Found Wanting (18 page)

"I'm guessing they were hoping Alaina would show up."

Her brow creased. "Alaina. So that's her real name."

Mitch nodded.

"And the feds at the newspaper were there to arrest her for kidnapping Jonah?"

"I'm not sure what they were doing there, but that's a possibility, yes."

"Do you know where Jonah is?"

"By now, he's with his father."

Her shoulders relaxed some, and she chewed her bottom lip. "Good. That's good."

Her reaction baffled him. Shouldn't she be on Alaina's side? He cleared his throat. "What has she told you about Jonah's father?"

Rachel pursed her lips, her eyes flooding but not overflowing. "Not a damn thing. I thought I knew her. I thought ..." She trailed off, dragging a trembling hand through her short curls. "Jonah adores her. That poor kid."

"Is it possible she told you about his father without you realizing it?"

"In what way?"

"Maybe she talked about a past relationship that didn't --"

"Relationship?" Shock raised her eyebrows. "She said she kidnapped Jonah. I assumed she meant from strangers."

"Jonah is her son. She ran away with him fourteen years ago. His father hired me to find them."

Rachel sank onto the chair next to him. "Son of a bitch." Fisting a hand, she knocked it against her knee. "Five years we've been friends, and she never said a fucking word. How's that for friendship?"

Irritation tightened his throat. "I'm guessing you missed the part tonight where she saved your life."

Rachel met his gaze, her expression quizzical. "What are you talking about?"

"The second shot, the one that blew out the front window? She threw herself on top of you. That's how she dislocated her shoulder again."

Rachel seemed to think about that for a long moment, then dropped her head into her hands and moaned. "Oh God, I'm such a shit. What the hell was I thinking?"

"Rachel, she said she took Jonah from his father to protect him. Do you have any idea what that might have been about?"

Raising her head, she pierced him with a stare that streaked from stricken to suspicious. "You said you work for him."

"Yes."

"Then why are you asking me questions about him? Don't you know who you work for?"

"I'm trying to figure out who was shooting at us."

She pushed up from the chair, as if unable to sit still. "Jesus," she breathed. "Someone was shooting at us. I still can't believe it." She faced him suddenly, horror growing in her eyes. "Grant and Lucas. What happened to them is related to this, isn't it?"

"I think so, yes." He paused, but when she didn't respond, he asked, "Do you know who might have a grudge against Alaina?"

"Who would have a grudge against her?" she replied, as if the idea were absurd. "She never pisses anybody off. She won't even blow her horn when some asshole cuts her off in traffic." She rubbed her hands over her face. "God, I'm such an idiot. The Alex I know wouldn't hurt anybody. She couldn't have taken Jonah without a damn good reason." She turned her burning gaze on him, and he could see she was reaching a conclusion he wasn't going to like. "I don't think I should be talking to you," she said slowly.

"Rachel, I want to help --"

"How did she get that bruise on her face?"

"I didn't --"

"And the bruises around her wrist?" She looked like she might be sick. "You tied her up."

"You're wrong. That wasn't how it --"

He broke off, surprised to see a former colleague striding toward them.

Norm Potter wore an FBI power suit -- navy with a white shirt and red tie -- under a black trench coat. Gripping a cellphone in one hand, he looked the same -- red hair and freckles -- as he had the last time Mitch had seen him. Mitch realized that the two newbie agents had been waiting for his former co-worker.

"Norm, hello," Mitch said, shaking the man's hand.

"Mitch Kane," Norm said. "I'll be damned. It's been, what, five years?"

Mitch nodded, conscious of Rachel closely watching the exchange. "About that, yes. You here on official business?"

The grin on Norm's face faded. "Yes, my two agents over there," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the rookies at the door, "tell me you had some excitement tonight involving someone we've been looking for."

Rachel said, "I'm going to check on Al ... Alaina."

Norm's blue gaze landed on Rachel, and he pointed his cellphone at her. "Rachel Boyd, right?" he said.

She nodded, wary.

He thrust out a hand. "Assistant Director Norm Potter, FBI. I'm going to want to talk to you, too."

"Fine," she said. "I'll be only a few minutes."

Norm watched her walk away, then said to Mitch, "Why don't we take this somewhere private?"

* * *

Alaina was flying. She had been since regaining consciousness, her shoulder and the rest of her body blessedly pain free. She didn't even care that someone had once again replaced her clothes with a hospital gown that gaped open in the back.

She remembered Mitch saying something about the feds watching Rachel's. They'd been waiting for her to show up.

So it was over. Fourteen years of running, of hiding, of living in constant fear that she would come home one day and Layton would be waiting, flanked by the sheriff, the county police, the state police, the FBI ... whoever it would take to claim the child she had taken from him.

