The Sheriff and the Baby (7 page)

After arranging for Hank to meet her at the bus transfer station down the street, she packed the small duffel bag she’d bought in the hospital shop earlier that day and created a comfortable nest for Sarah in the bottom.

After a long, soothing shower, Beth fed Sarah and then placed her sleeping baby in the duffel bag, careful to leave the zipper partway open for ventilation. Minutes later, she stepped out of the hospital undetected, mingling with a group who’d been visiting another patient.

Matt didn’t want to believe what his eyes were telling him.

The room was bare. The bed had been stripped, the flowers gone, the crib empty.

In the vain hope that Beth was waiting downstairs for him, he ran down the stairs leading to Reception.

She wasn’t there, nor was she waiting outside in the sunny but freezing winter morning.

He’d arrived early to make sure he caught her in case she planned to slip out early. Beth had acted strange when he’d insisted on giving them a ride, and he’d been suspicious of her easy acquiescence. Too bad his suspicions had been correct. He cursed himself for letting his guard down.

After checking the canteen, he approached the hospital receptionist and asked her to page Beth. “I thought I recognized you, Sheriff O’Malley,” she said. “We found this letter for you in her room.”

Matt tore open the envelope and with a sinking heart read the neatly written words.

Matt stared at the note, hoping the words would change if he looked at them hard enough. He screwed up the note and tossed it in the trash. He had no idea where to find her or even where to search.

He asked for Beth’s forwarding address.

The receptionist opened a file on her computer, then looked up at him with a frown. “I’m sorry, but it appears that the address she gave is false. And she left without paying her account. If you wouldn’t mind waiting a moment, I’ll get the hospital administrator.”

She made a quick call and turned back to Matt. “The administrator would like to speak to you.”

Matt thanked her and hurried over to the office. Heather Clarke might know more about Beth’s whereabouts than the receptionist.

“Matt, good to see you,” Heather said, as she opened her office door and ushered him in.

Matt was too impatient to bother with pleasantries. “You know where Beth is?”

Heather’s raised eyebrows warned him to back off. “And good morning to you, too, Sheriff,” she said.

“I’m sorry, but I need to know where Beth is.”

“We’d like to know, too. Especially since she left without paying her bill.”

Heather resumed her seat behind the desk, indicating that Matt should take the one opposite her, then opened a folder. She withdrew a sheet of paper and passed it to him,
saying, “I thought you might like to settle the debt, since she’s named you as the baby’s father.”

Matt stared at his name printed neatly beside the word
Father.

What the hell?
He frowned up at Heather. “I haven’t got a clue why she did this.”

Heather smiled mysteriously. “I can think of a few reasons a scared young woman would want to name you as her child’s father.”

Matt didn’t have time to question her cryptic remark. He needed to find Beth. “You knew she was scared?”

“No. I didn’t meet her, but Carol was very distressed when she came on duty this morning and discovered the room empty and two notes on the bedside cabinet. One for you, one for her.”

“Did Carol’s note say where she went?”

Heather shook her head. “I think you’ll have to accept that this young woman doesn’t want to be found.”

T
WO HOURS LATER,
Matt was no closer to finding Beth.

The hospital’s security cameras had shown her slipping out at the close of visiting hours with a large group. After that, she’d disappeared into the winter night.

He thought he’d hit pay dirt when the bus transfer station down the street from the hospital had sold a one-way ticket to Denver to a woman fitting her description late last night. Matt asked the clerk to call the driver but the man was emphatic that no one answering Beth’s description had boarded the bus, with or without a baby.

He called the cab company, but neither they nor the local car rental companies had dealt with a woman matching Beth’s description.

It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air. His mind spun with questions. Why had Beth gone to such lengths
to get away from him and to cover her tracks? Who was she running from? Was Sarah safe?

Frustrated, Matt scraped his fingers through his hair.
Forget it, O’Malley,
he told himself.
She doesn’t want anything to do with you, so forget about her and get on with your life.

His little pep talk lasted all of two seconds. He couldn’t get on with his life. He
had
to find Beth, if for no other reason than to ask her why she’d named him as Sarah’s father.

He needed some fresh air. Maybe he should go horseback riding with Luke? Luke was reliable and levelheaded and he was good to talk things out with. Not only that, Luke had shown an interest in Beth….

He collected his jacket from the hook on the inside of the door and headed out to his vehicle. Within minutes, he was on his way to the ranch.

“W
HAT D’YOU MEAN
, she’s gone?” Luke demanded, hands on his hips as he faced his irate brother. “What did you do to make her take off like that?”

“Maybe it was something
you
said.”

