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Family Found
Bonnie K. Winn


They must learn the truth–or face losing her son…and each otherLaura Kelly will need all her reserves. Her young son desperately needs a bone marrow donor and she herself is not a genetic match; neither are any of her relatives. The conclusion is inescapable: Laura was adopted.Private investigator Mitch Tucker has a reputation as the best in town, but even he acknowledges that the search for Laura's birth parents won't be simple. Especially once he realizes that Laura's adoption must have been illegal–and there are a lot of people around who still want it hushed up.The risks are high, but so is the reward–Laura, Mitch and a little boy who can become a family of their own.









“Learning the truth could be dangerous if we continue,” Mitch said.


“If?” Laura shook her head. “There’s no ‘if’ for me.” She was climbing out of her fatigue, fueled by a new desperation. “I deserve the truth and I intend to ask for it.”

Still, she was afraid. But she coudn’t give up now. “I can understand if you don’t want to get involved any deeper,” she went on. “I can continue alone. There’s no need for you to put yourself in danger.”

“I am rather fond of my neck,” he replied. “But you really don’t think I’m going to let you continue alone, do you?”

Relief was trickling past the fear, diluting it. “I’m letting you off the hook,” she said, though even to her ears her resolve sounded weak.

Somehow his arms were around her, pulling her near. “I’ve always been a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

“Damsel? I’m no—”

But his lips were cutting off her indignation. And suddenly her protest didn’t seem at all important. Not nearly as important as the warmth of his arms holding her tight and the sanctuary she was finding there.

Closing her mind, she also closed off the warning bells that had been ringing for so long. Just for the night, she told herself. Just for the night.


Dear Reader,

I was drawn to write Family Found because the landscape of today’s family has changed so much. And I believe each family, from the typical mom, dad and kids to single- and blended-parent families, is special. This is particularly true of families with adopted children, children of the heart.

Mitch and Laura have both been searching for roots, but it’s love that brings them together and love that will cement the roots of their own “family found.”

I wish you happy reading and joy in your own special family.

Bonnie K. Winn


Family Found

Bonnie K. Winn






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ACKNOWLEDGMENT

To Laura Shin and Paula Eykelhof, for embracing this story with such wonderful enthusiasm.


For my son, Brian Thomas Winn. I blinked and you grew up. I blinked again and you are a man serving his country. And my eyes continue to fill with pride.




CONTENTS


PROLOGUE (#ua021e1dc-0560-54ed-911e-8192fd29f98b)

CHAPTER ONE (#u4bf7b9cd-d694-5f94-9ba6-2b6dd932677e)

CHAPTER TWO (#u0ef19e99-8090-5e14-ac8b-a59435b05011)

CHAPTER THREE (#u42a9c291-d8ae-54f7-92e9-be4f9572fe21)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u51af2b7c-5ccb-5272-8605-7129b1823e4e)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u4f560f85-a5c2-5299-b647-4cfa97ed4536)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)




PROLOGUE


THE OXYGEN WAS being sucked out of the very air, certainly from Laura Kelly’s lungs. Instinctively, she clutched her eighteen-month-old son, Alex, closer. It was an effort to protect, to deny and certainly to disbelieve. If what the physician said was true, Alex might have only months, even weeks, to live.

Dr. Fletcher gentled his voice. “Mrs. Kelly, I realize the news is a shock to you. However, you must know exactly what you’re facing.”

“But when you talked about treatment for Alex, you said I was a likely donor candidate!” Laura exclaimed, her mind racing through the possibilities. She’d never considered that as the child’s mother she wouldn’t be a match. She stared at Dr. Fletcher, silently willing him to produce a miracle. It was now the twenty-first century, the beginning of a new millennium. It seemed impossible to believe that a cure for acute leukemia wasn’t within the doctor’s ability. Houston boasted one of the most advanced and respected medical and cancer research centers in the world. If the cure wasn’t within reach here, where would it be?

The frown line between Dr. Fletcher’s eyes deepened, and Laura felt her heart clutch. “That’s part of the problem, Mrs. Kelly. As we discussed during your last visit, the most effective course of treatment is a bone marrow transplant. However, your genetic makeup isn’t adding up.”

Alex fussed, and automatically, Laura ran a soothing hand over his plump legs, then handed him a set of plastic toy keys. “Not adding up? What do you mean?”

“I’ve run some preliminary tests on your potential donors. It’s more than the fact that no one’s a match. Genetically, it appears that they aren’t blood relatives.”

For a moment Laura was speechless, and when she did speak, she had to struggle for words, for some sense of what the doctor was telling her. “My aunt and my mother’s cousins—of course they’re blood relatives.”

Dr. Fletcher shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Is it possible you’re adopted, Mrs. Kelly?”

“Of course not!” Then Laura paused. It didn’t seem feasible, yet… People had often commented that she didn’t resemble either of her parents. Her mother and father had always jokingly replied that the dissemblance was Laura’s lucky chance of fate.

Meeting the doctor’s troubled eyes, Laura realized her luck had just run out.




CHAPTER ONE


A WEATHERED SIGN identifying the office as belonging to Mitch Tucker, private detective, was just this side of shabby. As was the rest of the small building’s exterior, Laura decided critically. Really not in keeping with the expensive commercial land it was situated on; but then, she wasn’t shopping for a spotless houseboy. She wanted a first-rate detective, and despite outward appearances, Mitch Tucker came highly recommended by several adoptee search organizations.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, making herself ignore the chipped paint.

A hawkish, high-pitched voice ordered her to enter.

Now, that was a voice that would grate steel, Laura decided as she obeyed the order. The interior was dim, nearing murky. Having just come in from the glare of bright sunshine, she found focusing difficult. But even with the disadvantage, it was rapidly clear that Mitch Tucker was nowhere in sight.

So who had spoken?

“Hey!” the voice screeched again.

Startled, Laura whirled around. A bright-green parrot eyed her balefully.

“Hello,” she replied cautiously.

“Hello,” the parrot mimicked as he lurched sideways in a scooting motion across his perch.

Laura glanced at an ancient desk covered by disorganized piles of seemingly neglected papers. Immediately, she wondered if the man’s detective methods were equally sloppy.

The phone rang, startling her anew and making the bird squawk. “Hello,” the parrot repeated, swinging from side to side.

An answering machine clicked on. A husky male voice invited the caller to leave a message.

Laura listened while the female caller ended her one-sided conversation with a suggestive kiss. Strolling closer to the desk, she saw that a light on the answering machine indicated several other messages.

“Probably all women,” Laura muttered in disapproval.

A masculine voice from the doorway surprised her. “Then maybe we’d better listen.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He met her gaze. “And you’re Miss…?”

“Kelly,” she replied shortly. “Laura Kelly.”

He glanced at his caller I.D. “You’re right. Practically all women.” There was an indiscernible note to his voice and Laura couldn’t tell if he was serious or simply needling her.

Then he motioned for her to take one of the chairs angled in front of the desk. After she was seated, Mitch pushed himself back in his own chair, propping boot-clad feet on the scarred edge of his desk. “So what’s your story, Laura Kelly?”

Laura didn’t care for his casual demeanor or neglected office. She crimped the handles of her purse together as she started to rise. “I’m obviously wasting your time.”

He didn’t answer right away, instead studying her again. “Depends. What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Without warning she was shaking—with fury, fear and an inescapable sense of injustice. “Is that what you reduce the agonies in people’s lives to? Their problems? Sarcastic, insignificant—” But she couldn’t speak any longer as the pain assaulted her.

“Oh, hell,” Mitch mumbled, swinging his legs off the desk, his chair scraping the wooden floor as he pushed it back. His boots thudded as he crossed over to her, a dull but distinctive sound in the echoing room. Awkwardly he shoved a box of tissue toward her. “Didn’t know you were going to get all weepy on me.”

But Laura had not given in to tears. The fear was too great for that. And she was all out of retorts.

Mitch’s sigh reverberated in the soulless office. “Divorce? Hey, it’s rough. You marry someone, expect picket fences and champagne. Instead you get barbed wire and beer. But, trust me, you aren’t the first.”

The pain in her chest was multiplying. Suddenly she was dragging in big gulps of air; yet they didn’t seem to be reaching her lungs.

“Oh, man, you’re really freaking.” Mitch rapidly looked around the office; his eyes landed on the remains of yesterday’s lunch. After dumping soggy French fries, onion rings and the remainder of a cheeseburger, he popped open the white paper fast-food bag. Without hesitation, he pulled the smelly, grease-stained sack over Laura’s head.

In a few minutes, her breathing returned to normal and she pushed the bag off her head, ignoring the fragrance of onions that lingered in her hair.

“You okay?”

Not quite meeting his eyes, she nodded.

His gaze was sympathetic. “No need to be embarrassed. Divorce isn’t pretty.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

He poured coffee into a disreputable-looking mug and handed it to her. “No?”

She drew in the warmth of the mug, feeling the coldness that had accompanied her since she had learned that she might lose her son. It was a chill she couldn’t shake. “It’s worse.”

Mitch paused as he poured his own mug of coffee. “How much worse?”

“It’s a matter of life and death.”

His voice gentled. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”

Laura knew she couldn’t conceal the pain that possessed her. She didn’t even try. “I need your help to save my son’s life.”

“What’s he in danger from?”

“Being related to me.” She took a deep breath. “Because I don’t know who I’m really related to. That’s why I need your help. I need to find out who I am.”

