The Sheriff and the Baby (6 page)

How could she have lived with someone for so long and not really known him?

T
HE DAY BEFORE
Marcus’s funeral, she’d found a safety-deposit-box key taped beneath a kitchen drawer.

While searching for a silver cake knife her mother-in-law had given them and now wanted back, she’d become frustrated when the drawer had stuck. Worn out with grief and exhaustion, she’d wrenched it so hard, it came completely off its runners. As she was trying to replace it, her fingers had made contact with something taped under it. She pulled off the tape and withdrew a key. It looked like the one Marcus claimed he’d returned to the bank after they’d installed a home safe.

Curious to see if it
was
the same key, she’d gone to the bank and used it. Turned out it fit their old safety-deposit box and inside were stacks of hundred-dollar bills and a notebook containing names and numbers. And another key.

Sickened, confused, she’d slammed the box shut and been about to stagger out of the vault. The bank security officer had seen her distress, suggested she rest for a moment and gotten her a glass of water. While she drank it, a dozen reasons why their former safety-deposit box would be full of money swam through her head. None of them made any sense—except the one that kept nagging her.
Marcus was a dirty cop.

The second key had opened another box in the vault. However, this one was stuffed to the brim with bags of white powder. Stunned at the implications, she’d left the bank and gone through the motions at Marcus’s police funeral, been given due respect by his fellow officers, sat by his grave, listened to the mournful wail of the bagpipes, accepted the folded flag.

And all this time she was wondering what to do. Just after midnight, Marcus’s former partner, Detective John Hennessey, who’d made such a display of his grief during
the funeral service, had come to the house, demanding the key.

Terrified, Beth knew that if she handed it over, her life would end as surely as Marcus’s had. So she’d played dumb, deflecting the issue by admitting they had a safe. Did he mean the key to that? Hennessey had dragged her by her hair to the safe and told her to open it. Inside, all he’d found was her jewelry and some stock certificates.

Infuriated, he’d commanded his henchman, “Morgan! Search the place. Tear it apart.”

Morgan ransacked the house, dumping the contents of drawers on the floor, tearing down curtains and slicing through her leather sofas and the canvases covering her walls in his frenzied hunt for the key.

As Morgan wreaked devastation on her once-lovely home, one certainty kept emerging—these men couldn’t afford to leave any loose ends lying around. If she gave Hennessey the key, he’d kill her to cover their tracks. If she didn’t hand it over, he’d still kill her. She needed to buy time to figure out what to do.

When Morgan returned from the master bedroom, shaking his head, Hennessey snatched the knife from his hand and held the blade against her belly.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours,” he whispered, menace dripping from every word. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” she asked, pretending not to understand, hoping to convince him she was as ignorant of the whereabouts of that key as she’d been forty-eight hours earlier.

“Meaning,” he growled, “that if you haven’t called me by then, I’ll come after you—” he turned the blade over so she could feel the point pressing against her abdomen “—and your baby.”

Her intake of breath as she felt her baby move had him
sneering with triumph. “Twenty-four hours. You report this to
anyone,
you and your baby are dead. Understand?”

Mute with terror, Beth had nodded.

She’d sat amid the wreckage, weeping. Weeping for her dead husband and her sham of a marriage but mostly trembling with fear for her unborn child. By the time her tears were spent, any love she’d felt for Marcus Jackson had shriveled into a tiny, hard kernel of resentment and anger.

She couldn’t go to the police. Hennessey
was
the police. How far could she trust Internal Affairs or the media? If she hadn’t been pregnant, she would’ve considered IA or the newspapers, but her first concern was the safety of her baby. It was too risky to expose herself that way—at least until after her baby was born.

Beth called the only person she knew she could trust implicitly—her grandmother, Elizabeth Wyatt.

Her father’s mom had been more mother than grandmother to Beth. Her own mother, Patrice Whitman, was an actress who, after several minor Hollywood roles, had married James Wyatt, a respected L.A. stockbroker. Beth was conceived on their around-the-world honeymoon, and as Patrice liked to tell anyone within hearing distance, her daughter’s birth was so painful and traumatic she swore she’d never go through it again. And she hadn’t.