“Me!” Luke yelled. “Look, if I said anything that made her leave, I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I liked her. I liked her a lot.”

“So I noticed,” Matt growled and hurried toward the house.

When Luke reached for his arm, Matt spun around. “Don’t push me,” he muttered through his teeth and grabbed the front of Luke’s shirt. “I’m in no mood.”

Luke held up his hands in surrender. “Matt! Get a grip! You’re letting your imagination get the better of you. I wasn’t interested in Beth. I was goading you, trying to
break through that shell you’ve put around yourself since Sally died.”

Matt felt as though he’d been kicked in the stomach. He released Luke’s shirt and staggered to the porch steps, sat down and rested his head in his hands.

“That was a low blow,” he said hoarsely.

Luke leaned against Matt’s vehicle and crossed his arms. “It was, and I’m sorry. But the whole family’s been trying to figure out how we can help you get on with your life,” he explained quietly.

Matt didn’t say anything for the longest time, just sucked in air and thought about what might have been. Finally he glanced up at Luke. “You talk about me behind my back.” It was a statement, not a question.

“We’re your family, Matt. We all love you and care about you.” Luke walked over to him. “I know that how Sally and the baby died is destroying you, but there’s nothing you can do now, Matt. Hell! There was nothing you could’ve done at the time. Nobody saw it happen, so it wouldn’t have been reported any earlier.”

“If that bastard hadn’t smashed into the shop, I would’ve been on my way home. I would’ve found them before it was too late.”

Luke put his hand on his shoulder. “You can’t know that for sure. It wasn’t your fault, so don’t go beating yourself up over it for the rest of your life. Let the past go,” he said softly. “You’ve got so much to offer. Don’t shut yourself off.”

“I don’t ever want to hurt again the way I did when I lost Sally.”

Luke sat on the step next to him. “You’re a good man, Matt. The best. You, of all people, have so much to give the world if only you could see it. When I heard about Beth, what you did for her…how you came through for her
when she needed help…” Luke’s voice trailed off. “I can’t imagine the courage it must’ve taken for you to do that, considering your past experience. But you put your grief and fears aside and you did what needed to be done.”

Pleasantly surprised by the length and heartfelt passion of his normally taciturn brother’s monologue, Matt was about to thank him, but Luke hadn’t finished. “I thought it was an opportunity for you to make a new start. There was something in your voice when I phoned you that first morning—an eagerness about life—that had been missing for so long. I couldn’t help wondering if Beth and Sarah were the key to your future happiness.”

Matt was skeptical. “So you made a play for her yourself?”

Luke shook his head. “I wanted to see if my hunch was right. The only way I could test it, short of asking you, was to pretend I was interested in her, then stand back and see how you reacted.”

“Are you satisfied with your answer?”

Luke grinned. “What d’you think?”

“I think you’re spitting in the wind. The fact that she’s disappeared proves she doesn’t want anything to do with me.” He stood suddenly as a thought struck him. “Hell! I practically brought Sarah into the world, yet I don’t even have a photograph of her. Of either of them,” he said and paced the area between his truck and the porch steps, trying to burn off some of his frustration.

Luke watched for a while, then said, “I won’t try to console you by saying you’re better off without her, Matt, because I don’t think you are. Being around Beth and her baby was good for you and I believe
you
were good for
them.
”

“Yeah?” Matt smiled tightly. For the first time since he’d seen Beth’s empty room earlier that morning, he felt a
sense of hope. Maybe he
had
been good for them. But still, Beth had left. He went back to pacing the ground between his truck and the porch. “Your instincts about my future happiness were way off base. She didn’t want me, and I’ll have to learn to live with it. He bristled at the thought that Beth was so unwilling to trust him, that she’d go to such lengths to get him out of her life and cut him off from Sarah in the process.

“She named me as Sarah’s father on the birth registration,” he murmured. “Excuse me?”

Matt withdrew the photocopy of the birth registration and handed it to Luke, who scanned it and whistled. He glanced up at Matt. “I’m assuming it isn’t true?”

Matt scowled and Luke glanced down at the form again. “So her name isn’t Beth Ford.”

Matt snatched the paper from him. He’d been so shocked to see his own name there he hadn’t even checked Beth’s.
Elizabeth Whitman-Wyatt.
How many Elizabeth Whitman-Wyatts could there be in the States?

“Can you run a check on her license plates?”

“I will. But I need to calm down first. That’s one of the reasons I came out here. The hospital wanted me to take action against her for skipping out on her bill, but I paid it instead.”

