Bringing Baby Home (12 page)

“Mom and Grace and Nick will be here shortly,” she said. “Where’s your niece staying? Surely, she’s not going on the honeymoon.”

She took a large, cloth bag filled with some kind of tea, he surmised, and placed it in a squatty ceramic teapot. “No,” she said, not looking at him. “Maya’s spending the
next few days with Jo. Rob’s mother. Jo has a dog that Maya’s quite attached to. This should be a good bonding experience for all three of them.”

Rather than waste what private time they had in small talk, David decided to tell Liz the truth. “My name wasn’t always David Baines. It used to be Paul McAffee.”

Liz turned around so swiftly she accidentally bumped into the counter. He reached out and took her hand and led her to the table. She started to sit down, but returned quickly to where she’d been standing and reached for the teapot. “Just a sec. This needs to brew.”

The minute she was sitting down, David said, “I used to live and work on the East Coast in a highly competitive industry where there was a lot of money to be made if you didn’t mind sidestepping a few government safeguards. My boss was that kind of man. When I decided my conscience wouldn’t let me risk poisoning a million unsuspecting consumers, I took my proof to the Justice Department. My life changed overnight. And my boss, the man who should have paid for this travesty, lawyered up. He bought just enough time to disappear—after making it clear that he planned to kill me for turning him in.”

“You’re a whistle-blower?”

“So they say.”

“And you think what happened tonight is tied to your past?”

He nodded.

Neither spoke for a minute or so, then Liz asked softly, “Can you talk about your other life? Or is it…like…classified?”

He had no idea where he stood with the government. He hadn’t talked to anyone about what had happened to him since the day he’d parted ways with WITSEC. Soon, he’d
be another person. This could easily be his only chance to leave behind a record that Paul McAffee had existed.

Once he started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. He told her about his ex-wife and her children. About feeling blue the day he’d yelled at Liz over the cactus because of his little girl’s birthday. About the good he’d hoped to accomplish in his career and how those dreams had been destroyed by a bastard who only thought of money. His dreams had gone up in smoke when his laboratory burned—and the irony wasn’t lost on him that the new life he’d created from scratch had met a similar fate.

In the process of opening up to Liz, he managed to drink a couple of cups of her tea. He’d never taken his tea with honey and milk but discovered he liked it that way, despite the brew’s unusual aroma. When her family returned from the wedding, she kept them at a distance with just a nod of her head. She listened to his story and added only a question or two for clarity. And when he ran out of words, she reached across the table and said, “You need to stay here tonight.”

He didn’t have the energy to argue. His confession had left him feeling drained. Yes, a couple of hours of sleep would be good, he thought.
I’ll set my watch alarm for three, then slip away in the night.

But when he looked at his wrist, his watch was gone. That was when he remembered taking it off and placing it on this bedside table because it had looked too cheap to wear with his new shirt.

Oh, well, he thought, I’m a light sleeper. I’ll wake up on my own. No use putting these kind folks in danger for any longer than absolutely necessary.

L
IZ PUT
D
AVID
in Kate’s old room and closed the door. He’d declined the use of a pair of her father’s pajamas, but
had smiled his thanks when she’d pointed out the extra toothbrushes her mother kept in a drawer in the main bath.

He wouldn’t be there when she returned in the morning. She was certain of that, but, at least, he’d get a few hours of deep, dreamless sleep. The tea she’d brewed contained jatamamsi, brahmi, cardamom and rose petals, to which she’d added milk and honey to mitigate the strong taste of the herbs.

She’d created the special sleep formula for her mother who several months earlier had complained of disturbing dreams and too many sleepless nights. She closed the door and started toward the front of the house, intending to head home, but paused when she heard voices coming from the patio. Her mother and Zeke were sitting side by side in the glider. Several candles in hurricane lanterns gave the area a romantic glow.

Liz was happy that her mother had found a man who interested her. Whether or not the relationship would lead anywhere, she couldn’t guess. The two came from such different worlds. The odds were against them, but at least Zeke didn’t have a madman on his back lusting for revenge.

Nope, leave it to me to fall for a guy whose shadowy past includes a killer who likes to play with matches.

Liz started away, but stopped when she heard her name.

“Elizabeth.”

She popped her head out the sliding glass door. “Just leaving, Mom. David’s asleep.”

“Come here, dear. Just for a minute. I know you’re tired, but Zeke and I were discussing your prophecy.”

“Mother, I really wish you wouldn’t. That’s personal.”

Yetta made a negating motion with her hand. “But hardly a secret. You and your sisters used to make up wild stories about the men who would someday come into your lives. Yours was always by far the most tragic and dramatic. Do you remember?”