SHE WAS EITHER a ding-a-ling or a mental case. Mitch wasn’t sure which, but he didn’t need this kind of complication in his life right now. He’d lost months of work after an investigation had left him laid up in the hospital. The fact that his client had failed to pay the huge bill he’d racked up on the case had only further compounded his problems. He was close to losing the small building that housed his office, along with the valuable land it sat upon. He had already lost his condominium, and had been forced to move somewhere less expensive. And he’d been forced to trade in the sports car he loved for an annoyingly practical SUV that made him cringe each time he climbed inside.

He didn’t have time to waste on an unbalanced woman. Maybe he could find a number for some sort of help hotline.

But then she raised large, deep-blue eyes and he paused. It wasn’t instability he glimpsed there, rather an immense pool of pain.

“Why did you come to me?” He had noticed the distaste in her expression as she’d glanced around his neglected office. It was hardly the indication of someone who believed in his work.

“I’ve been told you’re the best.”

An arrow of ego pierced his armor. “Oh, yeah?”

“I understand your success rate with finding birth parents is phenomenal.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. Before his extensive recuperation it had been true. “But that’s not usually considered a life-and-death matter.”

“It is when your eighteen-month-old son needs a bone marrow donor to survive.”

“You’re not a match?”

She shook her head.

“What about your husband?”

“We’re divorced.” She met his gaze. “I contacted him. He was tested, but he wasn’t a match, either. Nor were any of his relatives who agreed to be tested. So, of course, I looked for potential donors in my family. That’s when I learned they aren’t my blood relatives. To cut to the chase, since my parents are both dead, I confronted my aunt Rhoda, and she admitted I had been adopted.”

“Any reason your adopted parents didn’t tell you the truth?”

“Such as?”

“Perhaps they knew the birth mother, had promised to keep the adoption secret.”

But Laura was shaking her head. “No. My aunt Rhoda contends that at first they didn’t know how to approach telling me, then they decided there was no point in risking my happiness. And, she said, deep down they were afraid of losing me. They were older when they got me and I guess they weren’t completely comfortable with the entire parenthood thing.”

She stood suddenly, crossing to the window, presenting her back. Waves of long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, glinting in the few rays of sunshine that struggled through the murky panes. She crossed her arms and rubbed at her elbows as though chilled. Yet if anything, the office was too warm.

“Have you tried looking yourself?” he asked, ignoring the appealing picture she made.

She turned to face him, visibly arming herself with determination. He guessed he must have imagined that glimpse of vulnerability.

“Of course. But I’ve come up empty. I’m told the records are sealed. End of story.” An even fiercer determination seemed to possess her. “But I refuse to accept that answer. I’m assuming your familiarity and methods can open doors closed to me.”

“It usually works that way,” he acknowledged.

She pulled out a check. “I’m prepared to pay you a sizable retainer so you can devote your time solely to this case.”

Considering he had been back to work for only a week, exclusivity wouldn’t be much of a problem. Clients palming ready cash weren’t exactly lined up at the door. “With expenses, my rate isn’t cheap,” he warned. “In fact, the bill can escalate—” he snapped his fingers “—like that. And I don’t want to be burned. Can you afford an all-out investigation?”

Her face registered mere annoyance. It mingled with the distaste that had never completely disappeared from her expression.

“My parents left a comfortable inheritance. Your bill won’t be a problem.”

He should leap at the offer, but despite not knowing where his next client was coming from, he still didn’t like the disdain in her expression. “People think they want to find out all about the past when they start looking. But the truth can be pretty ugly.”

She raised those deeply blue expressive eyes. “Nothing’s uglier or less acceptable than the alternative. I don’t care what you learn about me—as long as it saves my baby’s life.” For a moment he saw a flash of something else in her face, something she used the disdain to camouflage. It was desperation coupled with a healthy dose of fear. And, he guessed, like a protective mother bear, she would claw and scratch to safeguard her young. Grudgingly, he respected the quality—even more than the impressive check she had allowed to drift onto the desk in front of him.

She held out one neatly manicured hand. “Do we have a deal?”

He accepted the handshake, refusing to acknowledge the softness of her skin, the betraying tremble. And especially the pull of her beckoning eyes.




CHAPTER TWO


HOW ODD, Laura decided, as she sat across the living room from her aunt Rhoda. With Mitch Tucker seated in the wing chair between them, it seemed strangely like the days when she had been a teenager and she had brought a boy home to meet her parents. There was the same sense of inspection, skepticism and uncertain approval. But her mind raced past the comparison. Could her aunt Rhoda give Mitch any information that would help?

They had been talking for hours and Mitch had diligently taken notes the entire time. In many ways, though, his questions were similar to the ones Laura had asked herself. True, he inquired about many things she hadn’t thought of, but she wondered if that would be enough. Wouldn’t he find some of those same avenues of pursuit relentlessly closing up? Frustrated, she wanted to jump in and help—to rush the process.

However, her aunt Rhoda was echoing some of her very concerns. “I’ve already told most of this to my niece. What makes you think you can learn any more than she has?”

“Because I’m a professional investigator, Ms. Johnson. No disrespect intended, but I know the ins and outs of the system, where to probe and poke.”

Rhoda sighed. “Of course. I wasn’t discounting your ability.” Her shrewd gaze swept over him. “It’s just that I don’t want Laura’s hopes raised on a wild-goose chase.”

But he didn’t back down. “Isn’t that Ms. Kelly’s choice to make?”

A grudging look of approval crossed Rhoda’s face. “I suppose it is, young man.”

Although Laura didn’t comment, silently she acknowledged that he had just raised his esteem in her own book sizably.

Yet there was a more nagging question, one she hadn’t been able to put to rest since Mitch had posed it. “Aunt Rhoda, can you think of any other reason Mom and Dad didn’t tell me about the adoption?”

A shadow flickered over Rhoda’s face and she answered slowly, her voice strained. “I’ve already told you. They thought you were happy. Why rock the boat?”

Laura glanced over at Mitch and saw the skepticism on his face. She wasn’t sure why, but she sensed that Rhoda was concealing something. Still, her aunt had insisted she would do anything she could do to help in the search. “And there’s nothing else?”

A dart of something resembling fear surfaced in Rhoda’s eyes, but she shook her head. “No.” Then she looked at Mitch. “But you’re supposed to discover things mere mortals can’t, aren’t you?”

Mitch lifted one side of his mouth in a wry grin. “I haven’t heard it put that way, but yes, I suppose so.” With the words he rose.

Automatically, Laura did so as well, but she reached out to snag his arm, not ready to stop her questions. As she started to speak, his gaze cautioned her to drop the inquiry. Startled by the insistence in his eyes, she followed him, absently bidding her aunt goodbye as they left.

Once outside, though, she wasn’t as acquiescent. “Why did you stop me? We need to find out everything we can about—”

“Pushing people isn’t the way to do it. We got enough for today.”

Frustration borne of worry seized her. “You don’t seem to understand. We don’t have time to waste. My son’s life is at stake!”

He met her gaze, his deceptively easygoing manner not concealing the intelligence in his tigerlike eyes. “I understand perfectly. Which is why we don’t want to alienate your relatives. Right now they’re our strongest source.”

Sobered, Laura had to agree. And that frightened her even more.

OBLIVIOUS TO THE alteration of cells that threatened his life, Alex was an extraordinarily happy baby, whose world was decorated with smiles and chortles of joy. Laura hadn’t realized such pure love and utter happiness could be found on this earth. She had made her share of mistakes and bad choices, but everything about Alex was both good and right.

Seeing her approaching the nursery, he stood in his crib, stretching out his arms, and shrieking for her. “Mama! Mama!”

Laura’s answering smile was instant and huge.

“How’s my boy?” she asked, bending to lift him.

“He’s an absolute peach,” Mrs. Plummer replied affectionately.

“Not that you’re prejudiced,” Laura told the older woman as she hugged Alex.

Mrs. Plummer continued picking up toys, stacking them in the padded toy box. “I am and I don’t mind admitting it.”

Once again Laura thanked the fates for Mrs. Plummer. A widow whose only daughter had died before she could marry, Mrs. Plummer had no grandchildren of her own. And she treated Alex like the grandson she’d never had. She was dependable to a fault.

Laura had struggled through the first days of single parenthood, terrified about leaving Alex in the care of strangers. And then she’d discovered Mrs. Plummer. Terror had receded, replaced by a growing dependence on the older woman. While she provided Laura with invaluable security, Laura believed that she and Alex filled a place in Mrs. Plummer’s lonely life. And although Laura had a good relationship with her, it was Alex whom Mrs. Plummer had fully connected with. But that was only natural; they spent the greatest amount of time together.

“The restaurant called,” Mrs. Plummer told her as she continued straightening the room.

Laura sighed. “I guess they don’t know what leave of absence means.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Mrs. Plummer agreed. “They take advantage of you.”

“The good and bad of being the manager.” Laura paused to nuzzle Alex’s cheek. “I’m relieved to know I’m missed, but on the other hand I’d like to leave the worries behind.”

“Then stop taking all their calls!”

“It’s not that easy. I’d like to know my job’s still there when—” she paused, her hold tightening on Alex “—I’m ready to get back to work.”

“You’ve got your inheritance,” Mrs. Plummer reminded her. “And D’Beti’s isn’t the only restaurant in the city.”

Laura sometimes wondered about the wisdom of confiding all the intimate details of her life to her baby-sitter, but Mrs. Plummer had been determined not to accept any pay while Laura was on her leave of absence. Unable to allow such a sacrifice, Laura had disclosed the source of her funds.

“So, has the hotshot detective found out anything?”

Grinning, Laura shook her head. It was a good description of the man. “Not yet. He wants me to be patient.”

