Her Stolen Son (2 page)

Serena adopted a brave face. “Who are you?”

“My name is Colt Mason. I'm a detective with GAI, Guardian Angel Investigations.”

Serena frowned, confused even more. “I don't understand. Why do you want to talk to me?”

“It's about your son, Petey,” Colt said gruffly.

Serena's mouth went dry, the room swirled around her, and she reached for the bars to steady herself to keep from passing out. Today had been too much, and if something had happened to Petey…

The sound of the cell opening registered, the men murmuring something indiscernible in low voices. Colt gripped her arm and led her to the cot by the wall. Her legs buckled, and she sank onto it, then leaned over, the room spinning in a dizzying circle.

“It's all right. Take a deep breath, Serena,” Colt said in a low voice. “Then another.”

His soothing tone brought a flood of tears. Angrily she brushed at them and inhaled, determined to regain control. She had to know what had happened to her son. But when she tried to speak, nausea rose to her throat.

The sheriff returned, then Colt pressed a cold cloth against the back of her neck.

Dammit. She needed to be strong. But she'd lost Parker. She couldn't lose Petey. And that blasted woman had promised to take care of him.

Clawing for control, she jerked her head up, removed the cloth from her neck and tossed it aside. Colt Mason was staring at her with those intense black eyes again as if he was trying to see into her mind and soul. Maybe even her heart.

She wouldn't let anyone there, not ever again.

Besides, he was probably trying to judge whether she was a killer.

“Where's my son?” She clutched his shirt. “Is he hurt?”

“Petey is fine,” Colt said. “He's at my office.”

“What? I thought that social worker took him to a foster home.”

Colt covered her hands with his and peeled her fingers loose. “She dropped him off at Magnolia Manor, but as soon as the children went inside for lunch, he bolted and ran down to GAI. Apparently you told him that some nice men there helped children.”

Relief mushroomed inside Serena, and she found herself hanging on to his hands. Caution told her not to trust him, but the fact that she had used those exact words with Petey made her relax slightly.

“You have fifteen minutes,” Sheriff Gray interjected.

Colt nodded to the sheriff, and he strode back to the front of the jail.

“He must be so scared,” she whispered. “Are you sure he's okay?”

“I'm certain.” Colt hesitated, an awkward second passing as he released her hands. “Do you feel better now?”

She nodded, searching his strong face for the truth. This man looked hard, cold, forceful, as if he'd seen the worst in humans and was trying to figure out where she stood on the pendulum, if he should be protecting her son from her. That suspicious look cut through her like a knife. “You scared me to death. When you said GAI, I thought…”

“That he'd been kidnapped,” Colt said darkly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. Petey is in my office. One of the other agents, Derrick McKinney, is staying with him. His wife, Brianna, works at Magnolia Manor where the social worker took Petey.”

“So you'll send him back there?”

“We have to follow the law, but Brianna is a great lady,” Colt said. “She has a son of her own, and loves those kids. Trust me, she'll be like a second mother to him.”

He obviously meant to make her feel better, but rage churned through Serena at the thought of anyone else taking care of her son.

“Petey should be with me.” She scanned her bleak surroundings. Concrete floor, dingy concrete wall covered in graffiti. Scratchy, faded wool blanket on top of a cot with a mattress so thin the springs bore into her. “And I shouldn't be here. I haven't done anything wrong.”

Colt's gaze scrutinized her. “Petey told me a little bit
about what happened,” Colt said. “But I'd like to hear your version.”

Serena hesitated, doubts creeping in. “Do you have some ID?”

His eyebrow shot up in question, but he removed his wallet and flashed his GAI badge. So he was really a private investigator. “If you're worried that I'm working for the sheriff, I'm not. Your son hired me.”

Her gaze latched with his. “Petey hired you?”

A smile quirked at his mouth. “Yes, he offered me all the money in his piggy bank.”

Fresh pain and love squeezed her heart. “I'll pay you,” she said firmly. “You're not taking Petey's money.”

