Peekaboo Baby (5 page)

He lifted a shoulder. “Because there's a lot more than just one. But then, I don't have to remind you of that.”

Delaney paused a moment and nodded. “No.”

She stood there, looking exhausted but determined to dig until they learned the truth. She also looked vulnerable. The vulnerable part wasn't so obvious, but he knew it was just beneath the surface. The fact she was trying to hide it brought out some of his own feelings.

He wanted to protect her.

Which made him an idiot.

Delaney wasn't some money-hungry opportunist out to extort from him. During the past couple of hours, he'd gotten past those particular allegations. But she was his enemy's daughter. And she was embroiled in some kind of…whatever. He couldn't dismiss the potential issues that had surfaced from the New Hope clinic and Dr. Keyes.

Nor would it be wise to overlook the obvious.

“I know we've been through this, but I need you to think hard. Is it possible that your father knew you were coming to see me tonight?” Ryan asked.

He braced himself for her to unleash a vehement protest, A declaration of her father's innocence. After all, it was practically an accusation. A really serious one. Her father's involvement would mean that he'd essentially tried to murder them.

“I didn't tell him,” Delaney answered. No protest, and she didn't add anything else for several seconds. “But I suppose he could have found out. I mean, my sitter knew where I was. If he called her, she might have told him.”

She became more ashen with each word, and her breath was no longer level. Delaney glanced at the clock on the wall and then motioned toward the door. “I have to go to the ladies' room.” She obviously needed to come to terms with what she'd just realized—her father could have been the one behind the wheel of the other car.

“This is a small town and an equally small sheriff's office, so it's my guess that Dillon Knight won't be able to offer you any protection,” Ryan added before she could walk away. “If you decide you want or need it, that is.” He took a sheet from the notepad that the deputy had left on the table, and he wrote down the phone number of the person who was in charge of his security. “Quentin Kincade. He's a good man. Just call him if you have any concerns. Or if you prefer—you can call me.”

Her fingers brushed against his when she took the sheet of notepaper from him. It barely qualified as a touch.

Barely.

But she focused on their hands. Specifically, that touch. She drew her brows together, clutched the paper and retreated.

Ryan took a similar mental step back. Whoa. It was a lot of reaction for a simple touch. A leftover effect from spent adrenaline maybe?

Yes.

That had to be it.

He wasn't about to entertain any other possibility.

He glanced at the ring on her middle finger. “Your butterfly's gone,” he said.

“Yes.” She glanced at it and nodded. Her forehead bunched up. “It broke off and must have fallen off in the water.”

“Was it valuable?”

Another nod. “To me it was.”

Yet another feeling he didn't want. Sheesh. Why did he have a sudden urge to head back to the ditch and try to find the butterfly?

He was obviously losing it, that's why.

“I really am sorry for everything that's happened,” she said.

There was a slight hitch in her voice. An edgy nervousness that hadn't been there before that whole touching encounter or the butterfly conversation. Ryan didn't know which had caused the change, and he didn't want to know.

“I'm sorry, not just for tonight, but also for what went on with my father.”

She didn't give him time to respond. Not that he would have known what to say to her apology anyway. Delaney turned and headed for the door, leaving him alone in the quiet room to ponder what the hell had just happened.

He looked down at his fingers, at the spot where they'd made contact. A spot just above his wedding ring that was still tingling. Potent stuff. Like his entire encounter with her.

The hypothetical cloning.

Her emotional reaction to his son's photos.

Their argument.

The accusations.

The car accident.

All of it, every excruciating detail, was whirling around in his head until it was quickly becoming a blur. Still, Ryan forced himself to concentrate, to focus on one facet of the problem at a time. And one facet was definitely Delaney. Not her situation. But Delaney herself. His body wanted her, no sense denying that, but what he wanted more was answers about what was going on.

Was the technology for cloning still in the hypothetical stage? Had the New Hope clinic done the unthinkable? Or better yet, had they attempted it, failed, but for some reason wanted to let Delaney think they had succeeded?

While that theory made his heart ache for the son he'd never see again, it was a theory that had merit. And that brought him back to square one. Because that theory would no doubt involve some means of trying to get him to pay up for what was probably a hoax.

In this case, Ryan had to wonder if that would lead them directly to Richard Nash, Delaney's father.

