The Unclaimed Baby (11 page)

“I know that, sir. I didn't like what you had to say, but I could understand your need to say it. I told Sharon Lynn that myself when she wanted to come out here herself and tear a strip out of your hide.”

Cody chuckled. “She would have, too. That girl's got the Adams's temper and spunk, even if it has been in short supply the last few months. I'm glad to hear it's coming back and relieved to learn it won't be directed at me.”

“There's one more thing,” Cord told him. “It looks as if there's a good chance that woman Justin found over in Garden City is the baby's grandmother. They're running another set of tests to confirm it. I wasn't crazy about what Justin had to say about her and I'm not sure he didn't leave some of it out. I was thinking it might be a good idea to hire a private investigator to do some checking. I wondered if you knew of anyone.”

Cody's gaze narrowed. “It sounds as if you and Sharon Lynn are thinking of fighting the woman's claim to the baby, if it turns out she has one. Is she that attached to the child?”

“We both are, but we'll fight only if it seems like the right thing to do,” Cord insisted.

Cody stood up and began to pace. “I don't like it,” he said. “Sharon Lynn's getting too involved with that child. Now you're talking about a private investigator.” He shook his head. “It's going to get messy. She doesn't need that.”

“Believe me, I understand where you're coming from,” Cord assured him. “Like it or not, we are involved. Whoever left that baby on Sharon Lynn's doorstep saw to that. I just want to be sure whoever winds up with custody has the baby's best interests at heart.”

“And you think this woman who might be the grandmother won't care about that?”

“It's just a feeling I got from what Justin said and what he didn't say. He's got a responsibility to go by the law. I understand that. He may not be in a position to dig deep enough into this woman's life to make sure she's the right person to care for that baby.”

“What about social services?”

“I'm sure they'll do their jobs. I'd just feel better if we had all the facts, too. I know Sharon Lynn feels the same way.”

The mention of his daughter did the trick. Cody nodded. “Let me call Justin and see what he thinks.
If he agrees, I know just the man for the job. Lizzy's husband and I hired him a while back when we were having some problems around our ranches. He was fast and he was thorough.”

Cord could see that was the only concession he was going to get for now. Maybe Cody's caution was justified. It wouldn't hurt to wait a few more hours. He stood up.

“I'll be waiting to hear from you, then.”

“By the way, who's paying this private eye, if you hire one?”

Cord frowned at the question. “I am.”

“With the money you've been saving to buy a ranch?”

Cord nodded.

“Why?”

“Because what happens to that baby matters to Sharon Lynn,” he said readily. “And to me.”

Cody regarded him with approval. “That tells me everything I need to know about you, Cord Branson.”

“Then you don't object to me spending time with your daughter?”

“It hasn't mattered to you up until now whether I did or I didn't, has it?”

“Truthfully, no,” Cord responded with a grin. “But it would be nice to know I have your blessing.”

Cody walked over to where Cord stood and held out his hand. “You have my blessing, son.” Then he grinned. “Not that it'll matter a whit to Sharon
Lynn one way or the other. The woman has a mind of her own.”

Cord laughed at the warning. “Yeah, but it can't hurt to have one more Adams on my side.”

“Son, I may be her daddy, but it's Grandpa Harlan who does the matchmaking around here, and he's been on your side from the get-go. Now, go on and get to work. I'll be in touch about the private eye before the end of the day.”

Cord nodded and went to find Harlan Patrick. The last time he'd seen him he was nursing a hangover and a broken heart. What they both needed was some good hard work to take their minds off their troubles.

Unfortunately an entire day in the bitter cold checking for downed fences didn't do anything except come close to freezing their butts off. When they rode back in just before dusk, they found Justin waiting.

“Hey, cousin, you here to take me out to drown my sorrows again?” Harlan Patrick inquired hopefully.

“From what I've heard you did that last night,” Justin said. “Seems to me like a good night's sleep is called for tonight.”

“I think I had every right to have a couple of drinks,” Harlan Patrick grumbled. “When did you turn so judgmental? Oh, wait, it was when you put on that uniform, wasn't it?”

