His Best Friend's Baby. Mallory Kane
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you’re cold, there’s a blanket under your seat.”
She gave a harsh little laugh. “You think I’m worried about being cold?”
“Aimee, I know you’re afraid something’s going to happen to William. But I don’t want you to neglect your own health. You’re highly stressed and exhausted. You could become hypothermic without even realizing it. I need to make sure you’re warm and comfortable.”
“Well, don’t. I don’t need to be comfortable—I don’t want to be. I just want to get up there, get my baby back and get home.”
“That’s what I want, too,” Matt said.
She closed her burning eyes. Control. Control. She repeated it like a mantra.
“Dammit!”
She jumped and her eyes flew open.
“Sorry.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “I can’t believe I let the kidnapper run the show. I should have jumped in and forced him to do it my way. It’s dangerous for you up here.”
“Where should I be? Back at home, all safe and warm? Waiting? No, thank you.”
“Yes. Back at home, all safe and warm. I don’t like putting you in danger. Plus, with you here, I can’t do everything I’d be able to do if I were alone.”
“Sorry I’m cramping your style.”
“That’s not—” he stopped and his jaw muscle worked. He kept his attention on the barely discernable path before them as the incline grew steeper, and the sky turned increasingly dark and gray.
Where they’d started out, near Sundance, spring was in the air, with new shoots of grass and fresh coverings of moss. As they’d climbed higher, the greenery turned brown, and patches of old snow dotted the ground.
Aimee hunched her shoulders in an effort not to shiver. Matt’s hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. His face was expressionless, but his jaw was clamped tight. He looked the way he had the last time she’d seen him. The day he’d brought her husband’s body home.
That memory spawned others. Like the argument she and Bill had a few days before that fateful day.
“It’s just a weekend, Aimee. A guy trip. You’re starting to sound a lot like my mother.”
Aimee had yelled back at him. “Well, for once I agree with Margo. You have responsibilities here. Have you forgotten that I’m pregnant? That you’re fighting cancer? Why would you want to waste even a weekend? You need to use your energy to get well. I need you to stay with me.”
At that point Bill had gathered her into his arms and kissed her. “I’ll be with Matt. He’s safe as houses. Safer. He never takes unnecessary chances.”
Then he’d looked down at her and a tender solemnity had come over his face. “Don’t ever forget, Aimee. I trust Matt as much as I trust myself. More, maybe. No matter what happens, you can count on him. Ask him anything. He’ll do it.”
Those last words had been prophetic. Bill had asked Matt for something. Matt had obliged. And Bill had died.
The doctors had said it could have been months before the lymphoma took Bill. Long enough for him to know his child. But he’d stolen those last months from her and his son. And Matt had helped.
Then, when Aimee could have used a friend, Matt had disappeared for a year.
Bill had been wrong. She couldn’t count on Matt.
“Aimee, tell me how it happened.”
She started. “What? How it—?”
“The kidnapping.”
“Didn’t Special Agent Schiff tell you?”
He nodded. “But I’d like to hear what you remember.”
Aimee closed her eyes and folded her arms. “I’ve been over it in my head a hundred times. I should have heard him. I should have woken up.” She shook her head. “How could I have slept while someone came into my house and stole my baby?”
“William wasn’t in your room, was he?”
“No. My doctor said that wasn’t a good idea, for either of us. I shouldn’t have listened to her. I should have kept him right beside me.”
“Aimee.” He put a hand on her knee. “Stop beating yourself up. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His hand was warm. She could feel it even through her wool slacks and silk long underwear. She looked down.
He jerked away and gripped the steering wheel. “When did you realize he was gone?”
She was still looking at his hand. It was big and solid, with long, blunt-tipped fingers. “The sun was in my eyes, and I knew I’d overslept. William always wakes me up around five-thirty or so. He’s such a sweet baby.” She smiled. “He wakes up happy. I’ll hear him through the monitor, cooing and laughing—” Her voice broke and her throat closed up.
He shot her a glance. “The sun woke you?” he asked gently.
“It was almost six-thirty. When I realized I hadn’t heard him, I panicked. So many things can happen—”
“What did you do?”
“As soon as I realized I’d slept late, I grabbed the monitor. The camera points right at the head of the baby bed. But I couldn’t see him. His bed looked empty.” She took a shaky breath. “I ran across the hall. His bedroom door was open and I knew I’d left it closed. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere.”
She felt the panic rising in her chest, heard it in her voice. Just like then. Had it only been yesterday morning?
“So I called 9-1-1.”
“Schiff said there was no sign of forced entry. You’re sure it was a stranger?”
Aimee frowned at Matt. “What do you mean?”
He spread his hands in a shrug without taking them off the wheel. “I just mean, is there anything specific you’re thinking of when you say it was a stranger?”
She shook her head. “I just can’t—it can’t be anyone I know.”
“Are you usually a sound sleeper?”
“No. Actually, I’ve been having trouble.” Aimee thought about the past seven months since William Matthew’s birth. All the nights she’d lain awake, worrying that something would happen to him if she went to sleep.
Dear heavens, something had.
“What about the evening before?” Matt drove steadily, watching the road and glancing occasionally into the rearview mirror. “Did you drink anything? Take anything to help you sleep?”
“No,” she answered indignantly. “I would never take a chance like that with William. I gave him his bath and played with him a while, and then made myself some herbal tea and went to sleep.”
Matt nodded and drove in silence for a few minutes.
Thoughts and images chased each other helter-skelter through her brain. What had she done? What had been different about that night?
“I didn’t do anything differently,” she said finally. “My life revolves around his, and his routine is pretty well set. I locked up the house and turned out the lights around nine, just the way I always do. I bathed him at the same time as I do every night. We played the same games we always play, then I put him to bed and went downstairs to the kitchen.”
“So anyone who’d been watching the house could know almost to the minute what time you go to bed?”
Aimee nodded miserably. “Yes. My life is that ordinary. I make the same tea, use the same cup. Probably