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Secret Delivery
Delores Fossen








Secret Delivery

Delores Fossen























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




Table of Contents


Cover Page (#uf19d085c-79e8-588e-a90c-54104c48fbf0)

Title Page (#u2e555d79-5f38-563c-91a7-7cfea8a4bca8)

About the Author (#u1356f441-9ba1-5e95-aa46-15824d6d4ca0)

Prologue (#u15bf1434-d2e1-57e9-a2e8-d8ac431f25d6)

Chapter One (#u8993d708-9ff7-50d2-bf04-c92cce4dfc2d)

Chapter Two (#u80c0739b-2c73-5d17-9ffd-fcd982cb6a37)

Chapter Three (#u680af5aa-a012-5f27-aa06-e4dbb2dffc11)

Chapter Four (#ufe4f3eec-fca2-5ca1-bbae-301d9b7d6289)

Chapter Five (#udeb53784-fc19-5991-9477-9243b9aba8af)

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)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.




Prologue


Willow Ridge, Texas

Sheriff Jack Whitley figured he had three minutes, maybe less, to save the woman’s life.

He slammed on his brakes, and his Ford pickup skidded to a stop just inches from what was left of the bridge’s ice-scabbed guardrail. Seconds earlier, a car had broken through the metal and plunged over the side. Since he’d been traveling from the opposite direction, he’d caught just a glimpse of terror on the driver’s face before Mill’s Creek had swallowed her and her car.

There was no time to remove his gun or shoes. No time to call for help. He grabbed the life hammer from his glove compartment, barreled out of his truck and, running, he dived right into the cold dark water.

Hell. He couldn’t see. The creek was thick with winter silt that concealed just about everything, but he went on instinct. At the speed the woman was traveling when she slammed through the guardrail, she was probably thirty, maybe forty feet out. He surfaced only long enough to drag in a deep breath so he could go down after her again.

Seconds ticked off in his head, each one a frantic reminder that he had to get to her. He had to save her. Now. No one, not even he, could last long in this frozen water.

He ignored the numbing cold that was starting to smother him and focused, finally spotting her black Lexus angled nose-down with the headlights and front fender already sinking into the clots of mud on the creek floor.

Jack fought through the water to get to her. She was there, behind the steering wheel, her light-colored coat billowing around her like a ghost. Her eyes were closed. Maybe she was unconscious.

Or already dead.

He pushed that possibility aside and latched on to the door handle. It was jammed.

Cursing to himself, he bashed the life hammer against the window. The sharp metal head of the emergency tool made a large enough hole so he could reach in, open the door and undo her seat belt.

The woman spilled into his arms.

He grabbed her and began to haul her to the surface. Each inch was a struggle. His lungs burned now, and his muscles began to knot. Somehow, though, he broke through the water and breathed in some much needed air, while the woman lay limp and lifeless in his arms.

Jack dragged her to the muddy embankment, tilted back her head and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He literally gave her what little breath he had left.

Her eyes fluttered open. She coughed. And Jack said a very sincere prayer of thanks.

“We got lucky,” he gasped.

She opened her mouth, but didn’t speak. Her starkblue eyes widened, and the sound she made was one of raw agony.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Jack asked.

She didn’t answer. She fought with her coat, shoving it open and clamping her hands over her belly.

Jack saw then that she was pregnant. She had to be in her last trimester.

“Help me. I’m in trouble.” She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears, her face twisted in pain. “Please. Don’t let my baby die.”

Her words slammed into him. They’d dodged one bullet, but another was headed right at them.

Jack scooped her into his arms and ran like hell toward his truck.




Chapter One


Eight months later

Alana Davis checked the rearview mirror again. The dark-colored car was still following her. “Oh, God,” she mumbled.

It couldn’t be the security guard. It just couldn’t be. Because if he’d managed to catch up with her, Alana figured this time he would kill her.

She couldn’t stop, not even to find a pay phone and call the police. Not that there’d been a pay phone any where along the way from the secluded house in the woods where she’d been held captive. Nor was there one along the highway that had taken her nearly an hour to find. Luckily, the car she’d stolen from the front of the house had nearly a full tank of gas.

And thankfully, she’d seen the sign to the town of Willow Ridge.

The guard and a nurse had force-fed her a partial dose of sedatives only hours earlier, so it’d taken Alana a while to fight through dizziness and make the connection. Willow Ridge was just one of those floating memories that she couldn’t immediately link to anything or anyone. But then she remembered Jack Whitley, the town’s sheriff. He’d helped her.

She couldn’t remember what he’d done exactly, but she instinctively knew she could trust him.

Alana couldn’t say that about anyone else.

She certainly couldn’t trust the guard or nurse. Or her brother. In fact, one of them must have been responsible for her captivity.

But which one?

And why?

She didn’t know the answer to either question, but Jack Whitley would be able to find out.

Lightning rifled through the night sky. A few seconds later, thunder came, a thick rumbling groan. Shivering, she made the final turn that would take her to Willow Ridge. Even with the rain and her spotty vision, she could see the other vehicle make the turn right along behind her. He stayed close. Too close.

Alana added some pressure to the accelerator and sped through deep puddles that had already collected on the road. The car’s wipers slashed over the windshield, smearing the rain on the glass so it was even harder for her to see. Her pulse raced out of control.

She maneuvered the car around a sharp curve. The tires squealed in protest at the excessive speed, and she checked the mirror again. The other vehicle stayed right with her, the high-beam headlights glaring into her eyes.

It certainly wasn’t safe to race through a raging summer storm at ten o’clock at night, but she didn’t want to face that guard on this deserted road. She had no weapon, no way to defend herself. Worse, she was exhausted and wondered if she’d be able to stand, much less fight.

Ahead of her, she finally saw the town lights. Welcome signs of civilization and help.

Going even faster, she sped toward Main Street, flanked on both sides with shops, a diner, even a white church with a steeple. Letting some vague, fuzzy memories guide her, she drove toward the center of the tiny town and spotted the sheriff’s office.

Alana braked to a stop, glanced behind her and saw nothing. No car. No headlights.

No one.

Relief flooded through her. Maybe the guard had gotten scared and driven away. Still, she didn’t just sit there. He might be lurking on a side street, waiting to grab her and take her back to that house in the woods.

Rain pelted her when she got out of the car. She was already cold and shivering, and the wetness didn’t help. Alana ran toward the glass-front door of the sheriff’s office. Each step was an effort. Her muscles were stiff, her hands throbbed from where she’d gripped the steering wheel and the dizziness was worse than it had been during her escape.

Why did everything seem out of focus? And wrong. Something was wrong. But what?

She threw open the door, and the burst of air from the AC spilled over her. It was dark in the front section of the building, but there was a light on in a room at the middle of a short narrow hall.

“Sheriff Whitley?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

She saw something move in the shadows, and a moment later, a man stepped out. Alana got just a glimpse of him before another stab of lightning flashed in the sky and the lights went out.

Oh, mercy. Had the guard done this? Was he coming after her?

“Calm down,” the man said. It was Jack Whitley’s voice. “If you keep breathing like that, you’ll hyperventilate and I’m fresh out of paper bags.” She heard his footsteps come closer. “You afraid of the dark?”