Worry settled over Mrs. Plummer’s features. “But we don’t have time to be patient.”

Laura patted the older woman’s arm, knowing Alex couldn’t have asked for a more devoted surrogate grandmother. “That’s what I told him.”

Mrs. Plummer sniffed suspiciously, then ducked her face for a moment, no doubt hiding a trace of tears. “Good for you.” Then as abruptly, she headed out of the nursery. “I’d better check the chicken, or it’ll be spitting dry.”

Laura took advantage of the quiet to settle into the well-worn rocker. The gentle creak of the wood against thick carpet soothed. Alex was content to snuggle in her arms, his fingers latching onto hers. Laura smoothed back the baby-fine hair on his forehead, feeling her heart clutch. What if she couldn’t save him? Couldn’t unlock the secrets to her birth?

He kicked chubby legs and she stroked his soft skin. “Somehow I’ll find out, Alex.” Briefly, she closed her eyes. “I don’t care how it affects me.” And Laura knew it was true. Mitch Tucker could learn she was the child of criminals and she wouldn’t care—as long as it brought her closer to a cure for Alex.

HER EYES WERE definitely blue, Mitch concluded. An intense blue, one that evoked thoughts of a stormy Irish sky. Emphasis on stormy, he acknowledged. Laura Kelly was a woman possessed. And it was getting on his nerves.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pushing still sleep-rumpled hair from his forehead. “It can’t be much later than six.”

“Seven-fifteen, Tucker. We don’t have time to waste.”

“I never consider sleeping a waste of time,” he retorted, seeing the bluish haze of dawn on the Houston skyline through the living room windows. He shook his head in continued disbelief, wishing he hadn’t provided her with his home address and phone number. “And if we’re going to talk while I’m still in my boxers, you might as well call me Mitch.”

Her face flushed, not two petite, delicate spots of color but a tidal wave of embarrassment. “Don’t you own a robe?”

“Tell you what, Laura. Next time I show up at your house before breakfast, I’ll be sure to call the fashion police, too.”

Laura’s gaze collided with his bare legs, then darted away. She lifted her chin. “I think we have more important things to worry about than your wardrobe.”

“You brought up the issue,” he replied easily, enjoying the way she emotionally scrunched herself up into a tight knot. He guessed there was a lot of inhibition trapped inside, just waiting to bust loose. Then again, she could be one of those eternally rigid fusspots.

She ignored the rebuke, her single-mindedness vaulting back to her initial purpose. “We need to go over what you’ve learned.” As she spoke, Laura trailed behind him through the apartment.

At the door of his bedroom, Mitch turned around, leaning one hip idly against the doorjamb. “It’s not that I mind sharing my shower, but I draw the line at discussing business at the same time.”

If possible, Laura flushed even darker.

Unable to resist needling her, Mitch let one hand drift toward his waistband. “I’ll leave the choice up to you.”

Laura whirled around and retreated into his living room.

Chuckling, Mitch padded into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast. He suspected he would need the bracing wake-up to face the morning.

Ten minutes later he was sure of it. Strolling into his kitchen, he found that Laura had commandeered the space. Blissfully, he inhaled the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He grabbed a mug and filled it to the brim. After sipping the strong brew, he tipped the mug toward her in a mock salute. “I’ll give you this—you know how to make a decent cup of coffee.”

But her eyes were doing some sort of strange dance that didn’t seem to have anything to do with the coffee. “Don’t you get completely dressed before noon?”

He glanced down at his jeans. “Didn’t know we were going formal today.”

She waved in the direction of his bare chest. “I don’t think anywhere we go today will be that informal.”

“We?” He lowered his mug. “Look, you hired me to do a job. I work solo.”

“But I can help you. There must be some grunt work I can do that will free you up for the more difficult things.”

“So, you’re going to be my gofer?” he questioned skeptically. She didn’t seem like the sort to take orders well.

Laura met his eyes evenly. “I would clean sewers bare-handed if it would help my son.”

Sobered by the reminder, Mitch lowered his mug. “Our methods may not be the same, but I know how serious the situation is. You don’t have to dog my steps to make sure the investigation’s being conducted the right way.”

“That’s not the point.”

He guessed it was, but let the comment pass.

“I can’t just stand by doing nothing.” Laura paced toward the window, yet she didn’t seem to notice anything beyond the shuttered panes of glass.

Mitch studied the fierce determination in the set of her shoulders, the earnestness in her eyes. And sighed in defeat. “If I let you help—”

“You’ll—”

“I said if, Miss Kelly. And let’s get one thing straight. I’m in charge of the investigation. I won’t put up with you second-guessing my methods.”

“What do we do first?” she asked, choosing to ignore his warning.

“First, we put on my shirt.” His gaze took another unhurried appraisal, enjoying the sudden jumpiness in her eyes. “Or do you want to be in charge of that?”

Instead of answering him, she turned her back and made a production out of clattering the mugs in the sink and yanking at the faucet, purposely adding the roar of the water to the manufactured noise.

“Oh, and, Laura—”

“Yes?”

“Next time you show up before breakfast and drag me out of bed—you’d better mean it.”

LAURA FELT MORE in control with the width of a sturdy oak library table between them. And it didn’t hurt that Mitch had donned a shirt. Papers and books surrounded them, but he didn’t seem to mind the clutter. He had selected the library for the morning’s work since it contained microfilm records he needed to probe.

“What is that you’re doing?” she asked, impatient to cut to the chase, to find the key they needed to unlock her past.

“Finishing your personal profile,” he replied. “We did the preliminaries before talking to your aunt. Now we need to dig deeper.”

She frowned. “Why?”

The librarian strolled by, hushing them, her wrinkled face looking like that of a pug dog’s—set in permanent lines of disapproval.

Laura lowered her voice. “So?”

“Right now, we have an equation of the unknown, and the only known factor in the formula is you. I have to learn everything about you, Laura. From top—” he paused as his eyes drifted over her slowly “—to bottom.”

Despite the fear gnawing at her, Laura felt an unexpected warmth curling in her belly. Resolutely, she straightened up in the rigid, narrow-backed chair. “And we had to come to the library to do this?”

“I need to dig through their old records. Of course, we could have stayed at my apartment to complete your profile.”

“No, the library’s good.” She tried to hide her discomfort. “I’ve told you I’ll do whatever it takes to help Alex.”

He had a way of blinking, a slow easy motion that seemed to mock and tantalize at the same time. “Then let’s start where we left off.”

And they did, including her memories of junior and senior high school. Patiently Laura recounted her past, balking only when they got to the choice of her senior prom escort.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why do you want to know that?”

His answering smile was a lazy curl of his lips that seemed to reflect deep amusement. “Wondering if you hung out with the jocks, the geeks or the brains.”

“What possible relevance can that have to finding my birth mother?”

Again the librarian hushed them.

Mitch’s voice was low, but it reached her easily. “I didn’t say it was relevant. I just wondered.”

Exasperated, she was prepared to let him have it, albeit in a quiet tone.

But he was smiling fully. “That’s better. You were looking entirely too serious.”

“This is serious.”

“Right. You won’t be much help, though, if you burn out.”

Realizing she must appear entirely humorless, Laura eased off a bit. “We have been at it for hours. I guess we could both use a break.”

Surprise drew his brows upward. “You said it.” Rising, he swept the papers into his well-worn leather portfolio. “Why don’t we finish this over something to drink.”

Sighing, Laura realized she’d brought this one on herself. Give a playboy time to play and of course he would do just that.

However, as they strolled from the weathered brick building, Mitch steered her not toward the car but toward a grassy slope. Perhaps the bar was within walking distance, she reasoned. Likely the detective would have picked a library close to his creature comforts.

They climbed to the top of the gentle incline. To Laura’s surprise, a wooded park greeted them. Like many of the dichotomies of the cityscape, skyscrapers framed the outline of the trees. The park should seem like an encroachment. Instead the green sanctuary felt like a fitting oasis for the glass-and-concrete edifices.

Again Mitch took her elbow, then led her down the path to a coffee cart. “They’ve got everything from cappuccino to regular old sludge.”

Suddenly the heat and flavor of a latte sounded immensely appealing, and she placed her order.

As the vendor handed her the steaming, foamy cup, Mitch pulled out a bill. “Just my usual, Pat.”

The older man grinned. “None of that fancy stuff for you, eh, Tucker?”

“Simple man, simple tastes,” Mitch agreed, tipping the man generously.

Then he turned to Laura. “There’s a bench down by the water. Bound to be a few ducks doing a matinee.”

Laura smiled, caught by the whimsy in his words. “You think they only swim for show?”

“Keeps the bread crumbs coming. It’s steady work, not much chance for advancement, but no layoffs or forced retirement, either.”

Once more, Laura smiled. The detective might needle her, but he could also be amusing when it suited him.

The bench curved as the shoreline did, a scallop that placed Mitch and Laura together in the center of the weathered redwood structure.

Preposterously, the proximity made her nervous. Again Laura straightened her spine, but the gesture made her feel even more foolish. She wasn’t a blushing teenager out with a man for the first time. Not that they were out—still, she felt ridiculously prudish. Just because she had been badly burned by one man, it didn’t mean she couldn’t relate on a nonpersonal level with the entire sex.

Frustrated with herself, she took a large sip of her latte, forgetting until it was too late that the liquid was still very hot.

“Getting burned?” Mitch asked.

“What?” Had he read her mind? Realizing she had advanced beyond ridiculous, Laura settled the lid back on her drink. “No, not really. It’s just so good I got impatient.”

