girl, so that didn’t matter to me.”

  Briskly, Mac forced himself to continue the questioning. “So you decided to adopt. Who began the process?”

  “I did. Carlos was far too busy to have time to do something like that. But when he heard me complaining about how slow everything seemed to be going, he took over.”

  They covered a few more things, like the fact that every single place she’d contacted had pointed out the long waiting list. Whether church group or private agency, if she wanted an infant, she’d better be prepared to wait.

  “And one of the things Carlos didn’t have was patience,” she said. “He told me he was going to pull some strings. I don’t know what he did, but he called me one day and told me to get the nursery ready. Very soon we were going to have our very own baby.”

  “And you didn’t question how he’d accomplished such a miracle in six months’ time?”

  “We’ve already covered this.” Stretching, she met his gaze, though her own was hooded, looking inward. “I was so overjoyed that I was finally having my dream of a baby come true that I didn’t question him. He was my husband.”

  Mac nodded, wondering why of all the women in the world this one got to him. They should be sworn enemies, and instead, he found himself wanting to hold her. “And then?” he prompted.

  “Then, exactly as Carlos had promised, I had my baby. Ryan.” Her smile was genuine, full of love. “He was only a few days old when they brought him to me. I’ve often wondered about the mother who gave him up—even if she was one of Carlos’s mistresses, which I’ve suspected she was.”

  Carlos’s mistresses? Really? It took every ounce of self-control not to react to her comment.

  He didn’t understand how the hell she could say such a thing. Could she truly believe that Ryan’s mother was one of Carlos’s many lovers? He truly didn’t think Emily was that clueless, but her words left only one possibility—the same one he’d already reached.

  She didn’t know. He felt it like a physical blow to his chest. She honestly did not know.

  Looking down, he briefly closed his eyes. Of all he’d expected when he met this woman and of all the scenarios he’d imagined, he’d never pictured this likelihood.

  Emily Gilley might truly be innocent. If she really had no idea at all that the baby she’d adopted had been stolen, then she was blameless, as much of a victim as he was—judging from her statement about Carlos’s mistress, She wasn’t the slightest bit aware that her son legally belonged to someone else.

  Or...he forced himself to hang on to his cynical nature. The other possibility was that Emily was a damn fine actress.

  Until he knew for sure, he couldn’t allow the lure of her compelling beauty and warm personality to sway him.

  “After you adopted Ryan, did your marriage get better?” he heard himself asking, waiting for her answer even as he inwardly winced.

  “No, not really. I actually was on the verge of asking for a divorce when he was killed.”

  Now this was news. Evidently she’d been successful at keeping this information out of the media, which meant, he reflected, that she most likely hadn’t confided in anyone.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Expression troubled, Emily raised her caramel-colored gaze to his. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I wasn’t meant to be married. The man I’d loved, the man I’d believed my husband to be, that person was entirely fabricated. Carlos kept his true self separate from me, from our marriage. Gradually, over time, bits and pieces came out. To be honest, I was secretly relieved when I learned he had mistresses.”

  Blindsided, Mac didn’t understand. “Relieved? Why?”

  “Because then I had something concrete on which to blame my marriage’s failure. I had a rational excuse to leave.”

  Still he didn’t get it. “If you were unhappy, then why’d you need an excuse? Why didn’t you just go?”

  Now she stared at him, looking incredulous. “We had a child. We were a family.”

  “And you wanted out. Are you saying you had to justify your own unhappiness?”

  A brief quiver, the slightest hitch in her breathing, told him that his comment had hit home.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I needed to justify wanting to leave him. Despite the lies and the illegal activities it turned out he was involved in, on the surface Carlos was a model husband. He didn’t beat me—in fact, he treated me more like precious china. He provided well for us. We never wanted for anything.”

  “But you weren’t happy.”

  She sighed. “That’s not the issue. When there’s a child involved, you don’t just walk away and split up a family that easily.”

