The Cradle Files. Delores Fossen
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were dead.
“Why didn’t the doctors at the county hospital call the police?” Garrett asked.
“Because I begged them not to. I told them I was on the run from an abusive ex, that he’d beaten and drugged me. And I told them that my ex was a cop.”
“And they bought all of that?”
She nodded. “They wanted to give me a gynecological exam. They thought maybe I’d been raped, but I assured them that a rape hadn’t occurred, that I was simply having a heavier than usual menstrual cycle. I didn’t want them discovering that I’d recently given birth, because it would have spurred too many questions, and it might have caused them to call the cops, after all. I couldn’t risk that. I couldn’t even stand on my own two feet, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight off another attack.”
Garrett considered everything she’d said. “Yet you weren’t so weak that you couldn’t come up with a whole list of apparently believable lies.”
Oh, that earned him a glare. “Be thankful that the lies came easily. If they hadn’t, I probably would be dead by now. And where would that have left the baby, huh?”
He wasn’t ready to think about that just yet. But soon. Very soon. “After you were discharged from the hospital—”
“I wasn’t discharged,” she interrupted. “Once I regained consciousness and some strength, I sneaked out. Because I was afraid someone would try to kill me again.”
Her fear certainly seemed genuine, but like her memory, there were some huge gaps in her story. “And you still didn’t go to the police?” he pressed.
“I didn’t think I could trust the cops. Especially since it may have been a cop who ran me off the road.” She turned away from him, in the direction of his dresser. She didn’t exactly glance at his Glock, but Garrett figured she was well aware that it was there.
“Remember that part about not doing anything to rile me?” he warned.
“Well, you’re riling me,” she retorted. But she wasn’t just kidding around. Anger chilled her voice, and she got right in his face. “Don’t you get it? We have a baby out there, and someone has her. Do you think it’s a good idea to stand around here wasting time with all these questions? We could be using this time to find her.”
“Information and facts will help find her, and you seem to be seriously short on both.”
“Because I can’t remember!” she shouted. The burst of emotion left as quickly as it came. Her shoulders slumped. “Please, just believe me.”
It was the please that got him. That, and the teary look. “And what if I do?”
A glimmer of hope flashed in her eyes. “I need to get back into the Brighton Birthing Center.” She glanced at her gun, which he still held in his hand. “I wasn’t sure I could even shoot straight. And I didn’t know about the martial arts training. I figured if I went barging in there asking questions, I’d just get myself killed. After what happened with the cop trying to run me off the road, I figured I couldn’t go to the police. Present company excluded, of course. I decided that since you were likely the baby’s father, I should tell you.”
So, there it was. In a nutshell. Even if he had doubts about the validity of her memory, he couldn’t doubt that sincere please. But it didn’t mean he’d agree to go off on some renegade chase. This had to be done by the book. He had to get his lieutenant involved.
Garrett opened his mouth to tell her, but that was as far as he got. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, behind her. To the right of the double French doors that led to his backyard.
“Get down,” Garrett said. Not a shout; he practically whispered it. But it still came through loud and clear as an order.
Lexie tried to follow his gaze, no doubt to see what had triggered his reaction, but he didn’t give her the chance. Garrett slapped off the light switch, plunging them into darkness. In the same motion, he hooked his arm around her waist and shoved her to the floor.
It was barely in time.
Because a bullet slammed through the one of the French doors, pelting them with a deadly spray of splintered wood and broken glass.
Chapter Four
It took a moment for Lexie to figure out what was happening. One second the French door was there. A second later, there was a gaping hole in it, and Garrett and she were being pelted with glass.
“He used a silencer,” she heard Garrett say. Somehow. With her pulse pounding she was surprised she’d managed to hear anything.
But she fully understood that someone had just tried to murder them.
Lexie’s heart kicked into overdrive. She hadn’t thought her life could get any more complicated, but she’d obviously thought wrong.
“There are three of them out there,” Garrett announced. “Maybe more.”
Oh, God. It just kept getting worse. “All armed?”
“I only got a glimpse, but it appears that way.”
The adrenaline and the fear slammed through her. Lexie wasn’t helpless, but she certainly wasn’t mentally or physically prepared to take on gunmen who would brazenly fire shots into a cop’s house.
“I guess this isn’t a good time for me to say I told you so,” she mumbled. “You didn’t believe me when I said someone was after me.”
“Can we put this argument on hold, huh?” he snarled. “We’ve got a situation here.”
Yes, a situation they might not survive.
Garrett scrambled across the room, and even though he’d turned out the lights, there was enough illumination from the moonlight filtering through the French doors that she could see him reach for his gun. In another smooth move he slid her weapon across the floor to her. Lexie took the cue and tried to retrieve the ammunition that he’d expelled minutes earlier. There was just one problem: she couldn’t find it.
“I-told-you-so’s aside, who’s out there?” Garrett asked. He hurriedly locked the bedroom door. The simple gesture was a sickening reminder that the gunmen might not stay outside. They’d likely come in after them. “What are we up against?”
She waited a moment, praying the answer would come to her. It didn’t. “I don’t know.”
And she didn’t. Unfortunately, there were a lot of things she wasn’t sure of, but she was certain of one thing—this attack was meant for her. Maybe it was the doctor. Or the man who’d actually stolen her baby. Maybe it was both. At this point it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive so they could find their daughter.
“Call for backup,” Garrett ordered, crawling across the room to the window. Using his bare foot, he kicked the ammunition and sent it rolling her way. “The phone’s next to the bed. Stay low.”
Lexie scooped up the bullets and reloaded as she scurried to the phone. She yanked it from its cradle, her index finger already poised to dial 911, but there was no dial tone.
“It’s not working,” she relayed to Garrett. “I think they cut the line.”
He cursed. “You don’t happen to have a cell phone on you?”
“No.”
He mumbled something she couldn’t distinguish. “Mine is in the kitchen.”
“Enough said,” she mumbled back. Because she knew the kitchen had lots and lots of windows, plus a glass patio door. Going in there would be suicide. Besides, it was probably the area the gunmen would no doubt choose to break and enter. It’d certainly been her first choice to gain access to the place.
Garrett lifted his head for a quick look out the French