Wanted: Father for Her Baby: Keeping Baby Secret / Five Brothers and a Baby / Expecting Brand's Baby

Chapter Four

Andrew dangled helpless over the deep, dark well, a large hand holding him by the nape of his tiny neck. The hand loosened its grip and released the baby. His frightened cries echoed in the blackness as he fell down, down, down. God, no…no…no! Leenie tried to reach out and grab her son, but her efforts were useless. All she could do was scream in terror.

“Leenie…Leenie…wake up.”

Strong masculine hands grasped her shoulders and shook her gently. She tried to fight him, fear spiraling through her alarmingly.

“Slim, it’s me—Frank. Wake up. You were having a nightmare.”

She opened her eyes suddenly and stared into Frank Latimer’s concerned gray eyes.

“Oh, Frank, it was awful. Someone dropped Andrew into a deep well. He was crying…crying for me.”

Frank pulled her up off the bed and into his arms, his strength enveloping her. She clung to him, her mind and nerves rioting. “It was just a bad dream,” he told her.

“I know.” She burrowed her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “But he’s out there—lost.” She lifted her head and stared at Frank. “We have to find him. Please, tell me that we can save him. Make me believe that he’s not lost to me forever.”

Frank brushed loose strands of hair out of her face. His hand lingered, his fingertips caressed. And then he withdrew. She felt the emotional withdrawal as keenly as the physical release. He eased out of bed, his back to her, and said nothing for several awkward minutes.

“Frank?”

“I’ll do everything I can, but…” He turned halfway toward her, his jaw tense, his gaze unfocused as he glared off into nothingness. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I’ve already sworn to you that I would move heaven and earth to bring Andrew home, and I meant it. I’ll do everything humanly possible. But the honest truth is that even though I’d do anything to rescue Andrew, I can’t promise you that I can bring him back to you safe and sound.”

Her heart lurched, then sank. This wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. She had thought he would reinforce his earlier vow to rescue Andrew and had longed to hear him say those comforting words. Even knowing Frank wasn’t a miracle worker, she believed in him. He was her last best hope.

“What time is it?” she asked, needing the mundane to keep her sane, to take her mind out of the horrific abyss that sucked her in and kept repeating terrifying mental images of her baby’s death.

Frank glanced at his wristwatch. “Nearly fourthirty.”

“I slept quite a while.” As she stretched, every muscle in her body cried from the tension that had played havoc on her physically, mentally and emotionally.

“You needed the rest. Your friend Haley said you haven’t slept since Andrew’s abduction.” Frank glanced at the stacked empty dishes on the tray. “You should try to eat some supper later on.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a mother hen—telling me to rest and to eat.”

“It’s the training,” he told her. “Part of the regimen for looking after someone is making sure they take care of themselves. A Dundee agent is an allaround bodyguard. He or she tries to not only protect the client, but see to their well-being.”

“And am I a client? Is that how you think of me now?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth again, Slim.”

“I’m only interpreting what I hear you say.”

“You’re misinterpreting,” he said. “And you’re being argumentative. Why? Are you angry with me for some reason?”

Was she angry with him? Yes. No. Maybe.

Leenie got out of bed, rubbed the back of her sore neck and slipped on her shoes. Had Frank taken her shoes off after she’d fallen asleep? More of his allaround bodyguard duties? Was that it—the reason she suddenly felt so hostile toward him? Because he’d acted as if his kindness to her wasn’t anything personal?

“I’m angry with the world right now,” she admitted. “Besides, I believe that should be my question, not yours. After all, you’re the one who has every right to be angry and upset with me for keeping Andrew’s existence a secret from you.”

He shot her a quick glance, then looked away before he replied, “I told you before that now is not the time for us to be at cross purposes, that once Andrew is safely home will be time enough to—”

“To what? For you to tell me what you really think, how you really feel?”

“I don’t know how I feel. I don’t want to dig too deep right now.” He looked at her. “You’re hurting enough for both of us. I need to stay as detached and as unemotional as possible.”

“Can you do that? Can you be unemotional when it comes to Andrew?”

