Rebecca Winters - The Toddler's Tale

Lately he found himself anticipating their confrontations whenever he had the job of keeping her away from people or places he’d been assigned to guard. But today marked a first—he’d held that breathtaking body in his arms, all five feet nine inches of her.

In truth he admired the immaculate care she took of herself, the elegant clothes she wore. He noticed details like her perfectly manicured nails, the scent of her French perfume, the flowery fragrance of her short, stylishly cut auburn hair.

Just now in the rain, the silky strands had taken on the patina of deep, rich Spanish mahogany. Her matching brows framed dark-lashed crystalline green eyes, and in his opinion, her flawless skin and features made her more beautiful than any movie star.

Since she craved attention, it was too bad she hadn’t pursued a career in film. Instead, she’d offended so many people with her aggressive, indomitable desire to ferret out a story, he wondered if she had many friends.

“What did you do with her?” Michael’s question broke his reverie. “How soon can I expect her to show up at the clinic with a new camcorder, ready to poke her nose into the Maitlands’ business? Does she know about Chase’s disappearance?”

“Not yet.”

“We can be thankful for that, at least,” Michael muttered.

After the gentle, protective, nurturing way she’d been behaving with Traci, Max almost lost it when he thought of her reverting to form once this ordeal was over.

He let out a deep sigh. “Michael, I’m calling for a different reason.”

There was a pause. “Is something wrong? Did Chelsea damage your truck or something? Because if she did—”

“No, no.” He broke in before his friend’s anger took over. At this point Michael had zero tolerance for Chelsea. And who could blame him? Ever since Chase had been found abandoned on the steps of Maitland Maternity Clinic the previous fall, Chelsea had harassed the clinic and the Maitland family, trying to find out who had parented the mysterious baby.

“It’s nothing like that,” Max went on. “While I was driving around on a back country road spelling out a few home truths to Ms. Markum, we met up with a hysterical mother at a deserted excavation site. Her fourteen-month-old daughter is still trapped in a pipe.”

There was a pronounced silence, then Michael breathed the words, “Dear God.” No one in the world understood Max’s pain better than his friend.

“Yeah,” Max whispered. “Ironic, isn’t it, after I quit the force so I wouldn’t have to deal with this kind of situation again.”

“Drive away from there and don’t look back! Let the paramedics handle it.”

“You know me better than that.”

“Unfortunately I do. What a hell of a time to have Chelsea Markum in tow! Give me the location and I’ll get rid of her so fast she won’t know what hit her.”

“Believe it or not, that’s the last thing I want you to do. Chelsea’s been an amazing help so far.”

Michael made a noise that sounded more like a bark. “Come on, Max. It’s me, your closest buddy. We’re talking about the woman who’s been hounding the Maitlands for over a year. She’s poison.”

“I know.”

Max raked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t say he was sorry about kidnapping her. He’d been forced to do something drastic before any more people had gotten hurt. But he’d said some pretty harsh things, and he wasn’t too pleased over his own behavior.

Even if it was true, his reference to the black widow had been unkind. In hindsight he realized he’d gone too far. That was the problem when he got around Chelsea Markum. She was like an inflammation that flared up with increasing frequency despite all the precautions he took to stop it.

Oddly enough, he knew nothing about her private life. If he’d wanted to, he could have used the resources at his disposal as a PI to find out if she was married or single. So far he hadn’t given in to that temptation.

One thing was certain. There’d never been a breath of personal scandal attached to her name, only the scandal she created and exposed on “Tattle Today.”

If she had a husband, it was Austin’s best kept secret. As for Chelsea being romantically involved with someone in town, that would be news to Max, as well. But he couldn’t fathom a female as attractive as she was being without a man. He supposed she could be dating her boss or a colleague.

The idea of Chelsea having a lover put him in a foul enough mood that he preferred not to think about her at all. Unfortunately that was easier said than done. Especially since he’d seen her comforting Traci. He couldn’t forget the pleading in her eyes when she’d begged him to trust her for Traci’s sake.

“Michael? Just hear me out on this.” In a matter of minutes he’d told his friend everything. “As it stands, I have no idea how soon we’ll pull Betsy from that pipe. Hopefully before tomorrow. The press is going to be converging on every major hospital in Austin trying to learn the whereabouts of the child, so what I need from you is permission to have Betsy flown to Maitland Maternity Clinic. That’ll at least buy us some time.”

“You’ve got it. In fact as soon as we hang up, I’ll alert the necessary staff. Ford Carrington is one of the best pediatricians around. If the child requires surgery, then she’ll be in good hands. What else can I do for you?”

“Traci ought to be seen by a doctor, too.”

“You can count on Abby to give her a thorough physical.”

“Good. Traci’s been a hostage in her own home for a couple of years and I’m thinking maybe psychiatric counseling wouldn’t go amiss, if she’s willing.”

“If anyone can convince her to seek professional help, Abby’s the one to do it. She’ll also know which specialist to refer her to in case there’s a serious problem beyond her expertise as an OB. Anything else?”

“Can you arrange for Traci to be in the same room with her daughter?”

“Of course. And we’ll up the security. We’re getting used to it.”

Max closed his eyes. “Thanks, Michael.”

“You’ve done more for me, so forget it.”

“That’s not possible. Anyway, I’ve got to go. But first, tell me what’s happening with Jake and Connor?”

“Jake’s spending a little private time with Camille.”

“It’s long overdue.” As an FBI agent, Jake Maitland had guarded Camille for the past six months, and finally the two had acknowledged their love.

“That’s for sure. As soon as he’s free, I’ll contact Connor, and the three of us will put our heads together to figure out a plan to find Janelle and that creep who’s been posing as Connor.”

“What’s the FBI’s take on things right now?”

“Nothing we know about yet. But we’re not waiting on them.”

“I hear you.”

“It’s not your worry, either. You’ve got enough on your plate. Just keep me posted. When you arrive in the helicopter, I’ll be waiting for you. Then I can fill you in, and we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds good. You’re one in a million, Michael.”

“The feeling’s mutual. Good luck. And, Max—”

“Yes?”

“I know you’ll get to the little girl in time. I feel it in my bones.”

“I pray to God you’re right.”

“I’ll pray, too.”

“Thanks, bud.”

Max clicked off.

Everything was in place. All they needed now was a miracle.

He handed Officer Keaton the cell phone, then left for the site on a run, pleased to see that the other officers had sealed off the house and the excavation site. Any onlookers or press would have to stand outside the tape, which would keep them a good ten feet from the edge of the pit.

“CHELSEA?”