THREE

Max’s head turned as a gasp slid from Daisy’s lips. Her face had gone so pale his brain immediately snapped into diagnosis mode. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Right, a woman who was clearly in danger looked on the verge of having an actual panic attack on the passenger seat of his paramedic vehicle and he wasn’t supposed to worry about it.

God, I could use some pretty heavy-duty guidance here. I don’t know what to say or how to help her. Let alone any clue how to do this hero thing.

A diner loomed to their right, with the lights off and a big sign at the front of a huge lot saying that it would open again for the summer in June. A few minutes later, a wooden sign welcomed them to Bleak Point, Algonquin.

It was the kind of town that was so small most tourists wouldn’t even notice, except for the brief speed limit change. It had a smattering of houses, two gas stations, a grocery store and a sad little motel that had a single light on and advertised twenty-four-hour service, a convenience store and holiday cabins. A faded sign for a recognizable car-rental chain hung at the town’s only mechanic.

His heart sank. It wasn’t surprising that a small town in cottage country had a car-rental place. But he’d been half hoping that Daisy wouldn’t be able to rent a car, giving him a perfect excuse to take her all the way with him to Hunstville. He could drop her at his parents’ farmhouse where his folks would make a fuss over Fitz, she’d be able to get some sleep and he’d be able to call his brothers for advice.

Her forehead wrinkled. “Five hours until I can rent a car.”

“Or we can keep driving,” he said. “We’re only two hours from Huntsville. It’s a much larger small town. I know for sure you’ll be able to rent a car there.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she just glanced at her phone, back over her shoulder to Fitz, and then back at her phone again. “No, it’s okay. Please just drop me off at the motel.”

“But it’s no trouble,” he said. “I told you Huntsville is my hometown. I’m going there anyway.”

“Thank you.” Her chin rose as her arms crossed. “But you’ve done more than enough. I’ll rent a cabin, feed Fitz and maybe have a quick a nap, if he’ll agree to sleep. I’ve been awake since seven o’clock this morning.”

So over twenty hours, then. She must be beyond exhausted. The temptation to lecture her on all the ways her body and faculties would be compromised if she didn’t sleep soon flickered in the back of his mind. Instead, he turned the vehicle around and drove to the motel. The desire not to leave her there gnawed in the pit his stomach. Instead, his eyes rose to the dark sky above.

God, what do I do? I can’t just take off and leave them here. But she doesn’t want my help.

And it wasn’t like he wanted to get messed up in somebody else’s problem either. He had no clue how deep this rabbit hole went. He wasn’t an undercover detective like his brother Trent, who spent months carefully unraveling a problem. Not at all. Swoop in, save someone from danger, make sure they were safe and then move on—that was how he liked it and why he preferred driving a rapid-response unit over an ambulance.

They reached the motel. A long low building with a small convenience store stood at the entrance of what a peeling wooden sign optimistically called a holiday camp. A light glowed dimly in the window and a sign told them to ring the bell for service after hours. He parked and waited while Daisy got out and opened the door to the back seat. She paused there for so long he almost wondered if she was rifling through his things. He glanced back.

“If you’re looking for your car seat,” he said. “Please don’t worry about it and take mine. The car rental place might not have a good one. I’ll give you my number, and after you’re sorted and safe, you can give me a shout and we’ll figure out a way for you to get it back to me.”

Her dark eyes watched his face for a long moment. Her lower lip quivered ever so slightly, like she was fighting the urge to frown.

Realization hit him between the eyes. She would never call him. She would never try to track him down. He’d never find out the full story of the beautiful and brave English nanny who was on the run for her life, protecting the small baby in her care. She didn’t say a word of that out loud, though. She didn’t have to. He could read it in her face. When she said goodbye, it would be forever.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said. “Thank you.”

“I’ll wait here to make sure you’re able to rent a place,” he said quickly before she could say anything more. “I don’t want to leave until you’re sorted.”