Could he actually remain detached where his own child was concerned? If so, then he certainly wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. But then again, she didn’t really know Frank Latimer. He was a stranger with whom she’d had a passionate fling. She knew without a doubt that he was an incredible lover. Considerate. Attentive. She knew he liked his coffee black, his whiskey straight and his loving frequent. But beyond the obvious, she knew nothing, except what little he’d told her today. And the same held true for him—he didn’t know who the real Lurleen Patton was.

When the silence between them became more than she could bear, she said, “Can’t you answer me?”

“What do you want me to say? Yes, I care about my son. I’m not a heartless bastard. But for God’s sake, Leenie, I haven’t even seen him or touched him or held him. And I’ve known that I’m a father for only a few hours.”

“I’m sorry. I—”

“No, I’m sorry,” he told her. “Sorry I can’t say whatever it is you need for me to say. But the more unemotional and detached I can be, the clearer my thinking, the more logical I’ll act and react. Don’t you see—”

“I see. I see a man who’s afraid to feel. You don’t want to love Andrew. You don’t want to love anybody because sometimes love hurts.”

Clenching her teeth in an effort not to burst into fresh tears, Leenie rushed toward the door, wanting to get away from Frank. But he caught up with her just as she reached for the doorknob. He grasped her arm. She stopped and glared at him.

“There it is again,” he said. “Anger. You’re angry with me. Want to tell me why? I’ve tried to be honest with you, so how about being honest with me?”

She jerked her arm loose and took a step backward, but she kept her gaze boldly glued to his. “You want honesty? All right. I kept Andrew a secret from you because I didn’t know how you’d react. I was half afraid you’d want to take him away from me and half afraid you’d tell me you didn’t give a damn. But your reaction is somewhere in between and I can’t figure you out. I feel like a fool for having gotten myself pregnant by a man I don’t even know. And a part of me is angry because on some completely stupid female level I needed you to care—really care. Not just about Andrew, but about me. I needed you to not be detached and unemotional.”

They stood there staring at each other for several minutes until the silence stretched tautly and the tension mounted.

A solid, repetitive knock on the door snapped the tension and ended the silence.

“Frank?” Kate Malone called.

Frank opened the door. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Moran wants to talk to you and Dr. Patton.”

“Has something happened?” Leenie asked.

“No bad news,” Kate said. “He just wants to go over some things with y’all.”

Frank held the door open while Leenie walked into the hall and joined Kate, then he followed behind them, down the hall and into the living room. Only Dante Moran occupied the room, which made Leenie wonder where the other FBI agents were and if Haley was still here.

“Come on in,” Moran said. “Please. We need to talk.”

“Is Haley—?”

“Mrs. Wilson went home,” Kate replied. “She said if you need her, to call her. The house was getting a little crowded, what with two Dundee agents and several FBI agents.”

“Where are the other agents?” Leenie asked.

“From here on out, they’ll work in shifts. We have your phone tapped and we’re fully prepared to act at a moment’s notice,” Moran said. “The crucial first twenty-four hours has ended.” When Leenie stared at him quizzically, he continued. “If the kidnapper is going to demand a ransom, the family usually hears something within the first twenty-four hours.”

Kate answered Leenie’s next question before she asked it. “Which means that more than likely Andrew was not kidnapped for ransom money, but for another reason.”

“How will we know if the woman who stole him kept him, that she wanted him for herself?” Wasn’t that the best case scenario for a kidnapping? Leenie wondered.

“We can’t know for sure.” Moran cut a sideways glance at Frank. “Did you tell her about the abduction ring?”

“What abduction ring?” Leenie’s heart skipped a beat.

Frank shook his head. “I didn’t get a chance to tell her.”

“What abduction ring?” Leenie repeated her question.

“The bureau is aware that there is an infant abduction ring operating in the South and it is possible that your baby was taken in order to sell him,” Moran told her.

“Sell him? You mean—”

“Sell him to people who desperately want to adopt a child,” Kate explained. “Unfortunately there is a shortage of white infants and some people are willing to pay an exorbitant amount in order to procure a child through any means necessary.”

“They’re willing to buy a child that’s been stolen from a loving home?” Leenie looked from Kate to Moran, but she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with Frank.

