The Christmas Child. Linda Goodnight
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cup sounds great if it’s already made.”
“Coffee’s always made.”
She raised a dark, tidy eyebrow. “Chain drinker?”
“Safer than chugging Red Bull.”
The answer revealed more than he’d intended. He went to the counter, more aware of her than he wanted to be and wondering, even though he didn’t want to, what it would be like to be normal again the way she was. Normal and easy in her skin. Maybe that’s what made her so pretty. She wasn’t movie-star beautiful, although she warmed the room like an unexpected ray of sun across a shadow. Dark, soft, curving hair. Soft gray eyes. Clear, soft skin. Everything about Sophie Bartholomew was soft.
“What did the doctor say about Davey’s voice?”
“He found no physical reason for Davey not to speak, though he did recommend a specialist.” Kade poured two cups and held up the sugar bowl. Sophie shook her head. Figured. She was sweet enough. Kade loaded his with three spoons and stirred them in. “We’ll have to leave that to social services.”
Sophie grimaced. He got that. Social services did what they could, but who really cared about one little boy?
“Then there must be something mental or emotional, and he doesn’t appear mentally handicapped.” She accepted the offered cup, sipped with her eyes closed. Kade, a detail man courtesy of his career, tried not to notice the thick curl of mink lashes against pearl skin. “Mmm. Perfect. Thanks.”
“Which leaves us with one ugly conclusion.” He took a hot gulp and felt the burn before the liquid ever hit his belly. The more he thought about what could have happened to Davey, the more his gut hurt. “Trauma.”
“I wondered about that, but was hoping …” Her voice trailed off. She picked at the handle of her cup.
“Yeah, me, too.”
Sophie’s fingers went to her lips, flat now with concern for the little boy. She painted her fingernails. Bright Christmas red with tiny silver snowflakes. How did a woman do that?
“You think something happened that upset him so much he stopped talking?”
Jaw tight, Kade nodded. “So does the doc.”
And if it took him the rest of his life, somebody somewhere was gonna pay.
Sophie studied the trim, fit man leaning against Ida June’s mustard-colored wall. In long-sleeved Henley shirt and blue jeans, dark brown hair combed messily to one side, he could be any ordinary man, but she suspected he wasn’t. Kade McKendrick was cool to the point of chill with a hard glint to wary eyes that missed nothing. He was tough. Defensive. Dangerous.
Yet, he’d responded to Davey’s need with concern, and he had a wry wit beneath the cynical twist of that tight mouth. He didn’t smile much but he knew how. Or he once had. Her woman’s intuition said he’d been through some trauma himself. Her woman’s heart wanted to bake him cookies and fix him.
A little troubled at the direction of her thoughts, she raised her coffee mug, a shield to hide behind. She didn’t even know this guy.
“What could be so terrible that a child would stop speaking?” she asked. “I can’t imagine.”
Something flickered in the stolid expression, a twitch of muscle, the narrowing of coffee-colored eyes in a hard face.
“I plan to find out.”
“I heard you were a cop.”
“Listening to gossip?”
She smiled. “Not all of it.”
The admission caught him by surprise. He lightened, just a little, but enough for her to see his humor. She didn’t know why that pleased her, but it did. Kade needed to lighten up and smile a little.
“I am.” He went to the sink and dumped the remaining coffee, rinsed the cup and left it in the sink. “A cop, that is. Special units.”
“You don’t want to hear about the other rumors?”
He made a huffing noise. “Maybe later. You don’t want to hear about the special units?”
“Maybe later.” She smiled again, hoping he’d smile, too. He didn’t. “The important thing is Davey. Your police experience should help us find his family.”
“Us?”
“Well …” She wasn’t a person to start something and not follow through. She’d been there when Davey was found and she didn’t intend to walk away and leave him with all these unanswered questions. “I know the community really well. People trust me. They’ll talk to me. I don’t know the first thing about investigating a missing boy.” She stopped, frowned. Davey wasn’t missing exactly. “Or rather, a found boy, but I know how to deal with people.”
Kade raised a palm. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s early yet. Someone may come home from work tonight, find their son gone and call in. Problem solved.”
“Do you think they will?” she asked hopefully.
“To be honest?” He dropped his arms to his sides, shot a look toward the living room. “No.”
Something in the sudden clip of his voice chilled Sophie’s bones. She frowned and leaned forward, propping her arms on the metal dinette. Ida June must have had this thing since the 1950s. “Have you worked in Missing Children before?”
She was almost certain he flinched, but if he did, he covered the emotion quickly.
“In a manner of speaking.”
Sophie waited for an explanation, but when none was forthcoming, she asked, “Do you have any ideas? Any thoughts about where he came from or what happened?”
“A few.” He crossed his arms again. She recognized the subconscious barrier he raised between them. What had happened to this man to make him so aloof? For a people person, he was a challenge. For a Christian, he was someone to pray for. For a single woman, he was dangerously attractive. What woman wouldn’t want to delve behind those dark, mysterious eyes and into that cool heart to fix whatever ailed him?
“Care to share?” she asked.
He cocked his head, listening. “Davey’s awake.”
Sophie hadn’t heard a sound, but she pushed away from the table and hurried past Kade to the sofa and the little boy who’d had her prayers all day. Behind her, a more troubling and troubled presence followed. She was in the company of two mysterious males and they both intrigued her.
“Hi, Davey.” She sat on the edge of the couch, the warmth of Davey’s sleep-drenched body pleasant against her leg. Kade’s big dog, a golden retriever, slid off the sofa and padded to her master. He dropped a hand to her wide skull and stood like a dark slab of granite watching as Davey looked around in that puzzled “Where am I?” manner of someone waking in a strange place.
“Remember me? I’m Sophie. My students call me Miss B.”
The towheaded child blinked stubby lashes and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He sat up, the blanket falling to his waist.
Sophie grinned up at Kade. “Your shirt?”
A wry twist to one side of his mouth, Kade nodded. “My sweats, too. His clothes are in the dryer.”
Davey pushed the cover away and stood. The oversize black pants puddled around his feet. Sophie laughed. “I need a camera.”
Davey looked down, and then, too serious, glanced from Sophie to Kade and back again, eyes wide and uncertain.
“Guess what? We have some great new clothes for you. You want to look through the bag and find something you like?” She dragged the bag from the chair with a plastic thud against green shag carpet and pulled open the yellow tie. “There’s a very cool sweatshirt in here. And wait till you