Midwife Cover. Cassie Miles
without her. If I had to guess, I’d say that mother and baby were being transported illegally.”
“Good guess,” Cole said as he ended his phone call. “I checked in with the sheriff, and he put me through to one of his deputies who picked up an injured woman—an illegal with no green card. She kept saying that her baby was stolen.”
“How badly is she injured?” Brady asked.
“Knife wounds. A lot of blood,” Cole reported. “The deputy took her to Doc Wilson’s house. It was closer to his location than any hospital or clinic. The doc stitched her up. He says she’ll be fine.”
“We need to talk to her,” Brady said.
“I told the deputy to stay with her at the doc’s place. If anybody is after her, she could be in danger.”
Petra listened with rising concern as they discussed their plan to drive to Doc Wilson’s place. Her heart went out to this mother. She wanted to help. “I’m coming with you.”
“I can’t sanction that,” Brady said.
Still holding the baby, she left the room and went down the hall to one of the desks behind the counter. “What I do is my decision. Not yours.”
“You heard what Cole said. It’s dangerous.”
She whipped around and transferred the baby into Brady’s arms. “Keep the nipple in his mouth. He needs to get as much hydration and nourishment as possible.”
Sitting in her ergonomic desk chair, she slipped into her lightweight summer hiking shoes and unlocked her bottom desk drawer. In the back of the drawer, she found her GLOCK automatic, loaded a clip into the magazine and snapped the gun in a holster onto her belt.
“No,” Brady said firmly. “You’re a civilian.”
She pointed to a yellow-painted brick that she was using as a paperweight. “You know what that is?”
“An award for completing the Yellow Brick Road at Quantico.”
She gave a nod to her former career path as an FBI special agent. “I was number one on the obstacle course back then, and I’ve kept up my skills. Besides, I can take care of the baby.”
“The baby? Who said anything about taking the baby?”
She stood to face him. Brady was over six feet tall, and she was only five feet, seven inches. She had to tilt her chin to look him straight in the eyes. “If you want the mom to talk, you need the baby. She’s not going to open her mouth when she’s in a panic about her missing child.”
For a full twenty seconds, he glared at her, definitely ticked off. Then he inhaled deeply, exhaled and conceded. “You’re right.”
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to give in.”
“You might have the wrong impression of me.”
“Let’s see.” She took a step back and looked him up and down. “My first impression is that you’re rigid, controlling and always follow the rules. Pretty much the opposite of me. Is that about right?”
“Not bad for a superficial description.”
“Could you do better? Go on, tell me about myself.”
“You don’t want to play this game.”
Another challenge? She couldn’t let it pass. “I insist. Tell me your impression of me.”
“A risk-taker,” he said in a low voice meant only for her ears. “Pretty much fearless, but you’re afraid of fire.”
“What?” How had he known that?
“You heard me,” Brady said. “You come from a family where at least one member is in law enforcement. You’re rebellious and always root for the underdog. You’re honest to the point of tactless. You say that you don’t care what other people think but you’re sensitive. You lost someone close to you—a boyfriend or a fiancé. And you’re from northern California, near San Francisco.”
Taken aback, she gaped. He’d been correct on every single count. “Either you’re a psychic or a damn good profiler.”
“Psychics don’t generally become special agents,” he said. “If you come with us to pick up the mother, I’m going to insist that you wear a protective vest.”
“Fine.”
His snap analysis intrigued her. She wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, even if it meant putting up with his arrogance.
BRADY DECIDED THEY SHOULD take two vehicles. Cole had already left in Petra’s truck and would coordinate backup with other officers from the sheriff’s department. Brady, Petra and the baby would ride together in the black SUV. His plan was to pick up the witness and take her into FBI custody. He’d already put in a call for a chopper to meet them at the airfield.
Through the windshield of the SUV, he watched as she stood on the sidewalk talking to four hugely pregnant women. The ladies waddled into the clinic, and Petra came toward him with the baby in her arms. Over her left shoulder, she carried a diaper bag filled with supplies. Her right hand was free to draw the GLOCK automatic from the side holster that was only partially hidden under her long purple vest.
A gun-toting midwife wasn’t his first choice as a partner, but he could work with Petra. She was FBI-trained and would do anything to protect the baby. Her instinct to reunite the mother with her child had been smart.
She arranged the sleeping baby in the carrier she’d installed in the back of the SUV. Safety first. He approved.
When she opened the door to the passenger side, he held out the dark blue Kevlar vest with FBI stenciled across the back. It wasn’t necessary for him to repeat his order; she knew what needed to be done.
As she donned the protective armor, her blue eyes expressed an irony that contrasted the sweetness of her full lips and the innocence of the freckles that spread across her cheeks. She reminded him of a mischievous kid, but he wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking she was immature.
She hopped into the seat and fastened her seat belt across the vest. “Happy?”
“Delirious.”
He pulled away from the curb. The GPS in the dashboard showed him the route to Doc Wilson’s address, which seemed simple enough. Five miles outside town, he’d turn left on Conifer Street, then another three miles on a winding road. “Tell me what kind of cover we’ll find at Doc Wilson’s house.”
“Are you expecting an ambush?”
“I want to be prepared for any possibility.”
“It’s a two-story log cabin in a forested area. There’s a small clinic with a parking lot attached to the right side of the house. Doc’s retired but still sees a few patients.”
The forest bothered him. If the traffickers had picked up the deputy’s scent, they could sneak into Doc’s clinic without being seen. He remembered the brutally murdered body of his informant sprawled on the floor. These were vicious men who had reason to silence the witness.
“Fill me in,” she said. “What are we looking for?”
“Your job is to take care of the baby and the mother. That’s it. Period. Nothing else.”
“I should question her,” Petra said. “I mean, look at you and look at me. A terrified woman who almost lost her son is way more likely to open up to another woman. Plus, she’s an illegal, and I speak Spanish. Do you?”
“Fluently.” Once again, she’d outlined a good plan. A woman-to-woman conversation would probably be more productive than an interrogation. “We’ll both question her. I’m looking for the obvious information. Names, places and dates.”
“Was she brought here by a coyote? I hate those guys.” She shuddered with anger. The