“In all fairness, these people are told that the children have been willingly given up by parents who don’t want them and these adoptive parents want a child so much that they kid themselves into believing whatever they need to believe.” Kate put her hand on Leenie’s shoulder. “Don’t give up hope. Don’t ever give up hope.”

Having noted a peculiar tone in Kate’s voice, Leenie studied her for several moments. The two women exchanged silent confidences and unspoken pain. Without truly understanding, Leenie knew that at some time in her life Kate Malone had suffered an intolerable loss, perhaps the loss of a child. She reached up and covered Kate’s hand with her own. “I won’t give up.” She squeezed Kate’s hand, then turned to Frank. “From now on, please don’t keep anything from me. I’m not some weak, trembling female who can’t handle the truth. Yes, I’ve been crying a great deal and I’m scared out of my mind and I’ll gladly lean on anybody who’ll let me. But do not treat me as if I’m a child myself. Do I make myself clear?”

Frank glowered at her for a split second. “Yeah. Crystal clear.” Looking as if she’d slapped him, Frank darted a glance from Moran to Kate, then grumbled, “I need a breath of fresh air.”

“And I need a smoke,” Moran said, “but I’ll settle for some of that cold fresh air outside.”

As soon as the two men disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to go out on the porch or into the backyard, Kate turned to Leenie and offered a comforting smile.

“Cut Frank some slack,” Kate advised. “Basically he’s a good guy. It’s just that discovering he’s a father has thrown him for a loop. You may think Andrew’s kidnapping isn’t as hard on him as it is you, but it probably is. Maybe even more so.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because he’s thinking that if—just if, mind you—Andrew isn’t rescued, then he’ll never see his son or hold him or get the chance to love him.”

“And I have seen him and held him and loved him.”

“Look, this is none of my business. Not really.” Kate clicked her tongue. “Want some advice from a busybody?”

Leenie wanted to ask Kate the question that hung heavily between them—did you lose a child?—but she didn’t ask. “I’m taking my frustration out on Frank, aren’t I? And I shouldn’t. Isn’t that what you were going to say?”

“Something like that.” Kate nodded. “Frank’s not the enemy.”

“Who is the enemy? Someone who might still call and ask for ransom? Some crazy woman who stole my baby for herself? Some maniac who kills babies? Or the money-hungry abduction ring who steals babies and sells them?”

“We don’t know which. Not yet.”

“When will we know?”

Kate closed her eyes for a millisecond as if she’d suddenly experienced a pain too agonizing to bear, then she took a deep, cleansing breath and replied, “I don’t know the answer to that either. We may find out tomorrow. Or next week. Or maybe never.” She reached out and grabbed Leenie’s shoulders. “But no matter how long it takes, do not give up. Don’t ever let anyone convince you to give up.”

Before Leenie could respond, Kate released her and walked away, mumbling something about needing to go to the bathroom as she disappeared down the hall.

Leenie sank down into the nearest chair, leaned over, propped her elbows on her knees and cupped her face with her open palms. Sitting there alone, the house eerily quiet, she said one more prayer.

Please, dear God, keep Andrew safe and bring him home to me. Home to me and Frank.

Kate handed Moran a cup of coffee, then poured one for herself and sat down across the kitchen table from him. “Where did Frank go?” she asked.

“For a walk down the street. He said to tell you he’d be back in a little while.”

Kate studied Dante Moran, a dark, compellingly handsome man, with danger written all over him. She didn’t think she’d ever met such a cool character and she’d known her share of self-confident, powerful men. Her ex-husband had been rich, powerful and arrogant in a way only someone born and bred into wealth and power can be. Most of the time she managed not to think about Trent Winston. Trenton Bayard Winston IV. But this kidnapping case had brought back all the old and painful memories. It was only natural that she’d think about Trent, wasn’t it, and wonder how he was doing? She hadn’t seen him in nearly eleven years. Not since—

“How’s she holding up?” Moran nodded toward the living room.

“Dr. Patton? She’s doing okay, considering her child is missing and that child’s father is trying to help her and probably saying and doing all the wrong things.”

