The Unknown Daughter. Anna DeStefano
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mother, faced with the choice of risking her child’s health in order to save her own, wouldn’t feel lucky?
“No,” was all Carrinne could manage. She’d been the cause of her own mother’s death. Nothing on this earth could persuade her to risk her daughter’s life, too.
“They’re putting a rush on the tests,” Maggie pressed. “Because it’s Friday, they said we won’t hear anything until early next week. We may know something Monday—”
“No, Maggie. I told you. There have to be other options. I’m trying to find one right now.”
God, please let me find my mother’s last diary. There had to be something in it to lead her to the father her mother had never named. Please let him be a match and be willing to be a donor.
“Mom, I want to help.”
“I know you do, baby.” The hurt in Maggie’s voice sliced into Carrinne’s heart. “You do help me. By caring. By worrying when you should be in bed getting some rest. But you’ve got to let me go, so I can do what I have to here. It looks like I’ll need to stay a few more days. I’ll call tomorrow when I know something more. I promise.”
“You need to rest, too. You need help with whatever you’re doing there.” Maggie’s reply was watery, with a tinge of exasperation.
Carrinne hadn’t shared many details about this trip, and her daughter never liked being in the dark. Carrinne had told her they still had family in Oakwood, family she’d avoided like the plague for years. Beyond that, she’d only said she was tracking down a possible donor.
“I’m diving into bed,” she reassured Maggie. “Just as soon as I can. Tell Kim I’ll call tomorrow afternoon, okay?”
“Okay,” was her daughter’s less-than-enthusiastic reply.
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too.”
Carrinne stared at the phone long after the connection went dead. Then she flipped it closed and shoved it back into her pocket, hating that she wasn’t any closer to the answers she needed. She paced across the room and back, trying to focus past the panicked feeling that time was running out.
She couldn’t just wait here, doing nothing, wondering what Eric and that attorney were talking about. What if Eric found out about Maggie? What would she tell him?
Heading toward the back wall once more, she paused before the eight-by-ten plaque hanging behind the desk. Her vision blurred as she confronted yet another piece of the past she remembered as if it was yesterday.
Sheriff, 1965–1985, simple gold letters proclaimed beneath a picture of Gerald Rivers, Eric’s father. Killed in the line of duty, protecting his fellow officers.
She’d been at Eric’s house that awful night the call had come in. It had been just a few short weeks after his high school graduation. She’d rushed with him to the hospital, even though his father had already been declared dead on arrival. It was the one and only time she’d ever seen Eric cry. And after that night, everything between them had changed.
The sound of the door opening dragged her away from the memory. She wiped at her eyes, preparing to thank Tony again for finding her something to eat. Only, when she turned, it was Eric standing in the doorway.
“You’ve been lying to me from the start, haven’t you?” He pinned her with a look that made her instinctive denial shrivel in her throat.
CHAPTER TWO
ERIC’S GAZE skipped from Carrinne’s guilty expression to his father’s plaque behind her. It must be inconceivable to her that he’d turned out exactly the way his by-the-book father had wanted.
Responsible. Stable. Dependable.
Some days, Eric barely believed it himself.
Leaning against the door frame, he crossed his arms and marveled at the almost two decades that had passed since he’d last been alone with this woman.
“Eric, I…I can explain.” She brushed at her eyes. She’d been crying, and he’d bet a week’s salary that didn’t happen often.
“We already tried that, remember?” The impulse to reassure her almost got the best of him. Glancing once more at his father’s picture, he moved into the room. “It’s probably a good time for you to start doing some serious listening instead.”
He inched closer, and she skirted around the side of the desk. He stared as she inched a few more steps away.
“What’s the matter with you? You’re acting like I’m going to attack you or something.”
Her chin shot up. “Just say whatever it is you have to say. I’d like to settle things and get out of here.”
“Well, you see, that’s the problem.” He removed his sidearm and locked it in the top drawer of his desk. Settling into his beaten-up leather chair, he motioned for her to take a seat. She didn’t budge. “I’m afraid it won’t be that easy.”
She hugged her arms close, like someone who’d forgotten her jacket on a windy day. “Was it Brimsley you were talking to? What did he tell you?”
“What should he have told me?” The chair’s wooden frame creaked as he leaned back and stared.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. The shape of that mouth had him remembering things that would only make his job more difficult.
Focus, Rivers. You’re the only thing standing between her and a night in jail.
“You’ll have to talk eventually,” he continued. “Brimsley’s out for blood. He doesn’t know anything about you contacting Oliver for a visit, and he wants you booked for the break-in.”
“Oh.” Carrinne’s hands slipped to her side, her pinched expression relaxing. “Is that all?”
Eric blinked at her reaction. “I’ve tried to talk him out of pressing charges, but he won’t agree to anything until he’s met with you himself.”
She stumbled toward the guest chair and slid into it.
“What’s going on, Carrinne?”
The controlled way she straightened was a decent attempt at nonchalance. A knock jerked their attention to the open door.
Tony stepped in, juggling a can of juice and a handful of snacks.
“What?” Eric barked.
“I offered to get Ms. Wilmington something to eat. She still wasn’t feeling well when we got out of the car.”
Eric waited for Tony to lay his bounty on the table. “Go see if Wilmington’s lawyer needs anything,” he said. He’d left Clifford Brimsley cooling his heels down the hall.
Tony hovered at Carrinne’s shoulder, glancing between Eric and their suspect, who had already pounced on a packet of crackers as if she hadn’t eaten in days.
Putting all his impatience into a glare, Eric waited until Tony looked back his way.
“Um, right.” Tony backpedaled out of the room. “I’ll go check on Brimsley.”
The door shut, leaving them alone. Carrinne struggled to open the juice, her fingers shaking.
Resigned, Eric took the can, popped it, and returned it to the desk with a thump. “Let me know when you’re done with your picnic.”
Carrinne gave him a narrow look as she took a long sip. She polished off the last of the crackers in silence, color creeping into her cheeks with each bite. When she sat back and folded her hands in her lap, confidence swam in her expressive eyes. “What now?”
Any other time, any other place, any other woman, and he might enjoy puzzling out why she was challenging him at every turn. The possibilities were downright