Joan Kilby - Protecting Her Son

“Anything else I can tell you?” Katie asked.

Paula would have welcomed knowing why Riley shunned questions about his past. What badass thing had he done? But that probably wasn’t what Katie meant. “No, I think that’s it. I know you have a lot of parents to see tonight. It was nice to meet you.”

Katie got to her feet and shook hands. “I’ll be in touch to organize for the bike safety class in a few weeks. Thanks for agreeing.”

“I’m happy to do it.” Paula said good-night and walked through the corridors, thinking ahead to picking up Jamie from Sally’s house, then going home. After she got Jamie into bed, she might treat herself to a nice hot bath. Riley was right. She had been tense lately—for good reason—and the incident with the rock sugar hadn’t helped.

Thirty minutes later she turned into her driveway, half listening to Jamie’s chatter about the game of hide and seek he’d played at Sally’s house. Nearly eight o’clock, it was still light. Her glance automatically went to the front door—

Her hands tightened on the wheel. Sitting on the mat was a bright red remote-controlled racing car. She couldn’t afford toys that expensive. Her mother would never splurge unless it was a birthday or Christmas present. Nor would she leave it sitting on the front porch. It definitely wasn’t Christmas and Jamie’s birthday was in July.

Only one person would have given such a gift.

Nick.

CHAPTER THREE

PAULA DROVE INTO the carport, hoping Jamie hadn’t seen the toy. Somehow she had to get him into the house through the back door.

“What’s that on the porch?” Jamie unbuckled his seat belt even before the car had stopped.

“Nothing. Jamie—”

Too late. He was out of the car and running across the lawn and through the flower bed. “It’s a car.”

“Jamie, honey, don’t get excited.” She hurried after him, dropping her purse in her haste. She grabbed it from among the petunias, wasting precious seconds. “It’s probably a mistaken delivery.”

“It’s for me,” Jamie said. He kneeled on the mat, a gift card in his hand. “My name’s on it, see?”

Jamie might not be able to read yet but she’d taught him to recognize his name and phone number and to print both. He also knew the alphabet.

“It’s from…” His small brow furrowed as he laboriously spelled out, “D…A…D.” He looked up at her. “What does that spell?”

Paula gazed into her son’s small trusting face and felt her heart break. She never lied to him. Ever.

“Mum?” His eyes searched hers.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed. Her hands felt clammy. “D-dad. It spells, Dad.”

Jamie went still, his eyes wide and unblinking. “But I thought— You said he was overseas.”

Okay, maybe that one lie.

“Um, he was.” Her fingers curled into her palms. How dare Nick disturb their peace? How dare he think he could buy his child? “He must be back.”

“Yay!” Jamie stood and ran down the steps as if expecting to see his father out on the sidewalk. “Where is he?” Looking up the street he took a step forward and called tentatively, “Dad?” Another step. “Dad! I’m home.”

Though it was a fine evening, it was past dinnertime and no one was outside. There were no strange cars parked nearby that she didn’t recognize. Through the curtains in the houses across from hers came the blue flicker of TV screens. Chances were no one had seen who’d placed the toy car on her step.

“Jamie.” Paula ran to take his hand and tugged him toward the porch. “He must have gone.”

Jamie dragged his feet, looking over his shoulder. “He’ll come back, right?”

“No.” Her free hand curled into a fist she would dearly love to smash into Nick’s face for raising a little boy’s expectations.

Jamie stopped dead, crestfallen. “But he’ll want to see me if he’s back from his trip. Won’t he?”

Oh, God. “I don’t know. He’s not—” She thought desperately, agonized at seeing her son hurt. “His job doesn’t allow him to be a family man.”

“But he came here. We weren’t home. He’ll come back,” Jamie said logically.

“Let’s go inside,” she said, leading him up the steps. “You’ll have your bath and get ready for bed. Then we’ll talk about your father.”

“I want to play.” Jamie crouched beside his new toy. Gripping the slick red hood of the racing car with small fingers he tried to pull off the wires holding it on to the cardboard packaging.

“No!” Paula snatched up the toy. “I’m sorry. You can’t have it.”

“It’s mine!” He scrambled to his feet, his arms reaching upward. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “My dad gave it to me.”

Paula fumbled with the key, stabbing it into the lock as she held the car high, feeling like the world’s meanest mother. She got the door open and dragged Jamie, kicking and screaming, into the house. She put the car on top of the bookshelf in the living room.

“Why won’t you give it to me? I hate you!” Jamie yelled, his face red.

Paula crouched and took him by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I know you’re angry and upset. But your father is not part of our lives. We can’t accept presents from him.”

“Why not?” Jamie wailed, rubbing his eyes. “Why can’t I see him? He wants to see me.”

“Just because.”

Because he’s a bad man. I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.

“I want my car. My daddy brought it to me!” He was working himself into a full-blown tantrum such as he hadn’t had since he was three years old.

Paula tried to fold him in a hug to rock him but he tore away from her and flung himself face down on the carpet, his ribcage heaving.

“You have to trust me, sweetheart,” she pleaded. Only me.

A knock sounded at the door. Great. All she needed was some nosy neighbor thinking she was beating her kid.

She left Jamie pounding his fists on the floor while she answered the door. “This isn’t a good t—” Riley stood there wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black polo shirt. “What are you doing here?”

Riley began to speak but Jamie’s howls were too loud to ignore. He peered past her, into the house. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you come by for a reason? Because I’m pretty busy. As you can hear.”

Suddenly Jamie stopped howling. His footsteps thudded behind her. “Is that Dad?” Seeing Riley he stopped short, suddenly going shy. His anxious gaze tore at Paula’s heart. “Is he…?”

“No, sweetheart.” Her cheeks burning, she said to Riley, “You should go.”

Instead, Riley crouched, eye level with Jamie. “I’m Riley, your mum’s partner at the police station. What’s your name?”

Jamie pressed back into Paula’s legs. Her arms went around his shoulders. His small chest jerked as he hiccupped.

“My sister Katie is your teacher at school.” Riley spoke with the studied casualness of a cop talking down an out-of-control offender. Any other time Paula would have admired his technique.

Jamie sniffled. “Ms. Henning?”

“That’s right. What’s your name?”

“Jamie,” he mumbled.

“Nice to meet you.” Riley held his hand.

Jamie hesitated then placed his small hand in Riley’s to be given a hearty man-shake. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he stood a little taller. “Do you have a gun? Mum won’t let me hold hers.”

Oh, no, not the gun conversation. Jamie asked at least once a week to see her gun despite her constantly telling him it wasn’t a toy. At least he seemed to have forgotten the car—for the moment. “Not now, Jamie.”

“When I’m not on duty my gun is locked up,” Riley said. “Your mum’s right. No one but a police officer is allowed to touch our weapons. One day I might show you my gun.”