Susan Sleeman - Christmas Conspiracy

“No!” Rachael suddenly cried out and jerked awake. Terror darkened her eyes as she shot a panicked look around the room. She’d probably relived the kidnapping attempt in her sleep.

Jake knew all about bad dreams. The bomb had rumbled through his sleep for years. He wanted to take her hand, but after his talk with Skyler, he shoved both of them in his pockets instead. At that moment, he hated his job.

Rachael would remain on Skyler’s suspect list, and after he’d gone, she’d question Rachael until she felt confident she’d gotten complete answers. Then she’d tear into Rachael’s background, dig deep and ferret out any secrets or past indiscretions that hinted at her involvement. Many of those would then be reviewed with Rachael so she could offer an explanation.

Not that Skyler would focus solely on Rachael. As a good detective, she would look for other leads and keep Rachael’s role in perspective. He could count on Skyler to be impartial, but he didn’t care about the other suspects at this point.

Rachael remained his focus. His only focus right now.

* * *

Sitting in a wheelchair held firmly by a hospital staff member, Rachael gazed out the window to avoid the odd looks cast her way by people stepping through the lobby entrance. Detective Hunter had ordered Rachael to surrender her clothing for the forensic staff to process in hopes of finding the intruder’s DNA. The hospital had given her two gowns to wear back-to-back to cover herself, and a lightweight robe for warmth. Though fully covered, she was essentially wearing pajamas in public.

“Joy to the World” played on the speakers above, and the woman holding on to her chair hummed along in a sharp pitch. If that wasn’t enough to remind Rachael Christmas was just a week away, large trees trimmed in reds and golds perfumed the air with a thick pine scent, and snow that was unusual for Portland dusted the ground outside.

A battered white truck pulled into the patient pickup area, and Jake jumped down from the vehicle. Before he’d left her hospital room, he’d told her he would use Detective Hunter’s car to go to the center for the iPad, and during that time, he would have someone retrieve his pickup from home and drop it at the hospital.

As he approached, she wanted to leap from the chair and take refuge from prying eyes inside his truck, but the bruises circling her body ensured she wouldn’t be leaping in her near future.

He opened the passenger door and gazed down on her, his tender expression one she’d seen several times today. He offered his hand—another kind gesture from this man she found so intriguing.

After what happened the last time they’d touched, she didn’t want any physical contact, but dizziness continued to plague her, and she also didn’t want to do a face-plant in the snow. And if she stumbled, the hospital employee might drag her back inside for another examination. Rachael wouldn’t stay at the hospital any longer. Not for any reason.

She placed her hand in his, letting the long fingers wrap around hers and gently move her into the pickup that looked like it had seen better days. She willed her mind not to dwell on the warmth and strength of his hand and to pay attention to getting into the truck without hitting the concrete.

Once she settled back, Jake started to close the door, but she stopped him and leaned out.

“Thank you,” she called to the woman who’d wheeled her outside.

“Yes, thank you,” Jake added and closed the door with a solid thump.

He said something else to the transport woman that elicited a broad smile on her chubby face. Maybe he was just a big flirt, and this connection between them was a common occurrence in his life. Even more reason to ignore her unwanted interest in him.

When he settled behind the wheel, his presence seemed to take up the entire space, and she wedged herself closer to the door, tugging her robe tighter around her. He’d set the heat on high, and the air rushing from the vents warmed her bare legs.

As he pointed the truck down the driveway, a hand-beaded ornament swung from his rearview mirror. The delicate star boasting golden points and a bright blue interior seemed in direct contrast to his tough exterior and the manly truck. Obviously a vintage item, she suspected he had a story behind the ornament, and she didn’t know what to make of it, of him. He was such an enigma. One minute kind and protective, the next all business. She hadn’t a clue which guy was the real Jake Marsh.

It didn’t much matter, though. Even if he’d struck some cord in her that had been dormant since Eli died, she’d fight the feelings. She would never expose herself to the searing loss that opening her heart again could bring.

Trouble was, when Jake had first taken the chair across from her and looked into her eyes, she’d seen something that resonated deep inside, like maybe he understood the pain and guilt that plagued her. Like maybe he would understand if she mentioned that after her husband died, grief consumed her and she hadn’t properly cared for herself. When she reached her fifth month of pregnancy, she’d miscarried. Maybe he’d even hold her and try to convince her that she shouldn’t blame herself.

Right, and people had wings and could fly, too.

Point-blank, her husband and child were gone, and this man could do nothing to assuage her guilt. After all, God hadn’t been able to erase it, so why would she think a man could?

She’d learned that nothing good came from brooding over the past, so she trained her gaze out the window until they turned onto her street.

“Almost there,” he said.

A sigh slipped out before she could stop it.

“If this is about all the questions we had to ask,” he said, “I’m sorry, but you fit the profile for an infant abductor.”

Surprised at his announcement, she swiveled. “What exactly is that profile?”

“Female. In your childbearing years. Same race as the child abducted. An overwhelming loss in your past. Your husband, I mean.”

“A zillion other women fit that description, too,” she responded, thinking it was only a matter of time before they learned of her miscarriage. Then her suspect potential would grow exponentially.

“But these other women didn’t have access to Kelly, nor were they her caregiver.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not the only woman who has access to Kelly. Besides, what do you think I would do with her if I arranged the kidnapping? It’s not like I can show up to work holding a baby that everyone would recognize.”

“But you could close down the center and move out of town.”

“I’d never close my center. These parents need the service I provide, and it’s my way of...” She wouldn’t tell him her service helped her atone for her role in Eli’s and the baby’s deaths. “Never mind. If Detective Hunter keeps digging into my life, she’ll soon know I’m not behind this.”

He eyed her for a moment. “What about parents or staff members who might have recently lost a child? Like a miscarriage or a child dying. Has that happened to any of them?”

He’d clearly described her, sending her heart plummeting. “Why is that a concern?”

“Losing a child is one of the biggest reasons women abduct other children.”

So she’d been right on track thinking if she admitted her own miscarriage, that, along with the other items he mentioned earlier, would move her from suspect to prime suspect. Then the investigative focus would fall solely on her, which would not help them find the kidnapper.

“None of my staff or parents have lost a child,” she said without elaborating.

He nodded. “Then we’ll expand beyond the center to other people in Pam Baldwin’s life. Do you know if she has friends or any female family members who might fit this description?”