Patrice was at best a distant mother, devoted to James and throwing lavish parties. Since James’s death in a boating accident ten years previously, she’d traveled the world seeking “enlightenment.” From ashrams in India to sweat lodges in Arizona. Patrice had exhausted just about every self-help, mind-expanding, navel-gazing ritual possible. She’d recently changed her name to Aurora and was currently seeking messages in the northern lights north of the Arctic Circle.

By contrast, Beth’s grandmother—after whom she’d been named—had been her rock throughout her life, her wise mentor, her best friend.

After telling Elizabeth what had happened—Hennessey’s shocking revelations about Marcus and the evidence she had to support it—Beth told her grandmother that in order to protect her baby’s life, she had to go into hiding until her child was born. And maybe after. She could have no further contact with anyone from her former life.

Always practical, her grandmother had agreed, then said, “I’ll help you any way I can. What do you want me to do?”

Beth outlined her plans. She would leave L.A., disappear. Tomorrow she’d take some of the money from the safety-deposit box and live on it until the baby was born. When she was stronger and could leave the baby somewhere safe, she’d reveal everything about Hennessey. And repay the money, although she didn’t know to whom. “I can’t tell you where I’m going, because I’m not sure and I don’t want to put you in any danger. And please, whatever you do, don’t tell Mother about this. You know what a drama queen she is.”

Elizabeth had snorted and said, “Actually, that might work well for you because when she files a missing person’s report and they see the damage to your home, she’ll kick up a hell of a stink and demand answers. It’ll look as though you’ve been kidnapped rather than gone into hiding.”

Trust her grandmother to see the situation clearly. “I won’t be able to contact anyone in the family, even you, Gran,” she said. “No phone calls, no e-mail, no letters. But I’ll somehow get word to you when I’ve had the baby.”

“Thank you.” She heard her grandmother sob. “I doubt I’ll sleep a wink for worrying.”

Beth had spent the next few minutes outlining her plans.
She couldn’t fly, because her name would be traced to her destination. The only way out of town was to drive, except she couldn’t take her own car and she couldn’t rent one. A bus ticket paid in cash would offer some anonymity….

But Elizabeth wouldn’t hear of it and had immediately come up with a solution. “Take my car. I’ll park it in the garage under the building next to yours. You go to work in the morning as usual, but take a disguise. Some dark glasses, something to cover your hair. Change at work and use the passageway that connects the two buildings. I’ll leave my car on the second basement level. You have a set of keys to it, don’t you?”

Beth was astonished. Her grandmother had thought of everything. “The set you gave me in case you ever lost yours?” Beth had laughed. “No chance of that steel-trap mind forgetting anything, Gran.”

“Thank you, darling. I’m only happy I can help.”

“And what will you drive? I’ll be gone for months. I can’t return the favor and let you use mine.”

“I have your grandfather’s old truck to get around in. I’m sure he’d appreciate seeing it get used.”

Her grandfather had died five years earlier and Gran had been unable to part with any of his possessions.

“I’m getting dressed now,” Elizabeth said, breaking into her thoughts.

“But it’s barely dawn!”

“I need to get there before they put a watch on your building. That snake Hennessey is bound to have people stationed everywhere. We need to be careful. I’ll leave my car and take a cab home.”

“Gran,” Beth said urgently. “Be careful! If something doesn’t seem right, just keep driving. I’ll figure out what to do.”

“I’ll be fine, darling. I’m looking forward to outsmarting a bunch of dirty cops. I never did like that Marcus.”

No, Gran hadn’t ever really warmed to him. If only Beth had confronted her about it, Elizabeth would have told her why. If she’d heeded her grandmother’s instincts about Marcus, perhaps she wouldn’t be in this situation now.

She experienced a grim satisfaction that she’d kept her maiden name.

“I love you, Gran,” she said, her voice breaking.