She'd known it would happen some day. She had expected it long ago. Now that it had ... she was curiously numb. Maybe it was the drugs. Or maybe the despair was so overwhelming, so blinding, that her mind had shut down in defense.

Next stop: Prison. Or perhaps death at the hands of one of Layton's hit men.

After all was said and done, maybe that was what she deserved. She'd lied to her son for fourteen years. Sins of omission could be just as damaging as outright deception. Layton probably hadn't even had to reach that much to paint a heartless, cold portrait of her for Jonah.

She had stolen Jonah from his bed in his home.

She had denied him the comfort and benefits of a wealthy upbringing.

She had deprived him of knowing his father, a public icon of goodness and strength, a man who on the surface was charming and kind, intelligent and warm.

Looking back, she realized that she should have told Jonah the truth. Then he would have been prepared. He would have had a frame of reference. But how could she have told him the truth about how he came to be? It would have broken his heart, perhaps even his spirit.

She closed her eyes against the hot tears that welled, swallowed against the fissure of grief that splintered the numbness. What would she do without him? How could she live?

"Hey."

Alaina opened her eyes to see Rachel standing by the bed, looking stressed, a pair of scrubs tucked under her arm. "We have to get you out of here," she whispered. "The feds are here for you." She lowered the metal bar that ran along the edge of the bed. "Can you sit up?"

Alaina didn't move, staring at her friend in confusion. "I don't know you at all." That was what Rachel had said to her in the bathroom. She'd been disappointed in her, angry.

Now, Rachel leaned over her, her gaze sharp and urgent as she studied Alaina's face. "Great, you're high as a kite."

Alaina smiled, letting herself float a little higher, where the despair couldn't touch her. "Good drugs."

Tossing the scrubs onto the bed, Rachel stripped back the blanket covering her. "Let's get you dressed."

Wanting to please her friend, to make up for how she had let her down, Alaina tried to sit up. Dizziness instantly spun the room, and she would have sank back to the pillow if Rachel hadn't caught her arm and kept her upright.

"No you don't," she said, taking Alaina's hand and curling her fingers around the metal railing that remained up. "Hold onto that."

Alaina's chin wanted to loll onto her chest. "Why are you doing this?"

Rachel didn't respond as she untied Alaina's hospital gown and pulled it away. "Damn."

Startled, Alaina followed her friend's horrified gaze. "Look at that," she said in wonder. Purple bruises smeared across her collar bone and left shoulder. More bruises marred the right side of her ribcage. None of them looked real, probably because she didn't feel them at the moment.

Her face pale, Rachel began unbuttoning her own blouse. "It'll be easier for you to put this on," she said, shedding her top and holding it up. "Let's start with your sore arm."

Alaina, too high to care that she was naked from the waist up, let Rachel slip the blouse on her and button it. "There, that wasn't that tough," Rachel said as she pulled the scrubs top over her own head. "Now the pants." Shaking out the bottoms, she leaned toward Alaina. "Hold onto me."

But Alaina stayed put as it occurred to her again that Rachel had been angry, really angry, with her. Now she was helping her escape? "You're aiding and abetting."

Rachel smiled, her eyes brightening with amusement. "I am, aren't I?"

"It's not funny," Alaina said, wishing the fog in her head would lift. "You could go to jail."

"Then we'll share a cell. Now get up. We don't have much time."

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Now is not the time to debate this," Rachel said.

"Yes, it is. You haven't done anything wrong yet."

"I'll take my chances."

"Rachel, no. I won't let you put yourself in jeopardy for me."

Rachel looked into her eyes. "Listen to me, Al --" She faltered, then plunged ahead, "Did you have a good reason to take Jonah from his father?"

"Yes, but --"

"You knew when you did it that it was the absolutely right thing to do, didn't you?"

Alaina rubbed her eyes, trying to keep up. "Yes."

"Then you know exactly where I'm coming from. Now put your arm around my neck and hold onto me."

Once they were in Rachel's car and turning out of the ER parking lot, Alaina leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

And thought about what happened the last time someone she cared about walked into Layton's cross hairs.

* * *

Jonah's eighth birthday was in a week, and Alaina couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he unwrapped his gift. He'd been begging for a Nintendo video game console for months. All the kids at school had one, he said. It was important for his social development, or so he said in his third-grade language.

She'd been reluctant to buy the game. It was pricey, and while Emma paid her significantly more than minimum wage at the bookstore, she still had to be frugal. In ten years, she'd have to be able to start paying for his college education, and she knew first hand that that would be expensive.