Unbreakable Bond (11 page)

Rebecca clenched the covers to her neck and nodded again, holding her breath until he shut the door.

She blinked hard, and pressed her hands to her eyes to keep from crying. She wouldn't cry. She was a big girl now.

A scraping sound echoed in the room, and she gripped the covers and slowly twisted her head sideways to look at the window.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Something was out there. Something that sounded like claws.

Was it a wild animal? Or had the mean man in her nightmares really found her?

Nina sat up and stared into the darkness. Peyton's singing had stopped.

In fact she was crying. Peyton was scared of something—or someone.

A helpless ache engulfed her, fueling her anger, and she turned her face up to the heavens. “Where is she? God, please, I'm not crazy, am I? My daughter needs me.”

Downstairs, she heard footsteps, remembered Slade and breathed in relief.

More determined than ever, she quickly showered, then hurried down the steps. The scent of coffee wafted toward her, and she found Slade gripping a mug in his hand when she entered the kitchen.

His gaze raked over her and made her body tingle. “Did you sleep?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But then the nightmares came.”

He nodded, his expression hooded, then stepped aside while she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Last night she'd lost her head and let her emotions overwhelm her. Today, she'd keep their conversation focused on the investigation.

And she'd keep her hands to herself. No more reaching for him or letting him hold her. No more kisses.

No use in fantasizing about something that she could never have.

“I located an address for Gwen Waldorp,” Slade said. “I'm going to see her this morning.”

Nina sipped her coffee, her stomach churning. Questioning Gwen would resurrect painful memories for her. But if she hadn't kidnapped Peyton, she might have seen something, heard something… “All right.”

“Then we'll go see William's mother and sister.”

Nina narrowed her eyes. “His sister?”

He gestured toward his computer, and she glanced at the photos he'd accessed. “She has a daughter the same age as Peyton.”

Nina studied the photo of the little blonde, her mind racing. “No wonder Mrs. Hood was so callous about William having an illegitimate child. She was already going to be a grandmother.”

Slade shrugged. “Maybe.”

His tone made her pause, and she glanced at the child again. Blond hair, freckles…the same age as Peyton.

Her breath stammered in her chest. What was Slade thinking? Did he suspect that little girl might be Peyton?

“Did you know Diane?” Slade asked.

She shook her head. “No, she was four years older than me and already married.”

“Were you aware she was expecting a baby the same time you were?”

Nina swallowed. “No. William never mentioned it…” Her voice warbled. “Slade, do you think…?”

“I don't know,” he said, obviously reading her mind. “But it's worth looking into.”

Nina agreed, placed her coffee cup in the sink and went to retrieve her purse. She locked the house securely, and she and Slade drove to the mountains. Antique stores, craft shops, a diner, a candy shop and majestic scenery gave the town a quaint feel.

Gwen Waldorp lived in a cottage-style house with white latticework, a glider on the front porch and a bird feeder in the yard. Evidence that kids lived there was everywhere, from the tricycle to the football to the pink scooter.

A pink scooter—Gwen had a little girl, too….

Nerves fluttered in Nina's stomach as she walked up the flower-lined path to the front door. Slade punched the bell, and a moment later, the patter of little feet sounded from inside.

Then the door opened, and her heart squeezed at the sight of the child.

A towheaded little boy about three with bright green eyes.

“Who're you?” He scrunched his nose, revealing a missing front tooth.

“We'd like to see your mommy,” Slade asked. “Is she here?”

“Mommy!” the boy shouted. “A giant man and a wady are here!”

“Bobby, I told you not to open the door to strangers,” the woman called as she rushed into the room.
A dark-haired little girl tagged close behind her, her face streaked with something that looked like chocolate pudding.

“Hi,” Nina said, smiling at the little girl. “My name is Nina. What's yours, honey?”

The little girl bobbed from foot to foot, then whispered, “Judy.”

“How old are you, Judy?” Nina asked.

Judy smiled. “Eight. I just had a birthday and got a new bike.”

Gwen pushed the child behind her like a mother protecting her cub. “Who are you and what do you want?”

