But that didn’t mean he was about to let his guard down. He gestured to the badge on his shoulder. “I’m not a cop. Like I told you, I’m just a paramedic and I don’t have the power to arrest anyone. It’s my job to help people—even if they are criminals. I’m just like a doctor, only with a lot more time spent working in the rain and getting covered by mud.”
“Forgive me, but the fact you’re in a uniform and waving a badge around doesn’t immediately mean I’ll trust you,” she said. “I’ve met too many people like you who couldn’t figure out the real truth of a situation if someone had smacked them on the head with it.”
Something in the quiver of her chin told him there was a story there, and it wasn’t a good one. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll do my best to pay close attention to anything you hit me with.”
Was it his imagination or had that very slight smile curled a little more at the corner of her lips?
“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate what you did back there. I really do. You probably saved our lives. But I don’t want your help and I don’t want you getting involved. Just tell me how to get to the next town and rent a car, and I’ll take it from there.”
He nodded slowly. “Why?” he asked.
“What do you mean why?” Her arms crossed and the scissors dropped to the ends of her fingertips. Okay, now they were getting somewhere. “I need a car, because the one I was driving is now wrapped around a tree.”
“I mean, why won’t you let me help you?” he asked. “It will take you hours to walk to the next town. It’s supposed to rain eventually, even though the weather guys seem a bit late on that one. You’re going to have a hard time finding anyone who’ll rent you a car for at least nine hours. And something tells me you’re not about to just hitchhike with some stranger.”
“You’re a stranger,” she said.
Max felt a grin spreading across his face. He had to admit, weird as this was, he almost liked her. Sure, she was aggravating, stubborn and still might stab him. But there was something impressive about her, too. She had gumption as his dad would call it.
“Good point,” he said. “Then let’s get acquainted. As I shouted earlier while running toward a gunman, my name is Max Henry. I’m a paramedic from Huntsville, Ontario. I have three brothers—two older and one younger—and no pets. Now, would you like me to toss you my wallet so you can check my ID?”
She smiled. “No, that’s okay. My name is Daisy. This is Fitz. Like I said before, I’m his nanny.”
He waited to see if she was going to tell him anything more. The wind picked up, sending trees dancing with a sound like brushes on a steel drum. She pressed her lips together and stared him down. Guess that was all the info he was getting for now.
“It’s nice to meet you, Daisy,” Max said. “Who’s Smith?”
Her slim shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know his full name. He worked for Fitz’s dad until I’m guessing he double-crossed him. Fitz’s dad warned me not to let him or anyone else near the baby and to take Fitz to Sault Sainte Marie.”
Max whistled. “That’s a long drive. You said he killed Fitz’s mother?”
“Stepmother actually, but yeah,” she said. “His mother died in childbirth.”
Max felt an eyebrow rise. Dying in childbirth did happen, true, but it was very rare in Canada. Not to mention Fitz was less than a year old. Had Fitz’s parents split up when she was pregnant? How quickly had Fitz’s father remarried?
And was he going to learn any of these people’s real full names?
He’d never met anyone so determined to tell him as little information as humanly possible, like she was slipping tiny scraps of it to him through the bars of a prison window.
“We need to call this in and let police know that a woman is dead,” Max said as gently as he could.
“They know,” she said. “It was on the news and I saw a police car fly past me as I was leaving.”
Really, he couldn’t remember hearing about any murders on the radio and a murder tended to be at the top of the news. There’d been a major fire reported in Quebec. But nothing that had involved a baby or a murdered woman. He clenched his jaw and fought the urge to dig.
WIN. The acronym he’d heard and used himself hundreds of times filled his mind. What’s Important Now.
As fascinating as whatever murder mystery she was caught up in might be, it wasn’t the most important thing right now. The most important thing was convincing her to get in his vehicle and let him take them to safety. Prying was tempting. But prying would also probably spook her and the last thing he needed was for her to run.
His arms crossed. Time to negotiate.
“Well, Daisy. You want to get to the nearest town and to get a vehicle. I want to double-check that Fitz is okay and give you a ride—”
“I also don’t want the police involved.” She cut him off. “Not until I’m convinced that I can trust them. Right now, all I know is that some cops want to hurt Fitz, and I don’t know which cops I can trust.”
He ran his hand through his dark shaggy hair. “Would you talk to a trustworthy and honest cop?”
“Yes, but when and how I do is a decision I get to make.”
She was impossible. He had three cops in his family—Trent and his fiancée, Chloe, and his eldest brother, Jacob. Plus, his youngest brother, Nick, was in the military, which meant all four Henry brothers were in some form of uniformed lifesaving work. He pressed his lips together, debated telling her that and decided against it for fear it would spook her even worse.
“Well, I have to call the accident in,” Max said. “What if someone else comes along and hits it? You think your boss wants you to leave his very expensive sports car wrecked at the side of the road?”
“You think he wants me to risk his baby’s life for the sake of reporting a crashed car?” Her voice matched the volume of his. “He’s got plenty of cars. He’s only got one son!”
Okay, maybe she had a point with that one. But Max was also pretty sure that her boss was a crook, which made her an accomplice to who knew what kind of crime. He ran his hand over the back of his neck. The frustration that burned there was less at her and more at Fitz’s father and Smith and whatever dishonest and crooked things they were involved in that had cost Fitz’s stepmother her life and had left Daisy out here alone, in the woods with a baby to protect.
The wind grew sharper. Fitz’s whimpers turned to cries. Daisy leaned down and rocked him gently. Max could tell the baby was about to howl and was positive Daisy could tell that, too.
He ran his hand over his jaw and asked God to help him choose his words carefully.
“Look, you’re obviously in trouble,” he said, “and I obviously want to help. I’ve got a vehicle. It’s plenty warm and comfortable. If you let me give you a ride to the next town, I promise I won’t call 911, try to take you to a police station or pry anymore into your life. My responsibility is to make sure you’re both okay, no matter your story. Now, please,