His jaw hardened. “I never said I'd accept it.”

She frowned at his curt tone. He almost sounded offended. “It's just that…I feel bad for my son. Ever since my husband died, Petey thinks he has to be man of the house.”

A pained look crossed Colt's face. “A big job for a little guy.”

“Exactly.” Her voice cracked. “He doesn't deserve this right now. He's been through so much already….”

Colt cleared his throat. “Then let's see if we can clear up this matter, and get you home with him. Now, tell me what happened last night.”

Serena chewed on her bottom lip. Lord help her. She hated Parker for dying. And she hated feeling helpless, as if she was failing her son.

Even worse, she hated to give her trust to a stranger. After all, Parker's murder had taught her not to trust anyone.

 

C
OLT STUDIED
Serena Stover, his nerves on edge. He understood her wariness to trust. If little Petey was telling the truth, it sounded as if Lyle Rice was a bastard and had probably deserved his fate.

But kids lied to protect their mothers all the time. What if she had used that fire poker on the man? Or what if he'd come back after Petey went to bed, and they'd fought? She could argue self-defense.

Unless she had gone after the man with the intent to kill him…

But everything about this woman, from her delicate bone structure to her wild curly hair to those mesmerizing terror-stricken eyes, screamed that she was a victim.

“Serena?” he asked.

She worried her bottom lip for another moment, then inhaled a deep breath. “Like I said before, Petey's father died a couple of years ago. He was a cop, shot in the line of duty.”

He didn't know what that had to do with anything, but simply nodded, silently urging her to continue.

“I…haven't dated since he died.” She picked at a loose thread on that scraggly blanket. “I didn't want to. I was grieving.”

“But you decided to go out with this man Lyle?”

She nodded, regret wrenching her face. “The worst mistake of my life.”

He let that comment simmer for a moment. “Go on.”

She lifted her gaze to his, tears swimming in the crystal orbs.

God, that hurt look sucker punched him and made him want to yank her in his arms and comfort her. Made him want to promise her he'd make everything right.

But that wasn't a promise he was sure he could keep.

“Serena, I'm not judging you for dating. That's human, normal.”

She sighed, then glanced away, and he realized she had judged herself. That she felt guilty, as if she was cheating on her husband when he was dead and never coming back. She must have loved him deeply.

“Anyway, Lyle and I only went out a couple of times,” she said softly. “First coffee. Then a movie. But last night we had dinner, and I sensed something was different, that he was ready to take things to the next level.”

“You mean sex?”

A blush crept onto her cheeks, then a sliver of fear darkened her eyes. “Yes.”

“But you weren't ready?”

She shook her head. “No. Not at all.” She swallowed, then licked her lips, making him uncomfortably aware that she was sensuous and fragile and a woman.

“Anyway, when he brought me home, he came in for a drink, which I never should have allowed,” she added beneath her breath. “Then he came on to me. I told him right away that it wasn't going to work between us and asked him to leave.”

Colt didn't like the images forming in his mind. “But he didn't?”

She twisted that ratty blanket in her hands, fidgeting. “No, he got angry, then pushy. I asked him to leave
again, but he refused to accept my rejection, and he pushed me against the fireplace.”

She paused, her breath coming faster. “Then Petey came in, and…” Emotion thickened her voice. “Petey tried to pull him away from me, but he threw him to the floor.”

Her hands knotted into fists around the blanket. “So I grabbed the fire poker and ordered him to get out.”

“Then he left without a fight? You two didn't struggle?”

“No, but I did knee him in the groin. Then he did leave.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But he was seething and before he went out the door, he warned me I'd be sorry, that I had no idea who I was messing with.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “God, I am sorry, but not that I told him to leave. I'm sorry I ever met the man.”

So far her story matched Petey's.

Colt gripped the cot edge to keep from drawing her up against him. Her fragile body was trembling, her lip turning blue where she kept worrying it with her teeth.