“I love you, too, darling. Take care.”

Her grandmother had hung up before they both burst into tears.

It took Beth an hour to collect her thoughts about what she had to do and to prepare for her day. She showered and dressed in one of her work suits. After packing a change of clothes and some toiletries in her briefcase, she grabbed her trash and headed out her front door.

Her eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, scanned the street as she walked to the trash can at her front gate. Opening the lid, she dropped the garbage bag beside the can and bent down to pick it up, lifting a piece of turf with the toe of her shoe as she did.

The key was still where she’d hidden it.

With trembling fingers, she retrieved it, then stood with the bag, flipped the turf back with her shoe and dropped the trash into the can, along with her wedding ring.

The key concealed in her hand, she crossed to her Lexus and backed it out of the driveway. “You bastard,” she muttered, passing the vehicle parked farther up the street, glad she’d gone through the charade with the trash. Morgan pulled out and followed close behind her.

A half hour later, Beth turned into the underground
garage of the building that housed the architectural practice she worked for.

At the ATM located inside the building, Beth was about to withdraw all the cash she could from several of her credit cards, but then she noticed, apart from people rushing to work and the obligatory security guards, several people loitering in the lobby. They didn’t look as if they belonged there. Suspecting they were plainclothes cops posted by Hennessey, she detoured to the elevators and rode up to her floor.

Heart racing, she exited, took the stairs down to the next level and hurried to the ladies’ restroom, intending to change into the disguise she’d brought. How the hell was she going to escape now? She only had about one hundred dollars cash, and she was positive Hennessey would put a trace on her credit cards. If she withdrew a large sum, he’d know she was on the run.

Walking along the corridor, she noticed the cleaners’ room door was open and there on the shelves were some uniforms. What could be better than disguising herself as a cleaner? She’d be invisible. Beth dashed inside, grabbed a uniform and took the stairs down to the next level, where she used the ladies’ restroom to change.

Concealed inside a stall, she wound her long, distinctive blond hair onto the top of her head and fastened it, then covered it with the cap provided for cleaners, pulled the bulky uniform over her clothes and changed into flat shoes. After washing off all her makeup at the sink, she put on a pair of rubber cleaning gloves. Then she placed her briefcase in the trash and lifted both briefcase and plastic trash bag out of the can. She took the stairs all the way to the first floor. Unseen, she slipped past the security guards in the lobby and entered the walkway that connected her building to the one next door.

She rode the elevator to the garage and, after locating her grandmother’s car, got in, started the engine and reversed out of the space. At the exit onto Wiltshire Boulevard, she stopped and checked to see if Morgan had noticed her.

Despite the early-morning heat of an L.A. day, her fingers turned to ice on the steering wheel when Morgan glanced up at her. Then, apparently satisfied that it wasn’t Beth or her vehicle, he went back to his newspaper.

Beth let out her breath and blended into the traffic on Wiltshire Boulevard. Soon she’d join the maze of freeways that wove through L.A. and head west, far away from California. But first she needed to stop at the bank and retrieve some money from the safety-deposit box, enough to live on for the next several months.

She was cautious when she entered the bank, expecting to see more of Hennessey’s henchmen. But she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Had Marcus duped Hennessey into believing the money and drugs were at another bank?

She slipped into the ladies’ room and removed her disguise. The same security guard was in the vault where the safety-deposit boxes were kept. He greeted her and then, thankfully, gave Beth the privacy she needed.

She took a stack of bills, not bothering to count them, and shoved them in her briefcase, along with the notebook. After closing the box and returning it to its niche in the wall, she rested her head against it for a moment. Then, on shaky legs, she walked out of the bank, got into her grandmother’s car and headed for the freeway on-ramp.

Matt called himself a thousand kinds of fool as he drove back to the office, then practically bit a deputy’s head off when he asked where he’d been. “None of your damned business!” he snapped and strode into his office, imagining the looks his staff must’ve exchanged at his outburst. He never, ever, lost his temper with anyone. It must be Beth who had him so tied up in knots. And Luke, the nosy, interfering busybody!