“Men are like that.” Moran’s lips twitched with a hint of humor.

“Yes, you are. All of you.”

“Including your ex?”

“How’d you know—You didn’t, did you? Not until I reacted. And before you ask, I do not want to talk about him or about it.”

“It?” Moran cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“It. The divorce. What about you, Moran—got an ex-wife and a less than pleasant divorce you don’t want to talk about?”

“No marriages. No divorces.”

“Hmm-mmm.”

“And before you ask—”

“Why is a guy who’s decidedly over thirty-five never been married?”

“Yeah, that’s the question I don’t want you to ask.” He actually grinned.

“Being a woman, my guess would be either unrequited love and you’re still hoping to eventually woo and win her…or you loved and lost and—” A flicker of something incomprehensible danced in Moran’s black eyes, coming and going so quickly that she could have imagined it. But she hadn’t. Loved and lost. That was it. Moran’s it that he couldn’t bear to talk about, the way her divorce from Trent was her unbearable it.

Moran sipped on his coffee. Kate did the same.

The phone rang and both of them tensed.

He got up and rushed into the living room. Kate quickly followed. Leenie stood by the phone, allowing it to ring, and looked to Moran for direction the minute she saw him. He nodded and motioned for her to answer the phone.

Although Leenie’s hand trembled as she lifted the receiver, her voice was steady when she said, “This is Dr. Lurleen Patton.” Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She gasped, then responded, “No, thank you, I’m not interested in a free vacation.” She slammed down the receiver.

Kate released the breath she’d unknowingly been holding. “It’s after five. Why don’t I put together some sandwiches for us?”

“I—I’ll help you,” Leenie offered. “God knows I need something to do. I’m on the verge of losing my mind.”

“Do you need anything from the store?” Kate asked. “If you do, I’ll give Frank a call on his cell phone and tell him to—”

“Is Frank not back yet?” Leenie asked.

“Not yet,” Kate told her.

“Then please call him. I’d like to speak to him.” Leenie motioned for Kate to come with her into the kitchen.

“You two go ahead,” Moran said. “I should check in with headquarters.”

Once they were in the kitchen, Kate dialed Frank’s cell number. He answered on the first ring.

“Latimer.”

“Frank, it’s Kate.”

“What’s up? Anything wrong?”

“Nothing new. But Leenie wants to talk to you.”

“She does?”

“Yes, she does.” Kate held out the phone to Leenie.

She grasped the phone, inhaled and exhaled then said, “Kate and I are going to make sandwiches for supper. They should be ready in about fifteen minutes. Would you please come home and eat with us. Afterward, I want to show you Andrew’s photo album and if you’d like to know more about him, I want to tell you about your son.”

Kate turned her head and willed herself not to cry. It had been ages since she’d shed a tear. At one time she had thought she’d cried herself dry, that there were no more tears left in her. But every once in a while something happened—usually a case involving a kidnapped child—that stirred long dead emotions within her. Years ago when she’d been a rookie cop on the Atlanta P.D., she’d worked with Ellen Denby and marveled at how the woman could keep a cool head and deal with the toughest cases involving children. But as the years went by and she and Ellen had exchanged confidences, she had learned that they shared a similarly tragic experience which enabled them to understand each other in a way no one else could. Just as Kate understood Leenie as only a mother who’d also had a child stolen from her could understand.

Kate offered to clear up the dishes and surprisingly Moran stayed in the kitchen to help her. Leenie felt as if she’d made a new friend in Kate and understood on an unspoken level that perhaps Kate had suffered once just as she suffered now. She realized she could be wrong about Kate, but her feminine intuition—her gut instincts—told her she was right. Sometime in her past, Kate Malone had lost a child.

Frank had been awfully quiet while they ate sandwiches, chips and cheesecake. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten cheesecake twice in one day. Oh yes she did remember—it had been the last time she’d made love with Frank. They’d had cheesecake for breakfast and again for lunch.