“Okay, thanks.” She unbuckled the car seat, slung her rucksack over one shoulder and picked up Fitz with the other hand. He watched as she walked up to the front door and rung the bell. A couple of minutes ticked past and then a young man who didn’t look much older than eighteen opened the door. Daisy carried Fitz inside.

Max let out a long sigh, like he’d been holding his breath since he’d watched her car fly past. What was he doing? He hadn’t seen another glimpse of the gray sedan or any other suspicious driver since the accident, which hopefully meant the mysterious Smith had moved on.

Either way, just how long was Max going to follow her around, watching her back like some kind of knight in blue waterproof armor? He pulled out his phone. It had one bar of signal and that would have to be enough. He dialed Trent, praying he’d be forgiven for waking him up at three in the morning.

“Detective Henry.” His older brother’s voice was on the line, confident and assured, before it could even ring once.

“Morning, bro.” Max hopped out of his vehicle, beyond thankful his brother was answering his phone. “Sorry to call at such a horrible hour. I’m stuck in a pretty bad situation. I don’t know what to do.”

“No worries,” Trent said. “Chloe and I are just sitting in my car on a stakeout, and we’re about out of interesting small talk about wedding details.”

He heard Chloe snort. Max smiled. Thank You, Lord! His brother Trent was amazing. But Chloe was a decorated detective with the Ontario Provincial Police’s special victims unit, an expert in dealing with female crime survivors and one of the strongest women he’d ever met—which she had to be to marry a man like his brother. Both an RCMP detective and an OPP detective in one call? Perfect. “Can you put me on speakerphone? I’d love to get her take, too.”

“Sure thing,” Trent said. There were some muffled sounds as Trent filled Chloe in. Max glanced toward the office and watched through a gap in the curtains as Daisy exchanged three of Canada’s golden-colored hundred-dollar bills for a key on a string. His brow furrowed. That was a lot of spare cash for anyone to be carrying, let alone someone on the run. Daisy disappeared from view in the direction of the convenience store. The young man followed.

“Hey, Max!” Chloe’s voice came on the line, along with the unmistakable background speakerphone hiss. “You’ve got us both now. What’s going on? Anything’s got to be more interesting than staring at a warehouse.”

“I need to talk to you informally as family,” he said, “not in your official capacity as police.”

“Understood,” Trent said.

“I... There’s... Well, I met this woman...” Okay, so this was coming out all wrong. He paused, took a deep breath and reminded himself to keep it short and simple. Both Trent and Chloe were experienced cops and just as used to getting incident reports as he was to giving them. He leaned back against his vehicle and mentally switched his brain into paramedic mode. “Correction. I witnessed an accident on the highway. Intentional collision. I was the sole witness. A man in a gray car with flashing interior lights struck a woman in a sports car. His vehicle appeared to be that of an undercover cop, but he himself didn’t appear to be one and did not produce a badge when requested. The woman had a baby in the car. I stopped. No visible injuries to either woman or child. He pulled a weapon on her. I intervened. He left.”

There, not quite in chronological order, and nothing about the unusual impact Daisy seemed to have on his brain, but all the pertinent information was there.

He heard Chloe take in a breath. “Where is she now?”

“Her vehicle was totaled, so I drove them both to Bleak Point. It’s a tiny dot on the map just south of Algonquin Provincial Park. She’s currently renting a cabin and plans to rent a car in the morning. I’m standing outside the main office of the cabin rental place right now waiting for her. She also told me the baby’s stepmother was murdered and the father asked her to take the baby somewhere. But I have no independent verification of those facts, and she refuses to supply any pertinent details. She’s also determined not to involve police.”

Neither his brother nor Chloe spoke. Though something in the silence left him with the distinct impression that Trent wanted to ask a dozen questions and his future sister-in-law was making him wait.

