Undeniably Yours (27 page)

“She was the one doing the swearing. Speakerphone. They’re on their way back.”

Dovie was going to make me pay for this for a long time, and I wasn’t going to hear the end of it from Preston…ever. “I might need to hire the security ninjas again.”

“Maybe they’ll start giving you a discount. Ready for the good news?”

I swiped crumbs from the counter and dropped them in the sink. “Lay it on me.”

“You got a package from Orlinda. Arrived a few minutes ago, special delivery.”

I perked up. “Really?”

He grabbed the box off the sofa and handed it to me. I used a steak knife to slice through the packaging and laughed as I lifted the item out of the box.

“What in the—?” Sean asked.

With a flourish, I tied the satin cape around my shoulders. It was bright pink and embroidered with a giant cursive L. A note said:
Because I suspect you might have a bit of superhero in you after all.

Sean peeked in the box. “I want a cape.”

Smiling, I said, “We’ll work on that. What’s the better news?”

“Your orthopedic doctor returned your call. Said you could stop using the crutches and just use the boot.”

I let out a whoop, and Ava mimicked me. I whooped again, drawing the noise out in a song as I hopped around the kitchen.

Ebbie leaped off the counter and ran for the bedroom, and Thoreau dashed to the front door and scratched to get out.

“Jeez,” I said, watching them scatter. “Is my singing that bad?”

Sean wisely ignored the question and said, “The
best
news is that Aiden also mentioned that Nya Rodriguez was located. She’s headed back. You’ll have Dustin’s blanket by tonight.”

I grabbed his shirt and looked into his eyes. “Really?”

“Really.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.

I listened to his heart thump for a moment, before planting a big kiss on his lips.

Ava copied the noise and Scout barked.

“I’m going to get dressed and head to the store. I’ll take Ava with me to give you a little peace and quiet.”

“What’s that?” he asked, grinning.

“Don’t get used to it. My mother’s bringing the contractor here tomorrow to go over plans and timelines for the renovation.”

“What did we get ourselves into?”

I pulled back to look into his eyes. “Having a change of heart?”

“No,” he said softly, tugging me close again. “My heart is quite happy right here with you.”

I barely noticed as Ava started making kissy noises again.

An hour and a half later, Ava and I were in the checkout lane at Shaw’s, and she was crying because she wanted the woman’s keychain in front of us. It had a dog on it, and Ava was fixated. She wanted it, wanted it now, and nothing else would do.

I tried shushing. That didn’t work.

I tried giving her my own keys that had a heart-shaped key fob, but she didn’t want anything to do with that.

I finally started handing her groceries to put on the conveyor belt, and she tossed them on there like she was pitching for the Sox. The grapes went flying. The can of whipped cream. Grendel’s cheese. The box of Cheerios.

By the time I paid, she was crying again, and I couldn’t wait to get back for naptime.

I was hoping Ava would sleep, too.

As I approached the car, I clicked the remote to unlock the door, and the car beeped.

Ava silenced, her watery blue eyes focused on the keychain. I clicked the unlock button again, and the car chirped. She smiled through her tears.

Aha. Music soothed the savage beast.

Grabbing the remote, she went to town, pressing the lock/unlock buttons as I lifted the trunk and started loading in groceries. She was happy as could be until she accidentally hit the alarm button, which set the car to honking obnoxiously.

Frightened, she stared at me, started crying again, and dropped the keys.

I quickly bent to grab them so I could silence the alarm. As I picked the keys up, I paused, staring at them in my palm. I had the nagging feeling my subconscious was trying to tell me something—it was the same sensation I’d had yesterday at Lillian Moore’s house.

I tried to focus on capturing that elusive crumb, but Ava’s crying was too distracting.

“
Shh, shh
,” I consoled, unbuckling her from the grocery carriage. I picked her up and held her close, swaying until she calmed down.

Using the back of her hand, she rubbed wildly at her nose and eyes as I tugged the carriage to the corral. It took a couple of minutes to wrangle her into her car seat—how parents did this quickly I’d never know—and by the time I turned the keys in the ignition, I was completely exhausted.

Ava, too. Her eyelids drifted closed as soon as I backed out of the parking spot, and her face went slack with sleep.