Matchmaking. Why on earth had he even come out with such a dumb confession? Beth must be horrified to know that was what Luke was trying to do. And then he’d been rude to her about Sally when she’d asked an innocent question about his family.

I
T WAS AFTER SIX
when Matt left his office and climbed into his vehicle. He didn’t feel like heading home to his apartment and dinner alone, and neither did he feel like rolling up to Luke’s to share dinner with him and the girls. The welcome mat was always out at Two Elk Ranch, but after his altercation with Luke this afternoon, Matt wasn’t in the mood for more of his brother’s meddling.

He turned toward Silver Springs, needing to talk to Beth, to apologize for his behavior this afternoon. And his brother’s.

When he knocked on the door to her room, there was no answer. He pushed it open to find the bed empty and no sign of Sarah’s crib. “Sheriff O’Malley?”

Matt spun around to face one of the maternity-ward nurses.

“Are you looking for Beth?”

Please tell me she hasn’t left,
Matt wanted to beg her. Instead, he nodded curtly.

“She’s in the solarium. It’s down the end of the hall.” She pointed in the direction, but Matt was already halfway there before she’d finished speaking.

He found her sitting on a sofa reading a book, her legs curled under her. He wanted to pull her into his arms; she seemed so delicate and so alone.

She glanced up at his approach and when a smile lit her face, Matt’s spirits rose. “Hi,” she said almost shyly. “What are you doing here?”

Matt didn’t answer her question. “Are you leaving?” he asked abruptly, indicating her slacks and loose shirt.

“I got tired of sitting around in night wear. It made me feel like an invalid.” She gestured at the lounge decorated with plants and comfortable chairs. Several patients were talking with visitors. “It’s nice in here, so I thought I’d escape from my room for a while.”

The tension eased from Matt’s shoulders. At least he’d be able to spend more time with her. He hoped she’d learn to trust him. “Where’s Sarah?”

“You
are
full of questions! She’s in the nursery. Take a seat,” she said, nodding at a chair.

Matt pulled it closer to her and sat down. He rested his arms on his knees, clasped his hands and leaned toward
her. “I came back to apologize for being so rude to you earlier today.”

“There’s no need. I was being far too nosy.”

Uneasy at her admission, he said, “There
is
a need to apologize. You asked me a question today and I walked out on you without answering it properly.”

He scanned the room. The rest of the occupants were engaged in their own conversations. What he had to tell her was so very personal and he didn’t want anyone else hearing it.

The knowledge that if he hadn’t been so diligent about his job, he could’ve saved his wife and baby haunted Matt. How could he tell Beth about the guilt that had been eating away at him all these years? How could he admit he felt unworthy of anyone’s love and couldn’t trust himself to love again?

But Matt knew that if he didn’t talk about it, he’d never be able to move past it, never be able to have another relationship. For the first time in three years, he’d felt desire for a woman, and it was so intense he couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t shut himself off from the world—from love—for the rest of his life.

“It’s…difficult for me to talk about…even now.” Matt could hear his voice wavering. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “My wife…Sally, was killed by a hit-and-run driver three years ago. She was seven months pregnant.”

“Oh, Matt.” Beth extended her hand.

He flinched when she touched his shoulder. He didn’t deserve anyone’s compassion. Or love.

“It’s all right, Matt… You don’t have to tell me any more,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “I
need
to.” Then before he could talk himself out of it, he said, “The driver didn’t stop. At
least, not until he ran through a shop front on Main Street.” His hands clenched into tight fists and his knuckles turned white as he fought the revulsion, the stark memories. “I was heading home when I saw it happen and went to help. While he was being cut out of his vehicle, a call came that a pedestrian had been hit on the road to my place.”

Matt stared at the floor. “Sally lay by that deserted country roadside for nearly an hour before someone noticed her.”

