Deceived Page 32

  “A vast understatement.”

  She waved him toward the hall. “The conference room is the first door on the left. Grab a soda—or two—from the fridge.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  He was pulling the food out of the bag and already gulping down a Coke when she joined him after relocking the door.

  “So to what do I owe this visit?” She sat and opened her container of salad.

  “I wanted to fill you in on the finale.” When she stopped eating, he gestured to her food while he wolfed down his own. “Continue while I talk. I hate to eat alone.”

  Doing her best to comply despite the butterflies that had taken wing in her stomach, she gave him her full attention.

  “I’ve alerted Nick that I expect this thing to break within twenty-four hours. He’s up to speed on the official records, and the FBI is set to move as soon as I turn over the DNA results. He’s also done a background check on you and connected with Child Services so there shouldn’t be any hassles with you taking immediate custody.” He fixed her with one of his intent looks. “Now let’s talk about you. Are you ready to have a seven-year-old boy invade your condo?”

  She finished chewing a crispy piece of lettuce. “I think so.” She set down her fork and told him all she’d done to prepare, including the discussion she’d had a few days ago with the New Start chairman of the board about her likely need to take a sudden, temporary leave to deal with family issues.

  When she concluded, his eyes softened, and his warm fingers enfolded hers. “Despite all the bad stuff that’s happened in his life, Kevin is one lucky little boy to have you.”

  “I have a feeling he isn’t going to think so.” She clung to his hand as a fresh surge of doubts assailed her.

  “Maybe not in the beginning. But after he gets to know you again, after he realizes how much you love him, he’ll love you back. Guaranteed. It would be impossible not to.” He gave her fingers a squeeze and went back to eating.

  She had a feeling he was talking more about himself than Kevin—and that was comforting. There were two male hearts she was set on winning, and it was nice to know she’d laid a solid foundation with one of them.

  “Thanks for the encouragement. But he’s still going to miss Sanders.”

  “The psychologist you have lined up will help him deal with that—and you will too. Are you going to be in your office tomorrow?” He finished off his salad and pulled a cookie from the sack.

  “Yes, but I kept my schedule focused on paperwork rather than appointments. I knew you might need me to come at a moment’s notice.”

  “Perfect.” The cookie was gone in a few large bites, and he washed it down with the last of his second soda. “I hate to eat and run, but Dev and his fiancée are supposed to pick out china tonight, and I promised I’d be back in an hour. I didn’t expect an accident on I-270 or a long line at Panera to eat into our time together.”

  “I appreciate the effort you made.”

  “It was no effort.” He skimmed his fingers over her cheek. “And Dev won’t mind if I’m late. I’m certain he’d rather swelter in the heat—or eat slugs—than look at dishes. However, I do want to stay in Laura’s good graces.” He stuffed his napkin into his empty salad container and closed the lid. “Where do you want this?”

  “I’ll take care of it.” She closed the lid of her own container, hiding the remaining half of her dinner.

  “You’re going to finish that, right?” Connor stood.

  “At home.”

  “Promise?”

  She nodded and rose as well. “Let me show you out.”

  He followed her to the door, waiting while she twisted the locks and pulled it open. “Are you leaving soon?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  He touched her arm. “One more promise.”

  Curious, she tipped her head. “What?”

  “If you have any trouble sleeping tonight, call me.”

  Gratitude tightened her throat. “No sense both of us being awake.”

  “I’ll be on duty until midnight—and I doubt I’ll sleep much after that, either. Promise?”

  No way did she intend to disrupt Connor’s night—so she left herself some wiggle room. “If I’m awake and need to hear a friendly voice, I’ll call. How’s that?”

  “A hedge. But the offer’s there, and I hope you’ll take it if you need it.”

  “Just knowing I have that option will help me sleep better.”

  “I’ll call the second I hear from the lab.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  As she watched him stride toward the main entrance, then disappear around a corner, her parting words echoed in her mind.

  And as she slowly closed the door and prepared to call it a night, she hoped they were true.

  Greg pulled into the parking lot of the mall behind his house, aimed the rental car toward the far end, and let out a long, slow breath.

  Everything was falling into place.

  Emilio’s friend had come through for him, and their new identities had been waiting for him in today’s mail.

  He’d withdrawn his entire checking and savings account balance on his way home from work, a sizable enough sum to last for a while since he’d spent little during their years in Montana except to pay down debt.

  In a few minutes, he and Todd would be back in their house, their getaway car safely stowed where he could load it up in a trip or two under the cover of night.

  And in five hours, they’d be on their way out of town . . . after he paid a visit to Kate Marshall and tied up that one loose end. Piece of cake, since she lived alone. That nugget of info from Diane had proven very helpful.

  So far, so good.

  “I still don’t get why we can’t take our truck.”

  He sighed. His son was proving to be more of a glitch than he’d expected.

  “Like I told you before, it’s getting older. I don’t want to have a breakdown while we’re on vacation and get stuck somewhere. Do you?”

  “I guess not . . . but why can’t we park this car in our driveway?”