“And a good thing shouldn’t be rushed.”

Laura glanced at him skeptically. “Really?”

“Yep.” His gaze sidled over her face. But he didn’t add anything else.

And judging from the reaction in her twisting insides, he didn’t need to.




CHAPTER THREE


MITCH’S OFFICE appeared even more disreputable-looking under the latest pile of materials. He knew that Laura Kelly wanted answers yesterday, but in truth, investigations rarely moved quickly. And they seldom held the excitement portrayed in television and the movies.

An image of Laura Kelly flashed in his mind. Then again—

The phone intruded. Snatching it up, Mitch was disappointed to learn that a fairly reliable lead had been a dead end. Despite what Laura appeared to think, he had placed dozens of phone calls, while building her personal profile and creating a comprehensive search file. It was the plan, his blueprint. And despite his casual approach to many things in life, he never undertook a case without a well thought-out plan.

The door flew open and Mitch didn’t need more than one guess to know who was behind it.

Laura’s dark hair was thrown back like a banner, and her eyes glistened like polished lapis. She seemed to bring in the rush of the city streets, the whirl of incoming breezes and a touch of captured sunshine. He’d never seen so much contained energy in any other person. But having it all directed at him was a tad unnerving.

“Galveston,” she began by way of greeting. “My parents never wanted to go there. Once, though, I remember coming in the house and overhearing them. They didn’t realize I was inside and I heard them mention Galveston. But as soon as they noticed me, they stopped talking. Do you think that means something?”

“And good morning to you, too, Laura Kelly.”

She waved away the greeting. “Do you?”

“It could be something.”

Her eyes brightened.

“And they could have been discussing a clandestine meeting when they hoped to ditch you so they could be alone.”

Deflated, she slumped into a nearby chair. “I suppose you’re right. I keep replaying reels of my life like some sort of out-of-whack movie theater in my mind that I can’t shut down. In the middle of the night, I’m sure I’ve come on some incredibly important memory and by morning I realize it’s worthless.” Easing back in her chair, she glanced around at the piles of books on the couch and coffee table.

“Phone books?” she questioned, flipping one open, then shoving it aside. “Isn’t that kind of low-tech?”

“Depends on your point of view,” he replied evenly. “Investigative tools range from low-end phone books to high-end computer databases. Don’t discount what you don’t know.”

“Point taken. So, what are we working on today?”

Mitch creased one hand over his forehead. She was using the royal “we” again. And she was becoming a royal pain. As quickly, he remembered the reason behind her insistence and realigned his attitude. He’d be insistent, too, if his son’s life hung in the balance. “I’m following up on some leads.”

She leaned forward anxiously. “Ones that have panned out?”

“Not yet.”

“Damn!” Laura rose in one hurried motion, frustration pouring from every gesture. “That’s not good enough!”

“What do you suggest? You want me to lean on your relatives? Maybe your aunt Rhoda?”

“Of course not! I…I…”

Mitch gentled his voice. “You’re paying for my expertise—trust it.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I suppose I do. I’m just so terribly worried.”

Mitch sighed inwardly, knowing she would feel no peace until they had some answers. And it wouldn’t hurt him to fill her in. “I’m requesting a copy of your original birth certificate. With the sealed records law in Texas, we’ll get a copy of your adopted certificate, but we need the paper trail proving our intent, showing we’ve taken all the steps. We’ll have to have that once we request a court order to unseal the original.”

A contemplative expression covered her face. “You mean I have two birth certificates?”

He nodded. “One filed with the information on your actual birth parents, another with your adopted parents listed.”

“Will that one say I’m adopted?”

“No. That’s part of the sealed records process. For all appearances, the second birth certificate looks like the real thing. Unless you know about the original information, you’d have no reason to suspect it’s been changed.”

“This is a whole new world,” Laura murmured. “I feel like I’m in some sort of strange limbo and I’ll wake up tomorrow and find out this has all been some sort of bad dream.”

“Including Alex’s illness?”

“Especially that,” Laura agreed, the pain in her eyes surfacing.

“I don’t suppose your ex-husband has been much help.”

“As you know, he was willing enough to get tested for a bone marrow match.” She shrugged, a forlorn movement. “But beyond that he acts as though Alex’s illness really isn’t his concern. It’s all I can think about. I eat, sleep and live wondering how we can beat this. But Kevin acts as if—” Laura brought clenched fingers to her mouth, unable to complete the words.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to express his feelings,” Mitch suggested.

“That wouldn’t be a first,” Laura commented bitterly. “But to ignore his son, to act as though it doesn’t matter whether he survives—”

“It won’t help to torture yourself,” Mitch soothed.

“Why not? I’m the one who chose the worst possible father material as my husband. I’d have done better if I’d blindfolded myself, twirled in a circle until I was dizzy, then stabbed my finger in the direction of the first man I encountered.”

Mitch shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe he feels impelled to hide how worried he is.”

“He never wanted a baby,” she admitted, surprising him. For a moment even Laura seemed surprised that she had allowed the admission. “Alex wasn’t planned. In fact, I didn’t learn I was pregnant until after Kevin and I had agreed to divorce. Still, I always wanted my baby. I considered him a great gift, a wonderful blessing after so much hurt. But for Kevin it was different. He seems to have divorced his feelings for his son along with our marriage. He’s seen him only twice since he was born, and then only at my insistence. Kevin has made it clear he’d prefer to forget Alex altogether, to never see him again.” Bewildered, she raised widened eyes to meet his. “Do all men feel this way after a divorce?”

Staggered by the question, and far too aware of his past, Mitch hesitated. “I can’t answer for all men—and the truth is you could ask a dozen men and get a dozen different answers. I can only speak for myself, but if I ever had a son, I wouldn’t let anything come between us. People get divorced every day. That’s a fact of modern life. It’s not often people can stick a marriage out forever—that’s become kind of a myth. And people remarry, which is okay. But you have just one set of parents. You can’t take that away from a kid.”

If possible, her face blanched even further.

Then it struck him. “Hell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean the adoption thing.”

She waved away his apology. “It’s all right.”

But Mitch felt an urgent need to make amends, his own experience a painful reminder. “No. I was talking about a father’s responsibility, not being adopted. A man ought to stand by his kid, no matter what. What sort of guy deserts his kid when he’s sick?”

“The kind I married,” she answered quietly.

Mitch realized he didn’t have a spare inch left to cram any more of his foot into his mouth. He’d gone from bad to worse, then worse again. “You know, I was just thinking this might be a good time to do some of the legwork. You want to tag along?”

“Tossing me a bone, Tucker?”

“You up for catching it?”

Her smile was sad but accepting. “I opened this can of worms.”

“And I poked the jagged edge of the tin into your feelings. So why don’t we put a bandage on the morning and get the hell out of here?”

“You’ve got a way with words, Tucker.”

“Does that mean yes?”

The sadness hadn’t left her eyes, but a sliver of light penetrated the darkness. “I suppose so. Good to see you finally admit it.”

He skirted the desk, crossed to the front door and opened it for Laura. “Admit what?”

Faint slyness edged the beginning of a smile. “That you need my help.”

LAURA WASN’T SURE what she had expected. But the musty corridors of a genealogical library were a surprise. Floor after floor of books and records held a wealth of secrets.

Mitch quickly decided he needed the help of a librarian, rather than dig through hundreds of rolls of microfilm on his own.

“We need to see the birth records for March 1970,” he was telling the woman.

“Harris County?” she asked.

“To start with.” He lowered his voice a bit. “And then Galveston County.”

Laura hid a triumphant smile as they followed the librarian to the section of the library with birth records. The helpful woman then explained how they were divided and how to find certain years.

“Are you tracing your family history?” the librarian asked.

“Actually, we’re—” Laura began.

“Yes, we’re working on our genealogy,” Mitch interrupted. “I appreciate your help. After we find my sister’s records, I’d hate to be searching all over the building for Grandma Tucker’s birth certificate.”

The graying librarian laughed. “That’s why we’re here. Let me know if you need anything else,” she added, before moving away.

“Why did you cut me off?” Laura demanded in a quiet voice.

“Because telling people you’re searching for your birth parents closes more doors than it opens. It’s safer to stick to the story that you’re researching family roots.”

Slightly deflated, Laura studied his face. “You mean people won’t want to help if they know the truth?”

“This isn’t a black-and-white issue, Laura. A lot of people believe that digging up the truth only opens buried pain and problems. They feel the birth parents have a right to their privacy.” He held up one hand, anticipating her protest. “Some are even sympathetic to the reasons for a search like yours, yet at the same time are hesitant to cross certain lines. And most of them have heard stories similar to yours that have turned out to be ruses, so they’re cynical. While some legislators advocate opening all the records, some are equally insistent they remain sealed.”

“But the librarian—”

“May or may not be influenced by the debate. Why send up an unnecessary flag, though? In investigative work, it’s always best to be low-key.”

“No shoot-outs unless absolutely necessary?” she questioned dryly.

“Right, Watson.”

She smiled. “As in your trusted assistant?”

He pointed in the direction of an oversize cabinet. “There’s March 1970. When you’re finished, we’ll talk.”

Laura felt her smile draining away. “You want me to dig through the entire cabinet?”

“You said you wanted to help.”

“I do, but—”

“Then start digging.”

MANY HOURS LATER, Mitch glanced at the interior of Laura’s home. It was a modest, middle-income home. And much like her it didn’t reveal a lot. It could be anyone’s home, in Anywhere, America. It was light and airy, but with no individuality. It was so lacking in the personal bits and pieces that revealed the owner’s personality that the living room could be one in a model house.