“Look, I know I should call 911,” Max added. “I’m not an idiot. But it’s the middle of the night and she was standing in the woods with an infant. My highest priority was getting her to safety and trust me, she was not beneath either running or stabbing me with scissors. I don’t know how to explain it. She’s this tiny little thing, with long blond hair and a British accent, like something from the cover of one of Mom’s books. But she’s tough, like no one I’ve ever met, and very determined to get back on the road and take the baby wherever she’s going. She hasn’t asked me for help. She hasn’t asked me for anything. But something about just walking away and leaving her here doesn’t seem right. Not going to the police feels wrong, but going to the police when she’s asked me not to also feels wrong.”

There was a long pause. Chloe spoke first.

“First off, even if you call the police that doesn’t mean she’d talk to them,” Chloe said. “Crime victims refuse to cooperate all the time. You could’ve driven her right up to the closest OPP station and walked her inside, only to have her refuse to confirm anything you told them or say it had all been lies, and they’d be helpless to do anything. Police can’t exactly force someone to give a statement when they don’t want to. It’s also possible she has an arrest warrant out for her or she’s had a bad experience with police in the past and she’s worried they won’t do anything but make her life worse. Yes, she probably needs help. But you can’t rescue someone who doesn’t want to be rescued.”

“Do you have any proof that the baby isn’t hers or that anything she’s telling you is true?” Trent asked. “She might just be running from a bad boyfriend and made up a fake story to get your sympathy. If so, it’s also possible this guy in the car was a cop and didn’t show a badge because he didn’t want to get in trouble for what was basically a domestic-assault situation.”

Well, weren’t they doing a good job of making him doubt himself on everything. There was movement behind the glass. By the looks of things, Daisy was on her way back. Along with the baby in the car seat and the diaper bag, she’d added a large, disposable plastic bag to her load. “I’ve got to go. I think she’s coming.”

“Quickly,” Trent said. “Tell me all the facts you’ve got. Names, even if they’re partial. Vehicle makes and models. Description of the suspects.”

“Her name is Daisy,” Max said, not that he liked anyone thinking of her as a suspect. “She’s from England. The baby’s name is Fitz. She called the gunman Smith. No second names for any of them. She said Fitz’s stepmother was recently murdered by Smith, Fitz’s mother had died in childbirth and she was acting on instructions from Fitz’s father.”

The door opened. Daisy stepped out and started toward him. He covered the phone with his hand and rattled off what he could remember of the cars’ makes, models and license plates.

“Who are you talking to?” Daisy said. She crossed the driveway to where he was standing. Suspicion filled the darkness of her eyes as they narrowed.

“Gotta go, happy wedding planning,” Max said quickly and hung up. Then he turned to her. “I was talking to my older brother Trent. He works really weird hours.”

She watched his face. He waited, praying she wouldn’t ask any more questions. Instead, she rubbed her eyes. They were red. He slid his phone into his other hand and reached out toward her. “You look exhausted. Can I help you carry something to your cabin?”

She hesitated. His phone buzzed. He glanced down, saw a text alert from Chloe and scanned it quickly while tilting it to shield it from her view.

* * *

Exhaustion dragged on Daisy’s legs with every step. Her eyelids sank treacherously, threatening to close. Even with the restless nights of dealing with Fitz’s teething cries and the Pearces’ arguing, she couldn’t remember ever going this long without sleep.

She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the fact that Max still hadn’t left. But if she was totally honest with herself, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to Max leaving, as much as she hated the thought of putting his life in danger.

They walked side by side up the winding dirt path through the trees and the smattering of deserted cabins. Thick woods lay to one side. A steep slope ran down to a dark and silent lake on the other. When the young man in the front office had pointed to a map, told her they were all empty and asked her which one she’d wanted, she’d instinctively chosen the one closest to the water and farthest from the road. Seems she’d underestimated just how far a walk that was.