F
INALLY, HE LIFTED
pain-filled eyes to hers and Beth’s heart tightened at the misery she saw reflected there. “She and my baby died a slow, painful death—while I held the hand of a drunk driver and told him everything was going to be okay.”

His voice broke. “I…failed the two people I loved most in the world.”

“Oh, Matt.” She reached out to clasp his hand.

What words could offer comfort after such a tragedy? But words were necessary, some affirmation of his value as a human being. As a man.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said softly, resisting the urge to wince when he squeezed her hand tightly. He needed her support, just as she’d needed his the night Sarah was born. “
I’m sorry
seems so…inadequate. I can’t begin to imagine how you must’ve felt when it happened. But I do know you would’ve made a wonderful father, Matt. You’re so good with Sarah.”

Her heartfelt words were rewarded when his features relaxed a little and he gave her a crooked smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have burdened you with that.” He stood, releasing her hand in the process.

But Beth wasn’t about to let him leave. His tragic confession couldn’t have been easy for him and, right now,
Matt needed all her compassion. She caught his hand again and drew him down to sit beside her on the sofa. “I didn’t intend to bring up sad memories for you.”

He pulled his hand from her grasp as though he wanted to put some space between them and smoothed an imaginary crease from the trousers of his uniform. “I needed to tell you. I’ve never talked about it to anyone except my family.”

She sighed and looked out the darkened windows of the solarium. “I hated not having any brothers or sisters. It was so lonely. You’re fortunate to have so much support.”

“You can still be lonely in a big family.”

She glanced back at him. His words held a note of heart ache Beth didn’t understand. It didn’t seem possible to be lonely with so many brothers. He and Luke seemed close, regardless of their bantering. Becky had sung Matt’s praises, telling her how much his nieces and nephew loved him. Matt O’Malley was a puzzle.

Tonight, he’d shared something deeply personal with her and Beth couldn’t help wondering,
Why me? Why now?

“I’d better be going,” he said, standing again. “I’d like to stop by tomorrow and visit you and Sarah, if that’s okay.”

The thought of seeing him again filled Beth with a cautious pleasure, but she had to make the break before she allowed herself to rely on Matt too much.

He had the potential to destroy everything she’d worked for over the past months—her anonymity and the relative peace of mind that went with it. “Thank you but that won’t be necessary. I’m going home tomorrow,” she said, then wanted to bite her tongue for revealing her plans so hastily. The man’s presence was making her forget herself. “To Denver?”

She recovered her composure, stood and started
walking toward the hallway that led to her room. He was never going to find out where her real home was, tucked away in the hills outside Spruce Lake. “Yes. I’m taking the bus.”

“I could give you a ride into Denver,” he offered, striding beside her, making her feel closed in, a captive.

“No!” she blurted. “I mean, that’s a lovely gesture, but you’ve done more than enough for us already. The bus will be fine.”

And now he was giving her one of those looks that said he doubted every word she’d ever uttered.

“I’d like to,” he insisted. “A bus is no place for a baby.”

Beth paused outside the door to her room. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “All right, thank you,” she said, knowing that by the time he turned up in the morning, she’d be long gone.

He smiled, and guilt filled every one of her pores. “When would you like me to come for you?”

“How about eleven?”

“Eleven is fine.” He reached into his pocket and took out a card. “Here’s my number. If you want to leave earlier or you need me for anything, just call. Anytime.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks.” Beth slipped his card into her pocket and walked through the door he held open for her. “There’s my little girl,” she cooed at the sight of Sarah.

“She’s hungry,” the nurse said. “I was about to get you.”

Beth made herself comfortable, then picked up her baby. She couldn’t look Matt in the eye. The lies she was telling
him were more than she could bear, but her life and Sarah’s depended on them.

“I’ll see you at eleven, then,” he said and left the room.

“Y
OU NEED TO COMPLETE
this paperwork.” One of the hospital admitting staff had shown up not long after Matt’s departure and handed Beth a sheaf of papers. They were identical to the papers Beth had received earlier and placed in her top drawer, intending to deal with them later—like after she’d left the hospital.

