The Detective's 8 Lb, 10 Oz Surprise. Meg Maxwell
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of case files. “Any luck on finding Timmy’s mother?”
He sat down and slid the Jergen file back into the box. “Not yet. But I have a long list of folks to see today. My not so brilliant plan is to casually ‘run into’ them and conversationally check up on their cases. I’ll look for any signs of nervousness. You can tell a lot by someone’s expression, by what they do with their hands.”
Though he’d certainly misread Georgia’s back in April. He’d tossed and turned last night thinking about it. Why hadn’t he recognized what was right in front of his damned face? He’d allowed her to suffer under that man’s abusive thumb—while pregnant with Nick’s child—for four months. And what if the bastard hadn’t gotten himself killed? Georgia had said she’d had enough, that she was going to ask for help, but that hadn’t gotten her very far before.
He looked at Georgia’s belly. Five months and there would be a little person in her arms, his child, his son, his daughter.
Nick was man enough to admit he’d been scared before in life. But nothing scared him more than impending fatherhood.
“You know,” she said, “maybe Timmy and I could come along. It would probably be easier to get a reaction out of someone who was actually looking at her own baby. Or at a five-week-old relative.”
He considered that. “I don’t know. None of these folks fall into the dangerous category, but I’m not comfortable bringing you and Timmy on police business.”
“Unofficial police business, though.”
He smiled. “I suppose. I guess it would help. Good thing about a small town is you know where people generally are. Harriet Culver will be having her usual 1:00 p.m. lunch at Hurley’s with her sister, Gloria. We’ll find the Pullmans at their son’s baseball practice at 3:30 p.m. And Penny Jergen works at the coffee shop her aunt owns. She’s on till five.”
“Where will you find me on Mondays at ten?” she asked with a smile. A beautiful smile. One he hadn’t seen since their night in Houston, he now realized.
“Well, you’re a newcomer,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “But I’ll have you profiled in no time.”
She smiled again, but it faltered a bit. “Actually, this Monday at ten I have a checkup at my obstetrician’s office.” She hesitated for moment and added, “Perhaps you could come with me.”
He almost choked on his coffee.
“I can feel the baby kick inside me. It’s what made this feel very real for me. I think you’ll feel similarly if you see the baby on the ultrasound.”
“I don’t know, Georgia,” he said, turning away, his skin feeling tight again.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to. The baby will be here soon enough and then it’ll be very real. I just thought—”
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