Mommy Midwife (16 page)

“It’s too dangerous. You saw the aftermath of what could happen. The burned, twisted metal. The dead and injured.”

“They aren’t after me.” She threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t want to be here anymore. Being watched over makes me feel claustrophobic. I can’t go for a walk if I feel like it. Can’t even open a window in this house.”

“It’s a drag,” he agreed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I’m grateful to my sister for giving me a safe place to stay. And to my parents for being concerned. And to you...” She stared into his deep, dark eyes. “I’m especially grateful to you. This time with you has been good, really good.”

“But it isn’t what you want.”

“All along I’ve planned to have the baby at my cabin. I’ve got everything arranged. A midwife friend of mine will come over and help.” She had envisioned a peaceful atmosphere in the mountains, surrounded by her favorite things, listening to music she loved. “I just want to go home.”

“That’s what I want, too. I want to be with you for the birth of our son.”

Though she hadn’t included Troy in her original plans, things were different between them now. She liked the idea of having him with her. “When can we leave?”

“Soon.” He slipped his arms around her. “Very soon.”

Chapter Fourteen

By eleven o’clock the next morning, Olivia’s frustration had built to an unbearable level. Though her sister’s house had plenty of room, she felt like the walls were shrinking and she couldn’t turn a corner without bumping into one of her family members. They were breaking down the wall of secrets, but they hadn’t developed the knack of talking honestly to each other. Instead of admitting that they were scared or had needs, they smiled politely and looked away.

She found Troy in the living room where he’d made a comfortable nest at the end of the leather sofa. He was reading a sports magazine and drinking black coffee from a mug. She sat next to him. “Do you think my family is excessively nervous?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at us. Bianca decided to work from home but can’t stay in her home office because she doesn’t want to miss anything. My dad keeps roaming from room to room while he talks on his cell phone and mutters to himself.”

“He’s got a lot on his plate,” Troy said, defending her father. “Arranging access so we can talk to Clark, trying to identify the attackers from last night, and damage control to make sure the Laughton family cover story is safe.”

“And my mom,” she said. “She’s puttering and actually doing housework. Believe me, that’s not her thing.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Well, let’s see.” She tapped the side of her head with her forefinger. “I’ve eaten breakfast, watched TV, read a bit, and gone back to the kitchen to forage. I’m as jumpy as the rest of them. Do you think we’re all as crazy as bedbugs?”

“A lot of secrets got spilled, and that’s hard to deal with.” He gave her a grin. “I have a suggestion.”

“I thought you might.” In contrast to her family, Troy was calm and self-possessed. The only hint of tension was his obsession with answering his cell phone, which never left his sight. “Tell me.”

“Since I pretty much destroyed the suit I borrowed from my brother, I wanted to visit Alex and find out the name of his dry cleaner. Do you want to come with me to the clinic?”

“Can we leave right now?”

When he took his car keys from his pocket and jingled them, she responded with the enthusiasm of a dieter hearing a dinner bell. After quickly telling her mom where they were going, Olivia exited with Troy.

The cloudless day was hot but it felt good. She enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her arms and bare legs. A clear, golden light spread across the lawns and drew the heads of dahlias and asters upward. As soon as she was belted into the passenger seat of the Range Rover, she lowered the window, preferring the fresh air to the cool of air-conditioning.

“I feel so free,” she said. “That’s kind of an exaggeration, isn’t it? Spending one morning with my family isn’t exactly like being in prison.”

“You can always blame it on the hormones,” he said drily.

“So true.”

Their trip to the clinic wasn’t going to be all fun and games. Carol Rainer was the clinic’s new receptionist, and Olivia wasn’t sure what would happen when they met again. The last time she’d seen Carol was in the hospital while she was recovering from the accident. They’d only spoken for a few moments. Carol had been too drugged up to make sense, and Olivia had been so devastated that all she could do was apologize again and again.

Almost nine months had passed, and Olivia had changed. She rested her hand on her belly. Her life was different now. And Carol? The fact that she was working at a clinic for the homeless meant that she’d made changes, too.