“What happened after he left?”

She shifted restlessly, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. “Petey was upset, so I cuddled him for a while and lay down with him until he fell asleep. This morning we were having breakfast when the sheriff knocked on the door.” She waved her hand. “Then they tore Petey away from me and arrested me….”

“Lyle didn't come back during the night? Maybe he broke in and attacked you—”

“No,” Serena said firmly. “He didn't come back, I didn't fight with him, and I didn't go to his place. In fact, I've never been to his house.” Her voice grew stronger. “And I would never leave Petey alone.
Never.
”

Colt frowned. “Do you have proof, someone who can alibi you?”

“Petey, but he was asleep.”

“Did you make or receive any phone calls during the night? Were you on the computer?”

“No, I fell asleep beside Petey, then woke up around four and went to my bed.”

Damn. A typical single mother routine, but not much for an alibi.

Colt tapped his foot, thinking. “Did the sheriff mention the evidence he has against you? How he knew you were involved with Rice?”

Serena's forehead puckered. “No.”

“How about the cause or time of death?”

She shook her head. “No, he hasn't told me anything.”

A situation he would rectify.

“Tell me more about Rice. What did he do for a living? How did you two meet?”

Serena heaved a breath. “He told me he was an entrepreneur, that he had investments in small companies. I run a bookkeeping business out of my home, and one of my clients gave him my name as a reference in case he needed my services.”

He definitely needed more background information on Rice. “Have you phoned a lawyer yet?”

A sense of despair seemed to wash over her. “No. I haven't had a chance to call.” Her voice cracked again. “Besides, I don't know
who
to call. I've never needed a criminal attorney before.” She swung her gaze toward the cell door. “I can't believe I need one now.”

Colt gave up the battle to keep his distance, and tugged her hands into his. “Listen to me, Serena. I know a good lawyer. I'll put in a call to her.”

The sheriff's footsteps echoed down the hall, and Colt stood. “Hang in there. I'll call my friend about arranging your bail. And I'm going to question the sheriff and find out more about Rice's murder.”

Sheriff Gray appeared at the door, keys jangling as he motioned to Colt.

Serena rose and gripped his arm. “Please, Colt. Tell Petey I love him. And don't let him end up in the system. I grew up there myself. It's not pretty.”

He'd been a cop long enough to know what could happen, too. But the law was the law, and his hands were tied.

Petey was going back to Magnolia Manor.

 

S
ERENA PACED
the jail cell, the tiny space closing around her. The nauseating scent of old sweat, urine and dirt wafted around her, nearly suffocating her.

She felt trapped. Panicky. And worried sick about her son.

Colt Mason's face flashed into her mind, and a sliver of something frightening stirred in her belly. He had a
strong, prominent jaw that seemed permanently set in anger. That crooked nose, the scar on his forehead and his black, intense eyes gave him a menacing look.

But she'd heard a tenderness in his voice when he'd mentioned Petey. And if he worked with GAI—and she had seen his badge as proof—then he had to answer to his boss and the other agents, meaning he had to be legitimate.

His questions about Lyle also roused her own questions. What would the sheriff tell him about her case? Sheriff Gray had to have some kind of evidence to hold her. But what kind of evidence could he possibly have against her?

Her shoulders and body ached with fatigue and tension, and she collapsed onto the cot, sick at the thought of having to spend the night in the cell.

At the thought of Petey sleeping in a foster home or orphanage where God knew what could happen to him.

He was so little, so young. He wouldn't know how to protect himself against the bullies or the street-savvy kids. And he didn't have enough strength to protect himself if one of the caretakers assaulted him.

Memories of one foster father in particular taunted her, and she automatically rubbed at the scar below her breastbone.

His wife…she'd been just as bad. A religious fanatic who'd sacrificed Serena to her husband in order to save herself from his vile touches. God's will, the woman had said.

But God never meant for a man to do the things that
man had done to her. God never meant for people to hurt children.