Protecting Her Child (12 page)

T
he phone started to go to voice mail before Eve picked up.

“Hello?” She sounded tired and confused. Maybe a bit anxious about having a call in the middle of the night.

“It's Pete.”

“Pete?” She breathed out his name. “Where are you?”

“Not far from Atlanta. You probably heard the news reports about Sheila. I didn't do it.”

“I know.”

He glanced at Meredith sleeping on the seat next to him. “I need a place to stay for a few days. Until everything blows over.”

“And if it doesn't?”

“Then I'll ask for more help.”

“Fair enough. The servants start work at 8:00 a.m. I'll call and give them some time off.”

“Thanks. Meredith's with me. She's been hurt. Could you contact Dr. Davis and see if he's willing to make a house call? But only if he can be trusted.”

“I thought you didn't approve of him.”

Pete pulled in a deep breath. “Seems I've been wrong about a lot of things.”

“And what caused your change of heart?”

He hesitated, searching for words to explain how he felt. “I asked God to help me find Meredith, and He did.”

“You sound surprised. I take it you still have problems accepting Him into your life.”

Pete stared into the darkness ahead, trying to find his way. “It's the part about miracles, Eve. If He has the power to change lives, why doesn't He help you?”

“Suffering makes us stronger. Remember Christ suffered and died on the cross for our sins.”

“There's nothing redeeming about VHL.”

“But because of my illness, I decided to find my daughter.”

“You would have come to that same conclusion without going through all the pain.”

“Perhaps. But what about you? Your mother died in childbirth. Your father did more to hide his love than show it. I know it hurt you to leave the estate.”

“Evidently, your parents didn't feel the same way.”

She sighed. “Your father never told you, did he?”

“About
your
father's plan to cut costs by doing away with the groundskeeper position. Three years and my dad would have earned his pension.”

“Is that how your dad explained the problem?”

“Meaning what, Eve?”

“Meaning he didn't tell you the whole story. About inflated expense reports for the upkeep of the property. Money your father stole from the estate.”

Pete bristled. “I don't believe you.”

“Did you really think my folks would fire your dad just to keep from paying him his retirement? Besides, he continued to receive a sizable monthly stipend. Something I insisted on. In addition to the extra money I gave him for you.”

Pete held the phone to his ear while his eyes focused on the road…on the beam of headlights sweeping across the asphalt…on anything except what Eve was saying.

“I didn't tell you about the money he stole from the estate because you needed to hear it from your own father, not from me. Time's running out for me, Pete. I'm trying to right wrongs from the past and reconnect with the people who are important to me. You're at the top of the list.”

Emotion clogged his throat.

“The past is over. Come home, Pete. I'll be waiting for you just as I have been for so long.”

He heard firm resolution in her voice but also tenderness and acceptance.

“I love you as if you were my flesh and blood,” she continued. “You're a wonderful man with a good sense of right and wrong. God loves you, too. Just open the door to your heart.”

He could open the door for Eve, but he still had reservations about God.

“Think about it and we'll talk more when you get to the estate.”

Disconnecting, Pete dropped the BlackBerry onto the console.

His eyes fell on Meredith. Her arm lay draped around her stomach.

A new spot darkened her blouse and slacks.

“Meredith?” He nudged her shoulder. “Wake up, honey.”

She failed to respond.

 

Meredith heard Pete call her name, but the hum of the tires and the lull of the engine soothed her back into a deep slumber. She was somewhere bright and beautiful, holding her baby.

The car stopped and a door slammed. She tried to open her eyes, but the effort proved too difficult.

A hand touched hers.

She gasped with pain that shot up her arm and through her shoulder. A low moan escaped from her lips. She blinked, seeing Pete's face.

His brow was wrinkled with worry. “Hold on, Meredith.”

He lifted her into his arms.

Her head found the cleft in his neck. She snuggled into him, hearing his heart pound, feeling the strength of his embrace.