“Can I do this tomorrow?”

The woman looked at her watch and said, “It’s really important. We need your insurance details so the bill can be taken care of, and you need to register your daughter’s birth-certificate details.”

“I…don’t have insurance. I’ll be paying cash.”

The woman pursed her lips. “I see,” she said enigmatically and swept out of the room.

Beth pondered the fact that she was lucky she was in a smaller hospital where, until now, monetary matters hadn’t taken precedence over patient care. She’d gotten away with ignoring these papers once, but this officious woman wasn’t likely to let her shut them away in her bedside cabinet again.

The woman returned several minutes later. “I’ve checked with our accounts department. They’ll accept a credit card.”

Which was exactly what Beth
didn’t
want to hear. Someday, she’d repay the hospital bill—with interest—but for now she couldn’t risk being traced by Hennessey. If she did pay in cash, such a huge amount would raise suspicions. And there was no way she’d make an insurance claim. It’d lead Hennessey straight to her.

“Would it be okay if I settled everything in the morning, when I leave?” she asked.

“Fine.” The woman sighed. “But in the meantime, you’ll need to complete the paperwork and the Registration of Birth forms. I’ve been told not to come back without them.” She glanced at her watch again. “I hate to press you, but the office is closing and I have got to get home to my children.”

“I’m sorry,” Beth said with as much sincerity as she could muster. “Please sit down. I won’t be long.” She picked up a pen and mulled over the Registration of Birth forms. Since these would be going into a sealed envelope, Beth filled them out using her real name, but balked at naming Sarah’s father. It just didn’t feel
right
naming Marcus as the father. He hadn’t wanted a baby, and her pregnancy had caused a rift between them months before he was gunned down on the streets of L.A. More significantly, his criminal activities had put her and Sarah in danger. He didn’t deserve the title of “father.” Under the circumstances, Beth wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to admit Sarah’s real paternity to her daughter.

She chewed on the end of the pen. Leaving the space blank didn’t feel right, either. She tried to think up an imaginary name, but couldn’t come up with anything that sounded suitably heroic.

The woman coughed, reminding Beth that her time was limited.

The gift card dangling from Matt’s flowers caught her eye. It read
To Beth and Sarah, with my best wishes, Matt O’Malley.

Matt O’Malley. It sounded
safe,
solid and…heroic. He’d exhibited many of the qualities she’d want in a father for Sarah. He was caring, protective, capable and had treated her daughter almost as though she were his own.
Yet Marcus, her sweet little baby’s real father, hadn’t even wanted her!

Matt had been more of a father to Sarah in the past two days than Marcus probably would’ve been in a lifetime. In bold letters, she wrote
Matt O’Malley,
experienced a momentary pang of guilt, then immediately dismissed it. She could weave a wonderful tale for Sarah around the name Matt O’Malley. Her daughter would never need to know about Marcus. Never need to find out how he’d betrayed her. Betrayed them both.

That done, she placed the form inside the envelope provided and sealed it, then filled out the other paperwork, using fictitious details and hoping no one inspected it before morning.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” Beth said. “I didn’t realize it was so urgent.”

The woman practically snatched the papers out of her hands and, without another word, left the room.

Beth put a call through to Hank, the man she rented her cabin from. She’d found a card on the notice board at the local supermarket advertising the cabin for a minimum six-month rental. It sounded perfect, and when Hank offered a grocery delivery service, meaning she could hide out at the cabin indefinitely, she’d taken it. Ensuring his silence by promising him a ten-thousand-dollar bonus if he kept her whereabouts secret, she’d told him she was an author who needed seclusion to complete her manuscript. Hank had been impressed and eagerly inquired if he could be a character in her book.

Beth looked forward to getting back to the safety of the cabin. She’d set up a nursery for Sarah, having ordered most of the baby equipment online and assembled it herself. Other items she’d picked up on visits to an ob-gyn in
Denver—one who’d been more than happy to accept cash payments and not ask too many personal questions.