Cord watched Justin's expression. He remained perfectly cool in the face of the taunt, though his eyes were unreadable behind his reflective sunglasses.

“Picking a fight with me won't solve your problem,” Justin said mildly. “Besides, I'm here to see Cord.”

That brought Harlan Patrick up short. He stared at Cord. “You in some kind of trouble?”

“None that I know of,” Cord said, his gaze locked on Justin. “I suspect this is about a matter I discussed with your father this morning.”

Justin gave an imperceptible nod. “Can we go someplace and talk? Cody said his office would be empty.”

“Fine,” Cord agreed.

“I'm coming along,” Harlan Patrick said at once.

“No need,” Cord said.

“It's not your concern,” Justin added.

“If it's about that baby,” he began, then nodded when he caught their expressions. “I thought so. Then it concerns Sharon Lynn and that concerns me. Hell, it concerns all of us.”

Cord couldn't argue with a brother wanting to look out for his sister. “Come on, then.”

In Cody's office he and Harlan Patrick settled into chairs, while Justin stood behind his uncle's desk. He slowly removed his sunglasses as if to assure that they got a good look at the glint in his eyes.

“The last thing we need is a private investigator poking around in this,” he declared.

Cord froze at his warning. “Why is that? You have a need to protect your turf?”

“No, dammit. I'm just afraid it'll look to the court as if we're using Adams money and influence to
try to get this poor woman and steal her grandbaby from her.”

When Cord started to protest, Justin held up his hand. “Look, I know how you feel. Believe me, I was not impressed with this woman or with her sincerity. She's the last person I'd want raising a kid of mine, but that's gut instinct, not law.”

“What you're saying is we need facts,” Cord said. “How else are we going to get those, if not by hiring a private investigator?”

“You seem to be forgetting that I'm a sheriff. I'm already investigating this case, because abandoning that child was a crime. I'll get all the evidence we need if there's going to be a fight for custody.”

Harlan Patrick fixed a hard gaze on his cousin, then seemed to reach a conclusion. “Maybe Justin is right, Cord. He won't let Sharon Lynn down.”

Cord could see both men were sincere, but it wasn't enough to reassure him. “I'd just feel better if we had an objective outsider doing the digging into this family's background.”

“I'm telling you, it's the wrong tactic,” Justin declared. “You haven't met this woman. I have. If she realizes somebody's out there poking around in her life, it'll get her back up. She'll fight just to prove a point. If we handle her right, I say she'll just walk away from the baby without a backward glance.”

“I'm sorry,” Cord said. “I can't take that chance. If a P.I. is a bad idea, then I'll do some checking on my own.”

“You'll be like a bull in a china shop,” Justin
protested. “There's no way she won't know what you're up to.”

“It's me or a P.I.,” Cord insisted stubbornly.

Justin threw up his hands in defeat. “Do what you have to do, but I don't want to know about it.” He caught Cord's gaze and held it. “Hazel Murdock better not know about it, either.”

“She'll never guess a thing,” Cord promised. He stood up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Harlan Patrick asked.

“I thought I'd take a ride over to Garden City and buy myself a drink.”

Harlan Patrick's expression brightened “Mind some company?”

Justin groaned. “Heaven protect me from amateurs,” he muttered.

“We're not amateurs,” Harlan Patrick protested. “We're just a couple of guys out on the town.”

“See that one of you stays sober to drive home,” Justin said.

They were almost out the door when he called out to them. “You might try the End of the Road Saloon. I understand it's where Hazel Murdock likes to spend her evenings.”

Harlan Patrick went back and gave his cousin an exuberant pinch on the cheek. “You sweet thing,” he taunted. “I just knew there was a little bit of that old hell-raiser left in you.”

“Just forget where you got the information,” Justin pleaded.

Cord grinned at him. “Hell, we don't even know your name.”

“I wish,” Justin grumbled. “Try to stay out of trouble, okay? It would be really embarrassing if I had to come over there and bail the two of you out of jail.”

