Her Christmas Guardian. Shirlee McCoy
God, let this be a nightmare. Please, let me wake up and see Lucy lying in her little toddler bed.
“We don’t know much, Scout,” he responded. “What we do know is that you were shopping. When you left the store, you were followed. The tire of your car was shot out, and you were in an accident.”
She didn’t care. Didn’t want to know about the car or the accident or being followed. She needed to know about Lucy. “Just tell me what happened to my daughter.”
“We don’t know. You were alone when we found you.”
“I need to go home.” She jumped up, the room spinning. The knot in her stomach growing until it was all she could feel. “Maybe she’s there.”
She knew it was unreasonable, knew it couldn’t be true, but she had to look, had to be sure.
“The police have already been to your house,” he said gently. “She’s not there.”
“She could be hiding. She doesn’t like strangers.” Her voice trembled. Her body trembled, every fear she’d ever had, every nightmare, suddenly real and happening and completely outside of her control.
“Scout.” He touched her shoulder, his fingers warm through thin cotton. She didn’t want warmth, though. She wanted her child.
“Please,” she begged. “I have to go home. I have to see for myself. I have to.”
He eyed her for a moment, silent. Solemn. Something in his eyes that looked like the grief she was feeling, the horror she was living.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll take you.”
Just like that. Simple and easy as if the request didn’t go against logic. As if she weren’t hooked to an IV, shaking from fear and sorrow and pain.
He grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, then texted someone. She didn’t ask who—she was too busy trying to keep the darkness from taking her again. Too busy trying to remember the last moment she’d seen Lucy. Had she been scared? Crying?
Three days.
That was what Stella had said.
Three days that Lucy had been missing, and Scout had been lying in a hospital unaware. She closed her eyes, sick with the knowledge.
Please, God, let her be okay.
She was all Scout had. The only thing that really mattered to her. She had to be okay.
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t have the energy to wipe it away. Didn’t have the strength to even open her eyes when Boone touched her cheek.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said quietly, and she wanted to believe him almost as much as she wanted to open her eyes and see her daughter.
“How can it be?”
“Because you ran into the right person the night your daughter was taken,” he responded, and he sounded so confident, so certain of the outcome, she looked into his face, his eyes. Saw those things she’d seen before, but something else, too—faith, passion, belief.
“Who are you?”
“I already told you—Boone Anderson. I work for HEART. A hostage-rescue team based in Washington, D.C.”
Someone knocked on the door, and Stella bustled in. Slim and athletic, she moved with a purposeful stride, her steps short and quick. “I’m not happy about this, Boone.”
“I didn’t think you would be,” he responded, stepping aside.
“She’s not ready to be released,” she continued as she pulled on gloves and lifted Scout’s arm. “You’re not ready,” she reiterated, looking straight into Scout’s eyes. “You have a hairline fracture to your skull, staples in your forehead and a couple more days of recovery in the hospital before you should be going anywhere.”
“I need to find—”
“Your daughter.” Stella cut her off. “Yeah. I know. And she needs her mother’s brain to be functioning well enough to help with our search.” She pulled the IV from Scout’s arm and pressed a cotton ball to the blood that bubbled up. “But I’m not going to waste time arguing with a parent’s love. I’ve seen men and women do some crazy things for their kids.”
She slapped a bandage over the cotton ball and straightened. “So, fine. We’ll head over to your place. You can look around to your heart’s content. Don’t expect me to scrape you up off the ground, though. You fall, and I’m—”
“Stella...” Boone cut into her diatribe. Scout looked as if she was about to collapse, her face so pale he wasn’t sure she’d make it into a wheelchair. “How about we just focus on the mission?”
“What mission?” she muttered. “This is pro bono, and I’m only helping because you saved my hide in Mexico City. If you remember correctly, I’m still supposed to be on medical leave.”
“For the little scratch you got on the last mission? I’d have been back to work the next day,” he scoffed, because he knew she wanted him to, knew that asking her if she was up to going back to work would only irritate her.
“If I remember correctly,” she responded, her eyes flashing, “you took two weeks off for that little concussion you got in Vietnam.”
It had been a fractured skull, and he’d been forced to take a month off, but he didn’t correct her. “True, but I’m not as pain tolerant as you are. I need a little more time to recover from my injuries.”
She snorted. “We have some clothes around here for the lady? I don’t think she wants to leave in a hospital gown.”
“Just what she was admitted in.” He pointed to a pile of belongings. He’d been through the purse, the pockets of the coat and jeans. He’d found nothing that might point him to a kidnapper.
“I’ll help her get dressed. You wait in the hall.”
“I don’t need help,” Scout murmured. “If you just call a cab for me, I’ll get dressed and—”
“Not going to happen, sweetie,” Stella said. “You go with us or you don’t go at all.”
“Says who?”
“Says the people who are looking for your daughter for free,” Stella bit out.
“What Stella means,” Boone cut in, “is that you’re weak and you need to be careful.”
“What I mean is that if we’re going to do this, I want to get it done. Besides, if we don’t go now, Lamar might show up and put a stop to our little party.”
“We’re not sneaking her out of here, Stella. It isn’t that kind of mission.”
“Whatever kind it is, Lamar isn’t going to be happy that you’re taking his only witness. He’s been waiting three days to question her, and if he weren’t following a lead that was called in—”
“What lead?” Scout asked, her eyes alive with hope.
He’d seen it many times before, watched hope flare and then die only to flare again. He knew the feeling, knew the quick grip of the heart when it seemed as if what was longed for would finally be had. Knew the despair when it wasn’t.
“Don’t know,” Stella responded. If she noticed Scout’s sudden excitement, she didn’t let on. She wasn’t one to give false hope, and she wasn’t one to feed dreams. “I just know he left. Said he wouldn’t be gone long. So, how about we get this show on the road?” She looked at Boone, pointed at the door. “Out.”
He went because she was right. If they were going, now was the time. Lamar wouldn’t be happy that they’d helped his lone witness walk out of the hospital. On the other hand, he had no reason to keep her there.
Except