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Eric would punch something if his head weren't pounding.
After the attack, he'd been frantic to make sure Daniel was all right. He'd staggered to the sidewalk, been grabbed by hands, seen faces he didn't recognize. As the fuzziness cleared, all he could think about was Daniel.
Wally met him on the sidewalk. "He's inside with Sally. He's fine. He thinks you're a hero."
Right. Some hero.
Thank God the boy was all right. Nobody else had been injured. Eric had told Wally to call Brady, since he didn't know Nate and Marisa's phone number off the top of his head, and he needed to get Daniel home. Well, that had been a mistake.
Brady rode in like the flippin' cavalry.
Eric had passed all the concussion tests the paramedics gave him. Was adamantly refusing to go to the hospital. Had no time for ERs and CTs and whatever other letters they wanted to throw at him.
But Brady had showed up, spoken in his I'm the chief and you'll do as I say voice.
And then, Eric lay on a gurney, figuring it'd be easier to follow orders than to argue. He knew well enough that in the end, Brady would win.
The ambulance ride had been mercifully short. Thanks to Brady, who'd lost no time throwing out words like first responder and line of duty injury, Eric saw the doctor right away.
The older bald man asked him all the same questions the paramedic had asked, performed the same tests, or near enough. "I think we ought to do a CT scan."
"I'm fine. It was a bump on the head."
"A bad bump."
Eric had to fight to rein in his temper. "What's a CT scan going to tell you? That I have a concussion? I think that's obvious. How will we treat it differently if we know?"
"There are other things. You could have bleeding on the brain."
"I don't."
The man's lips quirked. "You a medical doctor, too, detective?"
"He didn't hit me that hard." Okay, it had been hard. And it had been twice. Still...no sensitivity to light. No nausea. No dizziness. No memory loss.
The doctor sat on his stool and rolled to the side of the bed. He watched Eric's face a moment, then said, "How do you feel, son?"
Furious. Afraid. Desperate to be alone, to look at the package he could feel pressing against the small of his back. He'd touched it as soon as he'd stood in that alleyway, knew it was an envelope. But he hadn't pulled it out. Because his attacker had hidden it for a reason.
He couldn't tell the doc any of that. "My head is pounding."
"I imagine it is. We'll get you some Tylenol. Anything else?"
"Just the headache." Eric actually managed a smile. "And of course the embarrassment. But y'all don't have a drug for that, do you?"
The doctor's eyes were kind as he stood and clasped Eric on the shoulder. "Can't imagine why you'd feel embarrassed. Men who follow bad guys into dark alleys are few and far between. Be proud you're that kind of man."
Eric wasn't sure how to respond.
"We'll keep you for an hour."
"If you'll just give me the Tylenol, I'll be on my way. No need for me to hang around here and take up a bed."
The doctor chuckled. "Good effort, son. But we have plenty of beds." His smile faded. "One hour. There's nothing so important it can't wait one hour."
"I'll stay with him." Brady stepped in the doorway, arms crossed. "He won't go anywhere until you release him."
With that assurance, the doctor left them alone.
"You should have had the CT scan," Brady said.
Eric closed his eyes, tried not to wince with the headache. "I'm fine."
"What happened?"
He needed to be alone for five minutes. And then he needed to talk to Kelsey.
The attacker's words were playing like a skipping record in his brain.
Grab the kid and run.
The kid.
Kelsey had a kid.
She'd had a child with another man. She'd gotten pregnant, given birth to another man's child.
And then, what? She'd stolen the baby?
If that were the case, where was that baby now?
Maybe the man in the alley had no idea what he was talking about.
If only Eric could convince himself of that.
It was all he could do not to shove past Brady and go find her, demand answers.
A nurse walked in with a little paper cup and a glass of water. "How's our patient."
"Impatient," Brady said.
She smiled and handed him the medicine. "Well, I can understand that," she said. "Nobody plans to spend the afternoon in the ER."
He swallowed the pills, then took a big gulp of water to wash them down.
The nurse took the cup. "You need anything else, just holler." And she left.
Brady was waiting. Eric went through the story, not that he hadn't done that at the scene multiple times.
"The guy say anything to you?"
"Nope. Just walloped me and ran."
Brady regarded him, eyes narrowed.
Eric wouldn't tell him the truth, not right now. Maybe later, maybe after he'd talked to Kelsey.
"I need to call my wife."
"She's in the waiting room. I'll send her in when you've told me everything."
"I told you everything. And now, I'd really like to see Kelsey."
"Did this have something to do with her?"
Eric blew out a long breath. Brady might be the chief, but this was Eric's life. It was Kelsey's life. "I told you—"
"Right." Brady's expression gave away his suspicion, but he didn't say anything else.
"Just get her. Please."
Brady stared at him, and Eric thought he might refuse. Fine, then he'd leave this stupid place and find Kelsey himself.
Maybe the chief read his mind, because he nodded. "I'll send her in." He closed the door behind him.
Alone. Finally. His head pounded. His heart pumped. He wanted nothing more than to lie back and sleep. Instead, he pulled the package from his waistband. It had Kelsey's name written on it.
Well, the man had given it to Eric. And considering what it had cost him to get it, he figured he was entitled. He opened it, and everything seemed to stop.
Photographs.
First, Kelsey's mother. Then the whole family, her mom and stepfather and stepbrothers in various places at various times. The pictures were grainy like they'd been taken from a distance. Snapshots, images stolen without permission. One had a Christmas tree in the distance. Based on the flowers in another, Eric would guess they'd been taken in the summertime. The message was clear.
They were being watched.
Eric flipped to the next photograph.
It was his own image staring back at him, walking his dog. Beside the road, the foliage was ablaze with fall colors. October, probably. Four months before. Or a year and four months. Or more.