Max shone his flashlight over the rocks and roots that jutted across the path. The smell of damp earth hung heavy in the spring air, mingled with hard patches of dirty ice that hadn’t managed to thaw from winter. He made awkward small talk about the weather, none of which even began to explain why he was sticking around.

She cast little sideways glances at him, trying not to let herself notice how the light seemed to accentuate the rugged lined of his form and the softness of his eyes. Was he worried about them? Did he feel he had some obligation to her because he’d plucked them from an accident at the side of the road?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced at it. Her text to Gerry had gone through and he hadn’t texted back yet, although any rational person would be asleep at this hour.

But it was that single text signed Jane from the blocked number that filled her heart with dread. The only Jane she knew of was Fitz’s mother. The only Jane she knew was dead. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? Had Jones got ahold of her number? Or Smith? Someone else?

She didn’t know what to make of any of it and her exhausted brain was too tired to formulate a coherent guess. But something about the thought that Anna had intentionally sabotaged her visa paperwork as some kind of blackmail or threat to hold over Daisy’s head rang undeniably true. It was the kind of thing the woman would’ve done, and it added an extra twist of malice to every time she’d told Daisy she was free to leave.

But now Anna was dead. The Pearces’ country house was gone. Gerry was in the hospital.

If Daisy went to the police about any of it, she’d be arrested and deported, and she’d never see Fitz again. Hot tears threatened to fall from the corners of her overtired eyes. She refused to let them. The last thing this situation needed was Max thinking she was helpless. Max seemed to be one of the few genuinely nice guys in the world. He didn’t deserve to get caught up in her mess.

“Well, here we are, number twenty-six,” he said, far more cheerfully than the peeling wooden shack with its torn screen door deserved.

She forced the key into the knob of a door that looked like it had been kicked at more than once. She pushed the door open. They stepped inside, and she heard Max suck in a breath as the stench of years of neglect and filth filled their nostrils. She reached for the light.

The carpet was stained. A large, heavy television with rabbit ears sat in one corner of the living room, doubling as a coffee table. A small folding table and two metal chairs sat under a window, covered by faded curtains printed with barnyard animals. Through a door, she could see a single bed that had seen better days. But the kitchenette had a calcified kettle, hot plate and some mismatched dishes. It was a start. She set Fitz’s car seat down on the table and then locked the door and slid the chain lock in place.

“You can’t stay here,” Max said. “There’s got to be somewhere better you can go.”

For a woman who was paying in cash and on the run? She doubted it.

“It’s just for a few hours,” she said. She didn’t bother pretending to be cheerful and instead settled for determined. Yes, it was a bad situation. But she’d get through. She always did.

Fitz arched his back and fussed, a warning that it wouldn’t be long until she had a full-on tantrum on her hands. Max glanced at his phone. She opened the container of liquid formula and poured it into one of Fitz’s bottles, hoping that for once he wouldn’t be picky about the brand and be willing to drink it cold. She nudged it into his hands. “Here, how about you try this for me, okay?”

Fitz batted the bottle away so quickly that it flew from her hand, hit the floor and rolled. Now was not the time for this. Then he looked up at her and whimpered. His lip quivered.

Her heart melted. Poor little thing. His mother and now his stepmother were both dead. His house had gone up in flames, and his life was in chaos. She wished there was something more she could do to put the pieces of his shattered world together for him.

“Hang on, okay?” her voice dropped. “Please just give me five minutes. I know this has been a rough day for you as well as me. I just need a moment to heat up the water, and then I’ll make you some formula just the way you like it, okay?”

His face scrunched. Quickly, she lifted him out of his car seat. The moment he started screaming, it would take ages to calm him down.

“Let me hold him, please.” Max slid his phone into his pocket. “Just long enough to calm him down and give you a break.”

She pressed her lips together. Her limbs ached with a weariness that seemed to go right through them to the bone. She was so tired even the ugly mattress in the other room or the dirty carpet on the floor looked tempting enough to lie down on.