“But just think of how long you could hold it over our heads,” Harlan Patrick responded with a grin.

Justin brightened. “Now that is something to look forward to.”

T
he End of the Road Saloon was aptly named. It was at the end of a long, dusty road that led to nowhere Cord could see. He was surprised by the fact that Harlan Patrick seemed to know the way without bothering to check on the address or ask for directions.

“I take it you've been here before,” he said as they pulled into a parking space outside the huge barn of a building.

He shrugged indifferently. “Laurie Jensen used to sing here once in a while.”

Cord recognized the name and the woman's connection to Harlan Patrick. “Laurie's the one who just took off for Nashville, right?”

Harlan Patrick's expression fell. “Yep. That's the one.”

Cord glanced around at the old wooden building, which hadn't seen a coat of paint in years, at the half-empty parking lot and neon beer sign with most of the letters burnt out. “I'm surprised she'd want to leave a golden opportunity like singing here,” he observed wryly.

Harlan Patrick scowled at him. “Okay, maybe it's not the Grand Ole Opry, but she drew a big enough crowd here. The place was always hopping when she sang. People drove in from all over west Texas.”

“But she wants more?”

“More?” he repeated scathingly. “She wants it all. She wants a recording contract, concert tours, the whole nine yards.” He made no attempt to hide his bitterness. “She couldn't wait to leave me in her dust. Well, good riddance.” He frowned. “Can we drop the subject?”

“Fine by me,” Cord agreed, aware that he didn't know enough about the pair's history to offer either advice or consolation. “Let's go see what we can find out about this Murdock woman.”

“Let me ask around,” Harlan Patrick suggested when they were inside. “I've been here enough that some people know me. It won't seem as if a stranger's poking around.”

Cord could see the sense in that. He followed Harlan Patrick's lead and took a seat at the bar.

The interior of the place was one step up from the exterior. The bar itself was an elaborately carved relic from another era and the mirrored wall behind it was lined with liquor bottles that went from the
rot-gut stuff to the priciest labels on the market. Apparently people from all walks of life in Garden City reached the End of the Road sooner or later.

There were a dozen or so people scattered around the large room. One group of four, all men, were tipping beers and arguing about politics. A man at the end of the bar was staring with a glassy gaze at the TV, which had been tuned to a sitcom rerun. There were couples in a few of the booths. Every one of them had a thick hamburger and a mound of crispy onion rings in front of them. That was recommendation enough for Cord, whose mouth watered at the sight of them.

When the bartender finally approached, he greeted Harlan Patrick by name.

“I hear Laurie's on her way to Nashville,” he said, obviously unaware of what a sore subject it was. “I'm guessing she'll have herself a recording contract by springtime. That little gal's got talent. I'll bet you're close to busting with pride.”

Harlan Patrick gave a grim nod. “She's got what it takes, all right. Bring me a beer, Jack.”

Cord ordered a hamburger and onion rings. “I'll have a beer now, then coffee after.”

When the bartender had gone, Harlan Patrick grinned at Cord. “Guess that makes you the designated driver.”

“Okay by me.” He glanced around the room. “You see anybody here who could be our potential grandmother?”

Harlan Patrick whirled his stool around and looked
out over the scattering of people. “No one here who looks a day over forty to me.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Maybe she's just not here yet.”

Cord's gaze fell on a woman tucked into the shadows of a nearby booth with what looked like a double whiskey in front of her. “Then again, maybe she's just a young grandma,” he said thoughtfully, nodding in the direction of the booth. It was hard to tell too much about the woman, because of the way she'd huddled in a corner of the darkened booth, but she didn't look like any grandmother he'd ever seen. For some reason he'd been envisioning a white-haired old lady. This woman had hair the color of straw and an outfit meant for someone half her size.

Harlan Patrick followed his gaze. “Could be. She can't be much more than forty, but it looks as if she's been around the block a time or two. I'll check it out when Jack comes back.”

