seemed he wasn’t the only one with hunches on a cold March night.
Chapter Two
Lily Markey forced her shoulders up and back and walked away from the Johnson house with her head high and her stride purposeful. It took all of her inner strength to do so.
Of all the luck! Mel Haskin! What trick of fate had put a homicide detective on a baby case? And damn it all, he acted as if he was taking the abandonment personally!
She got in her car and slammed the door, locking it against a March wind that had grown a lot colder since three hours ago, when she’d made her first visit of the evening to the Johnson home.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest, trying to ease the tension in her neck. She’d dropped off the baby just as she’d promised. And David had been found. He was safe. Inside that big house with people who wanted him. People who would give him a future and every advantage. He would never be in danger of being hit or used as a pawn in an ugly domestic power game.
Her hands gripped the steering wheel, and she waited for the anxiety to pass. When she felt steadier, she started the car and drove away.
She’d done the best thing. She’d done the only thing. She’d done what was right for David, and for his mother. But it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
David was safe. Now she had to make certain that the frightened young woman who’d entrusted her newborn to Lily had a shot at a decent life, too.
MEL SAW THE LOOK of happiness on Preston Johnson’s face and knew that the judge had ruled in favor of leaving the baby in the Johnson home.
“He made it clear it wasn’t permanent,” Preston said. “But each hour we keep this baby strengthens our case, don’t you think?”
Mel kept his opinion to himself. The legal system didn’t always seem to work in a rational or kindhearted, way. Based on what he’d seen of the Johnsons, he’d vote to leave baby David here until college age. But he wasn’t in charge. He was just a cog in the big system.
“Judge Patterson told us we had to appear Monday morning,” Preston said. “We’ll be there.”
“Yes.” Rose Johnson stood. “Thank you, detective. And if you do find the mother, maybe you could…”
He knew what she wanted. Maybe he could put in a word and say what a good home the baby would have. “I’ll do what I can,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”
He checked the room once more. The Johnsons and their friends, the Currys, were involved with the baby. Even the strange cats, the black and the calico, were acting as if a little prince had dropped from the sky. Maybe there were still homes where people loved children and pets.
He hurried back out into the night. He had work to do at his office. And he also wanted to make a few calls. In his years on the streets he’d developed a few contacts, but what good would they do him in this case? Someone had delivered this baby, but he was willing to bet it wasn’t a teenager who’d gone through the labor process alone. The baby had been cleaned, the navel properly attended. And there was the expensive blanket and basket. No, this baby came from money.
And now his interest was piqued.
LILY SAT in the chair beside the bed. She put a hand on Susie Bishop’s forehead and was relieved to discover she was cool to the touch. No fever. That was good. Of course, nothing could ease the pain in Susie’s expression as she opened her eyes.
“They wanted my baby?” Her voice broke on the words and Lily found her own eyes misting with tears. Some tough reporter she was. If any of the guys in the newsroom saw her, she’d be laughed out of the building.
“They fell in love with him. Of course, they’ll have to get legal custody.” She let it drop there. She’d miscalculated twice already—once in delivering the baby during a party and next in assuming that the Johnsons wouldn’t report the baby. She’d simply assumed they’d enfold the child into the bosom of their family. In that she’d been wrong.
“Is something the matter?” Susie asked.
Lily instantly smiled. “Of course not. Everything’s just like I said it would be. Now you have to concentrate on getting up and moving. We have to get you out of the city, Susie.”
The woman turned her face away. “And go where? He’ll find me. He said it didn’t matter where I went, he’d always find me. And he’d make me pay.”
Lily felt the bracing power of anger. “He can say anything he wants, but he isn’t omnipotent. He doesn’t control Washington. I’ll get you out of this town. There’s a big world out there, Susie. And there’re lots of nice people, too. Like you.”
“He has his finger in every pie in town. Half the police force seems to be on his private payroll.”
Lily felt dread course through her body. Mel Haskin. The word on the street was that Mel couldn’t be bought. But the old saying was that every man had his price. If Mel ever got a hint of who baby David really was, disaster would surely follow.
“Look, Susie. Don’t worry about that now. Rest. I’ve got to go to the newspaper and finish a story. I’ll come back with some food and then you’re going to get up and walk. Remember. That’s what the midwife said. Walk, walk, walk. But wait for me, okay?”
“Why are you doing this? If Wayman finds out you helped me, he can make your life a living hell.” Her voice broke. “If there’s any life left in you. He’ll kill you, Lily.”
“He won’t find out.” Lily wiped the tear away from Susie’s cheek. She was so weak, so beaten down. The trace of a bruise still lay under the skin of her cheek. What had it been, a week ago that Wayman Bishop had thrown his nine-months-pregnant wife into a wall because his coffee got cold before he drank it?
“He’s so mean.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I can be mean, too. If I have to.” She smiled and patted Susie’s head. “I know judo, karate, and I won the kick-boxing championship. Lemme at ’im.”
Her bravado was rewarded with a weak smile from Susie. “I wish I was half as brave as you are.”
“You are, Susie. You saved your baby. That took incredible courage. You gave that little boy a chance for a life of love, even though it meant you had to lose him.”
“Wayman would have ruined him. He would have beaten him, or he would have turned him into a mean bully. Either way, I couldn’t stand it.”
“Hush now. Just rest. I’ll be back in no more than two hours.”
THE HOUSE is settling down for a much-deserved nap. Even Clotilde is yawning, but I can see that she has something on her mind. There’s one thing about cats—once they focus in on something, there’s no stopping them. I’ve seen foolish humanoids attempt to train a cat to stay off a counter. Newspaper, water pistols—hah! Tools of an incompetent! There is nothing that can dissuade a cat. The only thing to do is to remove whatever object has drawn the cat’s interest. Voila—problem solved.
Unless, of course, the cat just happens to enjoy toying a bit with the bipeds
