empty.
Vinny.
Oh, God, they’d taken Vinny. Her precious, sweet, innocent little boy. They’d taken him from her just the way she’d been afraid they would. Afraid for these past two years.
She’d been right to be afraid.
Her eyes were still shut tight even though she thought she’d already opened them. Twice.
With effort, Dakota forced her eyelids up. The haze seemed to cling to everything around her. She blinked twice, then focused on her surroundings.
She was in her bedroom. The edge of her comforter was partially thrown over her, as if she’d been tucked into bed.
When had she gone to bed?
She hadn’t, she remembered. She’d been in the kitchen, trying to get rid of that man with the dimple in his cheek when everything had gone black.
The man with the dimple. The private investigator or baby finder or whatever he called himself.
What if he—
Dakota struggled to sit upright, propping herself up on weakened elbows. The world was still not as steady as she wanted it to be, swimming around a little as she lifted her head. She blinked again, trying to bring everything back into focus.
Daylight was trying to squeeze itself in through the blinds. What time was it? How long had she been lying here?
She turned her head to look at the digital clock on her nightstand when she saw him. Andreini, sitting in her rocking chair, the only piece of furniture in the furnished apartment that she’d bought herself, besides the crib.
His head drooped against his chest.
Had he been here all night?
She looked down at her nightgown to see if it was in place. Had he tried anything?
“I thought you’d be more comfortable in your own bed than on the sofa.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice and upbraided herself for it. She was behaving like a spooked rabbit. “You’re awake.”
“Yes, I’m awake.” He’d only shut his eyes a few minutes ago, giving in to fatigue. “I don’t usually sound too coherent when I’m talking in my sleep. At least, so I’ve been told.”
Dakota swung her legs over the side of the bed, tugging down the edge of her nightgown before it crept up too high. He surprised her by keeping his eyes on her face. But maybe that was a cover.
“What happened?”
“You fainted,” he said simply.
“And what did you do?”
“I caught you.”
He was playing innocent with her. It didn’t wash. “And?”
“I put you to bed. Alone. I’ve got a fingerprint kit upstairs if you’d like to dust yourself to look for any telltale prints,” he offered mildly. “State of the art. Megan won’t let us use anything less. That’s my sister,” he added.
The ex-FBI agent, she remembered. Feeling slightly woozy, Dakota forced herself to get up from the bed. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Good.” He was on his feet, watching her. Ready to catch her again if need be. “Does that mean you’re starting to trust me?”
Pulling herself up, Dakota looked at him pointedly. “No.”
Chapter 3
Rusty scrutinized her for a long moment. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
She liked the fact that he didn’t look away when he spoke, that he looked her square in the eye.
If a man can look you straight in the eye, Dee, he’s got nothing to hide, her father had told her a long time ago. Either that, her mother had added, or he’s a cold-blooded liar. Andreini didn’t look like a cold-blooded liar. But she’d hold off making any final judgments about him until there were more facts in. She knew the danger of jumping to conclusions too soon.
“Don’t feel bad,” she told him, “I don’t trust many people. I find it’s a lot less disappointing that way.” She looked at him and noted the rumpled clothing. “Did you stay here all night?”
He’d thought about going upstairs to his apartment several times after he finished looking around outside, but somehow he just hadn’t felt right about leaving her alone. He’d only stopped upstairs long enough to get his shoes.
“Yes.”
She continued looking at him. People usually squirmed under scrutiny. He didn’t. Which meant that he had nothing to hide. Or everything to hide. Which was it? “Why?” She wanted to know.
He ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it down a little. His neck felt stiff, as did his shoulders. He’d never managed to develop his brother-in-law’s trick of being able to catnap comfortably any place that came in handy. But he figured that was all part of Garret’s Justice Department agent training.
“I wanted to be sure you were all right,” he told her simply. “And I wanted to be here in case the kidnapper called.” He saw her raise a brow, silently asking. “He didn’t.”
Had that been a slip? Was Andreini connected to the kidnapping after all? She wished she could stop vacillating and know one way or another. “How do you know it was a he?”
She’d asked the question rather heatedly, he noted, wondering why. “Print outside your window’s too big for a woman.”
“Print?” she echoed. “Just one?”
He nodded. The print would probably harden by mid-afternoon. Even though it was December, the Southern California sun could get pretty intense in the middle of the day. He’d have someone make a mold of it, or do it himself if there was no one available.
“It was a misstep. Whoever it was who took your son must have slid off the bridge and stepped into the dirt as he was leaving. Odds are that your son was probably taken not long after the sprinkler system went through its cycle.” The sprinklers were timed and for some reason, management thought it best to have them go off at night rather than early morning. “The ground was still wet and he left a print.” Because for once she seemed to be taking in what he was saying, Rusty told her the rest of what he’d discovered. “The sneaker’s old. The heel is worn down on the side.”
She pressed her lips together. “I guess maybe you really are a detective.”
He grinned at her remark. “That’s what I’d like to think.”
The grin gave him an innocent, boyish quality. She wondered if he’d practiced it to make people let their guard down, or if it came naturally.
“Is there a trail?” Dakota knew it was foolish to hope that there was. The people she was dealing with didn’t make mistakes. But even so, they were human. Maybe…
