B.J. Daniels - A Father For Her Baby

Luke felt his breath rush out of him. Kit. She had to be one of the mothers who’d given birth that night. That’s why her face had been on the old file tape about the hospital fire back in June.

Luke shook his head in amazement. No wonder he and Sanders hadn’t been able to find her. A hospital fire. That explained why no one at the area hospitals remembered Kit Killhorn.

Luke turned off the TV and stared at the empty screen, his heart pounding. He couldn’t get the image of Kit out of his head. The stark terror in her eyes. The way she’d tried to hide from the camera. This lady was running scared. But what was she fleeing from? What had sent her hightailing it out of Montana? He couldn’t wait to ask her.

* * *

ACROSS TOWN, Kit leaned over her son’s crib and lovingly pulled the soft blanket up to Andy’s dimpled chin. With warm fingers, she brushed his blond hair back from his angelic face and smiled down at him. She loved looking at him, and spent hours doing just that.

He’d had a big day today and she knew he must be exhausted. She was, after following him in all his explorations. It amazed her how quickly he learned, how quickly he changed. Over the last six and a half months she’d watched him grow, marveling at it all from his first smile and laugh to the first time he’d rolled over and crawled.

She’d named him Andrew, after her father. Unfortunately, she’d been unable to give him her father’s last name, Bannack. Nor had she used Killhorn. Either name would only have led Derrick to them. So she’d lied, providing fake names for the birth certificate to keep her baby safe.

Kit turned on the television in the room she shared with her son, hoping to catch the news and see if the predicted storm off the gulf had materialized.

But when the news came on, she found herself staring in confusion at the screen. Her face. What was she doing on TV? Old footage from the night of the fire! She remembered her terror that night when she’d seen the television news crew. Surely they hadn’t ever shown this particular news clip before, or Derrick would have found her.

Her heart thudded. Why in God’s name were they showing it now? Had the arsonist been found? Or was this about that poor woman whose baby had been kidnapped?

“After almost seven long months, Nina Fairchild and her son Dustin have been reunited,” the newscaster said.

Kit felt a wave of relief. She’d silently feared that the kidnapper had taken the wrong baby the night of the fire—that Derrick had tracked her and Andy, and mistakenly stolen Nina’s son.

Now the Fairchild baby was safe. Kit felt such gratitude that she hadn’t caused the poor woman’s pain. But at the same time, the newscast shattered any illusion that Kit could evade her past.

All these months, she’d hidden, terrified that Derrick would find her and Andy. As she’d watched her son grow and flourish, she’d convinced herself she’d done the right thing. Including lying to Dr. Bernard to get her job as a nanny. And lying to Tim Anderson so he’d pay her cash and there’d be no record of her employment.

But the moment she saw her face on TV, she knew she hadn’t hidden well enough. She couldn’t take the chance that Derrick hadn’t seen the newscast somehow. Or at least hadn’t heard about it.

She looked down at her son sleeping peacefully in his crib. Her heart thrummed with the sound of his rhythmic breathing. Tears welled in her eyes—tears of fear, anger and regret. She wiped at them, filled with another emotion, this one stronger than all the others put together: the need to protect her son. It felt almost primitive. She would give her life for Andy’s.

She covered her son with a blanket and wondered if she would ever be able to find a place where they would be safe. As she began to pack, the answer chilled in her heart, filling her with terror.

As long as Derrick Killhorn was after her, no safe place existed.

Luke wasn’t surprised the next morning when he tailed Sanders to the office of Dr. Bernard, the obstetrician who’d probably delivered Kit’s baby.

Only minutes later, Sanders came out smiling. And Luke had to give him credit. He’d gotten the information—and fast. Luke figured Sanders had greased a few palms: that would be the Killhorn way.

Luke waited, knowing the moment Sanders got into his rental car that he’d call his brother.

“I’ve got her,” Sanders said excitedly into the cell phone. “She’s working as a nanny in Galveston. I’m headed there now.”

Luke would have loved to hear what Derrick was saying, because he was obviously giving Sanders instructions—long, detailed ones.

“Well, you know her better than I do,” Sanders said, sounding dubious. “Okay. Sure, I can do that. Huntsville? No, don’t worry, I can convince her. All right, I’ll meet you up at the airport, one way or the other.”

Convince her to what? Luke wondered. Whatever it was, he didn’t like the sound of it.

He followed Sanders at a safe distance into an old Galveston neighborhood with its neat rows of oncelavish houses. The sun hung high, the day was hot and humid, a sure sign of an approaching storm. But that was the least of Luke’s worries. He had to get to Kit—before Derrick did.

Luke parked where he could watch Sanders approach the house and ring the doorbell. The house was large and sat on at least an acre of wooded land. Secluded, Luke thought. Ideal for his purposes.

And Sanders’s?

He watched Sanders ring the bell again and wait. No one appeared at the door.

Luke swore under his breath. What if Kit had also seen the news program on television last night—and had taken off again? And just when he was so close.

Luke saw Sanders turn as if he’d heard something in the backyard. As Sanders started around the side of the building, Luke climbed out of the car with his equipment and headed into the trees beside the house.

The oaks had grown large and thick, making a perfect place to hide. Luke put on the headset and picked up the sound of a baby whimpering.