“No.” Her voice still had little sound.

“Well, not to worry,” Jack said as if he didn’t believe her. “The storm must have knocked out the town’s transformer, but we have a generator. It’ll kick on in a minute or two.”

He came closer still, and she caught his scent. He smelled like coffee and chocolate cake. “Did your car break down?”

Alana’s teeth started to chatter. And she glanced back at the door to make sure the guard wasn’t there. “Someone was following me.”

Even though she couldn’t see his reaction, she could feel it. He tensed and hurried past her to go to the door. “I don’t see anyone,” he said, looking out. “Is that your car parked out front?”

“No.”

She was about to explain, but something else about him changed. The silence was heavy, making it easier to hear him draw his gun.

“I’m pretty sure the license plate matches a vehicle that was reported stolen just about an hour ago,” he informed her. “The owner said the person who stole it—a woman—should be considered armed and dangerous. I’m guessing you’re that woman, huh?”

Her heart jolted. Dizziness came again, and she had to lean against the wall to keep from falling.

This was certainly a complication Alana hadn’t expected. That guard had some nerve to report his car stolen after he’d held her captive. And better yet—to call her armed and dangerous. The guard had been the one with the gun.

“I did steal the car,” she admitted. “But I had to. They were holding me captive.”

“They?” It was his cop’s voice. Laced with skepticism and authority.

“A guard and a nurse. I don’t know their names, but I can describe them.” Well, she could if she didn’t pass out first. “They held me at a house in the woods for…a long time. But I escaped.”

“How’d you manage to do that?” He didn’t believe that, either. She could tell from his tone.

“I spit out some of the meds they always gave me at night. And I pretended to fall asleep. Then I sneaked out of my bedroom, grabbed the guard’s keys and ran. I drove away before he could stop me. But there must have been another car somewhere on the grounds, and he used it to come after me.”

Jack Whitley made a sound that could have meant anything. “I need you to turn around and place your hands flat against the wall.”

“You’re arresting me?” She clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to keep it from shaking. Too bad she couldn’t do something to stop the rest of her body from trembling. Mercy, she was freezing.

“I’m placing you in custody,” he corrected, “until I can get this straightened out. Go ahead. Hands on the wall. I need to search you.”

Alana had no idea what else to do, so she complied. The painted concrete block wall was smooth against her palms, and she rested her head against it, as well, hoping it’d help her think straight.

The overhead fluorescent lights crackled on, and she heard him walk closer. “Legs slightly apart,” he ordered. “And don’t make any sudden moves.”

Alana held her breath while he ran his left hand over her wet cotton nightgown. Down her bare legs, all the way to her equally bare feet. He repeated the process on the inside of her legs and thighs. She made a slight involuntary hitching sound when the back of his hand brushed her there. It was a reminder for her that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

The sheriff made a similar sound, but his was more of surprise. Maybe now he’d believe that she had truly escaped with literally just the gown on her back.

“I think you’ve got a fever,” he let her know. “You might be sick.”

A fever. That might explain why she felt so horrible.

“Turn around, slowly,” he said, his voice a little gentler now. “We’ll go into my office, and you can sit down. If you’re not feeling better after a few minutes, I can drive you to the hospital and have your temperature checked.”

Alana did turn, but she kept her weight against the wall in case her legs gave way. She got her first good look at the man she had thought she could trust. Now she wasn’t so sure.

It was Jack Whitley all right.

She recognized that midnight-black hair. Those intense gunmetal-blue eyes. He wore jeans and a white shirt with his badge clipped onto a wide leather belt with a rodeo buckle. Definitely a cowboy cop in both appearance and attitude.

“I told you the truth about being held hostage,” Alana insisted.

But if he heard her, there was no indication of it. His eyes widened, then narrowed. “Alana Davis?” he snarled.

“You remember me.” The intense look in his eyes was scaring her.

“Yeah. I remember you.”

Too bad she couldn’t recall exactly what she’d done to rile him. And there was no mistaking that she’d done just that. “You helped me.”

He glared at her. “Eight months ago, I pulled you from your car when you went over the bridge at Mill’s Creek.”

Yes. Images flashed through her mind. Icy water. She couldn’t breathe. Trapped in her car. She tried to make the pieces fit and finally nodded. “You saved my life.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her. “And you ran away from the hospital the first chance you got. You didn’t tell anyone why you were leaving or where you were going.”

Alana didn’t remember that at all. Why would she have done that?

“Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing, or why you showed up here like this. But it doesn’t matter,” he stated. “You’re not getting Joey back.”

“Joey?” She shook her head.

That riled him even more. “Are you saying you don’t remember him?”

Alana forced herself to concentrate on that name. Joey. But it meant nothing to her.

“I’m confused about some things. Not about being held captive,” she admitted. “Or you rescuing me from my car eight months ago. I know those things happened. But I think this fever’s making it hard for me to concentrate. ”

“Right.” That was all he said for several long moments. “I’ll call the doctor and see if he’s still at the hospital,” he grumbled.

Jack shoved his gun back into his shoulder holster, caught her arm and led her to his office. He put her in the chair adjacent to his cluttered desk, and snatched up the phone.

While Jack made a call to the doctor, Alana tried to force herself to think, to assemble the memories that were fragmented in her head.

Had she really left the hospital after Jack saved her?

“My brother,” she mumbled. Then she groaned. Maybe her brother, Sean, had heard about her accident and had done what he usually did.

Taken over her life.

If she’d been incapacitated, he would have had her removed from the hospital. And yes, he would have done that without telling anyone, including the sheriff. Sean wouldn’t have approved of the medical care, or lack thereof, that she might be getting in a small country hospital.

And had Sean then taken her to the house in the woods?

Probably not.

Alana leaned forward so she could lay her head on Jack’s desk. There weren’t many bare spots on the scarred oak, but there was plenty of stuff. A flyer showed a picture of a woman with the word missing beneath her name, Kinley Ford. Several old newspapers. An outdated chunky computer monitor, stacks of files, not one but two chipped coffee mugs, a half-eaten slice of chocolate cake on a saucer.

She saw the fax about the car she’d supposedly stolen and would have gotten angry all over again if she hadn’t spotted a framed photograph of Jack holding a baby boy. The baby wore denim overalls, a miniature cowboy hat and red boots. Both Jack and the baby were grinning.

Staring at the baby, Alana reached for the picture, but Jack snatched it away from her and put it into his center desk drawer.

“The doctor’s on his way here,” he relayed the second he hung up the phone.

That was good. But it wasn’t the doctor or her fever that had her attention now. It was the little boy in the picture. “Who’s Joey?” she asked.

Jack Whitley cursed under his breath. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

She flinched at his hard tone. “The fever, I guess. But you already know that. Please tell me—who’s Joey?”

For several long moments, he didn’t say anything. Alana was afraid he might not tell her. For reasons she didn’t understand, it was suddenly critical that she know.

“Joey’s the baby you gave birth to eight months ago,” Jack informed her. “W-what?”