The door opened, and Ryan braced himself to face Delaney again, but he relaxed when he saw Sheriff Knight with a piece of paper in his hand.

“I need you to sign at the bottom,” Knight instructed. “And then you're free to go. By the way, your driver's waiting for you out front.”

Ryan complied, using the pen from the desk, and he handed the signed statement to the sheriff. “I'll be hearing from you?”

The man nodded. “As soon as I've had a chance to conduct a thorough investigation.”

Thorough, perhaps, but it was an exercise that might not yield a thing. Ryan hadn't remembered hearing the sound of the other car hitting its brakes, and there had been no collision between the two vehicles. And that meant, there probably wouldn't be any physical evidence.

“Go home,” Sheriff Knight added, as if reading his mind. “Get some rest. Let me do my job.”

The sheriff was nearly out the door before Ryan stopped him. “But what about Ms. Nash? She's in the ladies' room—”

“She left.”

Ryan frowned. “Left?”

“Yeah. Right before I came in here. I saw her in the hall, had her sign her statement, and asked one of my deputies to drive her home. She said she needed to get back to her little boy.”

Along with his tingling fingers, Ryan experienced other sensations he didn't welcome.

Disappointment.

And concern.

Because if the accident hadn't really been an accident, if someone had intentionally set out to harm them tonight, then that meant Delaney, and her son, might still be in grave danger.

Delaney huffed. Here, it'd been two days since the car crash, and she was still reliving it. Every excruciating, terrifying moment. This had to stop.

Forcing herself to concentrate, she added several notes to the lesson plans for the three-year-old group at her day-care center. And then she reread what she'd just typed.

The notes didn't make sense.

Her mind just wasn't on veggie alphabet activities, bunny sugar cookies and watercolor rainbows. Ironic, since those were usually the kinds of preschool activities that would get her mind off her adult problems.

She tried again, going through the steps of each activity. Calculating a supply list and time allocation. Imagining how the children would react. There'd be smiles, laughter, the excitement of experiencing something new.

But even that couldn't pull her out of her gloomy mood.

Frustrated, she minimized the computer file, got up
from her desk, tucked in the corner of her family room, and went to the doorway of the nursery to check on Patrick.

He was still asleep.

Thankfully, the turmoil she'd been experiencing hadn't spilled over to her son. She intended for it to stay that way. Even if there were times, like now, when it seemed an impossible task.

The accident near Ryan's estate was just one of her problems. Even though it was monumental,
and it was,
that wasn't what was troubling her most. No, her top worry stemmed from the whole cloning allegation.

And the fact that perhaps it wasn't an allegation at all.

By now, Ryan had certainly considered that. Probably more than considered it. He was perhaps already conducting his own investigation, and sooner or later that query would encompass finding the truth about Patrick's biological parents.

Biological parents that might include Ryan himself.

At the disturbing thought, Delaney sank onto the sofa and hugged a throw pillow to her chest, hoping to tamp down the emotions that were so close to springing to the surface. Because if what Keyes had seen in the embryologist's records was true, if Patrick was indeed a clone of Ryan's son, then…

“Ryan might have a claim to get custody of my son,” Delaney whispered.

There.

She'd said it.

And even more, it was true. Too bad she hadn't realized that
before
she made the frantic drive out to see Ryan. What she should have done was taken the time to examine the consequences of that visit. Mercy, she'd all but handed him the very information he could use against her.

Simply put, if Ryan could prove that he was Patrick's biological father, he could try to take her son from her.

And Ryan had the money and resources to do it.

Delaney forced herself to stay calm, but inside she was screaming. She couldn't lose her child. She just couldn't. Patrick was everything to her.

Her son.

Her life.

Delaney had dreamed of him long before she'd ever stepped foot in the New Hope clinic. Even before she'd gotten pregnant with him, she had believed that one day she would have her own family.

And she'd succeeded.

Despite her infertility and the fact that after several miserable failed relationships, she had given up on finding a significant other, she'd had faith that one day she would have a baby. Now, Ryan could snatch that all away from her.

At least, he could try.

She couldn't let him succeed.

The sound of the phone ringing shot through the
room. She'd been so deep in thought, it took her a moment to realize what it was. One glance at caller ID, and she knew this was a call she needed to take.

