seemed to know she wouldn’t finish the sentence. Those words were too painful to say aloud. Swirling his big hand on Ricky’s back, he asked, “How did you find me?”
“I know I’ve been a pest, but I couldn’t help it. The hospital—I didn’t go to them because I don’t trust them. It seemed wrong, letting them control this when they’d already messed it up so badly.”
“So you did all of the legwork, yourself? You didn’t hire anyone to help you?”
“I went to the county registrar’s office and checked in the Hall of Records. It’s a small community hospital, so there weren’t all that many birth records to wade through. Only four boys were born during that time. One was a stillbirth, so that left three, and I knew the boy who weighed in at over ten pounds couldn’t have been switched with a seven-pounder, so that left me with you.”
“You don’t have any real proof yet.” He sounded like she had a few short days ago—anxious to deny the truth. Desperate.
“I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t sure, Mr. Hallock. The doctor guaranteed me Ricky isn’t—that biologically, he can’t be…” She sucked in a deep breath. “The only time I’ve been separated from him was during the hospital stay. There’s no other possibility.”
“What does your husband say about all of this?”
She averted her face as a wave of grief washed over her. Her heart contracted as she watched the flowers in the patch flutter in the breeze, just as she’d watched the ones in the bouquets flutter at Jack’s graveside. Their scent suddenly grew just as cloying, too.
“You’re wearing a wedding ring,” he prompted tentatively.
“Jack was a police officer. He got shot and killed in the line of duty almost two years ago.” She heard the sharply indrawn breath Peter took and didn’t dare look at him for fear she’d start weeping all over again.
“I’m so sorry, Marie. I’m sorry they pulled guns just now, too. That must’ve brought up painful memories.” He paused, and she slowly nodded confirmation. Birdsong filled the silence—so out of place in the midst of a catastrophe. “Do you have any other children?”
Turning back to face him, Marie steeled herself with a gulp of air. “The only other child I have is in your house.”
An agonized roar tore from his chest as he bolted to his feet and paced away a few steps. He turned back again. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if he were going to say something and then decided not to.
“Mr. Hallock, I have to see my baby.”
“We don’t know for sure that Luke is your son.” Even as he spoke, his face flushed. Was it from anger, or guilt?
Marie felt sick at how she’d torn this man’s world apart, but now that she’d calmed down a bit, she couldn’t leave without learning the truth. “What does he—your son, Luke—look like?”
“You’re not getting my son.” His eyes bored through her. His volume dropped ominously, but the rumble carried conviction. “The Hallocks are never losing another child.”
Chapter Two
His words and tone stunned her. Had one of his other children died? Had he lost one in a custody battle? It wasn’t her place to ask, but Marie could tell from those agonized words Peter Hallock fiercely loved and protected his own. A host of primitive emotions crackled between them. Ricky squirmed and broke the tense silence. “I gotta go potty!”
When Peter failed to react, Marie prompted, “Could we please go inside?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He got up and helped her to her feet. “Give me a few days to get over the shock. No, give me a lifetime. This is a hideous nightmare!”
“I know.” His look of mixed anguish and bewildered hurt struck a common chord. Marie struggled to keep her voice steady, “I keep praying I’ll wake up and it’ll be behind me.”
Peter eased Ricky from her arms and glanced at her, then down at Ricky and back at her. His face appeared even more haunted. “I don’t know if we’ll wake up, Marie.”
The officers still hovered close by. “Ma’am? Sir—”
Peter took charge. “We appreciate your assistance. No one is at risk—unless it’s Ricky and me in danger of getting drenched. You can leave.” The cops chuckled as Peter increased his pace.
She hastened alongside him, up a cobblestone walk bordered by perfectly manicured hedges and lawn. His home looked like a Georgian mansion. It stood as evidence of power, class, and wealth. Marie hadn’t researched him—all she’d gotten were a name, address and phone number. She’d tried to get more information, but she didn’t know the ins and outs of investigating someone, and the few leads she had were useless. The gates hadn’t been mere façade—the home behind them and the man who lived in it were steeped in money. That fact increased her wariness.
When they reached the bathroom and Ricky fumbled to pull down his elastic-waisted jeans, Peter braced himself against the marble pullman. “I don’t want to believe it.” In a sickened hush he added, “But I think I do.”
His words only confirmed her worst fears. The days of praying and nights of sleeplessness all came down to this. Marie wanted to turn back the clock and return to the days when she innocently mothered the child she’d always thought was hers. As she soaped Ricky’s hands over the sink, she felt his slippery hand slide away from hers and knew it was symbolic. It took every last shred of her self-control to keep from weeping.
Peter stared at Ricky. His eyes held a dazed cast. “I hoped you were mistaken. We’d do tests—you know—and realize you’d just been…wrong. This nightmare is real. You have my s—”
“Daddy?” a high voice piped out in the hallway. “Lookie! I gots a—” As soon as the toddler discovered strangers, he halted midsentence and clutched his father’s slacks for security.
Transfixed, Marie stood still and stared at the boy. His corn-silk hair matched hers, as did his dimples. He had her small, straight nose and gently rounded chin, but he also carried some of Jack’s traits. She folded her wet hands to her chest to still the thundering in her heart. His name whispered between her lips.
Peter immediately grabbed the boy by the shoulder and turned him to divert his attention. “Hey, sport! I found someone to be your friend. Let’s go to the playroom.” He scooped up the child before Marie could even reach out for him. Peter threw a towel at Marie, grabbed Ricky, and headed down the hall.
“Wait!” She hurriedly dried her hands and chased after him. The man had an impossibly long stride. She kept her eyes on them—the boy who matched his red hair, and the boy who matched her blond. A jumble of emotions muddled her brain.
She hurriedly caught up with him at the doorway to a playroom. Sunlight streamed through gleaming windows, illuminating the bold primary colors of the simple furniture and toy shelves. Every imaginable thing a child might dream to possess filled the place. A very young woman in overalls carefully stacked blocks back into a red plastic bin and gave the boys a warm smile. Mrs. Hallock?
“Anne, we have guests,” Peter said in a friendly tone that still carried authority.