Another flurry of customers arrived and it was a half hour before the bartender brought their food and had time enough to chat.

“Who's the lady who's all alone over there?” Harlan Patrick asked. “I don't think I've ever seen her in here before.”

Jack followed the direction of his gesture. “Hazel? Oh, she's one of the regulars. She's here by five. Never leaves before closing. I'm not surprised you haven't noticed her. She stays to herself, doesn't say much. The lady's into serious drinking. Can't say I've ever heard her story. All I know for sure is that
she pays her check, she's never rowdy and she gets home under her own steam. Lives a couple of blocks from here and walks. I offered her a ride one night when it was raining cats and dogs, but she refused. Said she didn't mind getting wet.”

“Is she friendly with any of the other regulars?” Cord asked.

“You asking if she picks up men?” the bartender asked. “Not that I've ever noticed. Like I said, she concentrates on her whiskey and the music, if we have anybody performing.”

He glanced up then, spotted a customer beckoning from the other end of the bar and went off to get the man another drink.

“Looks like that's the lady,” Harlan Patrick said. “What do we do now?”

Cord was at a loss. Obviously they couldn't go and pump her for information. “Watch her, I guess. From what your buddy said, it doesn't sound as if she'd appreciate the company of a couple of strangers.”

“Isn't this going to be a little bit like watching grass grow?” Harlan Patrick grumbled. “Doesn't look to me as if we're going to see a lot of action.”

“You sound disappointed,” Cord said, regarding him with amusement. “What exactly were you hoping for?”

Harlan Patrick shrugged. “I don't know. Something dangerous, I guess.”

“Seems to me you ought to be grateful you were wrong. Now you can get down to the serious busi
ness of drowning your sorrows, while I keep an eye on our friend over there.”

Harlan Patrick swirled his beer around in the glass, took another sip, then pushed the glass aside with an expression of distaste. “To tell you the honest truth, I think I had enough of that last night. It didn't stop me from thinking about Laurie and I woke up with a splitting headache and a queasy stomach. What's the point?”

Cord barely contained his desire to laugh at Harlan Patrick's despondent tone. Growing up was surely hell. “Is that a pool table I see over there? We could play a little to pass the time.”

“Now you're talking,” Harlan Patrick said eagerly. “There's nothing I like better than taking a man's money from him over a friendly little game of pool.”

“Just don't forget to keep one eye on our lady-friend, in case she decides to slip out before closing.”

Maybe it was because he was still distracted over his girlfriend's defection, but Harlan Patrick's mind was definitely not on pool. A few hours later, Cord was a hundred bucks richer and not feeling one bit guilty about it. The betting had been Harlan Patrick's idea, after all.

“How'd you do that?” Harlan Patrick grumbled as they returned to the bar just in time for last call.

“Concentration and skill,” Cord said simply, pocketing his winnings.

“All in all, the night has been a total bust.”

“Not really,” Cord said. “It looks as if our friend is about to head home.”

“And you want to do what? Follow her? What good will that do? Justin already knows where she lives.”

“But firsthand information is always best. Are you coming or not?”

Harlan Patrick eyed his beer with renewed longing, then shrugged. “I'm coming.”

They climbed into Cord's truck. He turned on the engine, but not the headlights and waited until Hazel Murdock was halfway down the block before pulling to the edge of the lot and waiting again.

“I thought you were going to follow her.”

“I am, but as long as we can see her from here, why pull out?” Cord said. “As slow as she's walking, we'd just end up passing her and having to circle the block. She'd get suspicious for sure.”

“You've got a point,” Harlan Patrick admitted. “What happens when she gets to her house? You're not proposing to spend the night outside, are you?”

“No,” Cord said to Harlan Patrick's obvious relief. “But once we know where it is, we can come back tomorrow while she's at the bar and take a closer look.”

Harlan Patrick's eyes widened as the implications of that sank in. “Oh, no,” he protested. “Tell me you're not thinking of breaking in.”

“Who said anything about breaking in?” Cord asked innocently. “Besides, you were the one hoping to do something dangerous.”