  God, he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he forced himself to think—really think—about her words. After all, he knew about the various trouble spots that could strike a marriage. He’d lived them. In fact, his wife Sarah had admitted she’d decided to get pregnant in a last-ditch hope of saving their marriage. The fact that she hadn’t consulted with him first had actually made things worse—until the baby inside her became real.

  Then, he had begun to believe that maybe she was right. Once they had a child together, everything would be all right. They’d work things out.

  “That makes sense. I get that. But Emily,” he continued, gentling his tone, “how could you not know what Carlos did? He was constantly in the news for one thing or another. How’d you rationalize his multiple arrests, the fact that the Feds had him on their radar?”

  “Put like that,” she said wryly, “I sound pretty stupid. But the short answer is I didn’t know. Ryan kept me busy. I did a lot of charitable work for the animal shelter and a couple of other local charities. Whenever I happened to see the occasional news story, he always had a good explanation.”

  “How do you explain away being indicted for wire fraud? Or being the head of a large drug cartel?”

  “Suspected head,” she pointed out, even as she shook her head. “And he claimed the indictment was a business rivalry gone bad.”

  When he opened his mouth to speak again, she held up her hand, letting him see how her fingers trembled. “Look, Mac, I knew Carlos wasn’t a good person. I guess I didn’t want to let myself see exactly how bad he actually was. But once he was murdered, I had no choice.”

  They stared at each other for a moment in silence. Her agitation and frustration were nearly palpable, and again he struggled, hands fisted at his sides, to keep from touching her.

  Seeing her like that, her glossy dark hair sticking up as if she’d just gotten out of bed, so sexy and slender and fragile-looking, he ached to gather her in his arms and hold her close. Though she tried so hard to be strong, he knew from personal experience that everyone had a breaking point.

  The question he faced was this: Did he want to be the one who broke her or the one who helped her hold things together?

  Things were coming full circle.

  It all came down to this. Did he still believe Emily Gilley had knowingly stolen a baby—his child—named him Ryan and made him her son? Or because she wanted a baby so badly, had she turned a blind eye to her husband’s worst crime? Was she as innocent as she appeared to be?

  When he’d made the decision to come to Anniversary, his plans had been clear-cut and sharp: find out if Emily Gilley’s Ryan was truly his son and go from there.

  Now...he didn’t know what to think. He’d spent many years in law enforcement and had always believed he had a good eye when it came to people. Every instinct he had kept telling him that Emily Gilley was exactly as she appeared—good, kind and loving. She didn’t even appear to realize how her stunning beauty affected men.

  Disgusted
with himself, he swallowed. If he kept on letting his emotions—and frankly, his libido—control him, he’d eventually mess things up. And since Ryan was all he had left in this world to call his own, he couldn’t let anything interfere with their reunion.

  Of course, he still had to determine if Ryan was actually his son. This, he reminded himself sharply, must always be his focus—no matter how sweet and charming and sexy Emily might appear.

  * * *

  Emily had run out of words when her cell phone rang. Grateful for any distraction that would keep her from oversharing any more with Mac, she answered.

  “Hello, Em!” Jayne Cooper’s excited voice boomed into her ear. “I just wanted to remind you about tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Emily drew a blank. “What’s tonight?”

  Jayne laughed. “Surely you didn’t forget. Tonight we’re meeting at The Cheesy Pepper for girls’ night. We’ve been planning this all week, remember?”

  With all the craziness that had been going on, Emily had completely blanked on the fact that they’d made plans earlier in the week. “I can’t,” she said unequivocally, filling her friend in on what had happened.

  “I heard some of that from Ed,” Jayne told her. “And if anyone needs a break, it’s you.”

  Emily couldn’t even imagine trying to have fun after something like this—and said so.

  “You need to unwind,” Jayne insisted. “There’s nothing better for that than a night out with your best friends.”

