Her Christmas Guardian Page 7

  Maybe he didn’t.

  Maybe this was just another job to him, and the fact that he was doing it for free made it less important than other jobs.

  It was important to her, though.

  She needed Lucy. She needed to hear her toddler giggles, listen to her singing in her little-girl voice. Christmas was coming. Scout had planned to put up the Christmas tree and let Lucy help decorate. She’d planned to take her to the live nativity at church, let her pick out gifts to put in a shoe box for Project Christmas Child. She’d had so many plans for this year.

  “Scout,” he prodded, and she cleared her throat of all the tears she wasn’t going to cry.

  “I’ll tell you what you want to know.” She managed to get the words out, and she knew there was no going back. She’d have to answer everything. She’d have to let him see into every dark corner of her life.

  He nodded, his face relaxing. “Good. Then let’s get started.”

  SEVEN

  She knew what he was going to ask.

  She braced herself for it, because she also knew she had to tell the truth, give the name, reveal what she’d never revealed to anyone but Amber.

  “Don’t look so scared, Scout. I’m not going to use any of the information you give me to hurt you. My only goal is to bring Lucy home.”

  “Right,” she managed to say through a mouth that seemed filled with cotton.

  “Then what are you afraid of?” he asked.

  “Losing my daughter.” That was the truth. It was the reason she’d kept Lucy’s paternity to herself. All the other things Amber had warned her about had made her nervous, but losing her daughter? That had terrified her.

  “She’s already lost,” he said gently.

  “I know.” She swallowed hard, her eyes burning, her heart beating hollowly in her chest. She wanted to go back in time, do something different, anything different, to keep Lucy safe.

  “Tell me about her father.”

  “He’s not in the picture. He doesn’t even know Lucy exists.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Was she? Not really. She didn’t think Amber had told anyone about Lucy, but she couldn’t be sure and she couldn’t ask. “There was only one person who knew who Lucy’s father is. She died last year.”

  His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. “What happened to her?”

  “She committed suicide.”

  “Did she leave a note?”

  “I don’t know. I heard about it on the news.”

  “Okay. Tell you what,” he sighed. “How about we stop with the back and forth, and you just tell me the whole story? That’ll probably save some time.”

  “Have you heard of Dale and Christopher Schoepflin?”

  “Father and son, right? Both congressmen? I’ve heard the son might be in line for a presidential nomination.”

  “My best friend was Dale’s daughter, Amber. Christopher is her half brother. He was ten years older than her.” This was a lot harder to talk about than she wanted it to be. She hated the story, because it was her story, her mistake, her sin.

  That was a hard truth to swallow and a harder truth to speak.

  “Amber asphyxiated in her father’s garage while he was in D.C. That was pretty big news,” Boone said.

  She nodded, because she still couldn’t believe that her best friend had blocked the tailpipe of her Ford Mustang, turned on the engine and waited to die. The image didn’t match with the happy, hyper person she’d grown up with. Amber had been the optimist, the ever-cheerful party girl. If she’d been hiding deep depression, she’d never let on.

  “Did you attend the funeral?” Boone pressed for more.

  “No, I...” She hesitated, then plunged forward with the information, because hiding it wasn’t going to bring Lucy home. “Didn’t want Lucy near the family. She’s Christopher’s daughter.”

  If Boone was surprised, he didn’t let it show. “His wedding was a pretty big deal. I remember seeing pictures of it on magazine covers. When was it? Three years ago?”

  “Yes. Two months before Lucy was born.” He could figure out the timeline on that, because she wasn’t going to go into details.

  “He married Rachel Harris, right?”

  “That’s right.” Rachel was a prominent talk-show hostess and an outspoken children’s advocate. Scout had never met her in person, but she’d seen her on just about every magazine cover imaginable. The media loved her, because she was beautiful, smart and dedicated to the underprivileged. Her and Christopher’s engagement and wedding had ranked right up there with British royalty, and for a while, it seemed it was all anyone had talked about.

  “I guess Christopher wouldn’t be happy if his wife knew he had a child with someone else,” he murmured dispassionately, no judgment or heat in the words.

  It didn’t matter. Her cheeks were lava hot. She wanted to explain everything. The years she’d wasted on Darren, the way she’d felt when she’d finally realized that he wasn’t who he’d claimed to be, the party Amber had invited her to, the secret crush that she’d had on Christopher for so many years it had almost defined who she was.

  It seemed like a lifetime ago, and looking back, she could see how gauche she’d been, how naive and easily manipulated. She’d walked right into the perfect firestorm of temptation, and she’d given in to it, because she’d been tired of being the good girl, the good friend, the perfect companion.

  “There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said, which made her feel only more embarrassed. “This isn’t confession time, and it’s not about rehashing painful memories. What it’s about is finding your daughter. Is it possible that Christopher found out about her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How about his wife?”

  “I don’t know that, either. The only one I told was Amber, and I don’t know why she’d tell anyone else. She’s the one who told me to leave town and warned me not to tell her family about the baby.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t she want you to tell them?”