He had expected her to be tired of his company after a day spent digging through records and tracing old addresses. But she had insisted on bringing him to meet Alex.

An older woman appeared in the doorway. “Hello, Mr. Tucker. I’m Leona Plummer. I care for the baby.”

He rose, extending his hand. “Ma’am.”

She accepted his handshake, a faint light of approval entering her stern expression. “Mrs. Kelly would like you to come to the nursery to meet young Alex.”

He followed, wondering at the austere woman. She seemed an unlikely choice for a baby-sitter. But then, nothing about Laura Kelly had met his expectations.

Entering the nursery, Mitch was struck by the burst of colors. Beautifully hand-painted murals covered the walls. A herd of cuddly stuffed animals populated the room, along with colorful blocks and an impressive collection of children’s books. Unlike the bland living room, the nursery screamed with character.

Laura turned with the baby in her arms. Mitch had steeled himself for a sick child, expecting to see the ravages of disease.

He hadn’t expected bright blue eyes, ones that matched his mother’s. Or chubby arms and legs that waved in obvious delight.

Alex squealed just then. “’Lo!”

“That means hello,” Laura explained, smoothing the soft hair from the baby’s face, dropping a kiss on his forehead.

Surprised yet mesmerized by the transformation in Laura, Mitch stepped farther into the room.

“Hello, little guy,” Mitch greeted him awkwardly. Then he directed his attention to Laura. “He’s looking good.”

She studied Mitch, then responded matter-offactly. “You can’t see his illness yet.” Again Laura smoothed back the baby’s hair. “In time you will—if he doesn’t get the bone marrow transplant, but for now he looks like any other healthy baby.”

“Hey, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. But sometimes it’s hard to convince people how desperate the situation is. They see a healthy toddler and think I’m ringing premature alarms.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Mitch replied quietly.

Laura met his eyes. “That’s not why I brought you here. I just thought it might make the search more personal. More important.”

“It was already important.” Mitch took the baby’s hand, smiling when Alex curled plump fingers around his. “But I don’t mind meeting the client behind the client.”

Laura finally smiled again, then glanced down at her son. “You haven’t been a client before, have you, punkin?”

Alex squealed in answer when Laura nuzzled his cheek.

“This room is great,” Mitch commented, still struck by the artwork. Characters from fables and ancient nursery tales coexisted with fantasy characters surely drawn from a very fertile imagination.

“Thanks, I had fun doing it.”

Mitch pulled his gaze from the brilliant walls. “You painted this?”

“I wanted it to be special for him.”

“It’s that and more.” Struck again by the variance between the nondescript living room and this dazzling nursery, Mitch whistled. “You must enjoy decorating.”

“I used to.”

“But this—”

Her laugh was a self-deprecatory sound. “This is the only room in the house I’ve decorated.”

That explained it.

“When Kevin and I divorced, I left our house and everything in it.”

“That’s a rather unusual move, isn’t it?”

“For the woman you mean?” Laura concluded accurately. “It’s true. Usually men are the ones most willing to leave everything behind, to step away from any reminders of their past. But I didn’t want anything from what we’d shared.” Her grip tightened on Alex. “Except this one, of course.”

Mitch grinned. “It’s clear you got the best part of the deal.”

Surprise and something else he couldn’t quite decipher entered her softening eyes. “Absolutely.”

Alex squirmed just then, craning his head in Mitch’s direction. It almost looked like the kid was reaching toward him.

“Seems he wants you,” Laura said in surprise.

“I don’t—”

But before he could protest, Laura was handing him the toddler. Warmth, the fresh aroma of talc and softness assailed him. Awkwardly, Mitch held the baby, not certain what to do with him. His experience with children was a total zero. He turned Alex toward him, positioning him so that he could hand the child back to his mother. Just then Alex smiled. Not one of those vacant, meaningless smiles. Their eyes connected, Alex’s toothy grin one of delight.

And something warm crawled through Mitch’s insides. Something that scared the life out of him.




CHAPTER FOUR


THE WEATHERMAN HAD predicted a thunderstorm, but it hadn’t struck the city yet. The sky was graying and the air had cooled enough that the storm wasn’t an empty threat. The wind picked up errant leaves and showered them over the streets like chocolate-colored raindrops. Even though Laura liked nothing better than a stormy, windswept day, she scarcely noticed the changing atmosphere. Her mind was too full.

Had she taken the right course in hiring this cowboy detective? Or should she have taken a more conservative approach? Filled with worry, she leaned a bit longer on the doorbell than she’d intended.

The door was yanked open suddenly and Rhoda stared at her. “Is the house on fire?”

Laura managed a wan smile. “Sorry. I guess my mind was on other things.”

Rhoda studied her. “That’s understandable with all the strain you’re under. Come in, child. I’m brewing some chamomile tea.”

Tea. Her aunt Rhoda’s solution for everything. Yet there was comfort in the familiar. Laura recognized that the routine was as soothing as the actual liquid.

Trailing her aunt, she entered the kitchen, a large high-tech room. However, despite a recent, costly remodeling the room was no longer warm and inviting. While the kitchen typically represented the heart of a home, this one needed just that. It had no heart. Before renovation, Rhoda’s house had seemed cozy; now it looked as though it belonged on the slick pages of a glossy magazine. But Laura knew the house was a point of pride for her aunt. She had struggled for many years and only recently had been able to afford to improve her lifestyle.

Rhoda placed thin, fragile bone china cups on the oak table. Laura recognized them as the antique cups that had once belonged to her grandmother, cups that had been in her family for generations. That same familiar spurt of disbelief struck her. How was it that she wasn’t the product of this family? It seemed the same blood must run in her veins. Otherwise, how could the connection be so intense, so real?

“Any news?” Rhoda asked her as she filled the creamer.

“No. Actually, that’s why I’m here.”

The crash and shattering china distracted them both. Laura jumped to her feet, then knelt beside the broken pieces. “Oh, Rhoda. The creamer that came by wagon train.” Carefully, she retrieved the largest fragments. “I’ve heard about specialists who can repair broken china so that it scarcely shows a trace of the break.” Gently she handed the pieces to her aunt. “I guess we’re all feeling the strain.”

“Uh, yes, of course. Don’t worry about the creamer, Laura. It’s just china.”

Laura eyed her aunt in concern. Family heirlooms rated near the top in importance for Rhoda. Apparently, her aunt was so worried by the seriousness of Alex’s condition that the heirlooms had lost some of their importance. “Still, let’s save them.”

“All right.” Rhoda rattled around the cupboard, before settling on a small silver creamer. “I guess I can use that tea almost as much as you.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

Rhoda stilled her movements. “What was that?”

“About how I should hire an attorney rather than a hotshot detective.”

Slow and deliberate, Rhoda crossed the room. “Isn’t he accomplishing what you expected?”

Laura shrugged. “I want him to have the answers yesterday and I know that’s not possible, but I just want to make sure I did the right thing in hiring him.”

Frowning, Rhoda studied her tea, adding a bit of sugar. For a few moments only the clink of the silver spoon punctuated the silence. “I realize I suggested a lawyer, but if you’re satisfied with your young man’s methods, then you should stick to your decision.”

“He’s hardly my ‘young man,’ Rhoda.”

Thin eyebrows arched in inquiry. “You could do worse.”

“And have,” Laura admitted. “But that’s not the point.”

“I wasn’t sure what I thought about him at first.” Blunt by nature, Rhoda seldom minced words. “He seemed awfully sure of himself. But I remember once liking that in a man. Mitch Tucker could be a keeper.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “I’m worried about saving Alex, not snagging a man.”

“I’m not suggesting anything less, dear. But you don’t have to blind yourself to the obvious.”

“Dare I ask what that might be?”

“A handsome, confident man who knows his own mind.”

“Right now I need to be sure of my own mind first. What if I’ve done the wrong thing in hiring him? Suppose I’m wasting time? Time we don’t have to waste. Maybe I should meet with the attorney, at least talk to him—”

“Laura.” Rhoda placed one hand atop hers. “You can’t go off scatterbrained in a dozen different directions.”

“But—”

“I know you want to do everything within your power, but going crazy won’t help Alex. You’ll be dividing your energies in so many ways, you’ll exhaust yourself. Laura, trust your instincts. And allow yourself enough time to see if this will work.”

“But we don’t have time!” Laura reiterated. She heard the despair in her voice and lowered her head.

“Laura, don’t give up on Alex.”

“I’m not!”

“You have to trust that he can hang in there as long as it takes.”

For a brief moment Laura considered her own denial and the quiet understanding in her aunt’s expression. “You’re right. I guess I just sort of panicked. I keep thinking that Alex’s fate rests in my hands. If I don’t make the right choices, he’s the one who’ll suffer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Laura. His fate is in larger hands than yours. You’ll just have to trust in that.”

“I do. But I’ve always felt I had to be the strong one, in charge, sure of what I was doing.”

“It doesn’t hurt to lean. You just haven’t had anyone strong enough to lean on. Maybe that will change.”

Shocked, Laura drew back. “Surely you don’t mean Mitch Tucker.”

“It may be premature, but I’d like you to drop your defensive shields and be open to possibilities.”

“That hasn’t worked too well for me in the past.”

“And this is today, Laura.” Rhoda shrugged, but her hands moved nervously as her gaze appeared to settle on something far beyond Laura. “It’s wise to learn from your mistakes, not to wallow in them.”

Laura winced. “That was candid—and I appreciate the concern. But I can’t allow myself to become involved with another ladies’ man.”

