Susan Crosby - Heart of the Raven

He believed her.

It didn’t take Cassie long at her computer that afternoon to come up with Eva’s date of birth, social security number, current address and previous address. The rest would take more digging. She expected that the interview with the roommate, Darcy, would yield the most concrete information—unless Eva had been as secretive with Darcy as she’d been with Heath.

Cassie hit the print key then pushed away from her desk and stretched, loosening her shoulder muscles. While her documents and notes printed, she would call Eva’s obstetrician. She picked up the phone, started to punch in the numbers, then stopped the call before it went through and dialed Heath instead.

“It’s Cassie Miranda,” she said when he answered.

“You have news?”

She heard expectation in his voice and was sorry not to be able to give him good news. She didn’t know much about Eva yet, but Cassie knew this much—people who used children were the lowest form of humanity. “I’m sorry, no. I’m about to call her OB’s office and pretend I’m her. Does she have an accent?”

A few beats passed. She figured he was dealing with the disappointment of no news. “No accent,” he said finally.

“Any distinctive speech patterns? Does she say ‘you know’ a lot? Or ‘like’? Anything like that?”

“She giggles.”

Cassie cringed. “A lot?”

“Yes. Even more when she’s nervous.”

Great. “Can you give me an example?”

Silence, then, “Right. That’s something I would do.”

She smiled at his sarcasm. “I think I would’ve liked to hear you try.” She looked at Eva’s photo when he said nothing further, trying to picture the two of them together. They didn’t fit. She was a girl-next-door type, with red hair and freckles, and he seemed worldly, even in his grief for the son he lost and the yet-to-be-born child now missing.

And he’s a hermit, don’t forget. Not exactly your ordinary sophisticate.

“Any other ideas come to you?” she asked.

“She likes to shop.”

Cassie grinned. She was getting used to his interesting way of offering information, direct and vague at the same time. “Any place in particular?”

“She likes a bargain. Said she’s never paid full price for anything and she never would.”

“She likes a bargain as in thrift stores—or the semiannual sale at Nordstrom?”

“Both, I would guess. And consignment shops. She’d found one that sold only maternity clothes.”

“Can’t be too many of those in the city.” She grabbed her phone book from her credenza and placed it on her desktop. “Thanks. I’ll check it out.”

As soon as she hung up she called the doctor’s office, knowing she was cutting it close to quitting time. She drummed her pen on the desk as the voice menu prompted her with choices to make, then she chose option three, which had to do with making appointments.

“Hi,” she said when an actual human being came on the line. “This is Eva Brooks. I’ve done the silliest thing.” That was as close to a giggle as she was going to get. “I lost the card showing my next appointment. Can you tell me when I’m supposed to come in, please?”

“Brooks, did you say?”

“Yes. Eva.”

Cassie heard the distinctive sound of keystrokes on a keyboard.

“You’re Dr. Sorenson’s patient?”

“Yes.” Did she sound cheerful enough? Innocent enough? Please don’t make me giggle.

“Do you go by a different first name?”

Cassie knew she didn’t have to pursue it. Another of Eva’s deceits. Was she really even pregnant? Was it all a scheme to squeeze money out of Heath? Prey on his vulnerabilities?

“I’m sorry. Did you say Sorenson?” Cassie asked. “I wasn’t paying attention. I dialed wrong. My mistake.”

She dropped the receiver into the cradle and stared sightlessly at the phone.

“Cass?”

She roused herself as James Paladin rapped his knuckles on her desk. Like her, he’d been hired as an investigator nine months ago when the L.A.-based ARC Security & Investigations opened its branch office in San Francisco.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She straightened, paid attention. “Yeah. You need something, Jamey?”

“To brainstorm the Kobieski case, if you’ve got time.”

She looked at her watch—five o’clock exactly. She didn’t want to tell Heath over the phone. He’d had enough heartache already. She could at least soften the blow in person. But the commute traffic from San Francisco across the bridge would be horrendous now. If she waited an hour or two…

“Sure,” she said. “I’ve got time.”

From a downstairs bedroom Heath watched Cassie walk from her car toward his house, her strides purposeful. She’d called a few minutes ago, as she was driving across the bridge, alerting him she was coming, an unnecessary thoughtfulness since he never went anywhere and she knew it.

What had she found out? Something important or she would’ve told him over the phone. Something good, he hoped.

He tried to turn off his appreciation of her as a woman, but he couldn’t. She was beautiful, pure and simple. And unaware of it. If she used makeup at all, it was minimal. She pulled her hair back into a simple braid. No fuss, no muss. Her body was athletic and curvy, a one-two punch to a man who’d recently convinced himself that celibacy should be the only path for him from now on, but who obviously wasn’t capable of such a sacrifice.

Aside from her spectacular face and body she had a mind that appealed, too. And she didn’t giggle.

The doorbell rang. He hadn’t meant to make her wait, but he’d been distracted by thoughts of her—didn’t want to be, but he was. This time, however, he would control his response, even though her passion-filled promise that she would find his baby was as seductive as her physical being.

He set the little white teddy bear he’d been holding onto a nearby rocking chair and headed into the foyer. He opened the door, hope in his heart.

All hope fled when he looked in her eyes. “Tell me,” he said.

“Can we sit?” she asked.

“Tell me.”

Her mouth tightened. “Are you sure she’s pregnant?”

Not dead. Not dead, or she would’ve said so right away. Relief rushed through him like three straight shots of bourbon, hot and dizzying. “Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Why?”

“Because Dr. Sorenson’s office says she wasn’t a patient. How do you know for sure she was pregnant?”

“I felt the baby move.”

“I don’t mean to question you on this, but—”

“She let me put my hand on her abdomen many times while she visited. Sometimes she lifted her blouse enough that I could watch the baby move inside her. I’ve been through a pregnancy before, Cassie.”

She propped her fists on her hips and looked at the floor, blowing out a breath. “I thought she’d been toying with you. Playing you for—” She stopped.

“A fool? A sucker?” he finished.

She shook her head. “A decent, but vulnerable man. One with money.”

He let the words linger for a few seconds.

“What’s the next step?” he asked, ignoring the implications of what she’d said. “You can’t call every doctor in the city.”

“Yes, I can.”

It took him a moment to let that idea sink in. “You’re kidding.”

“I’ll start with the obstetricians, of course.”

“You can’t possibly—”

“Yes. I can. And I’ll try to hook up with the roommate tomorrow. I think that’s our best chance for information. The problem I’m going to have with calling the doctors is that there are so many group practices. I would be asked which doctor, and I can’t name more than one.”