Vaguely. Although
there had been one story that had haunted her dreams for weeks. In it, she’d married her very own Mr. Rochester, only instead of a wife in the attic, he’d had a child. A son, who his father claimed wasn’t right in the head. When the mansion they’d been living in caught on fire, she’d had to choose between rescuing the man or the boy. She never seemed to make the right choice. If she saved the man, he’d slowly go crazy with grief and guilt. If she saved the boy, he would grow up hating her for not saving his father.

“Sorta.”

“David and I are going to have a long talk in the morning,” Zeke said.

I wouldn’t bet on it,
Liz thought, but didn’t say aloud.

“I’m going home.”

“I’d rather you stayed here, dear. You can have Maya’s room since she’s spending the weekend with her new grandmother.”

“I’ll sleep better in my own bed.”

“Please, darling. If you leave, Ezekiel will feel compelled to follow you home, and he and the others were up much too late last night at Rob’s bachelor party. That’s why he’s staying next door tonight. Since Jurek wasn’t feeling up to making the trip with Nikolai and Grace, we have an extra bed.”

Liz was certain her mother was describing the sleeping arrangements to allay any fears her daughter might have about another man taking her father’s place. Liz cared, but at the moment she was too tired and emotionally depleted to worry about such things.

“Plus, your mother tells me your roommates are out of town for the week,” Zeke said. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to be alone tonight?”

That
gave Liz pause. So much had happened, she’d almost forgotten about Lydia and Reezira. Thanks to the Internet, the two had connected with family members of Reezira’s who lived in Phoenix. Although the girls had been invited to the wedding and regretted not having more time to spend with Grace, they’d gleefully boarded the bus early yesterday morning—excited about a chance to see more of America.

Zeke had a point. Suddenly the idea of an empty house didn’t sound too attractive. “Okay. Can I borrow a nightgown?”

“Of course.”

Zeke followed them inside. While her mother went to her room, Liz used the opportunity to ask him, “What did David tell you about his past?”

“Not enough. How ’bout you?”

“Too much,” she said, shaking her head. Was this his way of telling me goodbye? She feared so.

“He should have stayed in the Witness Protection Program. Turning down the government’s help…” He shook his head. “Alone, you’re a sitting duck.”

Well, she wasn’t the government. She couldn’t protect a man who didn’t want help, but even if she could, she had Prisha to worry about. A vulnerable child whose future was in jeopardy. Liz had to get her out of the orphanage. Her choice was obvious, wasn’t it?

David
opened his eyes to light. He sat up in bed and looked around. Pale peach walls. A woman’s room. He knew instantly that his plan to wake up in the middle of the night and sneak out had failed. Today was Sunday. The day after the wedding—and the fire.

He exhaled loudly and sank back down to the pillow. He was still dressed in the same clothes he’d worn to the wedding. The only clothes he presently owned. His carefully packed backpack filled with all the stuff he needed to survive in the desert had been hidden behind the seat of his truck. Gone. Just like his house.

Fortunately, he still had his buried waterproof stashes of money waiting to be picked up. Unfortunately, without his truck and tools, he’d look rather suspicious if he started digging around plants with his bare hands, especially dressed as he was.

Pushing up, he put his feet on the floor and looked around for his shoes. He rested his elbows on his knees and tried to jumpstart his brain. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“You probably need caffeine to offset the effects of Elizabeth’s tea,” a voice said.

He looked over his shoulder and found Yetta standing
in the doorway with a tray. It even included a white rose in a cobalt-blue vase. He quickly stood up. “Oh, please, no bother. Not for me. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“You’re my guest. We’ll talk while you eat and then you can decide where you’re in such a hurry to be off to.”

She placed the tray on the bed and motioned for him to sit down beside it. His mouth watered at the delicious smells of bacon and maple syrup. He was starved and couldn’t resist tasting the thick, golden brown French toast. The hint of cinnamon enticed him to take a second bite. And a third.

“What do you want to know?” he asked. “I told your daughter everything about my past last night.”

“That’s good. There shouldn’t be such big secrets between people who love each other.”

“L-love?” he sputtered, nearly choking on the bite he’d just swallowed. “She…we…no, I think you’re mistaken.”

She smiled serenely. In the bright light streaming through the east-facing window, he could see lines on her face that he hadn’t noticed before. But in her Middle Eastern–print caftan, with her long, wavy silver hair hugging her shoulders, she looked exotic and youthful.

“Perhaps. It wouldn’t be the first time, but Elizabeth and I have always shared a special bond. I knew the moment a brutal pain entered her life—even though she’s only recently revealed what happened. And I felt a renewed lightness about her after she met you. If not love, then something very similar to it exists between you. Deep fondness, perhaps.”

Deep fondness. Did lust qualify under that header? Probably not. “Your daughter is a remarkable person. I am…
fond
of her and I wouldn’t want to see her get hurt, which is why I’m leaving. Right after breakfast. This is delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad
you’re enjoying it. I miss being able to watch a man dig into a hearty breakfast. The girls’ father was a big eater. He gobbled up life and seemed to radiate the energy that he got from the food like a small sun. It’s not surprising she misread her prophecy.”

