The Baby He Wanted. Janice Kay Johnson
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unwillingly fascinated. “I’ve never really been around many pregnant women. Today I wondered how you’ll manage to drive when you get further along.”
She made a face. “I don’t know. I want to work as long as I can, though, which means driving.”
“At least you’ll have the summer.”
“Combined with maternity leave, it’ll give me nearly six months off, thank God. I have a bad feeling that leaving her in day care will be hard.”
Lina would swear he was making calculations, but he didn’t share them with her. Instead he shook his head after a minute. “Man.”
“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning.”
“But you were going to surprise me with the news one of these days anyway, weren’t you?”
Lina didn’t like the sardonic note in his voice. He didn’t believe she would have told him. She’d have liked to be offended, but couldn’t really blame him. After all, she’d procrastinated for months.
“I would have.”
He rose abruptly and said, “I’ll let you know when we get the sketch artist scheduled. The holiday may complicate that. I assume you’re off work.”
“We go back the fourth.”
“Can you make yourself available tomorrow for the FBI agents to interview you?”
“Yes.”
His gaze settled on her Christmas tree before returning to her. “Are you expecting family?”
She wasn’t expecting anyone. Did she have to tell him the truth? He’d think she was pathetic.
“My family lives near Minneapolis. Flying didn’t sound like fun right now—” she touched her stomach “—so I decided not to join them.”
He frowned a little. “Won’t you be celebrating with friends?”
“Maya—” Her voice hitched. “Maya was my best friend.”
“I’m sorry I reminded you.”
“Did you think I’d forget?” she asked incredulously.
“No.” A man she suspected was rarely hesitant, Bran lingered, looking down at her. “You’re likely to have nightmares, Lina.”
“I didn’t this afternoon when I napped.”
“It’ll all catch up with you.” On that cheerful note, he nodded. “I’ll call in the morning. Lock up after me.”
She followed him to the door. He hovered momentarily just outside as if he wanted to say something else, but finally dipped his head again and walked away without looking back.
Lina closed the door and locked it, then sagged against it, the painted steel cool beneath her forehead. Thoughts and images tumbled in her head like clothes in the dryer.
Maya staring at her. Her head... The monster seeing her. Tearing across the street, expecting a bullet to strike her any moment.
And then the shock of having Bran walk in.
At least she’d gotten the dreaded meeting over with, but...
From here on out, we’re tied together.
Lina moaned and bumped her head repeatedly against the door.
BRAN SHOULD HAVE gone straight home, but his car seemed to steer itself across town to his brother’s house. Christmas lights glittered like icicles around the eaves, and a warm glow from the windows told him Zach and Tess were still up. He glanced at his watch: 7:34. Of course they hadn’t gone to bed. Bran realized how unbalanced he felt. With a snort, he thought, Unbalanced? How about stupefied? His damn head was spinning. The day felt as if it had already lasted twenty-four hours at least.
He turned off the engine but hesitated. He should have called first. And...was he really ready to tell anyone else?
Bran guessed he must be, or he wouldn’t be here.
With a sigh, he got out and crossed the lawn, bounding up the steps to the porch. He rang the bell and waited. No surprise, Zach had put in a new front door with a peephole. He worried about Tess, and for good reason. After the two of them witnessed an ugly crime committed by another sheriff’s deputy, she had been terrorized. Even though Andrew Hayes, the deputy, had been convicted of attempted first degree murder for trying to kill Tess, Zach hadn’t let down his guard. Bran didn’t blame him.
Zach opened the door. If he was surprised, it didn’t show. There was still tension between the two of them—reconnecting after twenty-five years wasn’t easy—but tonight Bran saw only welcome.
“Hey, come in. I hear you had an exciting day.”
He didn’t know the half of it.
“It was a little out of the ordinary,” Bran agreed. “I was heading home, but somehow I ended up here.”
“Have you eaten? We have leftovers.”
“Thanks, but I had a good dinner. I’d sent Lina—uh, our principal witness—to a friend’s house, and when I went to get her, they fed us. Best Mexican food I’ve eaten in years, if ever.”
A slightly raised eyebrow told him he hadn’t distracted Zach from his slip. But it didn’t matter—wasn’t he here to spill his guts?
“Bran!” Tess had popped out of the kitchen and, smiling, came toward the two men. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, something she’d taken to doing lately. No, not lately—since her wedding day. She’d apparently decided Bran was her brother-in-law, so by God she’d treat him like family whether he liked it or not.
The odd thing was, he did like it, even if he hadn’t said so. He liked Tess. She was a gutsy woman. He liked that she was making his brother happy. Their screwed up childhoods had left Zach determined never to marry or have a family, a resolve that crashed and burned when he couldn’t run from Tess. Keeping her safe had meant keeping her close.
“If this is a bad time...”
She frowned. “Don’t be silly. Do you want a beer?”
“Uh...thanks. Sure.”
“Zach?”
“Yeah, I’ll take one, too.”
They got comfortable in the living room, which was one of the first rooms they had finished remodeling. The day Bran came to help replace the roof, the wood floors in the whole house were worn, and there had been holes in the walls in here. Zach had applied a thin coat of plaster over the new wallboard, and now they were a creamy white while the hardwood floor gleamed. The star on the Christmas tree in front of the window almost touched the ceiling.
This house looked like a home now. Disquieted, Bran realized it had come to feel more like home to him than his own apartment did. He had dinner here at least a couple times a week, and often spent one of his days off helping Zach work on the place.
Tess reappeared with two bottles of a dark German beer, smiled and said, “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
“No, you can hear this unless there’s something you want to get back to,” he heard himself say.
“Of course I want to hear.” She plopped down on the sofa next to Zach, who wrapped an arm around her.
At first sight, anyone would have been able to tell the two men were brothers. Both were an inch or two above six feet, athletic. Zach’s features were cleaner cut, making him handsome and Bran...not. At least in his opinion. Zach had dark hair, Bran a deep auburn darkened from the carrot-red he’d been born with. Both had blue eyes the same color as