Cries In The Night. Debra Webb
thought of her mother in years. She supposed that if she really wanted to, that in some twisted way she could blame her mother for the accident. After all, if Carla hadn’t made Mel want so badly to be the exact opposite of her, she probably would never have lent her SUV to a friend. God knew her mother had certainly never helped her own daughter, much less a friend. If Mel hadn’t lent Rita the SUV, then she and Katlin wouldn’t have been in a tiny compact vehicle when the accident occurred. Then maybe none of this would—
“Stop it,” she ordered. She pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead and forced the tormenting thoughts away. Rest, she needed rest.
All she had to do, she reasoned as she made her way to her room, was find something unrelated to the accident to focus on for the next fifteen or so minutes. She climbed into her bed and pulled the covers up around her. The feel of Ryan’s full lips pressed firmly against hers instantly invaded her mind. She almost pushed the vivid memories away, but didn’t. Reliving nights with Ryan—before—was better than allowing the reality of this waking nightmare to slip to the forefront of her thoughts.
She had to keep the hurt at bay.
She had to be strong.
Her baby was counting on her.
RYAN BRACED his hands on the window frame and stared into the darkness. It was raining again. A streak of lightning temporarily brightened the hotel parking lot. The weather matched his mood, he decided, dark and stormy.
He blew out a disgusted breath and jerked the curtains closed. A quick glance at the digital clock on the bedside table confirmed his suspicions that it was well past time he’d gone to bed. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto the nearest chair.
But then, what would be the point? He definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep. He couldn’t get Mel out of his head long enough to concentrate on anything else. He needed files, interview reports, case studies. Anything to keep his thoughts from wandering back to her. If he were back at the office in Chicago, there would be plenty to keep him occupied.
But he wasn’t in Chicago.
He was here…where she was.
He tunneled his fingers through his hair and slumped down onto the bed. She still held that same old power over him. She was the only woman who’d ever wielded that much. He could never resist her. The first year without her had been pure hell. He’d worked 365 days. Hadn’t wanted a day off. Still rarely took one.
When she’d left the Bureau—left him—he’d thought he would never be able to go on without her. But he’d managed, just barely—and only by leaving the Bureau himself and finding a fresh start.
What the hell was he doing in Memphis working a case that involved her child? A child she’d had with another man? He frowned trying to recall the child’s age. Something over a year. He glanced at his briefcase. The death certificate was there. But he had no intention of getting up and looking at it. It made no difference how little time it had taken her to get over him. For that matter, she could have left him for another man, though he doubted it. But, who knew? Maybe she met someone who gave her the kind of attention she wanted…deserved.
Someone who didn’t study cases about dead and missing children as a career. Someone who could bear to give her the child she wanted so desperately.
Anyone but him.
He’d seen too much. Knew too much about the evil men could do. His jaw clenched automatically and the images receded, a practiced response. He would never bring a helpless life into this world. Not after all he’d seen. He just couldn’t do it. He’d wanted their relationship to be enough.
But it hadn’t been. She’d wanted more and he couldn’t give it to her. Wouldn’t give it to her. So she’d taken the Pill their entire relationship to keep him happy.
Ryan leaned back onto the stack of pillows. No matter how he’d tried to forget her, he couldn’t. No other woman made him feel anything even close to what he and Mel had shared. Oh, he’d tried to erase her memory. But he’d failed miserably.
Now he worked. He’d almost gotten used to going home to an empty house on the rare occasions he bothered to go home. That diversion had come with its own costs. The plants had all died. He’d had to give his dog to a neighbor. But otherwise he’d managed. Had even reached the point where he seldom thought of her more than once or twice a day.
And now this.
What had Bill been thinking when he’d called him?
He hadn’t been thinking. That much was clear. Bill loved Mel like a daughter and he intended to help her, whatever the facts indicated.
The facts all pointed to the child’s death. There was absolutely nothing to corroborate Mel’s theory.
Deep inside, in that place he kept all those messy emotions hidden away, he hoped like hell the facts were wrong. No matter who had fathered the child, he didn’t want Mel to know this kind of loss. He didn’t want her to live with this level of hurt for the rest of her life.
Close your eyes, Braxton, he ordered. Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.
The instant his lids lowered, the image of Melany filled his mind. She smiled up at him, love shining in her green eyes. She was wearing that little black dress he’d liked so much. His fingers knotted in the rumpled sheet beneath him but he allowed the memories to come. Kissing the smooth skin of her shoulder. Lowering the zipper, then the silky dress. Following the path of the sensual fabric with his mouth. They’d made love over and over that night, then the light of day had brought reality back with a vengeance.
He’d asked her to marry him. She’d hesitated, begging him to change his mind about having children. He’d said no. She’d tried a dozen different ways to sway him. He hadn’t listened.
She’d cried.
He’d stood firm.
She’d packed.
He’d pretended not to notice.
Then she’d left.
He’d been certain she would come back. But she hadn’t. The months went by and she didn’t call. He’d almost lost his mind. Then the months had turned into a year and he’d faced facts. She wasn’t coming back.
He started to call once or twice…but then a new case would come up and he’d be too busy. If she’d wanted to talk to him she would have called, he’d rationalized. It was over and he’d had to come to terms with that.
It hadn’t been easy but he’d done it. At least he thought he had until he saw her again. Not one thing about her had changed. She still looked twenty-five, despite being thirty-four. She wore her hair the same…the way he liked it. The long silky strands of gold made him ache to tangle his fingers there. Having a child hadn’t changed her slender figure much, either. If anything she looked more womanly.
Had bearing that child given her that extra touch of softness, those ever so slightly fuller curves? Did the man who’d made love to her last appreciate the subtle differences? He clenched his jaw until it ached.
Ryan pushed up from the bed and paced the suddenly too-small room. He needed a long, hard run to regain his perspective. He’d been to Memphis before, three or four years ago, had stayed in this very hotel. It was a safe enough area for a late night run. At this point he didn’t really care. He had to work off these crazy mixed-up emotions and all the adrenaline surging through his body.
He pulled a pair of sweats and his running shoes from his duffel and sat them aside. Ninety seconds later, he was ready to go. He glanced at the clock—2:00 a.m. He functioned on less than two hours’ sleep most of the time. A couple of nights without any at all wouldn’t kill him.
He reached for the door. A loud knock rattled the hinges a split second before his fingers curled around the knob. Ryan tensed. He glanced at the clock again, then eased closer to the door as another knock sounded.
“It’s