“Sheriff Knight,” Delaney greeted. She got up from the sofa and closed the nursery door so the conversation wouldn't wake Patrick. “I've been waiting to hear from you. Did you find out anything?”

“I did an investigation, even called in one of the Rangers to assist me, but I couldn't find anything to indicate this was more than just an accident.”

“An accident?” She knew her tone conveyed her doubts.

The sheriff didn't reconfirm it immediately. Instead, he paused and obviously went for a little rewording. “There's no evidence it was foul play.”

No.

But that didn't mean it wasn't.

There were some serious shades of gray here, and Delaney had given those shades a lot of consideration in the two days since she and Ryan McCall had gone into the irrigation ditch. The incident could have been some kind of warning. Maybe meant for Ryan. Or her. Neither of them could be excluded as the primary target.

I've made enemies,
Ryan had admitted to her that night at the sheriff's office.

Not exactly late-breaking news. On his rise to being one of the most successful businessmen in the state, he'd no doubt made dozens of enemies. Including her
father. And if that was the particular enemy who'd been in the other car, then maybe both she and Ryan had been his targets.

That thought made her feel sick to her stomach.

Yes, her father had been toeing the line between sanity and mental instability for a year and a half, but Delaney had a difficult time believing he would try to kill her.

“What about Dr. Keyes at the New Hope clinic?” Delaney asked the sheriff. “Were you able to question him?”

“He's on vacation and can't be reached.” Judging from his tightly spoken explanation, Knight wasn't pleased that he hadn't been able to interrogate the man. “But I'll definitely interview him when he returns.”

“
If
he returns,” she corrected.

“You know something I don't?” he quickly countered.

“No. But if Dr. Keyes believes he's under investigation for illegal medical practices, he might not be so eager to get back to work.”

“True. That's why I went ahead and called the clinic director, Dr. Emmett Montgomery, while you were writing your account of what happened. Montgomery knew all about the watchdog group's concerns and the alleged records of the embryologist, William Spears, and Montgomery dismissed them.”

She was taken aback at the disclosure. “So he told you about the cloning allegation?” Not that Delaney had thought it wouldn't surface at some point.

“He did, and he said the Physicians Against Uneth
ical Practices group makes a lot of unfounded allegations. Montgomery insists he runs a clean clinic, and that Spears wouldn't have been allowed to do any kind of illegal experiments at New Hope.”

“And you believe him?”

“Unless I find something to the contrary, I do. But if anything comes up, I'll give you a call.”

Delaney considered several responses, including a good airing of her concerns about her father, but she settled for a polite thank-you and goodbye.

She clicked off the phone and barely had time to put it back on the coffee table when there was a knock at the door. Normally, an unexpected visitor wouldn't have sent her heart pounding, but since the accident, her heart rate and her life had felt out of control.

Trying not to make a sound, Delaney tiptoed to the door and peeked out the corner of one of the stained-glass sidelight windows. The rippled water-glass didn't obscure the person standing on her front porch. One glimpse at her visitor, and her heart beat even harder.

“We need to talk,” Ryan called out, seeming to know she was there. She realized there were windows on her garage doors, and if he'd looked inside, he would have easily seen her car. A car that Ryan would recognize. After all, she'd driven it to his estate, and in turn, his driver had repaired and delivered it to her house.

Delaney considered walking away from the door, going into the nursery and hiding. That's what she des
perately wanted to do anyway. That, and to hold on to her son. But hiding would only delay the inevitable. One way or another, she had to face Ryan and convince him that no matter what the cloning allegations proved or disproved, her son's custody was not up for negotiation.

DNA might be a biological indicator, but it damn sure didn't make a person a parent.

She
was Patrick's parent. His
only
parent.

Delaney jerked open the door as if she'd declared war on it, but the brief fit of temper faded when she saw Ryan. He looked as if he hadn't slept in the two days since she'd last seen him.

And maybe he hadn't.

She certainly hadn't gotten much sleep.

Even with the fatigue, he still had an air of ruthlessness and authority about him. And good fashion sense. Perfectly tailored khakis, a classy black jacket, and a bronze-colored pullover shirt that was almost the same color as his hair. Obviously this was his
GQ
casual look, and it made her wonder if he even owned a pair of scruffy jeans. Probably not. He looked expensive. Smelled expensive.

