Delores Fossen - Undercover Daddy

“That’s still not proof,” Elaina insisted.

Luke Buchanan’s calm demeanor remained in place. From the envelope, he produced a marriage license. He placed it on the seat between them. Elaina was about to repeat her doubt, but the next document kept her quiet.

It was a lab slip indicating a positive pregnancy test.

The date on the slip was eight months prior to Christopher’s birth.

“In addition to the lab results, this is a report that details how I learned about what happened to Taylor and our baby.” He plopped the stapled pages onto the stack. “There’s an eyewitness account of Taylor arriving at the Brighton Birthing Center just outside San Antonio. She was in labor. The eyewitness helped her into the E.R. section of the building and then left. All of this happened August eleventh of last year.”

That information hit her hard. Because August eleventh was Christopher’s birthday. And his place of birth was indeed the Brighton Birthing Center. Still, Elaina wasn’t going to accept this blindly.

“Eyewitness accounts can be falsified,” she countered.

“Not this one. It came from the cab driver who took Taylor from our house to the birthing center. He has absolutely no reason to lie.”

She swallowed hard. “Maybe not, but that still doesn’t prove Christopher is your son. There were probably dozens of babies born that day.”

“Three.” He paused a heartbeat and snagged her gaze. “But only one boy. Seven pounds, four ounces. Twenty-one inches long. Sound familiar?”

Oh, mercy. It did.

Elaina felt the tears burn hot in her eyes, and she didn’t even try to fight them back.

“Take a good look at that photo,” he said, fishing out the wedding picture from the pile. “You’ll see that Taylor and I are Christopher’s birth parents.”

Though it was nearly impossible to see clearly through the thick tears, Elaina did study the photo he handed her. Luke and Taylor Buchanan were both brunettes. As was Christopher. And though she hadn’t made the connection when she first met Agent Buchanan, she could see it now.

Christopher had his eyes.

Except on her son, the color seemed softer. Kinder. Rainy-cloud-gray, she’d whimsically called them. It was ironic to see those same eyes on this man who could destroy her.

And there was no doubt about it—losing Christopher would destroy her.

That’s why Elaina didn’t give up. She couldn’t. He’d made a good case, but other than the similar eyes, he certainly hadn’t proven anything.

“Why did your wife have to take a taxi to the Brighton Birthing Center?” she asked. “Where were you during all of this?”

“I was on a deep-cover assignment trying to stop a terrorist attack.” A muscle flickered in his jaw. “Taylor and I were having problems, and we’d gotten a legal separation right before I left. I didn’t know she was pregnant until after I returned. Then, I learned she’d died of complications from a C-section. I also learned that the baby, our son, had been adopted, but the records had supposedly been destroyed. The records didn’t surface until the police busted the illegal operation and Collena Drake decided to devote all her time to locating the missing kids. That’s why it took me this long to find you.”

Each word added dead weight to her heart. Because this was unfortunately all starting to make sense.

“I found you eight days ago,” he continued. The calm façade seemed to slip a little. There was a touch of hot, raw emotion in his voice. “And I put you under surveillance.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t. I do a lot of surveillance in my job, and I’m very good at it.”

No doubt. It riled her that someone had been able to intrude into her life without her even realizing it. That gave her the resolve she’d been searching for. “So, you watched me and decided to step into my fake life and pretend you’re my husband?”

He nodded. “You made it easy for me to do that. I had a fellow agent ask around town. He pretended to be interested in having some church windows repaired. And he learned there were no photos of your fake spouse. No specific physical accounts or descriptions. No one around here seemed to know what Daniel Allen looks like.”

“I didn’t want anyone comparing the photo to Christopher. Since he doesn’t look like me, I just told people that he took after his father.” Elaina paused and tried to fight off the dark reality she felt closing in around her. “And maybe he does.”

“Maybe? You still have doubts after everything I’ve shown you?”

“I have to have doubts.” She slapped her hand on the documents he’d shown her. “Doubts are the only thing that prevents me from screaming and running inside to hide my son from you. Besides, you have no DNA proof—”

“I do have proof. I got back the results about two hours ago. That’s why I’m here.”

There was no way Elaina could have braced herself for the final paper that he took from the envelope. She shook her head when he tried to hand it to her, but he finally dropped it onto her lap.

She had no choice. Even though she didn’t want to look at it, her eyes refused to cooperate. It was indeed a DNA test, and it identified Luke Buchanan as the father of one Christopher Allen.

That put another fracture in her heart.

“This can’t be accurate,” she challenged. “You don’t have Christopher’s DNA so you had nothing to make the comparison.”

But his expression said differently. “After I found you, I took a pacifier that Christopher had left in his car seat. And before you accuse me of breaking and entering, I didn’t. I had a warrant.”

She hadn’t thought it possible, but her heart pounded even faster. Elaina frantically searched for holes in his case and found one. “If you have this proof,” she said picking up the DNA test, “then, why pretend to be my long-lost husband?”

“Because there’s something I need from you.”

He let that hang between them for several moments before he scooped up all the papers and put them back into the envelope. “Here’s what’s going to happen—we’ll go inside and you’ll make introductions. To the sitter and especially to my son. For the next few days, I’ll pretend to be the husband that you’ve so cleverly created.”

But once they were inside, he could take Christopher. “And if I don’t agree?”

He lifted his shoulder and slipped the envelope back into his jacket. “Then, I call the FBI, and have you arrested for participating in an illegal adoption. Then, I take Christopher from Crystal Creek, and you’ll never see him again.”

Mercy, he was indeed holding all the cards. “And if I cooperate?” She held her breath, praying for some good news in all of this.

“I’ll still take Christopher, eventually. After he’s gotten to know me.” More of that calm reserve slipped away. He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Look, I know you’ve been a good mother to my son, but he’s mine, and I have no intentions of giving him up. We might even be able to work out visitation rights for you—if you can ever convince me that you didn’t do anything illegal to get him.”

Elaina was about to ask how she could ever prove that, but she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked out the window. Theresa, the sitter, was making her way across the yard toward the car.

Elaina groaned. She didn’t need this visit. Not now. She still somehow had to convince Luke Buchanan to leave and never come back.

A smiling Theresa tapped on the window, and Elaina reluctantly lowered it. The elderly woman had sugar-white hair and smelled of ginger cookies. Christopher’s favorite. Theresa had no doubt been baking them for him.