He flipped to the next. Eric again, this time in his backyard.
Whoever had taken this had been behind his house.
No snow on the ground. Not recent.
He'd been watched, too, and for quite some time.
The last photo was Eric and Kelsey, face to face, on his front stoop. This had been taken the day before.
He lifted that photo to find a piece of paper folded in fourths behind it. He opened the paper, read the typed words.
He's closing in. Grab the kid and run, before he finds you.
#
BY the time Kelsey knocked on his door, he'd stashed the photos and note under the blanket. Maybe he'd show them to her, maybe he wouldn't. He had to gauge her reaction to the rest, first.
She stepped in, rushed to his side, and leaned in to hug him. "Thank God you're okay."
Gently, firmly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away.
Hurt registered in her eyes.
Welcome to the club, sister.
She found the doctor's stool and sat slowly. "It was about me, wasn't it?"
He nodded, couldn't seem to find the words. Because once he said it, everything would change. They'd had two days together. Not normal days, not even close. But at least they'd been together.
Those two days had been a mirage. He'd known it at the time, but he hadn't wanted to admit it. Now, everything would change. The truth would come to light. When it was out there, they could deal with it.
Or, she could just take off again.
Whatever happened, he had to know everything now. "Close the door."
She stood, pushed the door closed, and sat again. "Please tell me."
"It was a warning." He rubbed the lump on the back of his head, wished they'd just mailed a letter.
She tilted her head to the side. "A warning? From who?"
"No idea. I didn't get a look at him, and I didn't recognize the voice."
"Okay. What did he say?"
"Apparently, Otero is coming."
She glanced behind her, as if maybe he'd walked in. Shook her head. "We knew that, though. We knew he probably knew I was here. That's what that message meant yesterday—the guy who lives here and his offer of information."
"Right. But who would warn you?"
She stared past him. A moment passed before she said, "I have no idea."
He should question her further. There had to be an answer. But the bigger question pushed out all the others. "He said you should grab your kid and leave."
The color in her face drained. Then her lower lip started to tremble, like she might cry.
"So, it wasn't a lie? It wasn't a mistake?" He'd hoped...what? That the guy was wrong? That she didn't actually have his kid? Yes, that's exactly what Eric had hoped. What a fool.
"What did you do with it?" he asked.
"Him." Tears dripped silently down her cheeks. She wiped them with her fingertips. "My son."
"Your son with that man."
Her eyes looked wider, brighter, against her pale skin. She looked down again, but not before he saw the haunted look return.
"It's not like I planned it," she said.
"Right. Well, apparently your boyfriend—"
"No." She stood and, the stool rolled back. "How dare you?"
"I'm not the one—"
"You have no idea what you're talking about, Eric Nolan." She pointed at him, hand trembling. "No idea what that man did to me."
"Hmm. And why is that? Certainly not because I wasn't here for you. I've been right here, all along, waiting—"
"I couldn't come back." Tears were dripping off her chin now. She didn't look away, though. Didn't wipe them. Didn't do anything but glare at Eric. "This is why... This is why..." She turned toward the wall. Then stood straight, started toward the door.
He swung his legs over the side of the gurney, lurched forward, grabbed her arm. Tried to speak, but the sudden onslaught of pain nearly took him to his knees. He hunched over, waited through a wave of nausea. But he didn't let go of her wrist.
"Come on." She put one arm around his back and urged him to turn around. "Come on. Back in bed."
The worst of the pain passed. He stood straight, sat on the side of the bed, never let her wrist go. "You're not running away this time." He paused through another wave of nausea. He would not be sick. A deep breath, then, "I'll have Brady throw you in jail again before I let you leave."
"On what charge?"
"Suspected kidnapping."
"I didn't kidnap anybody. He's my son."
"Last I checked, it takes two to make a baby. Which means he's Otero's son, too."
"He's not."
The woman was still stubborn as a mule. He lay down, leaned his head on the pillow, closed his eyes. Kept her wrist firmly in his grip.
"Being here is making everything worse. I have to get out of Nutfield. Then you'll be safe. Then everyone will be safe."
Safe. Right. He remembered safe. Based on the photos, that had been a mirage, too.
He grabbed the envelope he'd stowed beneath his blanket, slapped it on the bed. "If you disappear again, nobody will be safe."
She stepped away like the package might bite.
"Go ahead."
She looked at her wrist, his hand firmly wrapped around it. He thought about making her manage the envelope one-handed but figured her curiosity would keep her here at least long enough to look at the photos. He let her go. "You try to leave again, I'll tackle you."
He'd expected a flippant answer, but she said nothing as she pulled out the photos, flipped through them one by one.
She reached the one of Eric. More tears. But she forced herself to look at every photo. Then she got to the note. Opened it. Read it. Shook her head. "I don't understand. Why would somebody warn me? Who would do that?"
He searched her face, tried to guess what she was thinking. He hoped to find resolve. The fight he knew she possessed. All he saw was defeat.
"Where's the child, Kelsey?"
"I was trying to protect him. To protect everybody."
"Where's the child?"
"I thought it would be better, don't you see? If I just left him. Left him with somebody I knew would love him. Would care for him. I had no choice."
"Where's the child?"
But before she could speak again, her words registered.
It all started because of her sister, Danielle.
Danielle.
Daniel.
"Oh, my God. It was you." He swung his legs over the side of the gurney, took a deep breath. Prayed his guess was wrong.
He wasn't wrong, though.
"It was you?"
She wilted. Slid right onto the floor. Curled into a ball like she had that first night. Like she thought he might hurt her. He didn't need to use his fits to hurt her. The truth would do the trick.
"You're the monster mother."