Relief. I took a deep breath and headed for home.

However, I’d driven only a few feet when the car started to vibrate and wobble. Great. A flat tire. I pulled into a space at the back of the lot, grateful it wasn’t crowded. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I smiled at the peacefully oblivious look on Ava’s face.

I set the car in park and got out. Sure enough, the front driver’s side tire was dead flat. I got back into the car while I tried to decide what to do. I had two options. Call for roadside assistance or haul the groceries out of the trunk, unearth the spare, and get to work.

Thanks to Raphael’s many tutorials, I could have the tire changed in ten minutes, and it would probably take the auto club a half hour, at least. With that decided, I rolled down all the windows and shut off the car. Pulling the keys out, I studied my key fob, feeling that unreachable memory tease again.

My phone rang as I pushed the button to pop the trunk. I grabbed my cell before it woke Ava.

“Hello,” I whispered.

“I’m heading into the lawyer’s office and called to check on Ava,” Aiden said. “Why’re you whispering?”

“She’s sleeping, and I prefer her to stay that way.”

“Why?”

I lifted the trunk lid and took out a bag, setting it on the ground. “Grocery stores and tired toddlers don’t mix.”

He laughed. “I see. Where are you now?”

“Still at Shaw’s. Well, in the parking lot.” I grabbed the huge bag of dog kibble, and my keys slipped out of my pocket. “I have a flat tire. We’ll be back on the road as soon as I get this tire changed.”

“Need me to send help?” he asked.

Bending to pick up the keys, I stared at the key fob again, and suddenly the memory I’d been searching for popped into place. It was the video I’d watched of Cat Bennett coming out of the district attorney’s office. She’d been walking with her husband, and he’d dropped the keys as he unlocked the car. A set of keys with a yellow smiley-face fob.

Just like the set of keys in Lillian’s house yesterday.

“Lucy?” Aiden asked. “You still there?”

Which would have made perfect sense, especially seeing as how we believed Lillian had stolen the keys from Cat at the office Christmas party… Because Ross Bennett had told us that was what had happened. That they had been stolen.

Yet, he was holding those same exact keys in that news footage two weeks ago.

Two. Weeks. Ago. Not months.

“Lucy!” Aiden shouted.

“I’m here.” I didn’t know quite how, but Ross Bennett was involved in what happened to Dustin. What happened to Kira. Maybe he’d framed Lillian, but most likely they’d been working together. Together stealing kids and selling them. I’d bet my last Twinkie he was the mastermind of the whole thing.

“What happened?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“We need to look into Ross Bennett, Aiden,” I said, my voice high, my words coming out in a rush. “He’s involved. He’s—” I looked at my flat tire. Adrenaline set my heart to pounding. “Oh my God. He’s coming here.”

I casually walked around the car and noted that my other tires were close to flat as well. It took everything in me not to look around, to see if I was right. If I did, Ross would know I was onto him. I quickly dug through my trunk, looking for some sort of weapon. Right now I had the element of surprise on my side.

“I don’t understand, Lucy,” Aiden said.

“It’s exactly like Danny Beckley theorized about Kira’s nearly-flat tire. Ross let the air out of my tire so I couldn’t get away.” And he had to be desperate to do it in the middle of the day. Why would he take such a risk? Then it hit me, and it hit me hard. Barely breathing, I said, “He’s coming for Ava.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before Aiden’s voice came through, loud, clear, and in command. “Lucy, sweet Jesus. Get Ava and go back in the store!”

“I don’t think there’s time.” The car seat alone would take me three minutes…

I heard him talking to someone else, telling them to get 911 on the line. “Then get in the car. Lock the doors. Can you drive on the flat?”

“I could, but I don’t think I’d get far.” Especially not with my other tires low on air as well. I had to think fast. How would Ross approach this? He’d probably offer to help me out, right? Offer to assist with the tire? Would he have a gun? A knife? How was I going to disarm him?

All I knew was that he wanted Ava. And I could not let that happen.

I knew what I had to do. My hands shook as I quickly arranged a few items in the trunk, getting them ready, and left the lid open. Quickly, I got back into the car and started it, turning on the air conditioning.