“I’ve delivered several babies,” Max added. “I’m proficient in infant CPR, and I’ve rescued more tiny little lives than I can possibly count. I took the Red Cross babysitting course in high school and I’ve managed to hold him once already without dropping him. I’m just going to stand here and bounce him while you make him a bottle.”

Fitz whimpered louder. His eyes looked up plaintively from Daisy to Max and back again. Something pulled at her heart like a thread tied somewhere deep inside her chest. The sudden weight of every decision she’d made in the past few hours and still had to make pressed down on her so heavily she had to gasp to breathe.

Lord, I’m scared. I’m lost and tired. I don’t know why Max is still sticking around. I don’t want him to leave and I’m not sure he should stay. Fitz has been my whole world these past few months, and it feels like I’m the only one who really loves him or who is looking out for his safety. Please help me be wise and protect Fitz.

“Okay,” she said. “That would be a big help. Just don’t try to leave or anything.”

“Of course not.” Max nodded solemnly. “I’ll stay right here where you can see us.”

He stretched out his hands. She eased Fitz into them, letting Max pull him from her grasp. Max cuddled him against his strong broad chest. Fitz looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Hey, little man.” Max’s voice dropped, soft and husky. He bounced him gently. “Now we’re going to hang out while Daisy gets your food ready, okay?”

She turned back to the bottles and formula as sudden and unexpected tears rushed to her eyes. She’d never heard anyone else talk to Fitz that way. Anna had had no interest in him and whenever Gerry was around, he seemed uncomfortable with any contact with his son that didn’t involve the exchange of gifts.

Her palms braced against the counter. She’d never cared about anyone or anything quite the way she cared about that little baby. Even though protecting him from whatever big bad unknown threat was lurking out there in the darkness seemed even more impossible than ever.

She splashed some cold water on her face and then took a quick drink, before filling the kettle. The handle was cracked but the button glowed red when she plugged it in. She spread the meager contents of her grocery bag out on the counter while she waited for it to boil, took a bite of one of the plain teething cookies she’d bought for Fitz and chewed it without really tasting it. She carefully mixed and stirred the formula once the water had boiled, set it on the table to cool and then dropped down on the couch.

Her eyes closed before she could think to stop them. She quickly forced them open again, but not before Max had noticed.

“Why don’t you nap for a few minutes?” Max said. “You really need to get some sleep and there’s nothing like a teething baby to wreck anyone’s ability to sleep. If it would help, I could bore you into unconsciousness by regaling you with details about all the negative impacts lack of sleep is probably having on your body and mind?”

The smile he gave her was almost as cheeky as Fitz’s. Max was right. Fatigue dragged on her body like a current threatening to pull her under. She wouldn’t be able to let herself sleep until Fitz was out himself. Thanks to his teething, she had no idea how long that would be or how long he’d let her sleep once he did. But the idea of napping while a stranger held Fitz was absolutely unthinkable.

“I’m not going to sleep,” she said. “I’m just going to close my eyes while the bottle cools.”

“I could give Fitz his bottle,” Max said. “I’m an expert at squirting lukewarm formula on my wrist.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and then blushed to realize she’d done something so silly. But he’d started it. Max laughed.

“I’m not going to close my eyes that long.” She lay back against the couch and let her eyes close. Five minutes. That was all she’d allow herself. Then she’d give Fitz his bottle, thank Max for his help and then say goodbye.

She listened as Max pointed out the barnyard animals on the faded curtains to Fitz and made each animal’s sound in turn. A smile curled on her lips. He was being ridiculous. But Fitz seemed to like it.

After a while, she heard a click and the slight hiss of static behind her, then a man’s voice predicting intermittent showers. Sounded like Max had got the television going. Rain pattered on the metal roof. The television words faded, like the soft mumble of white noise.