“I really do not want to land in jail.”

“Not even to help your sister and that sweet little baby?”

Harlan Patrick moaned. “You heard what Justin said. He's going to be ticked as hell if we get ourselves arrested, to say nothing of what Daddy and Grandpa Harlan will have to say about it.”

Cord regarded him with grim determination. “Then we'll just have to be sure not to get caught, won't we?”

 

Blast Hazel Murdock, Cord thought the next night as he and Harlan Patrick crept up to her house. He'd been hoping that she'd go off and leave lights blazing so the two of them could do their snooping from outside. For all of his bravado the night before, he wasn't any more thrilled with the idea of getting arrested than Harlan Patrick was. It would definitely be counterproductive to any custody battle, if he had a very recent breaking and entering charge on his record.

Unfortunately old Hazel apparently saved money on electricity so she could afford her booze. The little two-story bungalow was as dark as a tomb when they drove up in front of it after making sure that Hazel was, indeed, settled in at the bar for the evening.

“Now what?” Harlan Patrick asked, sounding resigned.

“We hope she's the type of woman to leave her front door unlocked,” Cord said. “If not, we start looking for open windows.”

“It's twenty degrees out here. How many windows do you expect to find open?”

“It only takes one. And it only needs to be unlocked, not pushed up.”

“Why do I think I'm going to regret this?” Harlan Patrick grumbled, but he followed Cord up the walk and reached for the door handle.

“Wait!” Cord said, grabbing his arm. “You're not wearing gloves. I am.”

“Sorry. Apparently I'm a little rusty at breaking and entering.”

“If the door's unlocked, it's only entering,” Cord replied.

“I want to be there when you try that explanation out on the judge.”

“No doubt you will be, if it comes to that,” Cord stated as the door eased open on the first try. “Bingo.”

He slipped inside and pulled the flashlight he'd brought along from his pocket.

“Mind telling me exactly what we're looking for?” Harlan Patrick said.

“Evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“That Hazel Murdock wouldn't be fit to raise that baby.”

“Her evenings at the End of the Road ought to take care of that.”

“I want more.” He flashed the low beam of the light around the room, which was decorated with
framed religious pictures and not one single snapshot of her daughter as far as Cord could tell.

“So far all I see is evidence of a God-fearing, churchgoing woman,” Harlan Patrick commented, holding up a stack of programs from Sunday services at the church down the block. “I don't think that's going to go against her.”

Cord was forced to admit that the house was well maintained, if not lavishly furnished. There wasn't a speck of dust on anything and in the kitchen not even a coffee cup had been left in the sink.

He opened the refrigerator and peered inside. There was a six-pack of beer on the top shelf, a half-used stick of butter and a package of stale cheese slices that had darkened around the edges. Apparently Hazel wasn't much of a cook.

The cabinets weren't much of an improvement. He found a loaf of bread, some peanut butter and a tin of coffee. There wasn't even a canned vegetable or box of cereal in sight. Under the counter, though, he did find several bottles of whiskey. It was obvious she didn't confine her drinking to the saloon down the street. It made him wonder how she managed to stay upright on those walks home at night.

Still, would that be enough to keep her from getting custody? Especially if she worked hard, went to church Sundays, and stayed to herself. Who would testify that she was anything other than a responsible woman, who was willing to take on the burden of raising her grandchild? There were plenty of folks who would probably sing her praises for the sacrifice
she was willing to make to care for her daughter's baby.

“This place is giving me the creeps,” Harlan Patrick murmured, coming up behind him. “Can we get out of here?”

“Might's well,” Cord agreed.

When they were back in the car and on their way back to Los Piños, Harlan Patrick asked, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Aside from the booze, I'm not sure if there was anything at all there to suggest she couldn't care for the baby,” he admitted, not even trying to hide his disappointment. “Who knows, though, maybe her drinking will be all it takes? Or maybe when she's had time to think about it, she'll decide that she doesn't want a baby messing up her dull little routine.”