“Isn’t that a rather quick conclusion?”

Laura’s smile was tinged with wise regret. “I guess experience makes me a quick learner. But right now I don’t need to worry about romance. I need answers.”

“Then believe in yourself. The rest will follow.”

Laura wanted to accept her aunt’s words, yet she couldn’t miss the betraying nervousness of Rhoda’s manner, the subtle but skittish movements she tried to disguise. It seemed neither of them was all that assured. And that sent the fear spiraling.

MITCH INHALED the ripe smell of incoming rain. It would be another drencher. Houston didn’t bother with gentle rain. Instead the skies opened, dumping water over the landscape, much like upturned buckets. The uninitiated were often shocked by the deluges. But the natives took it in stride. And Mitch was native to the skin.

Crossing the parking lot, he heard the squeal of an approaching car. Briefly closing his eyes, he emitted a groan. He could guarantee without looking who was driving the car. And it was too late for a clean getaway.

“Tucker!” Laura called out as she pivoted sharply into an adjoining parking stall. In seconds, she scrambled from the vehicle, then slammed the door and headed toward him.

Mitch had dealt with difficult clients in the past, but he’d never had one who had become glue. He wouldn’t be surprised if she welded the bumper of her car to his so she wouldn’t miss a move.

“Tucker!” she repeated as she reached him. “I almost missed you!”

“And that would be a tragedy,” he replied, pulling keys from his pocket.

“What?”

He sighed. “Nothing. I’m on my way out, so if you don’t need anything urgent—”

“Good! I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you.” She pulled open the passenger door of his car. “Where are we going?”

He withheld an additional sigh. It would be easier to rid himself of his own skin. “To hospitals.”

She frowned. “What are we hoping to find?”

“First, how many females were born in each one on the same day you were. Once we learn that, we find out which doctors and nurses were on duty the same day.”

“Ones who might know something about my birth mother?” Laura questioned. But her voice began to cloud. “How can they possibly remember something that happened so long ago?”

“We won’t know until we try. And we need to explore the possibilities until we receive your birth certificate.”

“What if we can’t get my actual certificate, only the adopted one?”

“Even more reason to do this now. Because our next stop will be contacting each of your relatives to see what he or she might know.”

She slumped in her seat. “The more I learn about this, the more overwhelming it seems.”

Seeing her pain, Mitch ignored his usual reserve and covered her hand. “That’s why I suggested you let me do this on my own. I realize you want to do everything in your power to speed things up, but for someone who’s not familiar with the search process, it can be pretty overwhelming, especially when it’s this personal.”

He could see her struggle, then her face softened subtly. “I suppose so.” She turned in the seat, leaning toward him, her body, face and voice all earnest. “But I can’t just sit by. Can you understand that?”

“Too well. But you’ll have to trust me to direct the investigation.”

“Funny.”

Starting the car, he glanced over at her. “What is?”

“That’s the second time today someone told me to trust.”

“Then maybe it’s time to listen.”

“Mmm.”

But he could feel she wasn’t convinced. Good thing that wasn’t his job. It was one assignment he didn’t think he wanted to tackle. Convincing Laura Kelly of anything other than what she wanted to believe would be a mammoth challenge. And one he didn’t need.

HOSPITAL RECORDS departments all appeared similar to Laura. Dry, boring places with seemingly endless supplies of paper. To think that buried within those reams of paper might be the solitary document they needed frightened her. The task of finding it felt nearly hopeless. But that didn’t deter Mitch Tucker. Efficient and capable, he didn’t appear intimidated by the sheer volume of information or the red tape it took to wade through it.

Still, Laura couldn’t ignore the ticking of her internal alarm system, one that was counting down the time they had left to learn the truth. Yet they managed to visit three hospitals.

Leaving St. Mark’s Hospital, Mitch drew in a deep breath of the humid air. “Can’t abide the smell of antiseptic. Don’t know how people can work in it all day.”

Laura shrugged. “They’re probably used to it. A person can get used to most anything after a while.”

Mitch didn’t look convinced. “Mmm. Why don’t we call it a day. We’ve—”

“What?” Halting, she pivoted to glare at him. “Tucker, you don’t understand. This isn’t like some of your other jobs. We have a pressing deadline! One that’s more important than your playtime.”

He held open the car door for her, his expression and voice remaining even. “We’ve been at it all day. I thought you might like to go and check on that little deadline.”

She blinked, then glanced at her watch. “It’s after six o’clock. I didn’t realize…”

“We covered a lot of ground today, Laura. It’s dinnertime. Why don’t you go home and I’ll head back to the office.”

“The office?”

“I want to check the national database search again, see if I missed anything. Then I need to follow up on some calls and go through the mail. Hopefully, there’ll be some solid leads.”

The breeze kicked up around them, straggling remains of the morning’s storm. Wind tugged at Laura’s hair and she pushed wayward strands away from her face. “But you need to eat dinner, too.”

“I’ll grab something.”

“A hamburger, no doubt,” she said, feeling guilty for her outburst. “That’s not a proper dinner after a long day.”

“I’m used to it.” He drew his brows together as he cocked his head, studying her skeptically. “Don’t tell me you’re concerned about my dining habits?” He shook his head slowly. “Or my welfare?”

Uncomfortable with his scrutiny and her own harsh words, Laura tossed back her hair. “Of course not. But I’m the one demanding the long hours.”

“Feeling guilty, Laura? That doesn’t sound like you. But then, I don’t suppose I know you well enough to say, do I?”

Uncomfortable, she edged back a bit. Ridiculously, ever since her disastrous divorce she had unplugged her radar for dealing with men. It felt safer to exist as a sexless nonplayer than to deal with any more hurt. Mitch Tucker was probably so used to the male-female dance that the motions were as automatic as breathing for him. She doubted he was even aware he was doing them. Laura was certain he’d be amazed to learn how ill at ease she was.

Edging even farther back, she all but fell into the car. “You’re right. We should be going.”

He still looked skeptical. “Did I say that?”

But he took the hint, closing her door, then crossing to the other door and sliding inside the vehicle.

When they reached Laura’s home, she hesitated. “Why don’t you join us for dinner.”

“With the formidable Mrs. Plummer?” He smiled. “Not really my style. But you and the little tiger have a good one.”

Once in the house, Laura shut the front door and leaned against it. Mitch Tucker’s presence was so intense she felt a moment’s relief. Then, oddly, the relief segued into letdown. It was absurd, she knew, yet she couldn’t easily shake the feeling.

Straightening, she gazed down the dimly lit hallway. While the house was as welcoming as it could be without the personal touches it needed, it had never seemed quite so lonely. Aggravated with herself, Laura shook her head. Her life was hardly lonely. She had Alex and even Mrs. Plummer. No, she wasn’t alone.

An interior door opened softly and crepe-soled shoes quietly approached. “I thought that might be you,” Mrs. Plummer greeted her. “I was checking on dinner—we have a nice roast.”

“Just for us?” Laura questioned, realizing she had little appetite.

“I always had a small family, and let me tell you, roasts are not only for crowds. Just because a body doesn’t have a dozen children, that’s no reason to skimp on dinner.”

“Did you ever regret having only one child, Mrs. Plummer?”

A bleak look flashed in the woman’s eyes. “Despite what people think, the number of children isn’t what counts. Like little Alex, one is perfect.”

Laura couldn’t prevent a smile. “Do you suppose all mothers of onlys feel this way?”

“I can’t speak for all mothers, but I know my Linda was perfect, just like your Alex.”

“You’re right, Mrs. Plummer. And since we almost had company for dinner your choice sounds a lot better than a frozen diet dinner or a can of soup.”

“Company?”

Laura half waved away the words. “No, I mean yes. Well, sort of. Just Mitch Tucker.”

“That investigator?”

Somehow Mrs. Plummer made the name sound faintly repugnant, and disapproval flavored her tone.

“That would be him. I made him work late, so I felt a little obligated to invite him to dinner.”

“A gentleman shouldn’t ever make a lady feel obligated.”

Laura held a twitching smile in place. The generation gap was showing. In fact, it was waving like a banner. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Harrumph.”

“I think I’ll check on Alex. He’s awake, isn’t he?”

A warm smile transformed Mrs. Plummer’s face. “Yes, the little angel. I’ll put dinner on the table.”

Smiling, too, Laura headed for the nursery. At first, Alex didn’t hear her approach. His head was bent forward as he concentrated on the plastic blocks he held. A swatch of soft, dark hair fell across his forehead and his chubby face was furrowed as he tried to fit the plastic cubes together.

Laura’s heart constricted with love and she tried to banish the fear that crept in, as well. She had once heard that no one could understand the depth and enormity of love for a child until it was experienced. Now she knew that to be true.

Alex, sensing her presence, lifted his head, his face immediately creasing into a smile as he awkwardly crawled forward, reached for the top border of the playpen and pulled himself up.

“How’s my best boy?” she asked him, scooping him into her arms. She took his answering chortle as a greeting and bent to nuzzle his cheek.

After carrying him over to the rocker, she settled in, knowing it wasn’t long until his bedtime. Each day, each hour, was so incredibly precious. That this time might come to an end was inconceivable. While she wanted to spend every second on the investigation, she didn’t want to sacrifice one moment with little Alex. As the lump in her throat grew, she painfully acknowledged that she didn’t want to ever look back on this period and regret having not spent it with her son.

It was always during the later hours, in the night, that the doubts were the strongest. They sneaked in with the shadows when the absent sun could no longer banish them.

