Heart of the Raven (2 page)

“Okay.” She wrote down the number and gave him back the card. “Friends she's talked about?”

“Someone named Megan. A guy named Jay.”

“In what context did she discuss them?”

“They were people she went out with after work and on the weekends.”

“You don't think this Jay could be a boyfriend?”

“Didn't sound like it.” Heath liked the way she fired questions, hardly waiting for his answer. Thinking one step ahead.

“You mentioned parents ‘back east.' She never said their names?”

“No.”

“Any mention of siblings?”

“A sister, Tricia. Older. She has three children. Eva called her for pregnancy advice. Said she couldn't talk to anyone else.”

“Is she local?”

“I have no idea.”

She contemplated him in silence.

“I know I should know more about the woman who is carrying my baby,” he said apologetically and with disgust, too. “It isn't as if I didn't ask her questions and want to know more about her. She just wasn't forthcoming.”

“She kept secrets.”

The way Cassie stated it instead of asking it brought his worries to the forefront, too. He'd already realized he couldn't trust Eva, but he hadn't known whether to be afraid for her or angry at her.

“In some ways she was open,” he said. She was a distraction when he'd needed it. Or so he'd thought. Turned out he was wrong, but that didn't relieve him of his responsibilities. “It was like she wanted to keep herself mysterious, like it would keep me more interested.”

“Would it?”

He considered the possibility. “Maybe. To a point. In
trigue boosts adrenaline and interest, but it had gotten tired.”

“Yeah. The rush is great—for a while. How about education?” Cassie asked.

“Currently attending business school. The firm was paying for a paralegal course. She was allowed to attend classes during work hours.” He passed her a piece of paper. “Make and model of the car she drives, and the license plate.”

“Outstanding. Who is her obstetrician?”

Heath handed her a second Rolodex card, which also listed the hospital where the baby was to be born.

“Did you take Lamaze classes? Do you plan on being there for the birth?”

“No and no.”

“Did you go to her doctor's appointments with her?”

“No.” He almost had, once, when she was to have an ultrasound. He changed his mind at his front door.

Cassie capped the pen and bounced it against her palm as she eyed him. “You said you don't get out much.”

“Right.”

“Do you get out at all, Mr. Raven?”

“Heath. And, no.”

“For how long?”

“Three years.”

He let her do the math. He hadn't stepped foot out of his house since his son died.

“You don't open the blinds, either.”

“No.”

She didn't ask why, but if she had, he wouldn't have answered. It wasn't any of her business.

“Okay,” she said, slipping the pen into her notebook.
“I've got enough to get started, except I need a photo, if you've got one.”

He handed her a file folder.

“Young,” Cassie said when she saw the photo inside.

“Twenty-three. I'm thirty-nine. I figure you're wondering. Yeah, she was young.” And they didn't have much in common. “There's a picture of the baby.”

She turned the page. He'd made a copy of the ultrasound taken months ago.

She turned the picture sideways, then upside down. “I've never seen one of these before.”

He outlined the body parts. “Head. Nose. Chin. Arms. Fingers. Legs.”

Cassie smiled. “If you say so. Do you know the sex?”

He tapped the page. “Legs are crossed.”

“Or there's nothing to see. Could be a little girl.”

“Could be.”

She closed her notebook. He handed her an envelope with a check for the retainer she'd told him on the phone that ARC would require. They walked downstairs in silence.

At the front door she stopped. “Are you in love with her?”

Like he believed in love anymore? “No.”

“Yet you would've married her.”

He'd already said as much. He felt no need to explain himself.

“There's something I need you to do,” Cassie said, her tone businesslike but her eyes gentle. “The investigation may take a turn or reach a point where you will have to leave the house, maybe to go with me somewhere or even to go alone if Eva calls and needs you.
You need to get your mind in a place where you can do that.”

“I already have.” He would do anything for his child. Anything. Including fighting Eva for custody, something he wouldn't have done before. She obviously wasn't fit to be a mother. “What can I do in the meantime?”

“Let me get things rolling first. Sometimes these kinds of things solve themselves fairly fast. If you think of anything else that might be important, give me a call.”

She held out her hand. He took it automatically, one businessperson to another, concluding a deal. He started to let go, but she tightened her hold.

He got caught in the unwavering intensity of her eyes.

“I will find your child,” she said with conviction.

His throat closed. He barely stopped himself from yanking her into his arms in gratitude.

He believed her.

I
t 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.”

“So, it's a long shot.”

She smiled at the understatement. “We could get lucky.”

He admired her resolve. “What can I do?”

“Be here if she calls or comes by.”

“That goes without saying.”

She studied him. “Are you sure you'll be able to leave the house if you need to?”

He didn't like being questioned, wasn't used to it. “Has it occurred to you that I choose to stay in my
house? That it's a conscious choice I made?” He leaned toward her. “I will do what needs to be done.”

“Why haven't—”

“The subject's not on the table, Cassie.”

It ended not only that particular discussion about why he didn't leave the house but also their conversation in general. He walked her to the front door.

“Did you design this house?” she asked.

“I did.”

“It's spectacular.”

“But?”

“No but.”

“Yes, there is.” He heard it in her voice even if she didn't realize it.

She shook her head.

Ah. Keeps her own counsel. He liked that.

“If Eva had simply disappeared, without leaving a note,” Cassie said, her hand on the doorknob, “this whole situation would be different. The police would get involved. We would have access to their resources. I still think someone at her office could help.”

“I refuse to cause problems for her at work if she's just having some kind of hormone overload. I'm already disregarding her wishes by hiring you to try to find her, for which I feel no guilt whatsoever, by the way. That's
my
child she's got.
My
life she's playing with, as well.” He shoved his hands through his hair, locked his fingers behind his neck and made himself calm down. “Look, I'm trying to do the right thing here. It's my fault she's pregnant.”

“You know, Heath, these days I think we consider pregnancy a dual responsibility.”

“She was young.”

“Not that young. And you were vulnerable.”

It was the second time she'd used that word to describe him. He didn't like it. Who was she to come to that conclusion so quickly?

“Vulnerable doesn't mean weak,” she said, somehow reading his mind. “It means you'd been hurt so deeply you didn't want to survive, but you did, so you have to deal with it, but it's harder for you than for others. Most people can't cope too long without the company of other people, of a compatible partner, no matter how short-lived.”

“Personal experience?”

“I haven't lost a child.” She opened the door. “I'll be in touch when I have news.”

“I want progress reports, not just news.”

“No problem.”

He didn't want her to leave…but he couldn't ask her to stay.