Motive: Secret Baby

“What do you want me to do?”

Though he didn’t look at her, his voice told her he had resigned himself to the obligation. Part of her wanted to be angry that it had taken such prodding to secure his help, but the reality was she didn’t care. As long as he helped her it didn’t matter why.

Another harsh reality shook her with an impact that would surely register on the Richter scale. Where did they start?

“I…” She swallowed at the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. “I don’t know.”

Blue eyes tangled with her own of a paler shade. Her mind immediately considered the idea that their baby would likely have blue eyes as well.

She shook her head. Absolute focus was essential. “I was found abandoned and alone.” And half dead, she didn’t bother adding. “No one discovered the fact that I’d recently given birth until right before I regained consciousness.” The truth was the hospital staff had been so focused on keeping her alive that nothing else had mattered at first. Eventually when all other possibilities had been exhausted in an attempt to trace down the source of the near-lethal staph infection, the indications that she had recently given birth were discovered.

“Have they uncovered the cause of your amnesia?” At her questioning expression, he went on. “Raven’s Cliff is a small village. I heard through my housekeeper that when you awoke you remembered nothing since falling from the cliffs.”

Funny, nothing went without discussion in this small village and yet her child was missing. Someone had held her for months, delivered her baby, and then disappeared without anyone noticing. Evidently right here in Raven’s Cliff.

Her legs wouldn’t hold her anymore. She shuffled to the nearest chair and collapsed there. “The experts believe the amnesia is drug related. At first it was assumed that I’d suffered head trauma from the fall, but there was no indication of major or permanent damage.” She closed her eyes a moment before she continued. “The theory is that I was drugged for the duration. Then, before the drugs wore off, the staph infection worsened. Between that, dehydration and God only knows what else, I slipped into a coma. My last memories are of my wedding day.” She took a bolstering breath. “Then of waking up in the hospital.”

The psychologist working on her case theorized that perhaps the missing time was too painful to remember. Since she was physically recovered with no apparent reason for the lapse in memory, the cause had to be psychosomatic. She couldn’t rule out that theory, and quite frankly she didn’t care why she couldn’t remember. She only wanted to find her child.

Nicholas remained silent for an endless minute as he obviously considered all that she had told him and whatever he had heard since she was found.

“We have no way of knowing where you were held,” he began, his tone somber.

Her chest tightened as she nodded her agreement.

“We have no idea who held you or why.”

Another nod of concurrence wasn’t necessary, and that was just as well. If she moved she might very well throw up. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d eaten, but the nagging desire to empty her stomach persisted, gained force with each passing second.

“And—” his gaze leveled fully on hers “—we don’t know if the baby survived beyond birth.”

Ice slid along every nerve ending, hardened in her blood. “There’s no reason to think otherwise,” she argued.

Was that pity in his eyes? Or regret?

“You said yourself that the experts believe you were drugged for all those months…”

He didn’t have to say more.

He was right.

Maybe someone at the hospital had even mentioned that possibility to her but she had wiped it out. Denied the potential.

No. She refused to consider it now. “Lots of babies survive prolonged drug use by their mothers.” Mothers hooked on illegal drugs delivered living babies all the time. There were problems, but at least the child was alive.

“My baby is alive.” She dredged up her courage and exiled the fear and uncertainty.

With one downward sweep of his dark lashes, the regret or pity she’d noted vanished and was replaced by the fierce indifference of the beast. “How do you know? The odds are not in your favor. Give me one valid reason we should even bother with a search and I’ll do all within my power to find your child.”

Your child, not our child. Fine, if that was the way he wanted to play it.

“I only have one,” Camille said, pushing to her feet so that she could look him squarely in the eyes. She swayed but steadied herself in time to prevent his reaching out to her. “I can feel it. Right here.” She released the blanket, allowing it to puddle around her feet, and pressed both hands over her heart. “My baby is alive. He’s out there waiting for me to bring him home.”

The undamaged corner of his mouth twitched. “And you know the child is a boy.”

Camille nodded. “Yes.” She hadn’t actually come to that conclusion until that moment, but somehow she knew with every fiber of her being that the baby was a boy. Her little boy.

He sighed, the sound weary, reluctant. “All right.” He pushed the tousled hair back from his face. “We’ll start with who found you. We need as much information as possible.”

That would be a waste of time. “Detective Lagios has gone over what he saw that night a hundred times. He was in a car chase with the Seaside Strangler. It was dark and rainy. The fog was thick. He almost missed seeing me lying there on the side of the road. He carried me to the clinic, and that’s all there is.”

“I remember.” Nicholas stepped closer, bent down, picked up the blanket and draped it around her shoulders once more. “If I’m going to help you, there’s one thing we must get straight right from the beginning.”

He was going to help her? She shivered. His touch did that to her. It made her furious that he affected her so easily. But then, he was the father of her child.

And the only man she’d ever loved.

Don’t even go there. She needed his help, nothing more. She couldn’t go back down that path.

“What’s that?” She fisted her fingers into the blanket and pulled it close.

“We will do this my way.” He held up a hand when she would have protested. “No negotiations.”

“Fine.” Anything. She only cared that they got started.

“We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

Tomorrow? No! “We have to start now.” Didn’t he get it? Her baby was out there. The idea that he hadn’t been fed…or bathed…tore at Camille’s heart. “Right now, Nicholas. No negotiations,” she reiterated, using his words.

“It’s after midnight,” he said quietly. “We can’t storm into a person’s house at this time of night and hope to achieve cooperation.”

Like she had done? She hadn’t considered the time. She’d come straight here as soon as she’d given her parents the slip.

“But—”

Banging on the front door made her jump. Her heart rocketed into her throat. Had her father tracked her here? He would not be happy. She hadn’t told her parents who the real father was yet…she’d let them believe the child was Grant’s. It was easier.

Now who was the coward?

Before she could mull over that idea, Nicholas had strode to the window next to the door and peered out past the curtain.

“It’s Chief Swanson.”

Goose bumps spilled across her skin. The chief thought she had hurt her baby. That she’d done the unspeakable. Had her father sent him here to bring her home?

More banging on the door jerked her from the troubling thoughts.

“Sterling, it’s Chief Swanson. I need to speak with you!”