The rocker’s quiet creaking faded into the background as Laura recited a bedtime story. She had chosen a book from a nearby shelf, knowing it was one of Alex’s favorites. He loved to hear about animals—especially the rabbit.

As she often did at the end of storytime, Laura plucked a stuffed toy from the same overhead shelf, delighting Alex as she made the bunny’s ears wriggle. His laughter was pure joy for them both.

A wave of regret struck her, making her wonder yet again how her ex-husband could have simply walked away. Having such a child as Alex was like winning the greatest lottery of life, yet Kevin had dismissed him as though he were of no consequence.

She should almost have expected it, though. Kevin was an adventurous big talker, but a weak man. His charm had convinced her he was what she had been seeking all her life: a permanent connection, her soul mate.

That was why she had married him. She had wanted to believe him, wanted to think they would be together forever. But his actions had proved to be as empty as his words. Kevin was restless, easily bored. Seeking out “companionship” to relieve that boredom hadn’t taken him long. Laura’s marriage had been filled with humiliation and heartbreak.

The lesson had been hard learned, but she knew she would never trust another adventurer, especially one who attracted the ladies—like Mitch Turner. No, if there ever was a next time, she would find someone solid and reliable. Even then, however, she intended to keep standing on her own, not depending on anyone else again.

Laura gently rocked Alex, wondering anew how something so wonderful had come out of something so terrible. That it had made her feel eternally grateful. Alex snuggled closer, and if possible, Laura’s heart melted even more.

Mrs. Plummer’s sudden presence in the room seemed like an intrusion. “I have your dinner on the table,” she announced, moving nearer. Before Laura could protest, the older woman plucked Alex from her arms. “I’ll get this little one ready for bed.”

“I appreciate the concern, Mrs. Plummer, but since I’ve been away all day, I’d rather do that myself.”

The older woman sniffed. “That roast will be tougher than I am if we reheat it one more time.”

“I’ll risk it, Mrs. Plummer.” Gently, Laura retrieved her son. “I know you went to a great deal of trouble, but I’m really not that hungry.” She hitched Alex up a bit on her hip, brushing the top of his head with her chin. “And I don’t want to miss a minute more with this one than I absolutely have to.”

Mrs. Plummer’s expression softened slightly. “Can’t say as I blame you, my dear.” And she left them alone.

Laura treasured the moments with her son, even after Alex nodded off. She watched him for a while, enjoying the apparent normalcy. But finally she rose.

Unsettled and at loose ends, Laura roamed through the quiet house. Mrs. Plummer was staying late to use Laura’s computer. Poking her head into the refrigerator, Laura saw the evening’s meal tucked efficiently into plastic containers. But she didn’t feel like heating up anything. Truth was, she didn’t feel like eating alone. Impulsively, she glanced at her watch. It wasn’t late…yet.

Refusing to question her motives, she pulled out the roast and a loaf of fresh bread. To prepare two roast beef sandwiches and wrap them in foil took only a few minutes. After spotting the moist chocolate cake Mrs. Plummer had baked, she cut two generous slices and wrapped them, as well.

The bounty tucked into a canvas bag, Laura trotted down the hall to her study. “Mrs. Plummer, do you think you’ll be a while?”

The baby-sitter turned toward Laura. “Do you need to use your computer? I can finish this another time.”

“No, not at all. Actually, I’d like to run out for about an hour or so, but I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Take as long as you want, Laura. This computer’s a lot for me to manage and I’d like to get a good start on organizing my recipes. I can work for several hours if you don’t mind.”

Although the possible sacrifice pained her, Laura smiled. “I can stay and help you with the computer.”

“No. If I don’t do it myself, I’ll never learn.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Mrs. Plummer replied firmly.

Unwilling to risk another offer that might be accepted, Laura retreated quickly and grabbed her car keys and purse.

Houston’s streets were never empty, but now the cars were no longer crammed end to end on the unyielding concrete. The giant city sprawled over more than four hundred square miles, so it was lucky Tucker’s office was located close by. That hadn’t been a consideration in choosing him, but it had been an unexpected bonus. She remembered thinking that it was fate’s hand that he was practically in the neighborhood. Now she wondered if fate was mocking her, sending her out in the night. Still, she didn’t turn around.

When she pulled into Tucker’s parking lot, the light was still on his office—as she’d suspected it would be. But she hadn’t expected the door to be locked. Perhaps he’d simply forgotten to switch off the light when he left, she decided, preparing to leave.

Before she took more than a few steps, the door burst open.

Startled, she dropped the canvas bag.

“Laura? What are you doing here?” Mitch’s exasperated voice washed over her.

Suddenly, she felt incredibly foolish. And beneath the glare of the overhead lights the white of the canvas bag gleamed between them.

Mitch crossed the threshold. As he passed through the doorway, she scrambled to retrieve the dropped dinner, but he was faster.

He held the bag out toward her, his eyes questioning her presence.

She accepted the bag, then swung it lightly. “This is going to sound really stupid, but I was worried that you wouldn’t eat a decent dinner, so I brought you a roast beef sandwich.”

He glanced at the oversize bag. “That must be one big sandwich.”

Laura was grateful for the darkness that camouflaged the telling warmth in her cheeks. “Actually, I brought enough for two.”

“Concerned about Morgan?”

“Who?”

His lips eased into an offhand grin. “My bird. He’s not much on roast beef, though.”

She strove for lightness. “No, but I am.”

Surprise flickered over his features, then faded. “Saving me from a life of burgers and pizza?”

Laura shrugged. “Do you need saving?”

For a moment the silence pulsed between them, tension building in the quiet dark. Then a sudden screech broke the mood. “Hello,” Morgan squawked.

Laura laughed, grateful for the bird’s interruption. “I brought chocolate cake, too. Mrs. Plummer’s finest. And a thermos of coffee.”

“You’ve convinced me.” He held open the door.

Self-conscious, Laura slid by, feeling the brush of hardened muscles, the taut measure of long legs. For an instant she considered lingering, then rushed on. She’d only made him a sandwich, she reminded herself. Nothing to get so riled up about.

Still, her stomach churned as she wandered inside the office, and she felt uncertain now that she was here. Mitch, however, was as relaxed as she was uncomfortable.

He swept the papers from a scarred coffee table, which rested in front of an equally disreputable-looking sofa, and they both sat down.

She frowned. “I hope those weren’t important.”

“Not nearly as important as home-cooked roast beef.”

Laura’s expression brightened. “So, I’m not intruding?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Chagrined, Laura grabbed for her purse.

But Mitch’s hand stopped hers. “I’m still misreading you, I see. I thought you could take a little joke. So where’s this world-famous roast beef?”

Laura released her grip on her purse, realizing once again how badly she was out of practice in dealing with men. “I didn’t say it was world famous, simply home-cooked.”

“In my book, one and the same.”

“Don’t tell me you’re lacking in attention,” she scoffed.

His grin was again easy and mocking. “Depends on the kind of attention you’re talking about.”

Some of her humor faded. Yet she knew he was a charmer, a man who loved women as much as they loved him. It shouldn’t prevent her from sharing a simple supper with him. Keeping that in mind, she shored up her smile. “I don’t think you and Morgan lead a solitary existence. No doubt you have more attention than you need.”

“You might be surprised.”

The words startled her and for a moment she saw past the usual nonchalance in his expression. Within seconds, though, his easy smile was back in place, and she wondered if she had imagined the earlier change. Unwilling to explore the thought further, she opened the sack and pulled out the sandwiches, fussing over them more than necessary.

Mitch played along, digging into the impromptu dinner. “This beats the pizza I’d planned on ordering.”

Laura nodded. “I guessed as much.” Remembering the coffee, she took out the thermos from the bag. “Oh, I forgot to bring cups.”

“I’m not completely without creature comforts. There should be something to drink out of around here.” Mitch rose and searched for cups, tossing aside a box of petrified doughnuts. The mugs he retrieved looked a bit worse for wear, but Laura decided she needed the bracing warmth of some coffee. He sat down again and twisted off the lid of the thermos, and in an instant the tang of fresh coffee filled the small space between them.

Mitch poured coffee into the mugs, then sampled the brew. “I get so used to my own sludge, I forget how good coffee tastes. Mrs. Plummer must really be a treasure.”

Laura shifted on the sofa. “Actually, I made the coffee. Mrs. Plummer’s coffee tastes like it has part of the pot in it.”

He laughed. “I should have remembered. I’ve had your coffee before.”

Instantly Laura remembered the morning in his apartment. She also remembered his casual threat about disturbing him again before breakfast. Squirming, she shifted even farther down the couch.

“You keep that up and you’ll end up on the floor.”

Laura blinked. Then the absurdity struck her and she couldn’t contain an embarrassed giggle. “I guess you could say I’m not real comfortable around men.”

“No kidding.”

So he’d noticed. Laura clasped her hands, stopping their nervous motion. Silent moments passed, but finally she spoke. “You know from what I’ve told you that my ex-husband was a jerk.”

“That’s a mild term,” he commented. “I wouldn’t be so generous.”

She grimaced in agreement. “So don’t take it personally.”

Mitch abandoned his interest in the sandwich. “Don’t take what personally?”

Laura gestured vaguely. She knew it wasn’t an answer, but damn, how had she cornered herself this way?

“I don’t read shrugs,” he countered.

She sighed. “This is silly. I shouldn’t have even said anything, especially since we’re only working together.” Meeting his eyes, she saw that he was waiting for further explanation. “I’m just not comfortable with certain types of men.”

“Oh?” Although his voice was still mild, a new note had crept in, one she couldn’t completely decipher.