“Breaking news. Police have issued a kidnapping alert for nine-month-old Fitz Pearce. The son of Quebec businessman Gerald Pearce was kidnapped following a massive explosion at the Pearces’ country house outside Montreal in which at least one person died—”

“That’s not true!” The words flew from her lips as her eyes jerked open, but even then, it took her brain a moment to catch up to the scene around her. Max was sitting in a chair by the window, with Fitz fast asleep in a ball on his chest. His eyes were grim. Instinctively her empty arms reached for Fitz. “Please let me hold him, and I’ll explain.”

Max didn’t move. The empty bottle sat next to him on the table. Faint predawn light filtered through the curtains and the clock read quarter to six.

She’d been asleep for two and a half hours? She pushed herself to her feet, feeling her head swim, as her eyes focused on the television. She watched as a lavish photo of Gerry and Anna on their wedding day hovered above text about the mansion fire. Then her own face filled the screen.

“Police have issued a warrant for the arrest of the child’s nanny, Daisy Hayward. Anyone with any information is requested to call Crime Stoppers.”

A number rolled across the bottom of the screen. Any flicker of that smile she’d got used to seeing on Max’s face was gone. Green eyes met hers, as cold and unrelenting as the edge of a knife.

“Fitz fell asleep on my chest,” he said. “He drank his entire bottle, and then I changed him. His teething fever was back and he had a bit of a cough, so I was afraid if I put him down, he’d scream. His fever’s gone back down again.”

Instinctively her hands reached toward Fitz again. But Max didn’t let her take him. Instead, one long leg stretched toward the metal folding chair opposite him. Gently, he kicked it out from the table and nudged it toward her.

“Sit,” he said. “It’s time you and I talk.”

It wasn’t a request. She couldn’t sit. Her legs shook like they were full of adrenaline and needed to run. Instead, she paced.

“What the television said isn’t true!” she said. “Yes, I’m Daisy Hayward, and yes, that’s Fitz Pearce. But I didn’t kidnap him! I’m trying to protect him. Some really bad people are after us and the longer you stick around, the more danger you’ll be in. I don’t want you involved in this.”

“It’s too late for that,” Max said. “I am involved and I’m not going anywhere. So unless you want me calling 911 immediately and reporting that I’ve found a kidnapped child, you’d better start talking.”

She took a breath, feeling an ache almost like cold spreading through her chest.

“I was putting Fitz to bed in the nursery last night when I heard shouting. I looked out the door and saw two of Gerry’s guys trashing the place. One was Smith and the other is named Jones. He’s almost like his equally evil twin brother. Then I heard a gunshot and saw Anna lying on the floor, dead. She didn’t die in an explosion. She was murdered. Jones came after me. I grabbed Fitz and climbed out the window. Gerry pulled up and told me to get in his car and take Fitz to his place in Sault Sainte Marie. Jones fired. Gerry fired back. That was when the house exploded. I saw a cop car rush toward the fire. Then I drove for a long time and that’s where you come in. That’s all I know.”

“That can’t be all you know,” he said. “Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“What difference does that make?” Her voice rose. The story had changed on the television but she smacked it off anyway. Then she yanked the phone Gerry had given her from her rucksack, opened it to Gerry’s last message and slapped it down on the table in front of him.

He picked it up and read. Her gaze rose to the water-stained tiles above her head. A visceral memory swept over her of standing in her own living room back in England as a teenager, trying to make the big and strong men in uniform believe that even though they considered her retired-cop stepfather to be one of them, and even though everyone but her denied it, he really had struck her mother.

“I know how it looks. But just because something doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Max closed his eyes, dropped his head in his hand and prayed out loud, “Lord, help me. What do I do?”

She heard the crack of footsteps outside. Quickly she turned and threw her weight against the door and double-checked both the doorknob lock and the chain lock, just as the door handle rattled. She glanced through the shabby peephole. Two hulking, bald figures stood outside the cabin door.

Smith and Jones had found them.