“Are you
crazy?
” Luke scowled at him. “Let me get this straight. You paid the hospital bill of a woman you barely know, whose real name you don’t know, who claims you fathered her child—even though you know perfectly well you didn’t. Why?”

“Because it was the right thing to do.” Even if he never saw Beth again, he owed her an enormous debt. Being forced to confront his deepest fears by dealing with Sarah’s birth had revealed something fundamental about him. He
needed to get over his grief and plan for his future. A future with a family of his own.

When Luke continued to look skeptical, he said, “Because, based on what little I know of Beth, I believe that she wouldn’t have taken off without paying for a damned good reason. She didn’t need any more grief and that includes being pursued by the law over a hospital bill.” He shrugged. “I had the money. It’s no big deal.”

“Matt—”

“Just drop it. Okay?” Matt didn’t need to be reminded what a fool he was being. His stomach churned whenever he thought of the danger Beth might be in. If she was running from an abusive husband, Matt wasn’t sure what he’d do to the guy if he ever found him, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

Luke picked up a couple of bridles slung over the front-porch railing and tossed one to Matt. “It’s gonna start snowing later on. Let’s go take a ride along the fences. The fresh air will clear your head. Help you figure out where to take it from here.”

Matt sent him a lopsided grin. “You’re that sure of me, huh?”

“You’re my brother,” he said simply. “I’ve known you for thirty-five years. What do
you
think?”

Beth had begun to regret her hasty departure from the hospital. Sarah was screaming up a storm, and she had no idea what to do with her. She’d fussed ever since they’d arrived back at the cabin late last night. And now Beth’s breasts were so swollen and tender, she lamented not having included a breast pump among the items she’d purchased from the hospital pharmacy.

She’d gotten a hell of a shock when Hank told her he’d towed her car from the accident scene as he drove her back to the cabin. Just how many jobs did the man have? And he was too nosy, asking all sorts of questions. Would she be staying on at the cabin? Did she want him to get estimates on repairing her car? How was her book coming along? Did she need him to pick up any extra groceries on his next trip to the supermarket? Was her family coming to visit now that she’d had the baby? And if so, he could rent them a condo in town at a discount price.

She’d contemplated offering him a further ten thousand dollars to keep his mouth shut—about
everything.
There was still plenty of money left from the safety-deposit box, and it would be more than worth it to ensure his continued silence, but then he’d chirped up and said, “I guess you have your reasons for not wanting to talk, missy, so I won’t ask
you anything else. I’m looking forward to my bonus too much to pry.”

Yeah. Right,
Beth had thought. The sooner she was well enough to move on, the better. But how to go about that, she wasn’t sure. For the moment, she was safe in Spruce Lake and here she’d stay.

Before leaving the hospital, Beth was, for all intents and purposes, just another missing person. Now she was a fugitive. Her heart pounded with the knowledge that she’d committed a crime by skipping out on her bill. But what else could she do? Return to the cabin, remove the money from its hiding place, pay Hank to drive her back to the hospital and have him wait while she handed over nearly fifteen thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills? No wonder the woman from Admissions had looked at her strangely when she’d said she’d pay cash.

One thing was certain; Beth wouldn’t be asking Hank to take her anywhere soon. He had too many connections that could imperil her safety.

The stress of her predicament weighed on her. She should’ve boarded that bus to Denver. She could’ve been there long before anyone noticed she wasn’t in her room and then holed up in an apartment in Denver until it was time to go after Hennessey.

Beth glanced around the tiny cabin. Her sanctuary had now become her prison.

As soon as she was feeling up to it, she’d find another place, somewhere more secluded. Somewhere far away so Matt O’Malley would forget about her. And then maybe she could forget about him….

She hoped the note she’d left was enough to explain her not being there when he came to pick her up at the
hospital. It would’ve been extremely rude not to acknowledge how grateful she was for everything he’d done for her and Sarah.

Sarah screamed, waking her from her musings. How she missed Matt’s unflappable way of dealing with her daughter.

“Sweetie, Mommy’s so tired,” she cooed in a calming voice, even though everything in her was stretched so tight she wanted to shout the words at the top of her lungs. She rocked Sarah in her arms while the baby screwed up her face and clenched her tiny fists and let out another scream of fury.

Beth carried Sarah to her nursery, checked her diaper once more and put her in the crib. “This is for your own good, sweetie. And mine,” she murmured as she kissed her crying infant, then forced herself to walk out of the room.

After five minutes, Sarah’s wailing hadn’t abated. Beth went in and patted her back and talked to her some more. Once Sarah had finally settled, Beth went back to the sofa and curled up.

