A Texas Child. Linda Warren
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voice would trigger something and she would wake up.”
Myra chewed on the inside of her lip, wanting to give him some hope. “Would you like to see Natalie today? I’ll arrange it. Maybe in person your voice will be more effective.”
“Let’s do it.” His voice sounded stronger.
“Well, then, I’ll talk to the nurse and let you know what the other P.I. says.”
“Thanks, kid.”
“I’m making this my top priority.”
It took Myra ten minutes to set everything up. The home had a wheelchair-accessible van and it was available for the afternoon. She drove over to the hospital to be there when Stu arrived in case he needed someone.
On the way, she got a call from the FBI agent and made an appointment to meet him in two hours in her office. Things were starting to happen now and Myra hoped Daniel could be found soon.
While she maneuvered through Houston traffic, her cell buzzed again. It was her mother. Myra groaned. She knew a lecture was coming.
She clicked on. “Hi, Mama.”
“You come to High Cotton and you don’t take time to visit your parents.” No hello. Just go right for the juggler.
“You weren’t home and I had to get back to Houston.”
“You always have to get back to Houston. You never have time for your family.”
One. Two. Three.
“There’s a girl who works in the office and her boyfriend beat her into a coma and took their little boy. We’re working very hard to locate him.”
“I know. Jessie told me. I have to hear everything from Jessie.”
One. Two. Three.
“As soon as everything settles down, I’ll come and spend a weekend.”
“We do have phones, Myra. If you had just called, we could have been home today to see our only child.”
One. Two. Three.
“I’ll call soon, Mama. Tell Papa hi. I’ve got to go.”
And that was the weekly sermon for the ungrateful, disrespectful daughter. Her parents had never understood her desire to be a career woman. They wanted her to be a wife, a mother and a homemaker, and they never failed to remind her that a woman’s place was in the home.
Myra never went gaga over babies like Jessie had. Nor did she ever have the urge to bake cookies. Her mother was domesticated enough for both of them. She wasn’t sure why she was so different.
Until she was about nine, they’d had a normal life. Her dad had worked as a welder at a trailer manufacturing company and her mom was a housekeeper for Roscoe Murdoch. Then two things happened that changed their lives forever. Her father was laid off from his job and Roscoe’s niece was kidnapped and murdered.
Since her father had been in Vietnam and knew how to use a gun, Roscoe had hired him to guard Jessie, and the Delgado family moved in with the Murdochs. The house had been a little cramped, so Roscoe had built a fortress and they had plenty of room. Her parents poured all their energy into watching over Jessie, and sometimes Myra felt invisible.
She loved Jessie dearly and she didn’t begrudge her one second of her parents’ time. But sometimes she wished her parents had recognized that she needed them, too. Myra had become tough and independent and determined to make it on her own.
Roscoe had paid for her college education. He made it very clear, though, if her grades slipped or she got in trouble, her educational funding would stop. She’d graduated in the top 10 percent of her class and gone on to law school. She’d had boyfriends along the way, but not once did any of them instill in her the urge to settle down and have babies.
Until Levi.
She’d often wondered if they could make a marriage work. He wanted kids and she didn’t want to be forced into that situation. Both partners should want a baby with all their hearts and she hadn’t been there yet. She’d kept stalling and, in the end, it hadn’t mattered. She’d lost him, anyway.
She found a spot in the parking garage at Memorial Hermann Hospital and made her way to the critical care unit. She stopped at the nurses’ station. Since she’d been here so many times, most of the nurses knew her.
“Any change?” she asked one of the nurses.
“No, and the doctor just checked Ms. Stevens.”
“They’re bringing Mr. Stevens from the home,” Myra said.
“I know. The nurse called. The doctor’s going to allow it for a few minutes.”
“That’s about all he can handle. I’ll wait for him.” She walked to the waiting area and sank into a chair, feeling hopeless. She needed a miracle, but they seemed to be in short supply these days. Pulling out her cell, she called Detective Tom Hadley, who was handling the baby’s disappearance.
“Hi there, Myra. How are you today?” Tom was divorced and considered himself a ladies’ man. Being unattached made her a target for his unwanted flirting.
“Any news?”
“No. Nothing is popping up. It’s as if he’s disappeared into thin air.”
“Have the Brownsville police made another visit to Marco’s parents’ house?”
“Now, sweet cheeks, they’ve got as big of a caseload as we do and they’re not going to keep tabs on that house. They don’t have the manpower.”
She took a deep breath. “A little boy is missing.”
“I know that and we’re doing everything we can. If I hear anything, I’ll call you.”
“I’m hiring outside help.”
“Well, sweet cheeks, that’s your prerogative. But I didn’t know the D.A.’s office was into funding preferred cases.”
“This has nothing to do with the D.A.’s office. This is personal and we’re not using public resources, so you can take your snotty-nosed comments and stick ’em.”
“C’mon, Myra, I—”
She clicked off and took several deep breaths. “Idiot.” She wasn’t going to let that chauvinist ass upset her. As a lawyer, she’d met numerous Tom Hadleys and their egos were the biggest part about them.
She checked her messages. Why hadn’t Mick returned her call? He was usually very prompt. Movement by the nurses’ station caught her attention and she saw Stu and an orderly had arrived. Myra hurried over.
“You okay?”
“Yes. Just a little tired.” Stu was in a wheelchair with a portable oxygen tank attached if he needed it, which he did. His face was flushed from the drive over.
“I’ll take him in,” she said to the orderly.
“Have you seen her?” Stu asked.
“I was waiting for you, but the doctor says there’s no change.”
She pushed Stu into one of the small rooms that faced the nurses’ station. Natalie lay completely motionless with tubes in her arms and a ventilator tube in her throat. A tube was also attached to her head where they had drilled holes in her skull to release the pressure on her brain. They’d shaved her head, too. The left side of Natalie’s face was badly bruised, as was her neck. She was very pale and the only color on her face was the dark eyelashes lying softly against her skin. The only sound in the room was the beeping of the monitors.
“Oh, my poor baby girl.” Stu reached out a hand to touch his daughter. “Baby, it’s Daddy. Can you hear me? Please wake up. Daniel needs you. I need you. Baby, please wake up.”
As Myra watched her lifeless friend,