Her tone held a reflective quality, as if the thought just now made sense to her. He didn’t want to talk about Liz’s future, since he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be a part of it. He shook his head and picked up the coffee mug on the tray. “This isn’t drugged, is it?”

Yetta threw back her head and laughed. “Of course not. And neither was your tea last night. Elizabeth told me she used the tea bags she’d made for me when I was having trouble sleeping. The herbs encourage relaxation, and because the fire was so traumatic, she was afraid you’d spend the whole night fretting.”

He took a gulp of the strong black brew. “Where is Liz? Did she get home safely?”

“She slept right next door to you. In Maya’s room. Now she’s out back talking to Ezekiel. She and Grace just got done trying to outswim each other. I’ve somehow managed to raise a very competitive bunch of girls.”

Shaking her head, she picked up the tray and started to leave, but paused to say, “I left a fresh razor on the bathroom counter and one of Ernst’s old shirts on a hanger behind the door. It’s clean and pressed. I’m afraid his pants won’t fit. You’re much taller and thinner.” She smiled. “But I don’t think he would have held that against you. In fact, I think my husband would have liked you.”

How is that possible?
David
asked himself.
I don’t even know who am I—or who I’m going to be next.
True, he’d set up one possibility, but, with Ray on his heels, David wasn’t sure he trusted that identity, either. As soon as he left this house, he planned to disappear. How could her late husband possibly have approved of that?

“H
E STOOD UP
for what he believed in. How can that be wrong?”

“Liz is right, Zeke. You’re making David sound like some kind of criminal. He got out of a bad situation without selling poison to the innocent masses. Tell me why we shouldn’t be carrying him around on our shoulders?”

Liz looked at Grace with such a burst of love she almost hugged her, but since they were both resting their forearms against the block-wall fence between their mother’s and uncle’s backyards, she didn’t. As they had every morning since Grace returned, the two had met for a sunrise swim.

“I didn’t say he was evil. I said he ditched the identity the government set up. That makes him suspect.”

“Or really smart,” Liz returned.

Grace nodded with a wink. To Zeke, she said, “So what are you suggesting? We keep him here until the bad guy shows up and tries to kill him? Sounds a bit…problematic…as Alex would say.”

Zeke didn’t answer.

“Oh, my God, that’s your plan, isn’t it?”

He had dark glasses on so she couldn’t see his eyes, but the crinkles on either side of the shades deepened so she knew he was squinting in thought. “His greenhouse wasn’t ruined. He could stay there with protection. From what I’ve been able to find out, this guy who’s after him is a real hothead. People like that are usually fairly easy to catch.”

“Before or after they kill their target?” Grace quipped.

Liz held up her hand for a high five.

“He
wouldn’t be at any greater risk here than he would on the run. Paranoid people make mistakes.”

“Tell that to Paul McAffee,” a deep voice said.

Liz and Grace both turned to look at the man standing behind them. “Who’s Paul McAffee?” Grace asked.

“The person I used to be,” David said, stepping closer.

Liz could see that he’d shaved the sides of his face and chin. He’d also changed into a short-sleeve shirt that seemed familiar. He looked like an ordinary guy who couldn’t possibly be the person they’d just been talking about—a research scientist who once worked for a madman out to poison the world.

“I’m leaving,” he said, looking at Zeke, not her. “There’s no reason to put these good people at risk.”

Grace stepped close and put her arm across Liz’s shoulder. They’d both wrapped beach towels around themselves after exiting the pool. The morning breeze, although warming up, left a trail of gooseflesh across Liz’s shoulders. The display of nerves matched the uneasiness racing through her insides.

She wanted him to leave. Leaving was good, right? Then why did hearing him say the words make her want to cry?

“It’s your call, but I’ve always believed facing your enemy makes it a helluva lot easier to sleep at night,” Zeke said.

“Our father used to say, ‘Hold your friends close and your enemies closer,’” Grace added. “Remember, Liz?”

Maybe.
But surely that didn’t apply to a stranger who accidentally showed up in their midst bringing the threat of fire and destruction?

Grace jostled Liz slightly and added under her breath, “And Mother always says there’s no such thing as an accidental meeting. People come into our lives for a reason.”

Liz
pulled back and snarled, “I really hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?” Grace blinked with a smile too innocent to be real. Nobody really believed in Grace’s ability to read minds, but she was extremely astute at guessing what her sisters were thinking. And she’d nailed Liz’s thoughts this time.

Was David here for a reason? Was he the man from her prophecy? The possibility confounded her, frightened her. “I have to go,” she said. “The cats are all alone and probably need food. Plus, I have some tea orders to fill.”