The clinic was located in a converted warehouse that was less than a mile away from the fashionable LoDo area of Denver. Though the windows on the dark brick building were washed and the sidewalk swept, there was nothing chic about this small health care facility. This wasn’t an emergency room, and they had no drugs on the premises. In this dodgy neighborhood, having anything stronger than aspirin was an invitation to robbery.

The purpose of the clinic was to diagnose, handle small problems, give free flu shots and refer patients to low-cost options for treatment. When Olivia was coming to Denver on a regular, twice-a-month basis, she offered prenatal and postnatal classes for moms in addition to giving exams. Once, she had delivered a baby here, but that had been an emergency.

Troy parked the Range Rover in a slanted space in front of a plumbing supply warehouse down the block from the clinic. Before opening his door, he checked the mirrors and looked over his shoulder. “We weren’t followed.”

She’d almost forgotten the danger. “Are you sure?”

“If we’d picked up a tail, I’d know.” He reached across the console and took her hand. “Are you okay with seeing Carol again?”

Her big, tough marine hated when she cried. “There might be tears.”

“Copy that.”

“I don’t know what else to expect.”

The trauma and tragedy of the accident had been so intense that she might never find closure. To tell the absolute truth, she didn’t really want to face Carol Rainer, but she couldn’t turn her back and walk away when Carol had made an effort to contact her. As she left the Range Rover and went into the clinic, Olivia braced herself.

The receptionist desk in the front waiting room was empty, but Carol squatted on the floor, refereeing a game between two toddlers in saggy diapers. She looked up when the door opened. When she saw Olivia, she stared for a few seconds until recognition set in.

Like a shot, Carol bounced to her feet and flew across the dingy tile floor. She wrapped Olivia in a tight hug and whispered, “I’ve thought about you so many times.”

“Me, too.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. Holding Carol brought back images. Olivia remembered the blood, the horror and the desperation as she fought to save the lifeless infant. But there were other times, better times. She remembered Carol laughing with her auburn hair pulled up in a ponytail and her pregnant belly bulging. There had been a day in Carol’s spacious kitchen when they talked about prenatal vitamins and baked cinnamon snickerdoodles.

Reluctantly, Olivia ended the hug and swabbed the tears from her cheeks. Carol did the same.

“You’ve got to tell me,” Olivia said. “How did you end up working here?”

“Because of you.”

“Me?”

In spite of her smile, Carol’s green eyes held a dark edge of pain that Olivia had seen in other parents who had lost children. “I wanted to get together with you, but there’s no chance that I’m ever going back to Dillon. I remembered you talking about the clinic in Denver, and I came here.”

“That explains how you got there, but why did you stay?”

“When I walked in the door, the place was total chaos. There were a dozen people waiting to be seen, and the receptionist had to leave. I offered to help out, and she gladly handed over the reins. Very gladly, I must say. She couldn’t wait to get out of here. But I liked the idea of doing something useful. And I was totally convinced when Alex came racing out of the back examination area, gave me one of his killer smiles and asked if I wanted a job.”

“That’s my bro.” Troy shook her hand. “I’m Troy Weathers.”

“I should have known. You look a lot alike.” Carol’s gaze focused on Olivia’s left hand. “Is he your fiancé?”

Explaining seemed too complicated. Olivia forced a smile. “You could say that.”

“Congratulations. You’re getting married. Having a baby. I’m happy for you.”

Olivia wished she could say the same. Carol had lost her baby, and it sounded like her marriage was no longer intact. Though Olivia could have dismissed the memories of the accident and pretended that she and Carol were nothing more than old friends, she didn’t want to bury those feelings. Taking Carol’s hand, she led her behind the reception desk, leaving Troy to entertain the two toddlers.

“After the accident,” Olivia said, “tell me what happened.”

“I was in bad shape, physically and emotionally. There were moments when I just wanted to die. As soon as I could get around in a wheelchair, we had a funeral. My son’s name was Arthur James Rainer. I buried him in a tiny white coffin.”