“It’s just that because of my experience I’m not comfortable with men like…” From the expression on his face, Laura realized her words were a mistake, yet she couldn’t recall them.

“Me?” he said flatly, completing her sentence.

Stomach sinking, Laura wished she hadn’t broached the subject. “As I said, don’t take it personally.”

“You know another way to take it?”

Laura pushed her half-eaten sandwich away. “I’m sure you know a bevy of women who are far more than comfortable with you.”

“Bevy?” he questioned in disbelief.

She squirmed anew. “I don’t know about you, but I was really enjoying our dinner until I opened my mouth.”

“It would be hard to enjoy the dinner otherwise,” he commented, his light tone signaling acceptance of her proffered olive branch.

Laura smiled, noting again the wealth of charm the man possessed. No wonder so many women were interested in him. She ignored the lump in her stomach the thought caused. To find him attractive was natural, she supposed. After all, they were spending a lot of time together. And proximity was an influential factor in many male-female relationships. Laura nearly laughed aloud. As though she knew much about that. Then her gaze caught his and the laughter died away.

Busying herself with the remainder of the sandwich, Laura was startled when Mitch’s hand closed over hers, though not nearly as startled by the movement as by the reaction it caused.

Catching her breath, she stared at his strong, tanned hand.

“Laura, relax. A man and woman can spend time together without anything more exciting than a sandwich between them.”

“Oh,” she managed to croak.

“Unless you count the chocolate cake,” he added with a mocking leer.

Laura remembered to breathe, but she still felt shaky. “And Mrs. Plummer’s cake is pretty darn exciting.”

“Thank God. I thought this was a ploy to get me to work all night.”

Sobered, Laura stared at him. “Did you really think that?”

“Hell, did you have your humor surgically removed, Laura? I’m trying to lighten the mood. In case you hadn’t noticed, it got pretty heavy in here.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

He tipped up her chin, meeting her eyes. “Then work with me. Laugh a little.”

Once again, Laura had to control the nervous motion of her hands. “There hasn’t been much to laugh about lately.”

“Yeah, but that’s what we’re going to change, isn’t it?”

Laura’s throat tightened. “This has been a solo battle for so long, it’s nice to have someone else on my team.”

He saluted sharply. “And I’m a hell of a team player.” His gaze roved around the run-down office. “This place may not look like it, but you’ve got the best investigator in town.”

“Humble, too, Tucker?”

“That’s the Laura I know.”

She laughed, a shaky but genuine sound. “I’ve been kind of pushy, huh?”

He paused, and a kind light shone in his eyes. “Not so that it shows.”

Pleased, Laura again concentrated on her sandwich, and for the next few minutes they shared a companionable supper. She was surprised but pleased by the easy silences and the equally easy conversation.

“This cake is wicked,” Laura declared, nibbling at the crumbs.

“Agreed.”

Glancing up, Laura saw that Mitch was wearing some of the frosting on his lower lip. Giggling, she pointed out the errant chocolate. When he swiped at it and missed, she brushed her fingers over the spot.

Mitch’s eyes met hers.

She froze.

It was a little thing, really. Just a dab of chocolate frosting on his lips. Lips that beckoned beneath her touch.

Mitch’s head bent toward hers and she anticipated the taste of those same lips.

The strident ring of the phone made her bolt.

Mitch was cursing beneath his breath even as he rose to answer the call.

“Yes.” Annoyance was clear in his tone as he answered. He listened, then passed a hand over his hair. “Sorry, Christie. Nah, nothing’s wrong. Just working late.”

Laura stiffened. Of course the caller was a woman. What had she expected? Mitch Tucker was a connoisseur of the opposite sex, and it wasn’t wise to ever lose sight of the fact.




CHAPTER FIVE


CREPE MYRTLES LINED the streets, flowering sentries whose plump blooms spilled over wooden fences, dripping delicate petals over thick carpets of grass. But Mitch didn’t have time to notice the natural beauty as he drove away from the residential neighborhood. Beyond the nearly tropical flora, skyscrapers dominated the skyline, and he was wondering just which one of those concrete beauties held the secrets he was seeking.

From the green crest just off the Allen Parkway he had a perfect view. Yet that didn’t still the restlessness he felt. For an instant he longed for a smoke, even though he’d kicked the habit years earlier.

Instead, he pulled into a curved parking lot, scanning the other cars, looking for Laura’s. They had agreed to meet here this morning to get an early start. After the strained ending last night at his place, it seemed like a good idea.

He flat couldn’t figure out the lady. Just when he’d thought they were clicking, she froze. He couldn’t remember ever knowing a woman as uptight as Laura. Of course, she had plenty to worry about, but it was more than that. It was as though she compared every male on the planet with her scummy ex-husband. Still, that didn’t explain why she had jumped to her feet the night before when the phone rang, and dashed out as if intruding on an intimate moment rather than a mere phone call.

After all, he didn’t exactly try to hide his lifestyle. Laura was right about him knowing a lot of women. He liked women. In fact, he loved women. Just not one in particular. That was a luxury he had never allowed himself. There had been no one serious. There would be no one serious.

Having grown up as the only male in an otherwise all-female household, he appreciated the sensitivity, beauty, humor, even the sense of mystery of women.

But growing up this way, coupled with his years on the police force, had caused him to lose most of his illusions, including his belief in happily-ever-afters. While he had no argument with anyone else wanting to grasp that brass ring, it was tarnished for him. And despite Laura Kelly’s bad marriage, he suspected she still reserved a piece of her heart for a white knight. For her sake, he hoped one still existed.

As though his thoughts had conjured her up, she drove into the parking lot. With her usual energy she jumped out and then zipped over to the passenger side of her car.

Stepping out of his vehicle, he watched as she reached inside and unbuckled a child carrier. His stomach sank. The carrier wasn’t empty. Little Alex was inside. She grabbed an oversize bag, as well.

Mitch stepped closer and took the carrier from her. “What’s with the kid?”

“The kid is your client, too,” she reminded him. “Mrs. Plummer’s coming down with a cold. Actually, she just sneezed a little this morning, but last night I was thinking about how I didn’t want to wind up regretting that I’d spent too much time away from Alex, in case…” Her voice warbled before she got it back under control. “Well, just in case. I know we’re going to be successful, but we can still be successful and have Alex along with us, can’t we?”

Not allowing Mitch to reply, she walked over to his car. “The car seat buckles into any car and converts to a stroller. You’re probably more comfortable driving your car, so I’ll just hook this into the back seat, okay? Alex won’t be any trouble. He’s a happy baby and he naps, too, and—”

“Whoa! Don’t you ever come up for air?” Exasperated, Mitch stared between Laura and her unblinking baby. “Look, I don’t have anything against kid—uh, babies, but they don’t mix with investigations.”

“Pooh,” she responded airily. “While people are oohing and aahing over Alex, you can dig into all kinds of records. He’ll be better than a court order demanding the information.”

But Mitch didn’t share her enthusiasm. “Hey, I can understand your need to spend more time with him, but this isn’t the way to do it. In fact, I think you should take Alex home and let me get on with the investigation.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Get rid of me just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“Not exactly—”

“It’s not going to be that easy, Tucker. I still intend to help you. I know you think Alex will slow us down, but I promise you he won’t.”

Alex grabbed for Mitch’s keys, his toothy little grin irresistible. Mitch felt himself losing the battle. It was only one day, he reasoned. By tomorrow Mrs. Plummer would be back to normal and Laura would have learned that a baby didn’t belong in the middle of a tough search.

BUT A WEEK LATER, Mitch wasn’t certain who had learned a lesson. He was easing the sleeping child from the car seat. Laura’s hands were filled with the diaper bag, her purse and a portfolio of papers she had brought home to work on.

Her house looked shuttered as they headed up the sidewalk. Mrs. Plummer was at her place, her cold now a full-fledged case of the flu. Although Mitch suspected Mrs. Plummer hadn’t really been sick the first day Laura had brought Alex along, now the woman was genuinely ill. He also suspected she had become ill from stress. She seemed to think that Laura was deliberately keeping little Alex from her.

Mitch admitted he’d lost the battle with Laura. He had tangled with his share of determined women in the past, but none to equal an obstinate, protective mother.

Alex snuggled closer in his arms and Mitch felt a now-familiar twitch that he’d been ignoring. It was the same twitch he felt when Alex smiled, chortled or reached up chubby arms to him. But then, the kid was a charmer, he acknowledged. And it wasn’t as though he himself was a dog-kicking, baby-hating hardhead.

“It’s been a long day,” Laura was saying. “I can’t promise one of Mrs. Plummer’s home-cooked meals, but why don’t you stay for dinner. We can order Chinese.” She grinned, a flash of pearly teeth in the near dark. “Alex loves the fortune cookies.”

“Szechuan?” Mitch bargained, not particularly eager to return to an empty apartment or equally unappealing office.

“Why not? I live for adventure.”

Mitch smiled, even though Laura had turned away. He knew why she was especially cheerful. While researching the hospital records for births in Galveston they had stumbled onto a partial list of attending physicians. It was an unexpected bonus, since finding this information was unusual.

Mitch had cautioned Laura to not be too optimistic. The list wasn’t complete and so many years had passed. Memories might be faulty; some of the doctors might be deceased or unable to be located. Yet secretly he was very pleased at even this minor breakthrough.

Laura flipped on lights as they entered the house. “I have a menu from a pretty good Chinese place,” she remarked. “The food’s great, and even better, they’re fast.”

“Mmm. I think Alex is waking up. What should I do with him?”




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