W
HEN THE ALARM WOKE
him the next morning, Matt was relieved to have been set free from his dreams. Dreams of a scared young woman, dying in excruciating pain. He was powerless to help her, couldn’t communicate with her, couldn’t find out where it hurt.

It’d been a while since he’d dreamed of Sally and how she’d died, but it wasn’t Sally’s face he saw in the dream—it was Beth’s.

“Get a grip,” he muttered, disgusted with himself. Beth was alive and well and the mother of a baby daughter. And she didn’t want anything to do with him.

Los Angeles

H
ENNESSEY SLAPPED A FILE
down on Morgan’s desk, causing the younger man to start. “That damned woman should’ve had the kid by now,” he growled. “Have you found anything on the computer about it?”

Morgan looked up from his screen. “It could take a few weeks before anything gets registered officially. You’ll just have to be patient.”

“I ran out of patience the day she skipped town!” he snapped. “And now her mother and parents-in-law are on my back again, wanting to know if we’ve heard anything.” He pushed away the files piled on Morgan’s desk and perched on it. “They know the baby’s due and want to see their grandkid.”

Morgan nodded. “Understandable. Maybe we could play on that? How about if we place a false report in the national papers that her mother’s been involved in an accident and is in a coma? That might flush her out.”

Hennessey smacked him. “Stupid! That grandmother of hers would reveal that as a lie immediately. I can’t use the press.”

Morgan swore and rubbed at his cheek. “I was only trying to help. We’ve had their phones and Internet tapped since she left and there hasn’t been one phone call, e-mail or letter from her. Either they know she’s okay, or they’re telling the truth and believe she’s been kidnapped.”

“After the mess you made of her place, what other conclusion are they going to jump to?” Hennessey paced. “We’ve searched that house from top to bottom and still no key!”

Morgan lifted his lip in a sneer of contempt. “Since you don’t even know which bank the safety-deposit box is
in, it looks like you’ll never see that money or those drugs again.”

“Don’t provoke me,” Hennessey warned and strode to the door. He turned back. “Just remember how easy it was for me to dispose of her husband. I could do you the same favor,” he said, his voice dripping with malice.

Morgan shuddered. He had a feeling the promised riches hidden in that safety-deposit box would never come his way—whether they found it or not.

B
ACK IN HIS OFFICE
after the ride with Luke and then an extended lunchtime meeting with the local police chiefs—during which all Matt could think about was Beth—he opened his laptop.

Was she still in the county? The notion filled him with hope. And with dread. Hope, because he so badly wanted to see them both again. And dread, because if Beth had gone to such trouble to cover her tracks, she didn’t want him finding her.

He longed to see her, talk to her, again. He wanted to talk about
them,
explore the tiny spark he believed was attempting to ignite between them. If only Beth didn’t have so many secrets, they could’ve gotten to know each other better. If he wasn’t a cop, maybe she wouldn’t have taken off like that.

One thing he did know—he was never going to get any peace until he found her.

“Jolene!” he called to the dispatcher. “Hold my calls. I have work to do.”

Beth had made a false declaration on a legal document—the baby’s birth certificate. He had cause to search for her.

Five minutes later, he had his answer. The car was registered to Elizabeth Wyatt of Santa Monica, California.

Elizabeth Wyatt.
The name mocked him from the screen. Now at least he had Beth’s phone number.

Heart pounding, he flipped open his cell phone.

“E
LIZABETH SPEAKING
.”

The voice at the other end of the line didn’t sound like Beth’s. Not unless she’d aged some.

Unwilling to alert the woman to his identity, he said, “I’m looking for Beth.”

There was a hesitation at the other end. “Who
are
you?” the woman asked.

It was apparent she wouldn’t talk to just anyone about Beth. “I’m Sheriff Matt O’Malley from Colorado. I’m calling about her car. Does she own—?”

“Beth’s been in an accident?” The fear and concern in the woman’s voice were palpable.

“Yes, ma’am. But she’s okay,” he hastened to say. “I take it she’s not there?”

“No, of course not! Please, don’t ever call here again.” The line went dead.

That was interesting. Could the woman be Beth’s mother? They had the same first name. Obviously she had no idea where Beth was, either. But why had she hung up so suddenly? Did she not want contact with Beth? He discounted that notion immediately. She cared about her, had been concerned about her being in an accident. Just who was this woman who shared Beth’s name?

Matt ran a check on drivers’ licenses for California. Elizabeth Wyatt of Santa Monica was seventy-seven years old. She had a near-perfect driving record—apart from a couple of speeding tickets in her red Audi A4….