As she spoke, her shoulders slumped but her eyes were dry. This woman had been through the worst nightmare a parent could endure but it hadn’t destroyed her. She continued, “I’ll always love Arthur James. I don’t understand why he’s gone, but he is. It was an accident. I don’t blame Jarvis or myself, and I certainly don’t blame you, Olivia. That was why I wanted to see you. I needed to tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”

“I share your grief, Carol.”

“I know you do.” She gazed at Olivia’s belly. “I hope we can share in good times, too. I want you to consider me your friend.”

“What’s happened between you and your husband?”

“The last time I saw him was at the funeral. Our marriage was rocky before I got pregnant. The accident ended any affection we had for each other. Jarvis actually threatened to sue me for not wearing my seat belt in the accident.”

“I’m so sorry.” What a horrible thing to do to a grieving mother!

“Don’t be. For me, that threat was the last straw. My lawyer is going to take Jarvis for a boatload of money, maybe even part of his oil business.” She grinned. “I might be making a nice, juicy donation to the clinic.”

“Good for you.”

Across the room, Olivia saw Troy answer his cell phone. He signaled to her. “We need to go. That person we wanted to see last night has some time for us.”

Matthew Clark.
She took Carol’s hand. “I’ll be back later. If I don’t see you then, I’ll call. I want to stay in touch.”

Olivia wasn’t making an empty promise. There was an important lesson in her contact with Carol, something she needed to learn and to remember.

* * *

T
ROY KNEW HOW
difficult it had been for Olivia’s father to get this chance for them to interview Kruger, alias Matthew Clark. Security in the lockdown facility was intense with bomb-proof walls, no windows and armed guards. Several different law enforcement agencies were doing their damnedest to make sure nobody got a second chance to kill this man.

As Troy watched Olivia with her blond hair tumbling carelessly around her shoulders and her khaki shorts and her cute blue blouse with ruffles, he was struck by how out of place she was in this grim, gray environment. She ought to be posing for a portrait of serenity. Not facing a renowned international spy.

Two guards escorted them into the room where Kruger/
Clark was being held. The only furniture in the cell was a table and several hardback chairs, but it didn’t look like Kruger was being treated badly. He wasn’t shackled, and he wore his own clothing.

He rose from behind the table, nodded a greeting and offered a friendly smile. “I’ve been told that this lovely lady is responsible for my capture.”

“That’s correct,” she said. Her tone was ice-cold. Her eyes were determined and hard. Troy recognized the velvet-
and-steel resemblance to her mom.

“But you’re not the spy in the family, are you?” Kruger/
Clark sat behind the table and crossed his legs. “I should have known from the first time I met your parents and your sister introduced them as diplomats that they were spies.”

Troy said, “You should have known a lot of things, Kruger.”

“Please call me Clark,” he said. “I’ve grown accustomed to the name and the lifestyle. I’m going to miss my home in Aspen. Olivia, dear, you live in the mountains. You know how lovely it is in the autumn.”

“We’re not here to give you information,” Troy said.

“I know exactly what you want, Captain Weathers. You’re worried about my friends in Hatari, and you should be. They’re scary, even to me. And, sorry to say, I don’t know their target.”

Troy knew he’d already been questioned about the terrorist cell and had claimed ignorance of their motives or moves. “That’s the line you’re sticking with?”

“It’s the truth.”

Clark was a professional liar, clever enough to have hidden his identity for over twenty years. Troy would have welcomed the opportunity to question Clark in depth. But they had only five minutes, and Olivia had first dibs on their time. He pulled a chair away from the table and indicated that she should sit. “Ask your questions.”

She sat straight in the chair with her shoulders back. Her hands rested on her thighs. “You claimed that you didn’t know my parents worked for the CIA. Is that a lie?”

“I must say, it’s refreshing to talk to you. No subtlety. None at all.”

“Did you know my parents were spies?”

“No.”

His sly smile was ambiguous. At the party when they’d talked to him, Clark had been scared. Now, he acted with the arrogance of someone who thought he was the smartest guy in the room.

“Obviously,” she said, “you know Captain Weathers. Were you aware of his relationship to me?”

“Why on earth would I care?” His mouth curved in a sneer. “The marines were concerned with Hatari. They knew nothing about me.”