And was.

“May I come in?” he asked.

Delaney hesitated, dreading the inevitable, but she finally stepped aside so he could enter. He walked in hesitantly. And he made a sweeping glance around the room before his eyes came to hers. There was no obvi
ous disapproval in his expression for her modest lifestyle. But she had to wonder what he thought of the way she lived. His bedroom was probably larger than her entire house.

“Sheriff Knight called me about a half hour ago,” Ryan commented.

She nodded. “I just got off the phone with him. He believes what happened was an accident.”

Ryan made a sound that could have meant anything. Or nothing. In fact, the sound was his only response, and it further unnerved her.

She opened her mouth to ask why he was there, but he spoke before she could. “I went back to the irrigation ditch, but I didn't find the butterfly you lost from your ring.”

Okay. That threw her a little off. “You actually looked for it?”

“Not specifically.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “But I kept my eye open for it. You said it was valuable.”

“Yes. Well, valuable in a sentimental way.” And even though she hadn't intended to give him an explanation, for some reason she felt as if she owed him one.

Good grief.

He'd actually looked for a tiny citrine butterfly that was smaller than a raisin? In a massive irrigation ditch, no less.

“I bought the charm the day I found out I was preg
nant with Patrick. A celebration gift of sorts. You know, the whole cocoon to the butterfly transformation thing?”

Sweet heaven, she was babbling. Worse, she was going on about something he couldn't possibly understand, much less care about.

“I know,” he said, just as she was ready to move to another subject.
Any
subject. “I bought myself something when I reached my first business milestone.”

“What you'd buy—a third-world country?” Yes, it was petty and smart-ass, but Delaney couldn't help it. Besides, for one brief second, the banter eased some of the unbearable tension between them.

“No. The third-world country came later.” No smile. But the remark was enough to let her know that he, too, could play smart-ass. “Actually, I bought an antique pocket watch that had once belonged to a Defender of the Alamo.” He shrugged. “A shrink would probably say I was trying to give myself a meaningful personal history to counteract my actual personal history, which wasn't so meaningful.”

Delaney didn't want to be fascinated by that, but she was. “Was that what you were trying to do?”

A muscle flicked in his jaw. “Of course.”

He left it at that. Which was just as well. She'd heard rumors that as a child Ryan had been abandoned by his teenaged mother, passed from one family member to another and then channeled into the foster-care system. He never mentioned these childhood events in interviews.
And it probably wasn't a good thing to discuss with him now. Delaney didn't want to feel any sympathy for this self-made man.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

He waited a few more seconds. There were several flicks of his jaw muscles and a slight shift of his posture. “I've been thinking about what happened the other night. In fact, I've given a lot of thought to everything that's gone on since you walked into my office. You know where this is leading, where it has to lead, right?”

That question did away with the semikindheartedness she felt over his butterfly search and his less-than-perfect childhood. “That depends on perspective, and from my perspective, all of it ends here. The accident was just that—an accident. And the allegations by the medical watchdog group are merely allegations.”

“You really believe that?”

She stared at him. “I
have
to believe that.”

“Well, I can't take the head-in-the-sand approach. For one thing, it could be dangerous.”

Delaney wanted to dash off a cool comeback, but his warning put a sizable dent in her composure. “You're working under the assumption that what happened is connected to the rumors associated with the New Hope clinic.”

“No. I'm working under the assumption that the attempted murder, aka the car accident, was connected to one of us. That means, it could ultimately be connected to your son.”

She shook her head and began to twist one of her rings. “But you said you didn't believe the technology exists for human cloning.”

“I don't. But someone else might believe it. Someone associated with the clinic who wants the watchdog group's allegations to go away.”

“Are you saying—”

“I'm saying we need answers, and I don't think we can rely on Sheriff Knight to get them for us.”

The ring fidgeting wasn't helping, so she tried pacing. Not far, and she kept herself positioned between Ryan and the nursery. “And how do you propose we get answers?”

He reached into his inside jacket pocket and extracted a small, clear plastic bag. Inside was what appeared to be a Q-tip.

“It's a buccal swab test kit to collect genetic material,” Ryan explained.