Sugar Baby. Karen Young
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feeling unseen eyes.
“Have you called the police?” the woman asked.
“No. I—”
“Surely you’re going to report what happened?”
Should she? Or should she take Danny and go while she could? “I’m not sure,” she said.
The woman lifted the infant from the cart carrier. “Look, my husband is an auxiliary policeman. I can call him and—”
And what if he’s a friend of the “bad policeman?” The crazy thought darted through Claire’s mind. Crazy or not, she could not take the chance. “Thanks,” she said, summoning a smile, “but we’re late for an appointment, as it is. I’ll take care of it later.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Nudging her son, the young mother hoisted the baby onto her shoulder and stepped off the curb, heading for her car.
“Where’s our ‘pointment, Mommy?” Danny asked, squinting up at her in the sun.
“At the McMolleres, honey.”
“Is it time?”
“Not quite.”
Claire gazed uneasily at the cars and people milling around in the parking lot. What next? She couldn’t go back to the hotel. Not yet. Not until she knew for certain that he wouldn’t be waiting for them. Whoever he was.
What was she going to do?
“What’s wrong, Mommy? Did you forget where we parked?”
Her gaze went to the car parked at the most distant edge of the lot. It was nearing dinnertime and some of the crowd was clearing out. Walking to her vehicle was a chance she didn’t want to take. What if he was waiting nearby? He knew her car, but she didn’t know his.
She looked around, terror welling up inside her. Her eyes fell on a pair of pay phones just outside the store entrance. She walked over and deposited a coin.
“Whatcha’ doin’, Mommy? Who you callin’?”
“Your uncle Mack, sweetheart.”
Danny’s eyes got big. “Really?”
“Yes. He wanted to drive us to Sugarland. Now’s his chance to do just that.”
EVEN BEFORE Mack pulled into Star-Mart’s crowded parking lot, he was scanning the store entrance for a glimpse of Claire Woodson, but there was no tall redhead with a little boy anywhere he looked. He followed behind a slow-moving Suburban, his thumbs drumming with impatience on the wheel, his blue eyes sharp beneath the brim of his Stetson. Where was she?
He’d hung up after her S.O.S. totally baffled him. Why had she changed her mind? Why did she now want him to pick her up, when not an hour before she’d acted as though riding with him was second only to a touch of ptomaine? He’d been left with the definite feeling he wouldn’t hear from her again until she arrived at Sugarland with Danny. Had he only imagined a hint of panic in her voice?
Pulling the Jeep Cherokee to a stop at the front door, he scrutinized every departing customer, but still no Claire. Hell, he might not even recognize her. It had been five…no, more like six years since he’d seen her and then it had been for only a few minutes. But as much as he’d resisted it all these years, the picture he had of her was pretty clear in his mind. And God knows, he had resisted it.
A small boy darted through the automatic doors and behind him was a woman in a long denim dress. Mack knew her instantly. Six years, and not much had changed, he thought, feeling a little kick in his gut. She was a tad slimmer. And maybe slightly taller than he recalled. Her hairstyle was different, too. Pulled back tight like that, she must be trying to look like a librarian, he decided. But its rich auburn color was exactly as he remembered, as was the disconcertingly candid look of her wide gray eyes as she stared right at him.
There was no warmth in that look.
She hurriedly opened the back door of the Jeep Cherokee before he could get out and hustled the boy inside. Mack beat her to the passenger side only because his legs were six inches longer than hers. Hers, however, were extremely interesting from what he could see when she stepped to get into his Jeep. They were long and shapely. God, yes, he remembered Claire Woodson.
He also remembered what she’d done. She’d wrecked his brother’s marriage. She was heartless and selfish. She had spent the last two years throwing up every obstacle possible to keep Carter’s son from knowing his grandparents.
Beautiful she might be, but he wasn’t going to be taken in the way Carter was.
He waited for her to tuck the tail of her dress inside, then closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. He drove away from the entrance before glancing over at her. “I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me.”
She wasn’t looking at him; instead, she seemed to be studying the people in the parking lot as he drove through. “I recognized you.”
Her interest in the pedestrians puzzled him. “You find something especially interesting about the folks shopping at Star-Mart?”
“What?” She spared him a glance. “Oh, no, not really.”
“You’re looking for someone in particular?”
“Someone, yes,” she murmured, her eyes busy again.
She was acting nothing like he’d expected. Where was the hostility that was so palpable in every telephone encounter they’d had since he had made that initial call over a year ago? Her eyes were darting everywhere. She seemed distracted, even fearful. She was pale. But that might be natural in a redhead.
“What’s this all about, Claire?”
“It’s going to sound like something out of a movie when I tell you…” She turned to see that Danny was safely belted in before settling back herself. She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid that Danny and I may have stumbled into a nightmare.”
“If this is about the weekend with my parents, you’re overreacting, Claire. They’re going to do everything they know to make you and Danny feel welcome. They don’t want to alienate you, they just want to get to know Danny. And you.”
She was shaking her head as he finished, rubbing her temples. “It’s not that. At least, right now it’s not that.” She glanced over her shoulder once more. Danny was scrutinizing the town of LaRue with the intensity of any child in a new place. “It’s something a lot worse. Danny thinks he witnessed—” She shook her head. “This is going to sound so crazy!”
“Just say it and let me decide what’s crazy.”
“He was on the balcony of the hotel while I was talking to you on the phone and he claims he saw a man shoot somebody.”
He stared at her. “You’re kidding.”
She dropped her head against the back of the seat wearily. “Don’t I wish.”
“He saw a man get shot?”
“He says he did.”
“Kids say things.” He looked in the back seat where Danny sat with his nose practically pressed against the side window. “He’s an only child. They say lonely kids have big imaginations.”
She was again rubbing her temple. “Being an ‘only’ doesn’t necessarily make him a ‘lonely only.’ And he does have a vivid imagination, but this time I think he actually witnessed what he says he did.”
Mack snorted. “A murder at the White Hotel?”
“Yes.”
“You called security, I assume.”