SURVEYED Gavin’s apartment as she punched in JoAnn’s telephone number. Two cardboard boxes with half-eaten pizzas were piled on top of a half dozen empty soda cans. A couple of crushed beer cans lay in the corner as if he’d tossed them toward the trash can and missed. Dust covered his collection of trains on the oak bookcase.
He obviously hadn’t been home much lately or hadn’t been taking care of his place, the same way he hadn’t been taking care of himself. His unshaven face, long hair, rumpled jeans and shirt attested to the fact he’d been out on an assignment. Not that he’d ever been neat, but the dust on his beloved trains definitely hinted he’d been distracted.
A beep interrupted her reverie, and she realized JoAnn’s message machine had played all the way through. “Hey, Jo, it’s me. Sorry I didn’t make it by the school but something came up. I’ll talk to you later.”
She hung up the phone and rubbed her neck, then stretched out on the sofa, ignoring the temptation to tidy his room. Exhausted, she closed her eyes, fighting the emotions coursing through her. The shower kicked on, and she envisioned Gavin standing naked under the hot water. She could see his dark hair full of lather, water trickling down the wide planes of his chest, soap bubbles beading on his taut thighs…
She smiled, letting the image erase the haunting memories for the last year. Gavin had been the only man she’d slept with other than her husband. She didn’t give herself lightly, didn’t jump from one man’s bed to another. But during the weeks she and Gavin had spent together, she’d recognized a strength of character that had been missing in her husband. Maybe it had been the circumstances, the danger, the close quarters, but she’d fallen for him quick and hard. And the spiral downward after his dismissal had been devastating.
WHO WAS JOE? Gavin hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d simply picked up the phone to check his voice mail when Lindsey had spoken the man’s name. Was he a new boyfriend?
He tugged on a pair of well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt, pulled on dark socks and his boots, then jerked the ends of his black hair back into a low ponytail, securing it with a leather tie. The discoloration streaking the side of his temple and his bloodshot eye made him look like a hellion, and the cut at the hairline of his forehead should have had stitches. Not exactly the image he wanted in front of the woman he still lusted after. Or her boyfriend.
For the first time in his life, he wondered what a child would think about him. His child. He certainly didn’t look like anyone’s father.
Feeling edgy, he tossed some clothes into a duffel, grabbed his shaving kit and toiletries, checked his gun and stashed some extra ammo in his bag. Not that he planned to use the Glock, but he never went anywhere without his weapon.
SOMEONE WAS watching her.
Darkness bathed the cold room and shadows streaked the whitewashed walls in hazy diagonal lines. The scent of despair hung heavy in the air. The steady drip of the IV. Fresh tears sprang to Lindsey’s eyes and ran down her face. She wanted to scream, but tears clogged her throat. A slight shuffling sound startled her. Someone’s feet dragging. She wasn’t alone.
Janet, bringing her baby.
No, her baby…was gone. God, noooo…
The sound again. She turned her head. A sliver of light. The door closed. A shadow blocked the doorway. The doctor? Breathing rattled through the claustrophobic room. The shadow inched toward her. Her eyelids felt heavy. She tried to distinguish a face. She had to talk to the doctor. Force him to tell her where he’d taken her baby. Admit that the nurse had made some awful mistake.
He was holding something. A pillow. A chill slithered up her spine. She tried to pull herself from sleep. The pillow closed over her face. Pressed against her eyes. Blocked the air from her lungs. She heaved and tried to kick. But she was so tired.
And just as the inky darkness swallowed her, she heard a baby crying…
Chapter Three
Lindsey jerked upright, her heart hammering in her chest. The sun had set while she’d slept, and early evening shadows engulfed the musty room. Blinking furiously, she finally focused and realized Gavin stood beside her. Relief poured through her. But the silhouette of his handsome face did nothing to alleviate her anxiety over the nightmare. And over seeing him again.
“Bad dream?”
She nodded.
“About that night?”
She nodded again and brushed her hair away from her face. “I could hear our baby crying for me.”
He stood so still, studied her with such anguish that Lindsey ached to touch him. To feel some sort of stability in her rocky world. He had shaved and showered and smelled like soap and that minty aftershave she’d always loved. His damp ponytail was infuriatingly sexy and his bruised eye simply added to his dangerous appearance, the kind that twisted a woman’s insides with fear and want.
Irritated that he still made her ache for him, she drew back. “You should have made some noise or something.”
“I was afraid I’d startle you.”
“It’s been a long day.” She fingercombed her hair, then stood and brushed at her dress. “Are you ready?”
His dark eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure you’re ready? You look as if you need a good night’s sleep before driving.”
“What I need is to find my baby.” She moved toward the door. “And the quicker the better, so we can both get back to our own lives.” Separately.
He frowned, then grabbed his duffel bag and headed to the door. “All right. Let’s go.”
She nodded, wondering at her sanity for asking him to her home. At least now she had no memories of him in her rental house. But once he stepped inside, his image and scent would linger in every corner. Then how would she ever be able to forget him?
HOURS LATER they drove past a neighborhood that could have been lifted from the set of Andy Griffith, then veered onto a side street which curved slightly around the mountain. Lindsey stopped by the cemetery, but Gavin shook his head, not yet ready to face the tiny gravemarker which marked his son’s fleeting existence. When they’d stopped for coffee at a small diner, she’d bought fresh flowers from a stand outside the café. He watched in agony now as she lay the beautiful flowers on the small plot, her soft sobs wrenching in their sweetness.
He had to find out if the baby in the grave was his son—they could exhume the body. But he couldn’t justify disturbing the sanctity of the child’s grave without definite proof of foul play. Judging from Lindsey’s emotional state, he didn’t think she was ready for the suggestion either.
After what seemed like an eternity, she returned to her car and they drove down a dirt road, finally stopping at the end of the narrow drive where a tiny white house sat bordered by a picket fence, a whiskey barrel full of pansies and a front porch with a porch swing. Gavin instantly pictured a tricycle and kiddie pool in the front yard, Lindsey wearing a Little League Mom’s shirt holding a baby on her hip. A picnic table on the back deck, lazy Sunday afternoons, a bunch of rugrats running through the sprinkler. His son sporting a baseball hat.
His son.
Lindsey thought that night