  “I could do dinner but nothing more. But—” and she meant this, sort of “—unfortunately, I haven’t even booked a babysitter. And you know how hard it is to find a good one this late on a Friday.” Since Jayne had two children herself, she’d know it was nearly impossible.

  “You forgot to get a sitter?” Jayne asked, sounding a bit shocked. Then she clucked. “I’m sorry. Of course you forgot. You’ve certainly had a lot to deal with this week.”

  Relieved, Emily swallowed, trying to get words out past the sudden lump in her throat. “I’m so glad you understand,” she began.

  “Oh, I do. Completely. And that’s why you need a girls’ night out more than ever.” Determination rang in Jayne’s voice. “My husband is watching our two, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind one more. They’re planning on ordering pizza. Bring Ryan over. He likes to play with Charlie. He’ll have a blast.”

  Emily blinked. “I don’t know...”

  “Yes. You. Do. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Finally, Emily had no choice but to tell her friend the truth. “I’m afraid to leave Ryan. This nutcase seems to be targeting him.”

  “Sweetheart, you know Ed is a sheriff’s deputy, right? He’s fully aware of your situation. He won’t let anything happen to your baby.”

  “I’d rather—”

  Jayne bulldozed on as though Emily hadn’t spoken. “Now bring Ryan over to my house around six. You don’t have much time. And wear something cute. We are going out on the town.”

  “Dinner only,” Emily protested weakly and too late. Listening to the click that meant Jayne had disconnected the call, Emily shook her head, trying to smile and failing miserably.

  How could she do this? Go out with her friends and pretend everything was normal? Instead of what—sitting home alone jumping at every outside sound?

  She sighed. Maybe Jayne was right. Perhaps a night with Tina and Jayne would help Emily quit worrying. After all, it couldn’t hurt. And, as Jayne had pointed out, her husband Ed worked for the sheriff’s department as a deputy.

  While she was there, Emily resolved to ask him what he thought of Mac Riordan. She still wasn’t sure she entirely trusted him.

  “Earth to Emily,” Mac said, startling her. Somehow, she’d managed to forget he was there. “Is there a problem?”

  “No,” she answered, debating whether or not to tell him her plans. Then, because he’d no doubt find out from Ed anyway, she filled him in on Jayne’s call.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” he said, surprising her. “You need to take a break from this craziness. Dinner and a drink with your friends might go a long way to helping you feel better. I don’t know about you, but I always think more clearly when I’m relaxed.”

  Since he’d just voiced her own thoughts exactly, she considered him. “You don’t think Ryan will be in any danger? Because if there’s the slightest chance—”

  “Ed can handle things. He’s been a deputy for a long time.”

  Still she hesitated. “I don’t know...”

  He touched the back of her hand. Though his touch was light, she still felt a shiver of electricity. “If it’ll make you feel better, I can go over there and hang out with him while you’re gone. Two deputies are better than one.”

  Astonished, she looked up. His posture seemed casual and friendly, but he seemed to be keeping himself perfectly still, as though holding his breath waiting for her answer, which made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

  “You’d do that?” she asked slowly. “Give up your Friday night to help Ed keep my son safe?” She couldn’t believe it. While she could tell Mac was dedicated to his job, this went above and beyond.

  “Of course.” He grinned. “Actually, it would be a win-win situation. I don’t have any plans, and I like the heck out of Ed. We could play cards or something.”

  With two deputies, her son would be safer at home than with her. And she really could use a break. Deciding, Emily slowly nodded. “I’ll take you up on that. I have to pick up Ryan from school. Jayne wants us there around six.”

  Mac stood. “I’ll be there around the same time.”

  Hyperaware of him, her skin prickled when he walked by. Even Emily’s halfhearted attempt to rationalize that this was because of her lingering suspicion fell flat. She knew—and she’d be lying to herself if she pretended otherwise—that something about him attracted her in a way no man had done for years.