Jack leaned in and got right in her face. “Joey’s the little boy you abandoned at Willow Ridge Hospital.” He stabbed his index fingers at her. “And if you think you can get him back after all this time, then think again. Because Joey is mine.”




Chapter Two


Jack felt as if someone had dropped a mountain on him.

The same woman who’d already given him the surprise of his life eight months ago on Christmas morning.

Alana Davis.

Now here she’d turned up again like a bad penny. Driving a stolen car and rattling off a story about being held captive.

A story he wasn’t buying.

Alana had some explaining to do.

She didn’t look much different now than she had when he’d fished her out of that frozen creek. She’d been wet then. Shivering, and scared, too.

Of course, she’d had a darn good reason to be scared. She’d nearly drowned and then had gone into shock and labor at the same time. It’d been a miracle that Jack hadn’t had to deliver the newborn right there in the cab of his truck. Thankfully, he’d gotten her to the hospital and Dr. Bartolo in the nick of time.

“I had a baby?” Alana asked.

It was a question that confused and riled Jack. Of course, just about everything Alana had ever done had confused and riled him. Maybe it was the fever causing her to act this way. Maybe not. But it didn’t matter. She’d made her decision about Joey the minute she walked out on him when he was barely a day old.

Now she’d have to live with that decision.

She couldn’t have a lick of a claim to Joey. Jack had been the only father the little boy had ever known. He wouldn’t lose him now, especially not to the mother who’d abandoned him, and Jack was certain he’d be able to convince a judge of that. She might have some legal rights as the birth mother, but those rights could be taken away.

“You don’t remember giving birth to a baby,” he said. Jack made sure it sounded as if he was accusing her of a Texas-size lie.

Tears sprang to her china-blue eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. She awkwardly swiped at her wet shoulder-length brown hair to push it away from her face. “Why are you saying this? Why are you telling these lies?” The tears and the trembling increased. “If I’d had a baby, I would have remembered.”

But the stark fear on her pale face said differently.

“Oh, you had a baby all right. Six pounds, two ounces,” he supplied.

She only shook her head.

And Jack saw something in those blue eyes that he hadn’t wanted to see. Something familiar that he’d garnered from eight years of being the sheriff of Willow Ridge. The harsh reaction of a woman who just might be telling the truth.

Oh, hell.

Groaning, he sank down in his chair and stared at her.

“While we’re waiting for the doctor, maybe we should start from the beginning,” he suggested. Somehow, he had to make sense of all of this and arrest her for auto theft or send her on her way. “You said you remember your car going into the creek?”

Alana nodded. “I remember that. You pulled me onto the muddy bank and gave me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. You saved my life.”

So far, so good. “And then you went into labor.”

Silence. For a long time. He could see the worry lines bunch up her forehead. “I don’t remember that part.” It seemed to break her heart to say it.

It damn near broke Jack’s, too. Of course, he had more at stake than she did. Joey was his son in every way that mattered. And he wouldn’t ever turn his back on that little boy the way Alana had.

“I took you to the hospital that day,” Jack continued, wondering what he was going to do if he actually jogged her memory. “We got there, and you had the baby on the way into the examining room.”

He watched those blue eyes to see if there was any recollection of that. But there didn’t seem to be any. Only more tears. Disgusted with the sympathy those tears were producing in him, he grabbed a handful of tissues from his desk drawer and shoved them at her.

“Wipe your eyes,” he insisted.

She did. It didn’t help, though. More tears followed. So did a helpless-sounding throaty moan. “Why don’t I remember? Why?”

“To hell if I know. You didn’t seem to have a memory problem when you were there at the hospital.” But even then, he’d thought there was something fishy about her story of how she’d gotten into the creek. Or what she was doing in Willow Ridge in the first place.

Alana stared at him. Blinked. “Maybe I had amnesia from the accident.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to shake his head. “The doctor thoroughly examined you. No head trauma. No trauma of any kind except for a bruise on your shoulder from the seat belt. I never heard of a seat belt bruise causing amnesia.”

“Emotional stress, then.” She sounded desperate to come up with an explanation, any explanation, of why she’d done something so despicable.

“You were fine after the delivery.” Jack didn’t bother to answer nicely. Every moment with her was like another mountain falling on him. “You even filled out the hospital paperwork.”

Including the birth certificate.

“You nursed Joey,” he continued. “Ate Christmas dinner that my aunt Tessie brought in for you. You slept a few hours. And then a little after one in the morning, you sneaked out of the hospital.”

She repeated that last sentence under her breath. A moment later, a spark flared across those blue irises. “That must have been when the guard and the nurse kidnapped me.”

Jack didn’t bother to suppress a groan. So they were back to that story. Of course, he couldn’t completely dismiss it. After all, she was sitting in his office wearing just a nightgown. A wet one at that.

The flimsy cotton clung to her breasts. It was so clingy that he could see her nipples.

He got up, grabbed a raincoat from his closet and put it over her so that it covered the entire front of her body. For reasons he didn’t understand or care to explore, seeing her breasts reminded him that she was a woman. An attractive one at that.

Jack didn’t want to think about that.

He only wanted to remember that this was the person who could destroy him. All because of DNA. As far as Jack was concerned, she was just an egg donor, nothing more.

“Willow Ridge might be a hayseed town to a city girl like you, but we still have a few amenities,” he explained. “Like a security camera in the hospital parking lot, for instance. That camera photographed you leaving the hospital alone. No guard. No nurse. Definitely no indication of a kidnapping. You left of your own free will and without anyone’s coercion or assistance.”

And he should know. He’d studied the tape hundreds of times trying to figure out what the devil had happened.

“You mean I left alone in the dead of winter?” she clarified. There was strong skepticism in her frail voice, and she waited until he confirmed that with a frosty nod. “Did I get into a car?”

Now, here was the confusing part. “No. You just walked away.”

Jack still had that image of her in his mind, too. Wearing the bleached-out green hospital gown, cotton robe and flip-flops, she’d walked out of the front of the one-story hospital, and stumbled on the sidewalk. The cold wind had whipped at her nightclothes and her hair. She’d looked unsteady.

She’d staggered several more times as she made her way through the parking lot.

There’d only been one clear shot of her face that night.

Jack would never forget it.

It was the same frightened, tearstained, shellshocked face that was staring back at him now.

“You said the baby’s name is Joey?” she asked.

All of his muscles went stiff. He didn’t want to discuss Joey with her. But he also knew he didn’t have a choice. Eventually, he had to give her enough details to satisfy her curiosity so he could get her out of there.

“You named him,” he reminded her.

Another blink. “Did I?”

He couldn’t contain his smirk, but beneath it, his concerns were snowballing. “You did. You said you named him after your kid brother who died when you were a child.” And he braced himself.

Alana hugged his raincoat closer to her. “I remember my little brother, Joey. And I remember I was wearing a green hospital gown and robe when I woke up at the house in the woods.”

Jack actually welcomed the change in subject, even though he knew it could only be temporary.

Eventually she’d ask more about Joey.

“What else do you remember about the house, the guard and the nurse?” he asked.

She hesitated a moment. “Everything, I think. It was December twenty-sixth when I woke up in that house. So I must have been there all this time.” Alana’s eyes met his. “Why did they hold me captive?”

