tape from her hand. After rummaging through his desk, he produced a microcassette recorder and slipped the tape inside. He pushed the play button.
Andrew Smythe’s voice wound through the library, smooth as a snake’s hiss. Dex had heard it many times in press conferences after court, in pleas from prison, and it always sounded the same. No fear. No pity. Nothing but an unfeeling smugness that set Dex’s teeth on edge.
Much more striking was the sound of Alyson’s voice. So naked. So desperate.
Dex tried to steel himself against the vulnerability in her voice. He tried to focus on Smythe’s words. On what he was saying. Only when the tape ended did he allow himself to look at her.
Her eyes searched his, desperate for answers. Answers he couldn’t give.
He ejected the cassette. “That’s Smythe, all right. But there are no threats on the tape. Nothing I can use to convince a judge to grant an arrest warrant.”
Her gaze fell to the desktop. “I must not have pressed the button soon enough.”
“What did Smythe say? Exactly. Think.”
“He said I should tell you that Patrick is your son.”
He gritted his teeth. If Smythe hadn’t demanded she tell him about Patrick, he never would have known. That was clear enough. And that knowledge stabbed into him with the force of a sharp blade in malevolent hands.
He clamped down on the bleeding. What Alyson would or wouldn’t have done wasn’t important anymore. “What else did he say?”
“That he’d be in touch with us. And he’d let us know what to do next.”
Dex grimaced. That’s what he was afraid of. Leveling her with hard eyes, he shook his head. “I’m not playing a part in any twisted puppet show Smythe has planned.”
Her eyes widened. Leaning toward him, she gripped the edge of the desk. “If we do what he says, he’ll give Patrick back.”
“Smythe has no intention of returning Patrick.”
“But he said—”
“I don’t care what he said. He’s not going to give Patrick back to us, even if we play by every one of his damn rules. Smythe wants to humiliate me, to dominate me, to win. That’s what he’s about. Not fairness. Not keeping his word.”
“He’ll—” She swayed, clutching the desk for balance.
Dex circled the desk. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and propped her up.
After guiding her a few steps, he lowered her into a chair. The soft scents of chamomile and roses surrounded him, a bittersweet memory. Love. Trust. Things he’d once hoped they had together. Things they’d never really had at all. Finally he straightened, spun away from her and paced across the floor.
She gripped the chair’s leather arms and held on. “We can’t take the chance, Dex. We have to do what he says. I can’t lose my baby.”
“We aren’t going to lose him.” Though his voice barely rose above a whisper, it rang with the determination he felt deep in his gut. “I know Smythe. And what I don’t know, I’m damn well going to find out. I’ll get our son back. If you want to help, you’ll have to trust me for once in your life.”
Alyson raised her chin. Tears glittered in her eyes, making them sparkle like emeralds. Her lips tightened. “Why? What do you want me to do?”
Just as he’d thought. She didn’t trust him any more now than she had the day he’d told her that her father was selling plea bargains. An ache crept up his spine and settled in his shoulders. More than a year had passed since he’d last seen Alyson. His feelings of bitterness and betrayal should be dead and buried by now. But they’d returned the moment he’d opened the door tonight and seen her distraught face. Smelling her scent and hearing the vulnerability in her voice had only deepened the ache.
And now to learn he had a son. They had a son. Together…
Pressure constricted his chest, tighter than a steel band. He shoved the thoughts and feelings aside. He couldn’t let himself think about what having a son might mean. He had to focus. He had to formulate some kind of plan. And the first part of that plan was to ensure Smythe didn’t have the opportunity to strike again. “I want you to go home. Try to get some sleep. I’ll arrange for plain clothes officers to watch your house. Smythe and his sources will never know they’re cops.”
Her eyes grew wide with alarm. “You can’t shut me out. I need to help find Patrick.”
“I’m not shutting you out. I’ll call as soon as I learn anything.”
She raised her chin in that determined way of hers and shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You need to be home in case Smythe calls.”
“I forwarded the calls to my cell phone. If he calls, I can answer wherever I am.” She dipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out a phone as an offer of proof. “I know you don’t want to have anything to do with me, Dex. For God’s sake, you didn’t before you knew I didn’t tell you about Patrick. But I can’t just sit at home knowing that monster has him. Surely you can understand that.”
He could understand far too much about how Alyson must be feeling, even after all this time. That was the problem. And it would be even more of a problem if Smythe had figured that out. And from all indications, he had. “If you stay home, I can arrange for protection. The police can turn your house into a regular fortress. If you don’t, you’ll make things much tougher.”
“Protection? For me?”
“Yes, for you. You said Smythe used chloroform on you when he broke into your house tonight.”
“Yes.”
“I’m betting he was also carrying rope.”
He could tell by her expression the answer was yes. She shook her head hard, her auburn hair lashing her cheeks. Obviously she’d guessed where he was going. And she didn’t want to hear it.
Tough. She had to face facts. He had. “Smythe isn’t a kidnapper, Alyson. He isn’t a man who targets children, either. He rapes women. He was planning to get his revenge on me by attacking you.”
Though she seemed to know what was coming, a shudder still shook her.
He fought the need to rush to her side again, to encircle her with his arm and let her lean against him. “Are you okay?”
Gripping the chair until her knuckles turned white, she nodded. “So you think he came after me and stumbled on Patrick.”
“That’s what I’m guessing. He must have figured out Patrick was my child, and that kidnapping him would present an even greater opportunity for revenge.”
“But if that’s true, why didn’t he rape me, too?”
“Do you remember what he did to those other women?”
She pulled back in her chair as if flinching