Alone together in the living room, Frank and she sat side by side on the sofa while she opened Andrew’s baby book, filled with photographs and memorabilia from her pregnancy and Andrew’s first two months of life. When Frank made no effort to close the gap between their bodies—the two feet that separated them—she took the initiative and scooted up next to him, hip-to-hip. He flinched, then stiffened. What was wrong with him? She wasn’t going to attack him, for pity’s sake. She laid the book in her lap and flipped it open so the other side dropped down on his thigh.

“Here’s a picture of me at my baby shower,” Leenie said. “Elsa came back to Maysville to help Haley host the event.”

Frank glanced at the picture, but said nothing.

“I was big as a barrel there. I gained thirty pounds.”

“Elsa and Rafe knew you were pregnant?”

“Yes, they knew. And before you get all huffy at Rafe, Elsa threatened him with divorce if he called and told you. She tried to talk me into getting in touch with you, but once she realized she couldn’t persuade me, she promised me that neither she nor Rafe would call you because it wasn’t their place to tell you.”

“You’re right. It was your place.”

“I thought we’d already agreed that I made a mistake in not informing you I was pregnant with your child. Do we have to continue beating a dead horse?”

Frank glanced at the photo again. “You look happy.”

“I was happy.” She tried to smile. “Fat and happy.”

“You were beautiful pregnant. Fat and beautiful.” He grinned, but didn’t make eye contact.

“I got even fatter,” she told him. “I was only seven and a half months in that picture.” She flipped through the pages, slowing on each page long enough for him to glance at it. When she reached the page with Andrew’s birth announcement and the first photo of him taken at the hospital, Frank clamped the page open with his big hand.

“Were you alone when he was born or did—”

“Haley was with me.”

“I should have been with you.”

“Yes. And it’s my fault you weren’t.”

“No, it was only partly your fault. And it was partly my own damn fault.”

“Well, at least we can agree on something—that there’s enough blame to share.”

When Leenie heard a phone ring, she tensed. It had to be either Kate’s or Moran’s cell phone since the ringing came from the kitchen and it wasn’t her private line.

“It’s not necessarily bad news,” Frank told her.

“I know. It’s just that I—”

The kitchen door swung open; Kate walked in and looked right at Frank. “Moran wants to see you in the kitchen for a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” Leenie asked. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I can sense something has happened.”

“You’re right,” Kate admitted, then called into the kitchen. “We’re telling them both, Moran. Leenie needs to know, too. Right now.”

Oh, God, what was it? What had happened?

Moran came out of the kitchen and stood in the open doorway. He glanced from Frank to Leenie, shuffled his feet and said, “I got a call from Chief Bibb.”

“And?” Frank asked.

Moran hesitated. “They…er…they found a body.”

Leenie gasped. Frank put his arm around her waist and held her.

“A baby?” Frank asked.

“Yes. An infant. A boy. Age estimated at one to three months.”

“Oh, God, no!” Leenie screamed and suddenly everything went black.

Chapter Five

Frank wasn’t the type of man easily affected by a woman’s tears, swooning spells or temper tantrums. He’d seen it all as a kid—watching his mother, who’d been an expert in feminine wiles, manipulate his father time and again. And he’d learned from that very same father how to harden his heart and shut off his emotions. The only time he’d ever let his defenses down had been with Rita. Bad mistake. Not one he’d repeated. But damn it, catching Leenie in his arms when she fainted dead away had stirred up some unwanted emotions inside him. She wasn’t playing him, wasn’t putting on an act in an effort to control him. Her actions were real, brought on by true and honest feelings. All he’d wanted to do at that moment was hold and comfort her, protect her from the ugly truth and reassure her that she wasn’t alone. And here they were an hour later at the police morgue and still all he wanted to do was protect her, take care of her, shield her from more pain. Already this woman—the mother of his child—had somehow managed to sneak past his defenses and make him vulnerable. He hated feeling vulnerable; it was an alien concept to him.

“You shouldn’t have come down here.” Chief Bibb cleared his throat as his gaze dropped from Leenie’s pale face to the tile floor beneath his feet. “We can get an ID on the body without—”

Leenie gasped quietly. When he felt her stiffen, Frank tightened his grip on her waist. “Andrew’s pediatrician or even Haley Wilson could ID the child,” Frank said softly. “Why put yourself through this ordeal when it might not even be Andrew?”