So. Beth had either stolen the woman’s car or it had been lent to her. She was the right age to be Beth’s grandmother.
He was tempted to call her back, but was pretty sure she wouldn’t answer the phone.

There were no other Elizabeth Wyatts on record. He expanded the search and hit paydirt almost immediately. Elizabeth
Whitman
-Wyatt was a thirty-one-year-old architect from Redondo Beach. He brought up a photo taken from her driver’s license.

It also brought up an APB on her, claiming she’d gone missing four months ago and was wanted for felony theft and drug dealing and was a person of interest in the shooting death of her husband, Detective Marcus Jackson. Matt did a double take as he read the screen.

What he was reading was incomprehensible. Beth a drug dealer? A thief? A potential…murderer? Horseshit! It so completely didn’t fit with the woman he’d gotten to know, the scared but loving mother.

He took comfort from the fact that at least there wasn’t an abusive husband in the picture. She’d been honest about being a widow, after all. But she’d been married to a cop and he’d received a police funeral with all the honors due a cop gunned down in the line of duty.

All Matt’s instincts told him Beth was lying, that she’d gone on the run to protect Sarah. But from whom? More than ever, he needed to find her. He didn’t want to leave her exposed, alone, without him beside her. Keeping her safe.

He tried the phone number listed, but as he suspected, it was disconnected. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he was pretty sure Beth was still in Peaks County. Maybe her car held some clues.

“Jolene, I won’t be back for the rest of the day,” he said, grabbing his coat. “You can reach me on my cell.”

B
ETH WOKE TO SILENCE
. She glanced toward the window. Everything was white outside. It was snowing, yet she was
perspiring. The fire had gone out and the room felt cold. She stood, then sat back down and put her head between her knees to stop herself from blacking out. What was happening to her?

The pain in her breasts was excruciating. It felt as if they were burning up. She had to find her cell phone and call someone.
Anyone.

Matt had given her his card with his direct line on it. She needed him. Needed him more than she’d needed anyone in her life. She stood more slowly this time, staggered to Sarah’s room and flipped on the light. It didn’t work. She tried several other light switches. Either she’d blown a fuse or the power was out.

Exhausted beyond belief, she picked up her sleeping baby and made her way to her own room and laid Sarah on the bed. She needed help. Needed to find her cell phone, which she’d left on the nightstand, recharging. It wasn’t there. Fishing around, she found it on the floor and cursed. It hadn’t recharged! Had she even plugged it in? Suppressing a sob, she lay down on the bed, thinking,
I’ll just rest for a moment,
as exhaustion overtook her.
Rest, and then I’ll be able to figure out what to do.

She closed her eyes intending to relax. Just for a few minutes…

A
S
L
UKE HAD PREDICTED
, it had started snowing heavily around midday and the plows were out clearing the roads as Matt drove toward Hank’s towing yard and workshop. If anyone knew where Beth had been living, Hank would. He was only surprised he hadn’t heard about it earlier, given Hank’s penchant for gossip.

Hank was in his shop tinkering with a car engine. The man was a regular Mr. Fix It, sometime cabdriver, tow-truck operator and delivery man. He bore an unmistakable
resemblance to a weasel. His nose was long and pointed, his teeth large and protuberant. His head was smaller than average and sat on a long neck that seemed to have the ability to swivel three hundred and sixty degrees in search of gossip. On first observation, one could be forgiven for thinking Hank came from the shallow end of the Farquar gene pool. However, his odd appearance betrayed a cunning nature. Like many of the Farquars, Hank lived in virtual squalor, yet was reputed to have millions stashed in his mattress.

Hank wiped the oil off his hands, offered his hand to Matt, then looked at it and changed his mind. “Hey, Matt. What brings you out here?”

“The woman who owns that little red sports car.”

Hank swallowed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, and in that moment Matt was certain Hank knew a lot more about Beth than he’d previously let on. Refusing to waste any more time on pleasantries, he demanded, “Where is she?”

Hank flushed. He was no actor. “Well, how would I know, Matt?”

Matt glared. “Hank, this is me you’re talking to.
Where is she?
”

“I…I can’t say.”

“Yeah, you can,” Matt countered, then glanced around Hank’s workshop. “Or I might have to get my guys to take an inventory of everything here and check it against your tax records.”

As Matt had expected, Hank raised his hands. “No need for that. Everything’s aboveboard.”

“I’ll take your word for it,
provided
you tell me where she is.” Matt was losing patience. Hank had a nice little business that didn’t show up in his books but everyone turned a blind eye to it. If he could intimidate Hank into
thinking his side business was about to be closed down, then he would. He started to take his cell phone out of his pocket.