  “She was afraid they’d find a way to take Lucy from me. She was worried that I’d lose custody or that...” She hesitated. Amber’s warning had seemed bizarre, her fear out of proportion with the situation. It had been contagious, though, and Scout had never shaken the anxiety her words had brought. “She didn’t give me specifics. She just said she wouldn’t put anything past them. She was worried that if they couldn’t get me to relinquish custody, they might do something to force me into it.”

  “That could mean anything.” Boone’s words were light, but his expression was anything but. He looked tough and implacable, all his easy good looks lost in the hardness of his eyes, the toughness of his face.

  “She was scared and that scared me. I started looking for a job out of town, and I managed to get an interview here. When they offered me the position, I took it.”

  “You ran a long way for such a vague threat.”

  “It didn’t seem vague at the time. It seemed like I was doing what I needed to do to stay safe.”

  “Did you have any contact with Amber after you left? Phone calls? Emails? Texts? Anything that could have been traced?”

  “Last year, she sent me two letters and a Christmas gift.”

  “Do you still have the letters?”

  “I did. They were in my filing cabinet in my closet.”

  “I’ll have Officer Lamar look for them. Did you respond?”

  “She asked me not to. She said things were...weird.” Those hadn’t been Amber’s exact words, but they were close. Scout closed her eyes, trying to force her brain to remember every detail of the short notes. One in the summer. One in the fall. Then the Christmas gift. Two weeks later, Amber was dead.

&
nbsp; Had she planned to take her life when she sent the gift? Had it been some kind of cry for help?

  “What are you thinking?” Boone touched her shoulder, and she opened her eyes, realized that he’d leaned closer. There was a faint scar on his cheek, the shadow of a red beard on his jaw. He had the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man, thick and dark red like his hair. If she’d met him at church, she’d have found him attractive, and she’d have done everything in her power to avoid him.

  “That Amber needed me, and I wasn’t there for her?” she said honestly, because she’d already told him things she’d never told anyone else, and there didn’t seem to be any reason to hide the truth.

  He didn’t tell her she was wrong, didn’t say everything would be okay. “That’s a tough thing,” he said. “Knowing that you weren’t there at the right moment to keep something from happening to someone you love. Me? I’ve been there. I know the weight of regret. I also know that it doesn’t change anything, doesn’t help anything.”

  “What—?”

  “It’s a story for another time, Scout. Right now, the best thing you can do is stay focused on the present, stay healthy and safe for your daughter’s sake. You can make sure that when she comes home, you’re able to care for her the way she’s going to need to be cared for.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. So, you won’t try to leave the house tonight? No climbing out the window and trying to get home? No heading off to the accident scene? You won’t call anyone, won’t ask for any outside help?”

  “In other words, no doing anything?” She could have told him right then that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Exactly. Let us do what we do best and trust that it’s going to be enough.”

  “What if it isn’t?”

  “I can’t tell you that. I can only tell you that what HEART does will be the best anyone can offer, Scout. The rest is up to God.” He stood, towering over her, his faded jeans clinging to muscular thighs and narrow hips, his T-shirt clinging to flat abs and broad shoulders. “I’m going to call Officer Lamar and give him the information you shared. He’ll probably stop by later to ask more questions, but for now, I suggest you rest.”

  He walked into the hall before she could respond. Seconds later, Raina walked in. Scout was sure she’d been standing outside the door waiting, but she didn’t mention it. Just bustled to the bedside table and set down a cup of tea and a glass of water beside it.

  “I brought you some Tylenol.” She handed Scout two tablets. “They’re not going to do much for the headache, but they may take the edge off the pain. I called the hospital and asked for your discharge instructions. Your doctor wrote a script for pain medication, but you left too quickly to get it. I had the hospital fax it to the clinic where I work. We have a pharmacy there.” She spoke almost nonstop as she helped Scout to her feet, pulled back the covers. “How about I help you into that nightgown? You’ll be a lot more comfortable sleeping in that.”

  “I can manage.”

  “That doesn’t mean you should. Did Boone tell you that I’m a nurse? I spent quite a few years working in the E.R.”

  “No. He didn’t.”

  “I work at a medical clinic now, but I’ve seen plenty of head injuries. Yours was a serious one. Do too much too soon and you’ll end up back in the hospital. I’m not going to push you to take my offer of help, but if you start feeling dizzy or off balance, don’t fight through it. Sit down and wait or call for help. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed, mostly because her legs were shaking and she wanted Raina to leave so that she could sit down again.

  “Great. I’ll check in on you later.” She walked out, closing the door with a quiet click.

  Scout dropped onto the bed, popping both Tylenol in her mouth and swallowing them with water. She didn’t drink any of the tea. Her stomach was churning, and she wasn’t sure she’d keep it down. She didn’t bother changing. She wanted to be ready if Officer Lamar showed up. She also wanted to be ready to leave if she decided it was the best option. Right then, she felt too weak to even think about opening the window and doing any of the things Boone had warned her about.