Nina scrutinized the child's features, comparing her heart-shaped face to Gwen's, and trying to remember what her own childhood photographs had looked like. Judy's hair was slightly darker than her mother's sandy color, but she didn't have Nina's blond hair either, and her eyes were hazel, not blue.

Still… Could Judy possibly be her daughter?

“Mrs. Waldorp,” Slade began. “This is Nina Nash, and my name is Slade Blackburn with Guardian Angel Investigations.”

A frown creased Gwen's forehead. “How can I help you?”

Nina wet her dry lips with her tongue. “I'd like to talk to you about the hospital fire in Sanctuary eight years ago. You probably read that the sheriff arrested the men responsible for the explosion.”

Gwen's face blanched. “Yes, but what does that have to do with me? I didn't know any of them.”

“We're not accusing you of having anything to do with the fire,” Slade said.

“Then what's going on?” Gwen asked. “Why dredge up that night? It was a bad time for me.”

Nina pressed her hand over the woman's. “I understand, but this is important. Please.”

Grief darkened Gwen's eyes, and she seemed to be debating on whether to continue. But then she leaned down and stroked her daughter's hair. “Judy, why don't you take Bobby into the den and watch cartoons. Mommy will be there in a minute.”

“'Kay, Mommy.” The little girl had been watching with avid curiosity, but she grabbed her brother's hand and they raced away.

“Come in,” Gwen said, then gestured toward the kitchen. The room adjoined the den so she could keep an eye on the kids. She offered them coffee, and Slade accepted although Nina's stomach was somersaulting so she declined.

“We understand that you lost a child the same night as the fire,” Nina said. “Your baby was stillborn.”

Gwen massaged her temple as if the memory were still raw. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Because I was there. I lost a child that night, as well.” Nina explained about her own labor and delivery, and her frantic search to find her daughter.

“I'm sorry.” Gwen's voice trembled. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“Forensics never found my baby's body,” Nina said. “I think she might still be alive.”

Suddenly the woman's eyes flashed with surprise. “What?”

“I know it's a long shot,” Nina continued. “But in the chaos, I think someone might have taken her.”

Gwen's expression shifted from curiosity to anger at the sudden realization of their implications. “Oh, my God. You think I stole your baby?” she asked in an incredulous tone. She glanced at her daughter. “That's why you asked Judy how old she was.”

Slade planted his hands on the table. “We're exploring every angle, no matter how remote,” Slade said.

Gwen stood with a hiss. “I think you'd better leave.”

“Mrs. Waldorp,” Slade said calmly. “We've reviewed the forensics reports. There is an infant's bone in the report, but no ID. What happened to your child? Was your baby's body recovered?”

Anguish flashed on Gwen's face. “No, I…didn't even get to bury him…” She inhaled a deep breath, then straightened as if logging the memory away.

“Judy is eight,” Slade pointed out. “You couldn't have given birth to her.”

“She's adopted, isn't she?” Nina asked.

Gwen's lips compressed. “That's none of your business.”

“Please,” Nina pleaded.

Gwen sank back into the chair and fiddled with a napkin on the table. “Yes, she's adopted. But we went through the lawyer in town, and it was perfectly legal.”

“Do you know who Judy's birth parents are?” Slade asked.

She lowered her voice. “Yes. The baby's mother died in the fire that night. When we heard about the baby, and learned the woman had no family, we jumped in to take Judy. She needed us and we needed her.”

“She seems small for her age,” Slade said. “Did she have any health problems when she was born?”

Gwen glanced at her daughter, concern on her face. “She has asthma. Why?”

“My baby was premature,” Nina said. “She was in the NICU.”

“Judy is not your child, Miss Nash.” Gwen folded her arms, her expression shutting down. “Now, I've answered your questions because I feel sorry for you. But I think it's time for you to leave.”

“I'm sorry,” Nina said. “But I'm desperate to find out what happened to my baby. Do you think it's possible that the lawyer lied to you when he claimed Judy's mother died in the fire?”

Gwen ripped the napkin in two. “Why would he do that?”

Nina explained about the Hoods' reactions to her pregnancy.