Jack shrugged. “You’re the only one who’ll be able to answer that.”

Their eyes stayed connected until she lurched at the sound of the front door opening. Because he was on edge, Jack automatically reached for his gun and went to the door. But the gun wasn’t necessary. The tall, lanky visitor was Dr. Keith Bartolo.

“Doc’s here,” Jack relayed to Alana, only because she looked ready to jump out of her skin.

“Jack,” the doctor grumbled. He pulled off his rainbeaded felt hat, and with his leather medical bag gripped in his right hand, he made his way down the hall.

Jack had known the doctor most of his life, since the man had moved to Willow Ridge over twenty-three years ago and set up a practice. Jack also knew when Bartolo wasn’t in a good mood. Apparently, the fiftysomething-year-old doc didn’t like being called out after hours during a storm. Jack knew how the man felt. He rarely worked late these days because of Joey, but here he was at ten thirty going a second round with Alana Davis when he was supposed to be finishing up paperwork so he could take the weekend off.

“You said you had a sick prisoner,” Dr. Bartolo prompted. He headed in the direction of the lone jail cell at the far end of the hall.

“She’s in my office,” Jack corrected.

The doctor lifted a caramel-brown eyebrow, and Jack stepped to the side so the man could enter. The doc and Alana looked at each other, and Jack didn’t know which one of them was more surprised.

Alana swallowed hard. “I know you.”

“Of course you do.” Dr. Bartolo stared at her. “I was the attending physician when Jack brought you to the hospital last Christmas.”

That was it. Apparently that was all the bedside manner he intended to dispense. The doctor plopped his bag onto Jack’s desk, unzipped it and pulled out a digital thermometer. After putting a plastic sleeve over the tip, he stuck it in Alana’s mouth.

“Why is she a prisoner?” the doctor asked as the thermometer beeped once.

“She stole a car.”

Even though Alana didn’t say anything out loud, her eyes said plenty. Jack could almost hear her giving him a tongue-lashing. Yes, she’d stolen the car. She’d admitted that. But according to her, it’d been to escape.

So, was it true?

He could check with the sheriff who’d posted the stolen car report and get the name of the person who had filed the claim. That would lead him to Alana’s so-called guard. Jack hoped this wasn’t some kind of lovers’ quarrel. But he immediately rethought that. Maybe that would be the best solution for him. Find whoever was behind this so she could drop the amnesia act.

If it was an act.

The thermometer made a series of rapid beeps. Dr. Bartolo pulled it from her mouth and looked at the tiny screen. “Your temp’s just a little over a hundred. Not too high. Any idea what’s wrong with you?”

She shook her head.

“Okay.” Dr. Bartolo didn’t appear to be any more convinced of that than Jack did of her amnesia story. He flicked the plastic disposable tip into the trash and placed the thermometer back into his bag. “Are you taking any meds?”

Alana glanced at Jack. “No.”

Jack frowned. “She said a guard and a nurse gave her some sedatives, and they’d been doing that for some time now,” he explained. And he didn’t think she’d forgotten that already. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she hadn’t wanted to share that information with the doctor.

“Sedatives?” the doctor questioned. “What kind?”

She shook her head again, causing Jack to huff. Before the doctor’s arrival, she’d been chatty, so why hush now? “The kind of sedatives that might cause memory loss,” Jack provided. “Or not. She could be making that part up.”

That caused some concern in the doctor’s eyes. “If there’s a possibility of memory loss, she needs to be hospitalized. I’d also need to do a tox screen to see if there’s anything in her blood.”

“Would a fever that low cause her to hallucinate?” Jack asked Dr. Bartolo. “Or could sedatives do that?”

He lifted his shoulder. “Not the fever but possibly the sedatives. Why? What makes you think she’s hallucinating?”

“A couple of things, but we can try to figure out all of that at the hospital.” And once he had more details, he’d have to deal with the stolen car issue. It was entirely possible that the sheriff of the town where the stolen car complaint was filed would come and take Alana back to face those charges.

Jack hated that he felt relief about that.

But he did. The sooner he got Alana Davis out of Joey’s life, the better.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Alana announced, standing. But she had to catch his desk to stop herself from falling. Or maybe it was all an act to get him to feel sorry for her.

“Across the hall.” Jack pointed in that direction. Both Jack and the doctor watched her as she made her way into the tiny room.

“Okay,” Dr. Bartolo said the moment the bathroom door closed. “What’s this all about? Did she come back to town to try to get Joey from you?”

“I don’t know.” There was so much about this that didn’t make sense. “She says she doesn’t remember giving birth to him.”

“Is that so?” Bartolo stayed quiet a moment. “I guess that means she can’t or won’t say why she left town the way she did.”

“She says she doesn’t remember that, either. But she does remember being taken captive after leaving the hospital.” Jack paused to figure out how best to phrase this. “Is it possible she’s crazy?”

“It’s possible,” the doctor readily agreed. “After all, most normal women wouldn’t just abandon their newborn the way she did.”

True. Her behavior here tonight hadn’t convinced him that she was doing any better than she had been eight months ago.

“But maybe it’s something equally obvious,” the doctor continued. “Maybe she’s broken the law. Maybe she’s a criminal, and she’s telling you she has memory loss to cover up something else.”

Jack mulled that over and cursed.

He bolted toward the bathroom. The door was locked, of course. So he pounded on it. “Alana, open up!”

Nothing.

Not so much as a sniffle.

Though he was riled enough to bash down the door, he resisted. Because he knew it wouldn’t do any good. There was a small window in the bathroom, and if his instincts were right, Alana had already used it, to escape.

Jack raced down the hall, past the jail cell and headed for the rear exit. It was raining harder now, but that didn’t slow him down. He ran to the east exterior side of the building, to the sliver of an alleyway that separated the sheriff’s office from City Hall. The narrow space was made even narrower by a dark green Dumpster stuck right in the middle. And it was pitch black.

Someone screamed.

Alana.

With his heart pounding now, he drew his gun and raced around the Dumpster. Jack spotted her white nightgown. She appeared to be struggling with someone.

“What’s going on?” he called out.

Just like that, the struggle stopped, and Alana fell back against the wall. Hard. She stayed on her feet and pointed in the opposition direction from where he was standing.

Jack thought he heard footsteps, but he couldn’t be sure because of the pounding rain. Keeping his gun ready just in case, he went to her.

“Did you see him?” Alana asked.

“See who?” Jack automatically looked around.

“It was the guard from the house,” she said, still pointing. “He was trying to make me go back.”

Jack heard another sound.

A car engine.

He sprinted to the alley opening that led to Main Street, and stopped just short of the sidewalk. Using the sheriff’s office for cover, he glanced around the corner.

A dark-colored car sped away.

Mud or something had been smeared over the license plate, and he couldn’t even get a glimpse of the driver because of the heavily tinted windows and the darkness.

It was possible the driver was just a visitor. Some innocent guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But just in case, Jack turned to get his patrol car. He simply wanted to ask the driver a few questions. But then he looked back and saw Alana, just as she collapsed on the ground.




Chapter Three


Alana heard voices. They were only whispers at first. But they became clearer within just a few seconds.

