Valerie Hansen - Family In Hiding

It was more than that, his guilty conscience insisted. You let yourself be blinded by the promise of success and wealth beyond your dreams. And now look where you are.

Straightening with Brandon on one hip and the older children close at heel, Dylan started for the entrance to the gardens. Judging by the number of cars present they had made a good choice. There were enough others there to provide anonymity without a crowd overwhelming them. And, if necessary, the gardens would provide plenty of places to hide.

Dylan sincerely hoped it was not going to come to that. If he’d had the slightest inkling that they were being followed he would have driven straight to the nearest police station and turned himself in.

However, since they seemed to be in the clear for the present he was going to carry out his plan. Grace was a sensible woman. She’d see why his future—and hers— depended upon the choices he was about to make. Given the lives those criminals had ruined and the children they had kidnapped, according to the police, he could hardly wait to help put them all behind bars.

Finished at the ticket booth, Grace turned back to her family. Dylan saw her hair catch the rays of the afternoon sun and gleam like burnished copper, afire with highlights that gave her a haloed appearance and made him rue the poor choices that had led them to that moment.

As much as he would have liked to appeal to his alienated spouse on a personal level, he realized that this wasn’t the right time to reveal how much trouble he was in and that he was preparing to face danger.

The less she knew about all that and the more he nurtured their estrangement, the safer she, and his children, would be.

* * *

Hardly anything would have surprised Grace more than her husband’s presence at the elementary school. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Dylan had picked up the kids. So what had brought him this time? And why was he dressed like a refugee from a Cardinals’ baseball game?

She held up the brochure she’d been given with the tickets and pointed to it. “Let’s go to number ten. It’s an elevated pavilion. We can stand up there and watch while the kids check out the tree house and the frontier fort.”

“Works for me.”

Grace led the way, noting that her usually rambunctious children were clinging close to the daddy they hadn’t seen in weeks. Although she felt slightly abandoned she could understand their feelings. They’d missed Dylan. So had she. Not that she’d ever actually admit it.

They started up a boarded walkway that was edged with a rough-cut rail fence and Grace wished she’d worn more substantial rubber-soled shoes rather than skimpy sandals.

She faltered once, catching herself on the bordering fencing.

“You okay?” Dylan asked.

Why did he have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he be standoffish and aloof the way he used to be?

Because he’s trying to drive you crazy, her imagination replied cynically. And he’s doing a wonderful job of it.

“Grace?”

“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

They reached the covered pavilion. Grace turned to her family. “Put Brandon down so he can go with Kyle and Beth.”

The three-year-old clung to his daddy’s neck. “No. I wanna stay here.”

More tenderly than Grace had ever seen Dylan behave in the past, he set the child on his feet and kissed his damp cheek. “I’ll be right here, buddy. You go with Kyle and your sister. Mommy and I need to talk.”

The child clapped his hands over his ears and sniffled. “I won’t listen. See?”

Kyle took him by the wrist and tugged him away, letting Beth follow at her own pace while Brandon began to whimper. Grace couldn’t tell what the older boy said to quiet his brother but the whining stopped as if someone had shut off a faucet.

“All right. We’re alone,” Grace said. “The park closes in forty-five minutes. I’ll give you thirty to tell me what’s going on and then the kids and I are out of here.”

Dylan shoved his hands into the pockets of the silky jacket and paced away from her before turning. “It’s complicated. I hardly know where to start.”

“Maybe I can make it easier for you,” she said wryly. “I already know you were up to your neck in illegal adoptions because the police interviewed me about it. What more can there be?”

“Plenty,” Dylan said, swallowing so hard she could see his Adam’s apple move. “And it’s much worse than I’d thought. Learning the truth is what finally decided it for me.”

“Just wanting to be an honest, upright citizen wasn’t enough for you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Dylan admitted, “although I’ve since had a long talk with myself and I promise I’ll never step that close to the line again.”

“Close? Ha! You were balancing on the sharp edge of a knife blade, Dylan. It’s a wonder you didn’t fall off onto the wrong side long before this.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. If I had it all to do over again I hope I’d make better choices.” He studied the planks at his feet. “When it all began it seemed innocent enough. My part in it was technically within the law.”

“Then why are we having this talk? What’s changed?”

“I have,” Dylan said. He removed the dark glasses and looked straight at her.

Grace was taken aback by the pain she saw in his expression, in his eyes. If they had not had the history of the past twelve years between them, she would have believed him in a heartbeat. “Why?”

Watching his internal struggle, Grace was almost tempted to go to him and put her arms around his waist. She resisted. Waiting. Listening. Never dreaming he’d have anything earth-shattering to reveal.

When Dylan said, “Because the children involved came from a baby-stealing ring,” she had to put a hand on the railing to keep her balance.

“Babies?”

It was barely spoken aloud, yet Dylan nodded. “Yes. I just found out. That’s why I decided to volunteer to provide the proof the police need to put a stop to it.” He paused. “I was hoping you’d be pleased.”

“Flabbergasted is more like it,” Grace said, glancing over his shoulder to watch her own children play. “I can’t even imagine what those poor mothers went through.”

“I can. I spoke with a friend of one of them on the phone. She got involved when she was a missionary in Mexico. The authorities are still trying to trace a baby she swears was taken, brought to the States and sold.”

“That’s terrible!”

“There’s more.” He reached for her hand and she let him grasp it for a few seconds before pulling away and folding her arms.

“Go on. It can’t get much worse.”

“Yes, it can. One of the men who had been trying to silence her—his name was Flores—was arrested and then murdered. In jail. So the authorities are no closer to nailing the higher-ups than they were before.”

A heaviness settled in her chest. “You know who they are, don’t you?”

“I have a fair idea about one or two. There’s still a lot of legwork to do but I think I’m the key. So do the cops.” He put his hand in his pants’ pocket and pulled out the flash drive to show her. “This is why I’m not in custody today. I was picking up this evidence for them.”

“Now what?” With a shiver she couldn’t stop, Grace began to scan the nearby grounds as if sensing imminent threats.

“I keep a low profile and wait, I guess. Once I’ve turned over these files to the cops they won’t need me anymore.” Dylan snorted derisively. “Of course I’ll have to find another job. I doubt my bosses will condone my change of heart.”

“Will you be safe?”

“Don’t tell me you care.”