Secret Baby, Second Chance. Jane Godman
if she was the one listening to it. A lot on my mind. It was a classic fobbing-off phrase. His lips parted in preparation to ask more just as a cry from the baby monitor, for the second time that day, provided an interruption.
This cry was different. This wasn’t one of Lia’s usual noises. It was a high-pitched scream that brought Beth straight to her feet and had her running for the door. At the same time, out in the yard, Melon went into a frenzy of barking.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Picking up on her panic, Vincente was right behind her as she dashed up the stairs.
“Someone is in Lia’s room.”
Vincente got all the confirmation he needed about Beth’s state of mind when she hurtled from the kitchen and charged up the stairs. “Someone is in Lia’s room? What the hell do you mean?” How had she reached that conclusion from the noise she had heard Lia make through the baby monitor?
Beth didn’t answer. He could hear her breath catching in her throat in a series of gasps as she reached the top of the stairs and burst through a door to her left. To Vincente’s relief, Lia was lying on her side in her crib with a pink-and-white blanket pulled up to her chin. Her long lashes shadowed her cheeks and her breathing was rhythmic.
Beth made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob. She raised a hand to her lips, but it was shaking so wildly she couldn’t complete the action and she lowered it back to her side. When she turned to look at Vincente, her eyes were urgent and haunted, their blue depths awash with unshed tears.
“Beth—” just what was going on with her? “—she’s fine. No one has been in here.”
The tears spilled over as she blinked, and she brushed them impatiently away with the back of her hand. “She cried out as if someone had touched her.” He could see doubt creeping in now as she turned back to look at Lia. “That’s how she cries when a stranger tries to hold her.”
She shivered slightly as if a chill had caught her unawares. Turning slowly, she looked at the open window. “No. I closed that when I brought her up here. I know I did.”
“Maybe you forgot. It’s easily done.”
The uncertainty and trembling were gone now. Momentarily, he was looking at the old Beth. “I know I closed the window. I felt a draft and I moved across here to close it before I came downstairs.” There was a militant look in her eye. One he remembered well. “I’m not wrong about this, Vincente.”
She moved to the window and leaned out. “Look.” She pointed. “Someone has placed a ladder up against the side of the house, right below this window. That’s how he got in.”
Vincente was still skeptical. “In broad daylight? And why didn’t that mad dog of yours attack whoever it was that was setting a ladder up against the side of the house and climbing in through one of the windows?”
“Because this room is at the side of the house.” Beth was pacing now, wrapping her arms around her waist as though hugging herself. “Melon is in the backyard. He was barking to warn me, but he couldn’t get around to this side.”
“So, this person, whoever it was, climbed in, touched Lia and made her cry, climbed out again and ran off?” Vincente said. “Why? What did he, or she, hope to gain from it?”
“He wanted to frighten me. He said if I told anyone...if I involved the police...” She struggled to regulate her breathing. “Now you and Laurie have been here. This is his way of warning me.”
Vincente was about to pursue the subject further when Lia stirred and rolled onto her back. The action revealed an item that had been hidden under the blanket. Although Vincente could see it was a photograph, he couldn’t make out the detail, and he didn’t get a chance to look too closely. His attention was taken up by the remarkable effect the picture had on Beth.
As soon as she saw the photograph, she gave a little cry and ran from the room. Picking up the picture, Vincente straightened the blanket over Lia before following her. When he found Beth, she was on her knees beside a bed. Presumably this was her own bedroom.
As he watched in surprise, she hauled a suitcase out from under the bed and opened it. Pulling open the closet, she began to throw clothes into the suitcase.
“What are you doing?” Apart from losing your mind?
“Getting out of here.” She brushed past him and, opening a drawer in the dresser, carried an armful of underwear over to the case. “Right now.”
* * *
Beth’s heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst right out of her body. Her chest grew tighter as if her ribs and lungs had expanded beyond their capacity and, with nowhere to go, they were forced to stay inside her. One minute she couldn’t inhale. The next, her breath was coming in great, whooping gasps as though she’d just finished running a marathon.
Then her stomach decided to join the party, giving a huge backflip that sent sick bile rising up into her throat, making her gag. And the whole time her mind was playing one thought on a loop, over and over.
Get out.
She raced wildly around her bedroom, scarcely aware of Vincente until he blocked her way, forcing her to stop what she was doing and look at him.
“You have to tell me what this is about.”
“No.” Don’t tell. That was what the letter had said. I’ll know if you do. “I can’t.”
“Beth.” He caught hold of her hands, and his touch slowed some of the madness in her heart. “I am not letting you leave here like this. You may have run from me once, but it’s not happening again. I will keep following you until you tell me what is scaring the hell out of you.” He lowered his voice, so it became softer and more persuasive. “You have always been able to tell me anything.”
She looked into those midnight eyes. He was right. No matter what crazy point they had been at in their relationship—midfight, making up, wildly in love, just friends—Vincente was the one person to whom she could always take a problem. Even when she was mad at him, she used to go to him for advice. That was before I had a madman on my tail. And now he’s after my daughter.
The thought sent a renewed flare of panic storming through her and she tried to tug her hands away. “I can’t.”
Vincente pointed to the picture he’d placed on the bed. “That was placed in my daughter’s crib. If you won’t tell me what it’s about, do I need to take it to the police?”
Beth felt the color, what little there was left of it, drain from her face. “No. Please don’t.”
“Then talk to me, Beth.” He released one of her hands and picked up the picture. “We can go to Lia’s room, if you feel more comfortable there.”
She nodded. “Give me a minute to get something.”
While Vincente returned to the nursery, Beth withdrew the envelope containing the letter, newspaper report, and the other photographs from the drawer in her bedside table. Was she really going to do this? She had run from Stillwater because of this. She had left her old life behind, partly because she had been in danger, but also because any people to whom she was close had been in danger. And Vincente had been the closest of all. Oh, he didn’t know that. Or maybe he did...but he would never admit it. Vincente didn’t do close. He was great at the physical stuff. But emotionally? No. We never went there. Every time things strayed close to the L word, we’d find ourselves breaking up again.
But this was no longer just about Beth. Someone had been in Lia’s room today, and that someone had already killed two people. Beth was determined to do all she could to protect Lia, but maybe she needed help. And what better person was there to help her than Lia’s father?
Even