She didn’t open her eyes. Not yet. She waited, listening, trying to figure out what was going on.

Was it safe?

Or did she need to be prepared to run again?

Judging from the sterile smell and the feel of the bed beneath her, she wasn’t back at the house in the woods. Nor was she in the alley next to the sheriff’s office. She was in a hospital. And the voice, at least one of them, belonged to Jack Whitley. He was talking to Dr. Bartolo.

She peeked out. Definitely a hospital. The walls and bedding were stark white, and there was an IV in the back of her hand. Sunlight threaded through the blind slats and onto the thermal blanket that covered her.

Neither the guard nor the nurse who’d held her captive was there. Everything felt safe. Which was a facade, of course. It wasn’t safe unless Jack had caught the guard after he’d attacked her in the alley.

Maybe he had.

The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was Jack going after him. If he’d succeeded, then perhaps the nightmare was over.

Well, part of it, anyway.

There was still the issue of her son.

Her mind no longer felt like sludge, and Alana didn’t have to think hard to remember everything. She was a jewelry designer. Born and raised in San Antonio. One sibling, her older brother, Sean. She had friends and a life that had disappeared eight months ago.

The day she went into labor.

She could recall each pain. Every moment. Including the birth of her precious son. She’d loved him instantly. A kind of love she hadn’t thought was possible until she’d held him in her arms for the first time.

But there were blanks. The missing twenty-four hours of her life that followed the delivery. And even some of the time immediately before it. They were crucial gaps of time—she had no idea what had put her in that creek or what had happened to make her leave her newborn son and walk out into the cold December night. She only knew the end result. She’d been held captive, escaped and then nearly been killed again.

“You’re awake,” she heard Jack say. He walked closer, crammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stood over her.

He was still wearing the same clothes he’d had on the night before. And he hadn’t shaved. A dark, desperado stubble covered his chin, and there were smudgy circles under his eyes. He probably hadn’t slept.

“Why am I in the hospital?” she asked.

“The fever for one thing. It’s gone now, but Dr. Bartolo thinks you had a virus of some kind. You also hit your head when you fell in the alley. He needed to check and make sure it wasn’t serious. It’s just a bad bump.” He glanced at Dr. Bartolo on the other side of the room before his attention returned to her. “Don’t you remember?”

She didn’t have to think hard for those memories to flood through her. Plus, the left side of her head was throbbing. “Yes. I remember. I was trying to get away because I was scared of the doctor. And you. But you caught me. Did you catch the man, too?”

Jack shook his head. “Sorry.”

Fear instantly returned. If the man had gotten to her once, he could get to her again. But Alana didn’t think that was her biggest concern right now. There was something guarded about Jack’s expression. For one thing, he wasn’t glaring at her. In fact, he was treating her like a patient.

“Did you see the person who tried to grab me in the alley?” she wanted to know. “Not really.”

“It was the guard,” Alana concluded, though she hadn’t actually seen his face. “You’ll have to find him.”

Jack nodded, but it seemed to be a gesture to appease her. He eased his hands from his pockets, dragged a chair closer and sat down beside her bed.

Oh, no. She got a really bad feeling about this. He was obviously about to have a heart-to-heart chat with her.

“After I got you to the hospital last night, I called your brother, Sean, in San Antonio,” Jack explained. “Do you remember him?”

“Of course,” she said after she got her teeth unclenched. Great. Just great. Now her overly protective big brother knew everything she’d told Jack. But that also meant that Sean had known she’d been held captive.

He was probably already on his way to Willow Ridge.

Sean would powerhouse his way into the hospital and try to take over. His goal would be to get her away from there so he could convince her that she didn’t want to try to claim her son.

“I remember almost everything,” Alana mumbled. Including her brother’s objection to her being pregnant. Sean had hated the fact that she planned to become a single mom. Not because he was truly concerned about the challenges that might bring, but because of appearances. He believed their conservative business associates would think less of Alana and therefore think less of their company and him. Plus, Sean had also expressed concern that Alana’s focus might be on a child and not solely on her career.

“Good.” Jack followed that with a crisp nod. “I’m glad you’re getting your memory back.”

She’d been ready to try to get out of the bed, but that stopped her. “Good?” Alana contested. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “You recall why you walked out of here eight months ago?”

Alana hated to admit this, but she had no choice. If she told Jack as much as she knew, he might be able to help her put the pieces together. “No. But I know I gave birth to Joey. And I know I love him. I also want to see him. Now.”

Jack stayed quiet a moment. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. You have a virus, remember, and in case it’s something more, it’ll be another ten hours or so before the antibiotics take full effect. You wouldn’t want to make him sick, would you?” His tone was sympathetic enough, but there was a lot of emotion and anger simmering right beneath the surface.

“Oh, I get it,” Alana grumbled. “My brother told you to be nice to me.”

“Among other things,” Jack admitted. “He’s coming to take you home.”

Alana wanted to curse. “How much time do I have before Sean gets here?”

“An hour. Maybe two. He said he’d be here around noon, and it’s a little after ten right now.”

She sat up. “I don’t want him to see me like this. And I don’t want to go with him.”

Jack caught her arm and eased her back down onto the bed. “Sean told me that Joey’s birth father was dead.”

That clenched her teeth again. “You obviously had a long conversation.”

“We did. But Sean and I had that particular discussion eight months ago when I was trying to track you down.”

Everything inside her went still. She hadn’t thought of it sooner, but of course Jack would have tried to find her. Too bad he hadn’t. It would have saved her eight months of captivity, and that was just the beginning. It had also cost her time with her precious baby. She’d missed so much already.

Too much.

She wouldn’t miss any more.

“Sean didn’t know why you ran off the way you did,” Jack continued. “But he had a theory. He thought it was because you were clinically depressed. ”

Maybe. But that didn’t feel right, either. “Depressed, why?”

“Because of the death of Joey’s birth father, Neil Franklin.”

She shook her head. “My relationship with Neil had been over for months before he died. In fact, I ended things with him when I learned I was pregnant and he said he didn’t want to be a father.”

There were no gaps in those particular memories, including the big blowup when Neil had even questioned if he was indeed the father of her unborn child. That accusation had been more than enough to cause Alana to walk out. But then she’d had to listen to months of her brother saying “I told you so” and trying to pressure her to give the child up for adoption.

And then all those memories collided with her present situation.

“Why all these questions about Sean and Neil? Did Sean do something to get me to abandon Joey here at the hospital? Is that why I left?” she demanded.

Jack didn’t jump to deny it. Nor did he confirm it, either. He took his time answering, and the moment he opened his mouth, his phone rang. He jerked it from his pocket as if he’d been expecting an important call.

“I have to take this,” he said, and he got up, stepped outside and shut the door.

Alana wanted to listen to his conversation—it might pertain to her. But Dr. Bartolo put her chart aside and walked closer. “I got your lab results back. You had traces of a drug called Rohypnol in your system.”

“Rohypnol,” she repeated. “The date rape drug?”

The doctor nodded and must have noticed that she was on the verge of panicking. “You weren’t sexually assaulted,” he continued. He reached over and began to remove the IV. “But there was enough of the drug in your system to explain your memory loss.”