“And you’re swinging by my office later, right?” Zeke asked, his tone more of an order than a question. They’d discussed his request before Grace had shown up to swim. He wanted Liz to let him put a global positioning system responder on her car…just in case.

For a private person like Liz, that was asking a lot, but she was really too worn down at the moment to argue. She’d spent a miserable night torn between dreams of losing Prisha and chasing after a man who wove through the shadows like a ghost. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” To Grace, she said, “I’ll be back around two to take you and Nick to the airport, okay?”

“We’ll be ready. Nikolai suggested we take a taxi, but once I made it clear I wasn’t driving, he was happy. He said he hadn’t gotten to spend enough time with you, so this will be nice.”

Liz started away but stopped. She couldn’t leave things totally in the air between her and David. “Mom has my number. I know you’ll be busy sorting out stuff with Zeke and at your place, but if you get a chance, we should probably talk.”

His too-black mustache wiggled slightly giving the hint of a smile. “Sure thing. And, uh, thanks for the tea last night.”

His tone
was so intimate she almost blushed. She knew what he meant. She’d more or less drugged him. For his own good. She dashed off, tiptoeing around puddles left on the concrete by the automatic sprinklers. Today was going to be rough, and negotiating the safest path through obstacles seemed to be her fate.

F
OUR HOURS LATER,
David was grimy and disgusted. He’d let Zeke Martini talk him into sticking around—at least temporarily. Was that smart? Hell, no. But his plan to leave had been severely compromised, and the guy was right about one thing: running away without a plan in place was utter foolishness.

But so was hanging out with Liz and her family. He had no intention of doing that. Mimi, his landlady, had coughed up a World War II–era cot and some bedding that David set up in the potting shed, the one building left completely untouched by the fire and water. Yetta had donated an oversize cooler filled with ice, water, juices and snacks, which Zeke had delivered an hour earlier. And, an even bigger surprise, a couple of stores that he frequented in the neighborhood, had donated food, beer and money to help him get back on his feet.

The only thing he lacked at the moment was transportation and a shower. And a phone. He’d told Liz he’d keep her informed about his situation. He could flag down one of the undercover units staking out his place, but that was probably tacky, he decided.

He went to the cooler and took out a beer. He tossed back the bottle and chugged a long, refreshing drink—and almost fumbled the bottle when he felt something touch his ankles.

A rasping purr filled the small space. “Meow.”

“Well, what do you know,” he exclaimed. David hadn’t seen Scar at all. He’d halfway
decided the cat was gone for good. “Glad to see you made it, buddy.”

He sat down on his makeshift bed and bent over to pet the animal. No evidence of singed fur, he was pleased to note. “I hate to tell you this, but your cat food got burnt up, bud. There’s a little bit of kibble left in that bowl on the workbench, but that’s it.”

“Meow.”

The cat sprang to the mattress and rubbed up against David’s side. He’d never known the animal to be so affectionate. Had the fire scared him? Maybe the poor guy was tired of being alone and had thought he’d lost his only friend in the world. The thought made David’s throat close up.

They sat there like that until the crunching sound of car tires on gravel made the cat hop to the ground and disappear under the bed. David stood up, his nerves humming. He didn’t expect Ray to drive up, guns blazing, but you never knew.

Not Ray. Liz.
Next worst thing,
he murmured under his breath. He couldn’t pretend that a part of him wasn’t overjoyed to see her, but the realist inside him wanted to shut the door and pretend to be gone.

She got out of the car and waved.
Too late.

“Hey, I just left Zeke. He said you’d decided to stick around a few days. Good. I’m glad.”

He shrugged. “My truck isn’t going anywhere. Fast.”

They both looked at the burned-out shell.

“That’s why I’m here. Zeke said you’d probably appreciate a shower and a decent meal. So come on. Let’s go.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “Why not? I’m taking you to my house, not Mom’s. I have a high-tech alarm on the doors and windows. Zeke’s planted some kind of
bug in my car. I know self-defense.” She dropped into an exaggerated pose that made him chuckle. “I’m not the chef my sister is, but I promise not to drug or poison you.”

He hesitated. The idea of crawling into his miserable little cot without a shower wasn’t too appealing. And they could probably stop at a store on the way back for some decent cat food for Scar.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she exclaimed. “I brought your cat a couple of cans of food from home. I hope he’s not too picky.”

She dashed to the car and returned with a selection of beef, chicken and fish-flavored meals.

“How’d you know he was back?”

She paused. “I didn’t. He is, though, right?”

David nodded.

“Good. Then, shall we feed him and leave? I have short ribs in the Crock-Pot, but I still need to make a salad.”

He took a deep breath. The smell of burned wood was etched into his nostrils and he nearly gagged. He needed a break—if only to breathe fresh air. And she was offering food to boot. His stomach made a sound very similar to Scar’s plaintive mewl. She wanted to feed him, and damned if he could say no.