  Greg glanced in the rearview mirror. Todd’s brow was furrowed, and he was hugging the Cardinals bear tight against his chest. Obviously he hadn’t bought the explanation that advertising their camping trip to neighbors would alert everyone the house was empty and create a security risk. Plus, Todd was picking up on his elevated adrenaline, attuned as usual to the subtle vibes around him.

  That didn’t bode well for the rationale he’d concocted about why they had to change names—but he’d have ten days to work on that. They just had to get past the next few hours.

  “Sometimes robbers watch neighborhoods to see when people are on vacation.” He kept his voice even and calm as he pulled into the parking space and shut off the engine, one eye on the lot in the rearview mirror. This end wasn’t too populated, but he wanted to make sure no one was around to notice him and Todd slipping through the hedge. “If newspapers pile up, or houses stay dark, or they see people loading luggage in their car, they figure it’s safe to come back in a day or two and break in. We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”

  “No. But what would they take from us? We don’t have anything that costs a lot of money, do we?”

  Good point. Other than a bulky TV that would be difficult to transport, they had nothing worth stealing.

  “No, but a thief wouldn’t know that until after he broke in.” Greg took one more quick scan of the lot. All clear. He motioned toward the hedge. “Want to race me to the basement door?”

  Todd’s face lit up, and he grabbed the door handle. “Yeah!”

  “You remember where we came through the hedge?”

  “Yeah. Right over there.” Todd pointed to a slight gap in the greenery.

  “That’s it. On your mark. Get set. Go!”

  Todd was out the door in a flash. Greg followed more slowly, taking time to lock the car, but was close on Todd’s heels as the boy dived through the hedge.
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  Less than a minute later, letting Todd keep the lead, he reached the door that provided access to the walk-out basement.

  “You won.” Greg fitted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. “You get faster every day.”

  Beaming, Todd trotted in ahead of him. “So are we going to eat dinner now? I’m hungry.”

  “Next on my list.” Greg followed him past the bare-bones camping gear, neatly piled by the door, and the two small bags of clothing and toiletries he’d packed. They could pick up everything else they needed once they were on the road.

  Todd stopped to examine one of the sleeping bags. “Our camping trip is going to be awesome. How come you didn’t tell me about it until tonight?”

  “It wouldn’t have been a surprise if I’d told you sooner, would it?” He ruffled Todd’s hair.

  “I guess not. Can I watch cartoons while you fix dinner?”

  “Sure. I have a couple of things to do first, anyway.”

  Once upstairs, Greg dropped the keys to the rental car on the kitchen counter while Todd continued toward the living room. A moment later, cartoon sounds filled the house.

  After casting a glance at the little boy sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, Greg moved down the hall to his bedroom and closed the door. From the top drawer of his dresser, he withdrew the bottle of Valium pills, frowning at the tremble in his fingers. Last time he’d used these, he’d been steady. Confident. In control.

  Then again, he’d had months, not days, to plan. Plus, he’d been dealing with a four-year-old, not an inquisitive seven-year-old.

  But Todd loved him. Trusted him. He’d believe the fabricated story about needing to get a new name like the people on the TV show they’d watched recently who’d entered the witness security program. The important thing was to make it convincing—and scary enough to seal his son’s lips. The story he’d concocted might lead to another bout of nightmares, but they’d get past those. Once entrenched in a new life and a new city with new identities, the nightmares would fade away.

  And they’d be safe at last.

  Greg opened the bottle. Shook two of the yellow pills into his palm. Ironic that they had a heart-shaped cutout in the center, considering how they’d helped him secure a new son to love—and how they would ensure that love went unchallenged.

  He examined the 5 mg tablets. He’d only used half a pill on that August day in New York—two-and-a-half times the normal dose for a four-year-old, according to the Net—and it had knocked Todd out. But he was older now, and it was important that he stay fast asleep.

  Two pills ought to do it.

  That would leave him plenty for the doctor’s wife, plus a few to drop on the floor.

  Shoving the bottle into the pocket of his jeans, he closed his fist over the two pills and headed back toward the kitchen.

  It was time to assemble the ingredients he’d purchased for strawberry smoothies.

  A perfect bedtime treat.

  Dad was acting really weird.

  Todd watched as his father pulled the blender and the recipe for smoothies Diane had given them from the cabinet under the sink. Smoothies were good. At least, the ones Diane made were. But whenever he and Dad wanted a treat, they went to DQ. Why was he making smoothies instead?

  And how come they’d watched a movie on a weeknight? Dad never let him stay up this late.

  He squirmed in his seat at the kitchen table, giving his teddy bear a squeeze. He didn’t need the bear anymore, not since he’d turned seven. Teddy bears were for little kids. Still . . . it was kind of nice to hold on to.

  Especially when everything suddenly felt creepy—like that day he’d seen the lady with the blonde hair on the escalator.

  As his dad pulled stuff out of the refrigerator, he stood and moved close beside him—the place where he always felt safe. “Dad?”

  “Yes?” He sounded kind of far away, like he wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention.

  “How come you decided to make these?”

  “Seemed like a nice way to celebrate our camping trip.” He crossed to the freezer and pulled out a box of ice cream.