God knows how many doses of the Rohypnol she’d been given. The nurse and guard had forced her to take it almost daily. She was certain of that. What Alana wasn’t certain about was discussing it with the doctor. For some reason, she didn’t trust him. Had he done something to make her feel this way? Or was she just being paranoid?

If so, she had a reason for the paranoia. Someone had also tried to take her from that alley. He’d grabbed her, hard, and was dragging her away when Jack arrived.

“I delivered your son,” the doctor added a moment later.

“Yes.” She studied his body language. His forehead was bunched. His breathing, short and a little rough. “I don’t suppose you know why I left the hospital?”

She expected a quick denial. But it didn’t come. His breathing got even shorter. “You said some things when you were in labor. Maybe it means nothing. But you said someone had run you off the road.”

Alana forced her mind to the crash. The images were all there. Cold and crisp. Images of her in her car in the water. But nothing of what’d happened moments before impact.

“I told Jack what you said, and he checked out the creek road again,” the doctor explained. “He didn’t find any tread marks or any other sign to indicate that you had slammed on the brakes or swerved to miss going into the creek.”

“That proves nothing. Someone could still have been after me,” she quickly pointed out. She winced a little when he pulled the IV needle from her hand.

“You’re right.” He dabbed the IV puncture with some cotton and then slipped a bandage over it. “Something sure had you spooked. You remember what that was?”

This suddenly felt like an interrogation. Or a threat to remind her that remembering wouldn’t be a good idea.

Alana shook her head. “I don’t know. Do you?”

His head jerked back a little in a gesture of surprise. “Of course not. I told Jack everything that went on and everything you said to me.”

She wasn’t so sure. “What else did I say?”

“Some of it was rambling,” he readily answered. But he didn’t say anything for several moments. “I got the feeling you were withholding information, that you were in some kind of trouble. Were you?”

Probably. But she kept that to herself.

Alana went back through those memory gaps. If someone had indeed run her off the road, then something had happened to precipitate it. Maybe it was as simple as a case of road rage. Some hotheaded driver had cut her off and caused the accident.

Yes, that was possible. Better than the alternative. But why hadn’t there been any sign of her slamming on the brakes? And what had she been doing in Willow Ridge?

“When you were in labor, you mentioned an important meeting,” the doctor continued. He took her chart and jotted down something on it. He didn’t look at her. He kept his focus on whatever he was writing. “Guess you don’t remember that, either?”

She didn’t, and even though Alana tried hard to recall any details about that, she drew a blank.

“An important meeting,” Dr. Bartolo repeated. “Maybe it had something to do with your job?”

This chat was making her more uncomfortable by the minute. She looked around in case she needed an escape route. But that wasn’t necessary. Jack came back through the door.

Alana cursed the relief she felt at seeing him. For some reason, she trusted him. However, he didn’t extend much trust to her. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and stared at her. He didn’t sit or offer her any more pseudo sympathy.

“You’re looking at me as if I’m crazy,” she said.

“Sorry.” But he kept staring at her. “Do the names Ted Moore and Margaret Vargas ring any bells?”

“No. Should they?”

“Yeah.” He paused. A long time. “They should.”

Mercy. Was this another blank spot in her memory? If so, it must be a critical one. “Do they have something to do with Joey?”

“Not really.” Jack nodded at the doctor, a gesture the two of them must have understood, because the doctor excused himself and left the room.

This conversation must be about to turn ugly.

And then it hit her. A horrible thought. “Did the man in the alley go after Joey?”

“No. Joey’s fine.”

But she didn’t believe him. “I have to see him. I have to make sure he’s okay. And don’t remind me about this virus. I don’t have to get close to him to make sure he’s safe.”

He clamped his hand on her arm when she tried to get up. “You aren’t going to see him, Alana.”

Alana pushed his hand away. “You have no legal right to keep my son from me.”

“Wanna bet?”

She froze. Because that didn’t sound like an idle threat. “What does that mean?”

“It means when you filled out the birth certificate, you listed me as the father.”

Had she? Yes. She had. Why, though, she didn’t know. “But you’re not his father and a DNA test will prove that.”

“Biologically, Joey’s not my son, but he is legally. When we couldn’t find you, I petitioned the courts for custody, and since your brother, Sean, was Joey’s next of kin, he agreed. He gave me sole guardianship.”

She clenched her hands tightly. Alana didn’t doubt that Sean had done this. He’d never wanted her to have the baby. “Well, I can change that. I can petition the courts, too—”

“No judge will give you custody, Alana.”

Again, it wasn’t an empty threat. He had something to back it up. “Why not?”

“Because you weren’t held captive. The guard and the nurse I mentioned. Ted Moore and Margaret Vargas. They’ve contacted law enforcement agencies to report your disappearance.”

Alana shook her head. She didn’t understand. “My disappearance?”

“More like your escape,” Jack clarified. “Alana, you were declared insane. For the past eight months you’ve been confined to a private mental institution.”




Chapter Four


Alana didn’t have much color in her cheeks, but Jack’s announcement drained what little she did have. She swallowed hard and eased her head back onto the pillow. Her eyelids fluttered down.

She looked beaten and overwhelmed.

Jack knew exactly how she felt.

For eight months, he’d dreaded Alana’s return, but with each passing day, it’d been easier and easier for him to convince himself that she wouldn’t come back. That she wouldn’t fall back into his life and try to claim Joey.

Yet here she was. A force to be reckoned with. A woman to fear. He should be bracing himself to do battle. But unfortunately, like her he was feeling overwhelmed himself. And empathy was starting to creep into this equation. But that wasn’t the only problem.

There was this physical pull he had for her.

He was sure those two emotions were connected. That, and the fact that Alana was attractive. It would have been hard not to notice that about her. But empathy and attraction could cause him to lose focus. That, in turn, could cause him to lose Joey.

“So now I’m crazy,” she mumbled. Alana chuckled, but there was no humor in it. She opened her eyes and blinked back tears. “I’m not crazy, Jack. I’m not.”

He didn’t want to offer an opinion on that. Instead, it was best to go ahead and put everything out in the open. “There was a court order committing you to the institution.”

Her gaze slashed to his, and she swiped the tears from her face. “I want to see it.”

He nodded. “It’s being faxed.” He wanted to see it, as well.

“And I want to speak to Ted Moore and Margaret Vargas. I want them to explain why they gave me a date rape drug. That’s hardly the medication a reputable institution would dispense to a so-called patient.”

Jack knew about the drug. Dr. Bartolo had already told him. He wanted to ask that same question himself. In fact, he wanted to ask Ted and Margaret a lot of questions.

Because something wasn’t adding up.

More than anything, he needed Alana’s situation to make sense. If she was legally insane, then he could send her back to an institution. She wouldn’t be able to take Joey. He didn’t relish the thought of Alana being crazy, but he was desperate to hang on to his son.

But as a lawman, he also needed the truth.

He cursed himself. This need for justice had been an obsession most of his life, and it’d had devastating consequences. His own father was in prison because of it, and while most would say that the man deserved to be behind bars, Jack would always remember that it was his testimony that had turned the key to his father’s prison cell.