They were hurrying up a stone walkway.

A mansion towered over them. Three stories rimmed with balconies. Tall white columns. Gaslights that greeted them from the porch.

Before Pete could knock, the massive door opened. A woman motioned them inside. Slender with upswept hair, her green eyes reflected the worry in Pete's.

Eve.

He said something. Meredith tried to focus on her response.

“Dr. Davis will be here shortly. He wants you to draw Meredith's blood and do a workup at Magnolia Medical. He mentioned a CBC and chemistry profile.”

“I picked up a phlebotomy kit at the Institute. It's in the car.”

Eve ushered them down a long hallway and into a room just off what appeared to be a huge study. “We'll keep her comfortable until Dr. Davis arrives. He should be here shortly.”

“Davis won't call the cops?”

“He'll talk to you before he makes that decision.”

Pete laid Meredith on the thick comforter. The room swirled around her in a mix of deep blues and magenta. She sank into the softness of the bedding.

He elevated her injured arm on a pile of pillows and repositioned the tourniquet.

“The bleeding's stopped. At least for now.”

Stepping toward the bed, Eve held a quilt pieced with small hearts and tiny crosses.

The same pattern as the baby coverlet Meredith had been wrapped in when her real mother gave her up for adoption.

Eve covered her with the thick quilt, then brushed her cool hand lovingly over Meredith's brow.

A lump clogged Meredith's throat. Hot tears stung her eyes. Tears of joy.

Pete had brought her home.

Home to her mother.

Returning to her bedside, he drew vials of blood from the vein in her uninjured arm. She saw him as if through a fog.

Closing her eyes, she sensed her body drift into a better place. Before she left Pete, she dropped her good hand to her stomach and caressed her child one last time.

P
ete turned into the Magnolia Medical lot and parked in a secluded spot behind the incinerator building, a small brick structure that sat away from the main facility. Hidden from the road and shadowed from the streetlights, his Jeep wouldn't attract attention while he completed Meredith's blood tests.

Using his passkey to enter through a side door, he climbed the stairs to the third floor. His footsteps echoed in the long hallway. Stopping in front of the entrance marked with the biohazard sign, he keyed the metal door open and stepped into the lab. The smell of chemicals hung in the air, along with a hint of bleach used to disinfect the work areas.

He shrugged into a lab coat and slipped latex gloves over his hands. Pete worked swiftly, concentrating on the tests Dr. Davis needed to assess Meredith's condition.

Placing a clean glass slide on the workbench, he made a smear of her blood and, once stained, placed it under the microscope. Settling into the tall stool, he adjusted the ocular and watched the kaleidoscope of cells swarm into view. An increased number of white blood cells signaled the beginning of a bacterial infection. A serious complication, but something else troubled him more.

The decreased number of red blood cells.

Automated analyzers spewed out additional test results. Pete pulled the lab slips from the machines. A sense of dread settled on his shoulders.

Worse than he had expected. The sophisticated instrumentation confirmed that Meredith had lost far too much blood.

Racing to the blood bank, Pete performed a rapid blood type. Meredith tested B positive. He pulled four units from the Jewett refrigerator and crossmatched them for transfusion. Placing the units in a biohazard transport box, he added an ice pack from the freezer and closed the lid.

Slipping the strap of the container over his shoulder, Pete grabbed the lab printouts and everything Davis would need to start the transfusion, then retraced his steps through the lab.

As he left the building, he called Eve.

“How's Meredith?”

“About the same. She keeps mumbling something about the quilt.”

“When Davis arrives, tell him her hematocrit is low. I crossmatched four units of blood. He'll be able to start a transfusion as soon as I get there.”

“I'm expecting him any minute.”

Pete needed to get back to the estate ASAP. Davis would arrive shortly, and Pete wanted everything ready.

Meredith's life and the life of her baby depended on how quickly she received the blood.

 

Meredith heard the doorbell through the haze of sleep.