  “But you never made them before. And it’s a lot of trouble.”

  His father kept working. “It’s no trouble. You know I’d do anything for you, David.”

  Todd’s stomach started to feel funny, like it had when his dad called him David after that scary nightmare he’d watched from the bedroom door. How come he was starting to do that?

  “Why don’t you go wash your hands and face while I finish up?” His dad turned on the blender, and he cringed at the loud whirring sound. It seemed a lot noisier than when Diane made smoothies.

  Edging toward the door, he chewed on his lip. It was nice of Dad to make their favorite drink, but he felt kind of like he had when he got the flu last year, right before he threw up. And thinking about drinking a whole smoothie made it worse.

  He dawdled in the bathroom, playing with the soap dispenser until his dad called him.

  “Todd? The drinks are ready.”

  At least he’d used the right name this time.

  After drying his hands, he trudged back toward the kitchen. Dad was sitting at the table.

  “There you go, champ.” Dad slid the smoothie with the straw stuck in the top in his place. “So tell me what you did today.”

  Todd crossed to the table and slid into his chair. Dad seemed okay now, even if the air felt kind of buzzy and crackly, like before a lightning storm. But Mrs. Stein at daycare was always saying he had an overbusy imagination . . . or some word like that. So maybe everything was fine. Maybe Dad’s arm was just hurting or he had a headache from working in the sun all day.

  He took a tentative sip of his drink and told him a little about the animal posters they were making in art class. When Dad asked a bunch of questions and paid a lot of attention like he usually did, the drink started to taste better and his stomach stopped wobbling. So he told him about his favorite dinosaur book too, and the airplane pilot who had come to talk to their class, in uniform and everything.

  As his dad finished off his drink, he slurped up the dregs of his own.

  “That was real good, Dad.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” He stood and took their glasses to the sink. “We’ll make them again sometime.”

  A yawn snuck up on him.

  “Someone must be getting sleepy.” His dad had that teasing look that always made him feel happy.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Why don’t you go brush your teeth and I’ll come in to say good night?”

  He tried to think of some excuse to stay up later, but Dad wouldn’t listen. Not when he was already up way past his bedtime.

  Besides, he was getting really tired. And as he headed for his room, his legs felt the same as they had the day he’d wandered into that patch of mud in Montana that kept sucking his feet down.

  Yawning again, he bypassed the bathroom and sat on his bed. Dad wouldn’t care if he lay down for a minute before he brushed his teeth.

  He pulled off his shoes and cuddled up with his bear, glad the night had turned out happy after all. They’d laughed and talked like they always did. And tomorrow they were going camping.

  Burrowing into his pillow, he let his eyes drift closed. He sure was lucky to have such a great dad.

  The only thing that could make his life even better was if he had a mom too.

  Maybe someday.

  25

  Why in the world was her doorbell ringing at eleven-forty at night?

  Moving from Kevin’s room to the second-floor landing, Kate paused above the dark foyer. It couldn’t be Connor. He was on surveillance duty until midnight—but who else would have any reason to come to her door at this hour?

  Hand on the banister, she hesitated. It was possible those two girls who shared a unit on the other side of the cul-de-sac might be having a repeat performance of last weekend’s wild party, when a drunk twentysomething guy had knocked on her door
at two in the morning after losing his bearings.

  Except they’d never had a rowdy gathering in the middle of the week before.

  The bell rang again.

  Hmm.

  Better investigate. She had sturdy locks; no one would get in unless she invited them.

  She descended the steps, detoured to grab her cell phone out of the charger on the kitchen counter, then pressed her eye against the peephole.

  Nothing but shadows.

  Why was it so dark out there? Had her dusk-to-dawn porch light burned out? One more chore to add to her to-do list for tomorrow.

  She squinted as she surveyed the porch. The corners might be murky, but it was clear no one was standing on the other side of her door. The bell ringer must have been some prankster.

  But as she did one final scan and prepared to turn away, a small mound on the floor of the porch, near the steps, caught her eye.

  She zeroed in on it.

  Froze.

  A little blond-haired boy who looked just like Kevin was lying against the railing.

  And he wasn’t moving.

  No!

  Tossing the phone onto the hall table, she fumbled with the locks on her door, her shaking fingers refusing to cooperate. Had Sanders grown tired of playing father to a boy who wasn’t his own and dumped him on her doorstep now that the heat was on?

  Or had he flipped out, and in a fit of rage taken more drastic measures to rid himself of his problem?

  No!

  Denial screamed through her brain as the floor rippled beneath her while she struggled to flip the locks.

  Hurry, hurry!

  If Kevin was hurt, every second could count.

  At last the door swung open and she charged toward the prone figure, kneeling beside him in the dim illumination from the streetlights at the curb.

  “Kevin?” She touched his cheek. It was warm.

  Yes!

  She leaned closer, putting her face near his nose. His breath tickled her cheek.

  “He’s alive. For now.”

  At the cold, emotionless male voice, she whirled around—and found herself inches from the barrel of a pistol with some sort of apparatus on the end.