“Margaret was the one who had the authorities put out an APB on you,” Jack explained. “She’s also the one who’ll be faxing the court order.”

She stared up at the ceiling, and her mouth tightened. “Let me guess. My brother initiated that court order? He’s the one who had me sent to that place.”

“I’m not sure.” But it was a darn good guess. When Jack had met Sean eight months earlier, the man had made it crystal clear that he didn’t want Alana raising Joey. Sean thought she was not “emotionally equipped” to be a single parent. Still, it seemed extreme that Sean would have his sister committed. Unless he truly thought she was insane. Then, Sean might have wanted to hide her away so she wouldn’t be a liability to their business and so she could discretely get some help.

“Margaret didn’t know where Ted was,” Jack added. “She said she hasn’t seen him since last night when he went after you.”

“Well, I know where he was. He was in that alley. He tried to hurt me.”

Jack didn’t dispute that. But he was sure, though, that his body language was suggesting some doubt. “See, that’s one of the things that doesn’t add up. The APB was out there. Plus, you were right next to a sheriff’s office. If it’d been Ted in that alley, he would have just walked inside and asked me for assistance.” He paused. “And I would have given it to him.”

“So, who do you think it was in the alley?” she demanded.

A hallucination caused by the fever and the drugs already in her system. Except Jack had seen that car with the mud-smeared plates. Still, a strange car didn’t mean this Ted had tried to grab her.

“If Ted had come to apprehend you, why would he have run?” Jack asked. “He had a court order to keep you confined. The law was on his side, not yours.”

Another punch of frustration rushed through her eyes. “Maybe that court order isn’t worth the paper it’s being faxed on.”

“Maybe. That’s one of the things I might be able to determine when I see the document.”

And when he questioned Ted and Margaret. Whenever that would be. The woman hadn’t exactly volunteered to come to Willow Ridge, which meant Jack would have to make a trip to the Sauder Mental Health Facility about an hour’s drive away. Margaret hadn’t been chatty about the exact location, claiming that the place was private to prevent the media from finding it and the occasional famous patients who entered the facility for drug rehab.

Margaret’s explanation had made him even more uneasy. But he couldn’t go until he had things stabilized with Alana. Fortunately, he’d already gotten Ted and Margaret’s photos from the online database of drivers’ licenses, and he’d run computer checks. Neither had criminal records, but Jack had asked his deputy to do a little digging to see if anything flagged.

“When the fax arrives,” Alana continued, “I want you to read that court order word for word. I’ll do the same. But first, I’ll have to battle my brother.” She lifted her head from the pillow again, and this time she pushed his hand away when he tried to stop her. “I need some clothes. I don’t want Sean to see me like this. I’m sure I look frail and weak. It’ll only give him more ammunition to try to have me recommitted.”

Jack couldn’t argue with that, but Alana wasn’t ready to be up and moving around. Still, he didn’t stop her. “I can’t guarantee the doctor will let you leave the hospital, but I’ll see what I can do about getting you something else to wear.”

She’d gathered up the blanket to drape around her. Her gaze met his. “Thank you.”

He didn’t want her thanks. He didn’t want empathy. He didn’t want to feel that she was getting railroaded.

But he did.

Damn it. He did.

Jack stepped outside the room, and welcomed the moment he had to himself. He didn’t usually have trouble being objective, especially since Alana was officially part of an investigation now. But she was also a huge threat to his happiness. That was coloring his objectivity.

When he spotted Sara Murphy, a nurse and a woman he’d known his entire life, he walked up the hall to her. “Could you possibly scrounge up some street clothes for the patient?” Jack hitched his thumb toward Alana’s door.

Sara nodded and shifted a pink wad of sugaryscented gum in her mouth so she could answer him. “Sure will.” She volleyed her doe-brown eyes between Jack and the door. “I heard what’s going on, and I’m sorry. She’s here to try to take little Joey, isn’t she?”

Jack settled for saying, “It’s complicated.”

“Not so complicated. You love that boy. Everybody around here knows that.” Sara patted his arm. “Have you learned anything more about the night she wandered out of the hospital?”

“No.”

Sara glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening, and stepped closer. “Look, I’m on your side. I don’t want that woman back here. But you know I’ve had my worries about her from the start.”

Yeah. He did. He’d interviewed Sara several times. “You don’t think Alana left the hospital voluntarily that night eight months ago.”

“And I still don’t. I saw her an hour before she disappeared, and she was fit as a fiddle. She talked about Joey, about their future together. She was talking about taking Mommy and Me classes, for heaven’s sake.” Sara shook her head. “And then bam! an hour later, she walks out into the freezing night without giving a second thought to leaving her baby behind.”

Since it’d been a while since those interviews, Jack asked the obvious. “You’re sure you didn’t see anyone go into Alana’s room that night?”

She flexed her eyebrows. “Just Doc Bartolo.”

There it was again. That same punch of doubt that had come eight months ago. Dr. Bartolo had been the last credible person to see Alana. She’d been fine, he insisted. Since the doctor had never given Jack a reason to distrust him, he’d believed him.

Except there was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind. Jack had discovered that looking at Joey had dimmed those doubts.

“You did the right thing, taking that baby the way you did,” Sara insisted.

Did I? Jack asked himself.

Thankfully, he didn’t pose that question to Sara. He spotted Deputy Reyes Medina making his way down the hall toward him. At six-three and well over two hundred pounds, Reyes was impossible to miss. He had the face and the coloring of his Comanche ancestors, but his expression was all cop. He walked, looked and talked as if he were ready to kick someone’s butt into the next county.

It took Jack a moment to realize Reyes wasn’t alone. He saw something behind the deputy, and after Reyes moved a little to the side, Jack got another surprise he didn’t want.

His aunt Tessie was there, and she was holding Joey.

Jack groaned some ripe profanity. This was not the place he wanted his son.

“I’ll get those clothes for Ms. Davis,” Sara mumbled, excusing herself.

Jack heard her, but he didn’t respond, instead making a beeline for his aunt.

“Is it true?” Tessie asked. She’d obviously dressed in a hurry. No makeup, not that she wore much anyway. Her salt-white hair was in disarray, and her Coke-bottle-green eyes were wide with concern. “Is that woman really here in the hospital?”

Jack caught her arm to stop her from moving any closer to Alana’s room. “She’s here. I was going to tell you, but I haven’t had a chance.”

Unlike Reyes and Tessie, Joey wasn’t showing much concern. He grinned from ear to ear and reached for Jack. Jack pulled his son into his arms and gave himself a moment to be a father. He could have sworn his blood pressure dropped to normal. The knot in his stomach eased up. And for a few precious seconds, all was right with the world.

“I told Tessie she shouldn’t be here,” Reyes grumbled.

Tessie started her defense before Reyes finished the last word of his sentence. “I wanted to see her. I want to make her understand that she can’t come back after all these months and take Joey.”

“It’s not a good time to do that,” Jack countered. He couldn’t tell Tessie that Alana would try to take Joey. Jack didn’t even want to say the words aloud.