  She wanted to do them, though. She wanted to go home, wanted to go to the crash site, wanted to knock on every door in town and demand to look in every house, every room and every closet until she found her daughter.

  How much time had passed between the moment she’d been shot and the moment Boone had arrived? Was it enough to have got Lucy out of town or had the kidnappers holed up somewhere to wait until the heat died down?

  The police had been looking for three days and they’d found nothing.

  She stretched out on the bed, her thoughts racing, her heart racing with them. Three days was a lot of time. Lucy could be anywhere.

  If she was even alive.

  The thought weaseled its way into her head and wouldn’t leave. It pulsed there, screaming for her attention. She didn’t want to give it any, because she didn’t want to even imagine that she’d never see her daughter again.

  She turned on her side, stared out the window, willing herself not to panic. If Amber had been right about her family, it was possible that Christopher had Lucy, that she was safe and being cared for by...

  The people who’d tried to kill Scout?

  She gagged and had to sit up to catch her breath.

  Outside the gibbous moon cast gray-green light on shrubs and grass. It was a pretty yard, set off from any neighbors. On a bluff above it, a light shone through a thick stand of trees. She knew the building that light spilled from. She’d been there once when she’d first moved to River Valley, the little church on the bluff quaint and welcoming. In the end, she’d decided to attend a larger church. She’d wanted the anonymity that came from being in a larger congregation.

  She grabbed the chair and dragged it over to the window, pulled the comforter around her shoulders and sat staring out at the night. She didn’t want to lie in bed, didn’t want to cuddle up under blankets when she wasn’t sure if Lucy could do the same.

  “Good night, sweet girl,” she whispered, wishing those words could drift across the distance between them, settle into her daughter’s heart, give her the comfort she needed.

  They’d never been apart for more than a few hours. They’d never spent a night without each other. Lucy had to be scared, and thinking about it broke whatever was left whole in Scout’s heart.

  The house settled around her, the sound of voices slowly dying. The floor creaked above her head. Boone and Jackson settling down for the night? She imagined it must be. Imagined that the doors opening and closing in the hall were Samuel and Raina.

  Mother and son?

  They looked nothing alike, but the bond between them had been obvious, the young boy’s eyes constantly tracking Raina as she moved around the room.

  She wanted to know their story, but she wanted Lucy more.

  The Tylenol had done little to dull the throbbing in her head, but the aching pain there was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. She had a ten-ton weight on her chest, and if she didn’t get up and do something, it would crush her.

  She crept across the room, opened the door. It didn’t creak or groan, but the floorboards gave a little under her feet, the quiet sounds like a soft moan in the darkness.

  She didn’t know where she was going, but she made her way into the living room and then into the kitchen. Someone had left a light on above the stove, its mellow glow barely illuminating the room. She didn’t turn on another light, had no idea what she thought she’d accomplish by being there rather than in the bedroom. She just knew she couldn’t sit and wait.

  She’d had her purse with her earlier, but she didn’t know where it had gone. Her cell phone was in it, and if it still had some charge left in the battery, she could do an online search for Chris
topher. It had been a while since she’d looked him up. The one night they’d spent together had cured her of the childish crush she’d had. When she’d left the Schoepflin mansion early the next morning, she’d wanted nothing more than to forget what had happened and move on with her life—a little smarter and a whole lot wiser.

  She liked to think that she had, but burying her head in the sand, hiding the truth, doing everything in her power to keep Lucy safe hadn’t been enough.

  She walked back into the living room, looked around for her purse and didn’t find it. She’d probably left it in the SUV. She doubted Boone had left it unlocked, but she was just restless enough, just desperate enough to check.

  She began easing the bolt open, going slow to avoid unnecessary noise.

  “Going somewhere?” Boone said from behind her.

  She screamed, whirling to face him.

  “What in the world are you doing there?” she gasped.

  “What I’m doing is being really unhappy,” he muttered, taking her arm and leading her to the couch. “Sit.”

  She dropped down a little too quickly, her legs weak, her head spinning. “I was looking for my purse.”

  “I told you to stay inside,” he ground out, towering over her. Again. She wanted to tell him to sit down so she wouldn’t strain her neck looking up at him, but it would have taken too much effort, so she didn’t say anything at all. “You’re not going to save your daughter by getting yourself killed,” he continued a little more gently.

  “Who’s going to kill me? You said yourself that no one followed us from my place.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is?”

  “You didn’t follow the first rule for working with HEART.”

  “I didn’t realize there were rules I had to follow.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. It did nothing to ease her headache. “The fact is,” she continued, because he didn’t respond, “I couldn’t lie in a warm cozy bed while my daughter is missing. I can’t close my eyes and sleep when I don’t know if she’s okay. I don’t expect you to understand that, but it is what it is. Until she’s home, I have to be working to find her.”