Gwen's eyes widened. “You're suggesting that one of them kidnapped your baby, then gave her to me?”

“It's one theory,” Slade said matter-of-factly.

Gwen stood. “Well, that's just not possible. Judy can't be your child. Her mother is dead.”

Nina glanced back at the little girl. She was precious, but she didn't feel the connection she'd expected to feel when she saw her child again for the first time. Did that mean Judy wasn't hers? That Gwen was telling the truth?

“Then maybe you saw something that night that can help me,” Nina continued. “Maybe you saw someone strange hanging around the nursery…”

Gwen folded her arms, then cast her a belligerent look. “I'm afraid I can't help you. I was so distraught over my loss that the nurses gave me a sedative. I barely remember the fire, only that someone carried me outside.”

She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Now, I really do want you to leave. I have my family to take care of.”

 

N
INA'S SILENCE DURING
the drive toward Winston-Salem worried Slade. He understood that the interview with the Waldorp woman was uncomfortable, but asking questions always caused some kind of emotional reaction. It was part of the job.

Besides, he didn't give a damn what anyone thought of him. He had to ask questions, probe, pry, piss off people, sometimes lie or treat them harshly to get answers.

But Nina had a compassionate nature, and her empathy for the other woman would have clouded her judgment.

“Do you believe her story?” Slade asked.

Nina shrugged. “It sounds plausible.”

“Yeah,” Slade said. “But she might not know the truth herself. If someone paid the doctor enough, he could have fabricated that story and given her your baby and merely told her the baby's mother died to avoid questions and to push the adoption through without questions.”

Nina leaned her head into her hands. “It's hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that someone could be that devious.” Her expression grew more strained. “And the little girl did look happy. Gwen obviously loves her like she was her own.”

Slade gritted his teeth. Yes, the woman did. But was the child Nina's? He needed DNA for verification, and Gwen Waldorp wouldn't give that up easily.

Nina looked so distraught he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her again, assure her everything was all right. But if that child was Nina's, then she would be torn over what to do.

And ripping the child away from the only mother she'd ever known, and her father and baby brother, would be hell for everyone.

Dammit.

He glanced at Nina again. How was she going to handle a confrontation with Mrs. Hood, the woman who'd tried to pay her to get rid of her child?

Slade's cell phone buzzed, and he connected the call. “Blackburn.”

“It's Amanda. I talked to the forensic anthropologist and she reviewed her files. That infant bone belonged to a baby boy, not Peyton Nash.”

Probably Gwen's stillborn child. Slade thanked her again and disconnected the call, then relayed the forensics findings.

Nina chewed her bottom lip. “Then it wasn't Peyton. That means she's alive.”

Slade slanted her a warning look. “It means there's no proof that she was caught in the fire, Nina.” And he needed more before a judge would grant a request for Judy Waldorp's DNA.

“She's alive,” Nina said with such certainty that he almost believed that she really knew, that she might have some kind of connection to her daughter.

But he had long ago lost faith in anything, much less something intangible like love or a connection between two people. Even a mother and daughter.

He found the country-club community where William's mother lived, stopped at the security gate, showed his ID, then drove past the manicured golf course to the Hood estate, a massive English Tudor house that looked more like a hotel than a home.

A crew of workers were busy tending the lawn and flower beds and looked up when he parked, but didn't comment as he and Nina walked up the walkway.

He rang the doorbell, tapping his foot as he waited. Finally a woman in a uniform answered. “Is Mrs. Hood in?” Slade asked.

“No, sir, I'm sorry. May I tell her who was inquiring?”

“Where is she?” Slade asked.

The woman frowned. “I don't give out her where abouts to just anyone.”

“Please,” Nina said, then introduced the two of them. “It's important I talk to her.”

The woman hesitated but her look softened. “She's at the country club having lunch.”

Nina thanked her, and the two of them returned to the SUV. Slade circled back the way they'd come and pulled into the parking lot of the country club.

“Mrs. Hood won't be pleased to see us,” Nina said.

Slade grunted. “I don't give a damn. From what I've heard about this lady, she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.”