There was a sound behind him, and judging from Tessie’s and Reyes’s reactions, Jack knew what it was. He quickly handed Joey to Tessie. “Take him home please.”

She nodded but kept her attention fastened to the other end of the hall. One glance over his shoulder confirmed that Alana was there, standing in the doorway of her room. She had the blanket draped around her like a robe and was looking at Joey. She started toward him.

“The virus,” Jack reminded her. “You’ll make him sick.”

Alana froze. Thank God. If it hadn’t been for her illness, Alana would have tried to wrench Joey from Tessie’s arms. Joey would have been confused. Frightened. And the contact would no doubt have given Alana even more determination to take the child she’d given birth to.

Tessie turned and hurried back toward the exit. Jack went to Alana, to make sure she stayed put. When he reached her, he saw her tears, even though she was doing her level best to blink them away.

“He’s so beautiful,” she whispered, her attention still focused over his shoulder where Tessie had been standing just seconds earlier. “Yes, he is.”

“Joey has my hair color.” She touched her fingers to her own saddle-brown locks. “What about his eyes? What color are they?”

“Blue.” Like Alana’s. Jack didn’t volunteer that, though. His heart already felt as if it were being crushed.

“Blue,” she repeated with a determined nod. “I’m seeing him tomorrow.” It wasn’t a request. “The medicine will have kicked in. I won’t be contagious. I’ll see my baby.”

Jack was already trying to figure out a way to stop that. Or a way for him to deal with what might be inevitable. Because even if Alana was sent back to that institution, it didn’t mean she was out of the picture when it came to Joey. She’d hire a lawyer. She’d fight. And now that she knew she had a son, she wouldn’t back down. But as the only father Joey had ever known, he wouldn’t back down, either.

Reyes handed Jack some papers. The first was a fax with the photo of a woman. The FBI had already sent him her picture, and it was on his desk. “Kinley Ford?” Jack read aloud.

“She’s the missing woman the Rangers and FBI are looking for. It’s possible she’s in the area.”

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Nine months ago Kinley Ford had been in town, and even though she hadn’t been responsible, three people had been killed. It’d been one of the few murder cases Jack had ever had to handle, and he didn’t want to have to deal with her now. “Does she have anything to do with Alana?”

“Not that I can tell, but a lot of people are anxious to find her. The FBI wants us to put flyers with her picture around town.”

Jack intended to do that, but it would have to wait. He looked at the other papers Reyes had given him. Alana’s commitment papers. With them were two black-and-white pictures. When Jack glanced at them, he remembered that Joey wasn’t the only issue here.

“I got her commitment papers a little over an hour ago and made some calls,” Reyes explained. “I’m trying to track down the judge who signed them.”

Good. That was a start.

“I also showed those around.” Reyes pointed to the photos of Ted Moore and Margaret Vargas. The deputy glanced at Alana.

“And?” Jack prompted, giving Reyes permission to go on.

“They just arrived in town. So did her brother, Sean. All three are in the hospital lobby.”

“Here?” Jack and Alana said in unison. Apparently Margaret had decided to come to town after all.

Alana’s tone was laced with anger. She seemed to welcome this unexpected visit. Jack did, too, in a way. But he wanted this meeting to happen at the sheriff’s office since it would likely turn into an interrogation. Maybe even an arrest.

Reyes nodded. “Margaret said she left the institution as soon as she faxed the commitment papers to us. Said she figured it was best that she speak to Alana and you in person.”

Jack wasn’t so sure of that.

“I told them to wait in the lobby until I cleared everything with you,” Reyes explained. “According to the pair, they didn’t arrive with the brother. It’s a coincidence that they’re all here together at exactly the same time.”

Jack wasn’t a strong believer in coincidences. It could be that Sean had a reason to want to dissociate himself from the pair. Especially from Ted—the man might have crossed a legal line or two if he truly had gone after Alana the way she said he had.

“Before you see to them, I think you should know what I learned,” the deputy went on. “When I showed those pictures around town this morning, the new waitress that Bella hired over at the diner said she saw that man, Ted, late last night.”

“Where?” Jack asked, though he already suspected the answer.

“In front of your office. She said the guy came running out of the alley, jumped in his car and drove away. She said he looked like he was up to no good.”

“He was,” Alana assured them. She turned to him. “I told you.”

So she had. Jack would have liked to explain the man’s behavior. But he couldn’t. Unless Ted was trying to cover up the fact that a patient had escaped and he didn’t want to get in trouble for a security infraction. But that didn’t make sense. Once the man realized he hadn’t contained Alana, then why hadn’t he stayed? Why get in his car and leave without alerting someone in the sheriff’s office?

Jack heard the footsteps, looked up and realized he might not have to wait long for those answers. Sean and his guests hadn’t stayed put in the lobby despite the deputy’s order. They were coming up the hall, and

judging from their expressions, they were there to take Alana back to the institution.

Of course, that led Jack to another question.

Was he going to let them?




Chapter Five


Alana knew she should be bracing herself for the meeting with her brother and the two people who’d held her captive. She should also be preparing for a fight in case Margaret and Ted attempted to apprehend her.

But she had trouble focusing.

The fever and drugs weren’t to blame this time. Her thoughts were scattered. Only moments earlier she’d seen her son.

“Joey,” she said under her breath.

Just that glimpse of him had been enough for her to know this child was hers. Love was instant. Strong. And she would use that love to give her strength. She would get her son back. But first, she had to deal with the three obstacles coming her way.

Four, she corrected.

Because Jack might turn out to be the biggest obstacle of all.

“Alana,” her brother greeted, but there was no warmth in it. Not that she expected it from him. Sean was her only living brother, but over the years, they’d become more business partners than siblings. And because he was older, he had declared himself her boss and keeper.

“Why don’t we take this into the room?” Jack suggested. He looked back at his deputy. “Stay close just in case.”

Alana wasn’t leaving with her brother, Margaret or Ted, and she would use physical force if necessary to stop them from taking her.

With the hulking deputy choosing to wait outside the door, they filed into her hospital room, each casting glances at her. She threw some glances right back at them.

“Where do I start?” she mumbled. She had a list of questions and accusations. She decided to begin with Ted because she could still feel his hands on her when he tried to grab her in the alley. “Explain what you were trying to do to me last night.”

Ted’s Adam’s apple bobbed on his thin throat. It was the only thing thin about him. He had bulky shoulders and arms, and his shaved head made him seem even more fearsome. “I was trying to do my job and bring you back to the Sauder facility.”

“So you admit you were here in Willow Ridge?” Jack asked.

“Of course. Ms. Davis is a patient, and it’s my job to make sure she stays confined until the judge says differently. We were instructed that she could be a danger to herself and others.”

That must have been Margaret’s cue to bring out the paper she had tucked beneath her arm. Like Ted, Margaret was no lightweight. She was close to six feet tall and had an athletic build. There’d been times when Margaret had held her down and forced her to take the sedating drugs.

“And here’s a notice from the judge that your confinement has not been terminated,” Margaret announced. “I had him fax it to the hospital so I could show you.” There was a victorious glimmer in her ice-gray eyes when she looked at Alana. “That means you’re to be returned to Sauder immediately.”




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