“I called for help, and I’m on my way,” Aiden said. “Keep talking to me. Don’t hang u—”

I hung up on him, dialed 911, told the dispatcher where I was, that I was being attacked, and to send police and EMTs and firefighters and anyone who could help. Leaving my phone on, I set it in the cup holder.

Taking a deep breath, I looked back at Ava, and felt a bolstering of courage. I had to do this. For her. I opened my door, hit the lock button, and slammed it behind me.

Ava was locked in.

My hands were sweating as I limped back to the trunk. I just had to stall. The police would be here soon. Three minutes. Maybe less. The station wasn’t that far.

I went about the business of pretending to change my flat. It took only a minute before a small black car pulled up in an adjacent spot. Ross had arrived.

My throat was dry, and I could barely hear my own thoughts because of the pounding of my heartbeat.

The window powered down. “Ms. Valentine?” Ross said. “I thought that was you. Small world.”

I forced a smile. “Ross? It is a small world. How’re you doing? How’s Cat?”

I listened for the sounds of sirens, pleaded silently to hear them. But I only heard regular traffic noise.

Dark circles colored the skin under his eyes. He shook his head. “It’s not looking good.”

“I’m so sorry.”
You lying, psychopathic monster
. My mind spun, trying to figure out what had happened to his wife. My best guess was that Cat had called him on Thursday morning after Kira confronted her. Probably because she was on to the truth. That he had to be involved because she’d been out of town when Dustin was taken… It made my stomach ache, thinking about how he’d left his wife in that basement to die.

“You have a flat?” he asked, even though he was parked on the passenger side of my car and couldn’t possibly see the tire.

“Yeah, I called my auto club, but it’s going to be half an hour before they can get here, and well, I have a little one in the car and don’t want to wait that long. Thought I’d tackle it myself.”

“Need help?”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you need to get back to the hospital.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, getting out of his car.

I noticed he left it running. It felt as though my heart was going to pound straight out of my chest. Where were the damn sirens?

“Did you say you had a little one?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves as he walked over. He cupped his hands and looked into the backseat. “She’s cute.” He tried the door. “It’s locked?”

“Oh, it’s set so that only the driver’s door unlocks when I put the car in park,” I explained. “You can never be too safe with carjackers and stuff. But the spare tire is back here.”

I played dumb pretty well, I thought.

He came over to me, stood close. His eyes looked so kind behind his glasses. If I hadn’t known better, I’d truly believe he was a Good Samaritan.

I knew better.

When I reached into the trunk as though I was going after the spare, I suddenly felt a sharp jab in my stomach. I looked over. He held a gun under my ribcage.

“You’re going to get the girl and get in my car.”

My gaze flew to his. “What’s going on?”

His eyes hardened into snake-like slits. “For a psychic, you’re kind of lame.”

Now he was taking things too far. I feigned confusion. “Ross, I don’t underst—”

“Shut up. Get the girl and get in the car.” He jerked my arm.

In a flash, I brought my hand up and sprayed whipped cream into his face. Surprised, he let out a cry, frantically wiping his eyes. I took advantage of his distress and grabbed the tire iron. I hit his arm that held the gun as hard as I could, wincing as I heard bone crack.

He let out a howl of pain, dropped the gun and grabbed his wrist. I kicked the gun under the car just as I heard a siren in the distance. His head jerked up at the plaintive wail, and he spun around to jump back into his car. I stuck my boot out and tripped him. He went sprawling, hitting his head on his bumper.

Moaning, he writhed on the ground.

The sound of sirens grew louder and louder as I rushed over to his car, reached in, and grabbed the keys. I chucked them as far as I could.

Feet apart, I held the tire iron out in front of me like a sword, ready to gut him if I had to. That was the way I was standing when the first police car showed up. And the second, third, and fourth.

As officers jumped out of their cruisers, guns drawn, I glanced into my backseat.

Ava was still sound asleep.

A
lmost two weeks later, life was almost back to normal as I sat on a bench overlooking a crowded Connecticut beach.

Well, as normal as my life could be. After all, I was due back at my place this evening for a groundbreaking celebration, to kick off the renovations of my cottage, which were set to begin bright and ungodly early on Monday morning.