Lock, Stock and Secret Baby

“Because it’s wrong to manipulate people.”

“It’s morally shady,” she said.

“It’s fraud.”

“But logical,” she said. “Now I understand why Prentice impregnated me. He wants to create a second generation.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.”

All she wanted was to get home, surround herself with silence and figure out how to restructure her life to accommodate a child.

Outside the office door, she heard other mourners arriving. They’d be eating, drinking and sharing memories of Dr. Ray, seeking solace in the company of others. Blake should be out there with his father’s friends and colleagues. On the day of his father’s funeral, he deserved closure.

She stood and straightened her shoulders. “I’m glad you told me, Blake. I don’t blame your father. Not in the least. Dr. Ray was a good man.”

“I know.”

“Can I have my car keys? I need to go home.”

He looked surprised. “I thought you were staying here tonight.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather be alone.”

“What about Prentice? I need to get in touch with him.”

She took her cell phone from her purse, scanned her contacts and gave him the number for Dr. Prentice’s private cell phone. “That’s the best I can do.”

As he handed over the keys, their hands touched. A spark of static electricity raced up her arm. She wondered if she’d ever see him again.

BLAKE STOOD ON THE PORCH and watched her drive away. He understood her need to be alone. When he had read the e-mail informing him that he wasn’t biologically his father’s son, Blake had felt as if somebody had punched him in the gut. Eve had a lot more to deal with. Finding out that she was pregnant without her consent or knowledge had to be a hell of a shock. Her life wasn’t any of his business, but he hoped she wasn’t considering adoption.

A couple of years ago, when he had been in college, his girlfriend had thought she might be pregnant. She’d knocked him for a loop. The only comparable feeling was when he had parachuted for the first time from fifteen thousand feet into enemy territory. He had known his life would be forever changed. That realization had been followed by an irrational sense of awe. Creating a new life? A miracle! When it had turned out to be a false alarm, his relief had mingled with deep regret.

He hoped that Eve would come to see her pregnancy in a positive light. No matter what she decided, he wouldn’t abandon her. His dad’s dying wish had been for him to take care of her.

Aunt Jean came out to the porch. “Are you coming inside?”

“I need to make a phone call first.”

“Well, hurry up. People are asking about you.”

His aunt meant well, as did his father’s old friends. But Blake didn’t see the point in mourning, not while the killer went free. That was why he needed to contact Prentice.

The cops had no leads in solving his dad’s murder. They’d found no fingerprints or trace evidence. Because the burglar alarm had been expertly disabled and the safe robbed, they suspected a professional burglar.

Though Blake hadn’t revealed the contents of his dad’s e-mail, he had mentioned Prentice as a person with a grudge against his father. At his insistence, the homicide detective had spoken to Dr. Edgar Prentice—founder of the world-renowned Aspen IVF and Genetics Clinic in the mountains. Prentice’s alibi was airtight; he’d been out of state at the time of the murder.

Of course, he’d cover his butt. Prentice would hire someone else to do his dirty work.

On his military cell phone that wouldn’t give away his identity, Blake called the number Eve had given him. Prentice answered immediately. “Who is this?”

“Blake Jantzen. We need to talk.”

“How did you get this number?”

“From Eve.”

“Thank God you’re with her.”

Blake hadn’t expected that response. The old bastard sounded as if he was concerned about Eve. “Why do you say that?”

“I might have inadvertently put her in danger. Stay with her, Blake. Your father would have wanted—”

“Don’t talk to me about my father.” Unless you want to confess to his murder.

“I should have called, should have made it to the funeral. I’m sorry. Sorry for your loss.”

“Where are you?” Blake demanded. “I want to see you.”

“That’s not possible,” Prentice said. “Stay with Eve. Make sure she’s safe.”

The call was disconnected.

Blake stared at his cell phone as if this piece of plastic and circuitry could tell him the truth. Either Prentice was lying to manipulate him or Eve was truly in danger. He couldn’t take chances with her safety.

He ran down the driveway into the cul-de-sac where his father’s station wagon was parked across the street. No time to waste. He started the engine.

Earlier, he’d planted a GPS locator on Eve’s car in case he needed to find her. It’d be easy to follow her route on the hand-held tracking device he took from his pocket. Activating the system, he saw a reassuring blip. She was taking the back road to Boulder, avoiding traffic on the highway. Would she go to the lab where she worked? Or to her home?

His dad’s station wagon wasn’t a high performance vehicle, but after he got out of the burbs, he made good time on the two-lane road that ran parallel to the foothills. He passed a pickup and an SUV.

He never should have let her go, should have insisted that she stay at his house. If anything happened to her.

He passed a sedan that was already going over the speed limit. When he hit Boulder, the traffic slowed him down, but he was within a mile of her location when the tracking device showed that she’d parked.

The car in front of him at the stoplight rolled slowly forward. Blake wanted to honk, but he was back in mellow Colorado where car horns were seldom used. He turned right at the next corner and zipped the last few blocks to Eve’s house.

Her car was parked at the curb in front of a yellow brick bungalow with a long front yard and mature shade trees on either side. Her unkempt shrubbery—spreading juniper and prickly clumps of potentilla—were good for xeriscaping but too plain for his taste. He preferred his mother’s neatly pruned rose garden.

As soon as he opened his car door, he heard a scream.

Chapter Four

Eight minutes ago, Eve had unlocked her front door and entered her house, glad to be home. Her familiar surroundings had greeted her like old, faithful friends. The oversize wingback chair where she did most of her reading had beckoned, and she’d decided to curl up in its cozy embrace and have a cup of tea while her mind wrapped around the complications of being pregnant.

On the way to the kitchen to put on the hot water to boil, she’d patted the back of the comfy sofa with its multicolored throw pillows. She’d passed the round dining-room table.