  Studying him from under her lashes, she tried to analyze her reaction. He radiated confident masculinity, though in an entirely unselfconscious manner. Her husband had once been such a man—or so she’d thought. Only a lot of Carlos’s confidence masked a bone deep, vicious insecurity. Somehow she doubted Mac Riordan had a single self-doubting bone in his broad-shouldered body.

  Then she wondered why she even cared. All that mattered was finding the creep who’d been stalking her and Ryan. Once he’d helped her do that, she’d doubted she’d ever see Mac again, no matter how strong the attraction.

  Showing him out, she watched as he walked to his car, unable to resist admiring his broad shoulders and the way his jeans fit his backside. She even liked the way he walked—a sort of take-the-bull-by-the-horns, no-nonsense stride.

  Then, as he started the car and drove away with a friendly wave, she chastised herself. The last thing she needed in the middle of all this craziness was to develop a crush on anyone, especially on the handsome sheriff’s deputy assigned to help her.

  Chapter 7

  Once he’d put away his notebook and left her house, Mac drove home, unable to resist singing along to the music on the radio. With his heart light for the first time in months—hell, years—he felt as if he’d been given an amazing, stupendous gift. In fact, he couldn’t believe his luck. Emily had essentially given him a free pass to spend time getting to know his son.

  He shook his head, grinning like a fool. His son. Even though he didn’t have proof—only a DNA test would be able to prove that—he knew in his heart the truth. Ryan was his. And whether Emily had knowingly stolen him or not, nothing could change that.

  Calling Ed, he gave his coworker a heads-up. The poor guy sounded, while a bit bewildered, really happy to have company while he babysat. When Mac mentioned a game of Texas Hold ’em, Ed grew even more enthusiastic. He volunteered to go to the store and get chips and dip in preparation for guys’ night in.

  Briefly, both men discussed the chance of the stalker putting in an appearance. Neither felt this was even a remote possibi
lity, though they would be on their guard just in case.

  Hanging up, Mac drove home. Now all he had to do was grab something to eat and then mentally prepare himself for the night. Nervous, anxious and excited all at once, his stomach doing flip-flops, he wondered if he’d even be able to choke down some dinner.

  This news was so momentous that he could scarcely keep it to himself. Inside his living room, he paced, trying out a dozen different scenarios and rejecting each one. He’d simply have to play this by ear.

  Taking out his cell phone, he toyed with the idea of calling Joe but decided at the last minute against it. He wasn’t ready to talk about this—not now, not yet, while everything was still so fragile and new. He’d give the relationship with Ryan time to develop before he’d feel safe to share details with anyone else. Since Joe was his best friend, Mac knew his former partner would understand.

  He felt a smudge of remorse for hiding the truth from his best friend. Soon, he’d remedy that. He knew Joe would be overjoyed when he learned Mac had not only met his son but was getting to know him, too.

  Humming softly under his breath, Mac fixed himself a sandwich and washed it down with a diet soda. He wished he’d asked Emily what kind of toys Ryan liked but then remembered his brief foray inside the boy’s room and smiled. He’d run by the store on his way to Ed’s later and pick up some small gift for his son.

  * * *

  Friends, Emily thought happily, were one of life’s greatest blessings. In New York, she hadn’t made too many friends—at least not genuine ones. Most of the people who attached themselves to Carlos Cavell and his wife only hung around for the status or because they wanted something for themselves.

  After Carlos’s death, the truth of this had been hammered home when all of the women she’d hung out with suddenly didn’t answer their cell phones or return her calls. Her friends here in Anniversary were one of the many reasons Emily valued her life in the small town.

  Guilt stabbed her as she wondered if it was wrong to be so happy about having some time with Jayne and Tina, sans child. Though intellectually she knew this respite from worry was a good idea, she couldn’t shake the guilt. Any other time she would have acknowledged that she deserved this—she put in her time both as a full-time worker and a mommy.