She opened her eyes to the beautiful room and the quilt that covered her. Running her fingers over the pieced fabric, she felt a sense of connection.

From the hallway, Eve's voice was raised.

What did she say?

A second voice sent goose bumps to pimple her flesh.

No!

She needed to warn Eve.

Pushing up on her good elbow, Meredith tried to rise from the bed. The effort sapped her energy, and she fell back onto the pillows.

Her eyes closed.

Voices echoed through her mind. Was she dreaming?

No reason to face something that was only a memory.

She'd have time to do that later. After her baby was born. After she said goodbye to Pete.

Regret tugged at her heart. She didn't want to leave Pete.

Acceptance and love was all she'd ever wanted, and that's what she'd found with him.

P
ete placed the insulated blood transport container on the floor of his Jeep behind the driver's seat. His neck tingled as footsteps sounded behind him. He turned and spied the two thugs from the farmhouse.

“You guys ever give up?”

Hank brandished a knife. He wiped his fingers over the sharp blade and sneered. “Not until we finish the job.”

He lunged.

Pete sidestepped away from the car and clear of the knife.

Javier circled from the left.

Pete flicked his gaze back and forth, keeping both men in sight.

The Latino pulled the .45 from his waistband. As he fumbled with the slide to chamber the round,
Pete grabbed the gun and jammed his fist into the guy's gut. Air rushed from his lungs.

Pete struck again, and Javier fell to the ground.

Hank lashed out with the knife, catching Pete's flesh and ripping a gash in his left side. Blood seeped from the wound.

Pete aimed the gun. “Drop the knife and anything else you're packing.”

Hank's eyes widened. “Hey, man, don't shoot.” Hank yanked a revolver from his belt and tossed it away from him. The knife clattered to the pavement as he raised his hands over his head.

Pete kicked it aside with his foot. “Who are you working for?”

Hank lowered his gaze.

Pete grabbed his neck and shoved him against the car. His hand clamped down hard on the punk's throat. “You'd better start talking.”

He shook his head, eyes wide with fear. “The guy's in jail. Before he was arrested, he made a deal with someone called Mule. He's been tracking you through your cell phone.”

Pete loosened his hold. “Go on.”

“Look, we've never seen him. Mule calls us, tells us what he wants and we do it.”

“And exactly what
does
Mule want?”

“The woman.”

An icy jolt of fear ran through Pete's veins. They'd tracked him to Magnolia Medical, thinking Meredith was with him. Luckily, she was safe at the estate.

“Grab your friend.” Pete pointed to Javier still sprawled on the pavement.

Hank helped his partner to his feet.

Unlocking the door to the incinerator building, Pete shoved them inside and tied their hands behind their backs to the levers that turned on the giant gas oven.

“Wiggle around too much and you'll start the fire. Of course, you probably won't live to regret your mistake. My suggestion: you stay put. Someone will burn trash later today. I want them to find you alive.”

Pete looked at the .45 in his hand. With sure swift moves, he released the magazine, then pulled back the slide and ejected the round from the chamber.

“Didn't your parents ever tell you not to play with guns?” He threw the weapon into the trash bin before he stepped outside, locking the door behind him.

Pulling his BlackBerry from his pocket, he tapped in Eve's number, relieved to hear her voice when she answered.

“I'm on my way. Don't let anyone in except the doc.”

“Be careful, Pete.”

He disconnected and glanced down. Blood seeped from his side.

Opening the back of the Jeep, Pete snatched an ACE bandage from his first aid kit. He raised his shirt, stuck a wad of four-by-fours against the cut and wrapped the stretchy bandage around his abdomen. A makeshift fix, but it would hold back the flow of blood.

Once Doc Davis treated Meredith, Pete would have him check his own wound.

Her condition would determine when they turned themselves in to the police. Until then, they needed some calm in the storm.

He looked down again. Blood had already soaked through the gauze.

Seemed everything kept getting darker.