Texan's Baby (11 page)

“He offered protective custody.”

“Won't the lake house be pretty much the same thing?” she asked.

Dawson nodded as he heard Mason cry in the other room. He told Melanie to hold on as he went to his son. Mason wanted down immediately, so Dawson complied. The little guy charged into the next room still half-asleep.

Melanie scooped him in her arms, wincing when he made contact with her burns.

“Want me to take him?” Dawson wasn't being territorial. He wanted to give her a chance to heal.

“No, thanks. I got this.” She put Mason in his high chair and then gave him a small bowl of Cheerios while she cut up a banana and poured milk in his special cup.

She sat at the table next to him while he ate; then she wiped his face and hands and drew him to her chest, holding him as though she might never see him again.

Dawson understood why she'd want to do that after her near-death experience. She had to have considered the possibility at some point last night.

“I need to make contact with the guys back home.” He needed to check in with his friends in Mason Ridge, who would no doubt start to worry if he didn't show up in town soon. Plus, he wanted to pick their brains about Sprigs.

And there were half a dozen other calls he needed to make to keep his affairs in order as he kept Melanie and Mason safe. Keeping his job had never been more important now that he had a child. Luckily, he'd been saving his vacation days and had another week before he ran out of those. The investigation could take longer and he had no idea what he'd do then. No way was he going back to work until Sprigs had been properly dealt with. They'd have to consider protective custody for her and Mason at that point.

Melanie turned her back to him and he assumed she was wiping away tears. She kissed the top of Mason's head. A few seconds later, she turned to face him again. “Speaking of touching base with people, I should call my sister. She'll worry if she doesn't hear from me and I can't have her showing up here unannounced.”

“My folks will start worrying soon, too. I've been holding off contacting everyone back home until we're all clear. Not sure if Sprigs knows about Mason and I don't want to give him information he doesn't already have. I figure news will spread quickly that I'm a father.” Dawson didn't say how easy it would be for Sprigs to make Mason disappear into his network, and that might be the ultimate punishment to Melanie if he couldn't have her.

Dawson also couldn't help noticing how uncomfortable Melanie was every time he mentioned his family.

* * *

T
HE
DRIVE
TO
the lake house ate up most of the morning. The driver of the van had been pleasant and had put on a movie for Mason to keep him occupied. An unmarked sedan drove closely behind them.

Melanie was still shaken by the events of last night.

Now that Sprigs had shown himself, the feds had a starting point to narrow their search. She would hold on to that thought tightly.

Also, the fact that they would be watching her and Mason twenty-four hours a day was a welcome addition. She had Dawson and several law enforcement agencies backing him up. The only daunting thought was how easily Sprigs seemed to get away and how determined he was to take her with him.

A determined psychopath intent on possessing her was the most frightening scenario she could imagine.

Dawson had been quiet on the long ride to the lake house. Based on his intense expression, there had to be a thousand thoughts like hers rolling around in his head.

She had never been to his family's lake house before and she couldn't remember a time when anyone else had, either. Had the family stopped using the place after Bethany died?

The van parked on the pad behind the house.

Two men wearing camo pants, work boots and T-shirts exited the building. They signaled the driver, which must've been the okay sign because he cut off the engine and unlocked the doors.

Dawson stepped outside first. He helped Melanie out after she unbuckled Mason and pulled him to her chest, wincing as he brushed against her burns.

Luckily, he seemed unfazed by the changes in routine.

Melanie had no idea what to expect once she got inside the log cabin. All she really cared about was a soft bed, good security and a workable kitchen in order to prepare meals for Mason.

“Is there any chance there's a crib in there anywhere?” she asked. If not, she could prop pillows around him.

Dawson nodded, pausing for a second before he opened the door and walked in.

The warm-wood, cozy-cabin feeling extended inside. The great room was anchored by a two-story tumbled-stone fireplace. The windows displayed the lake beyond. She'd half expected there to be dust everywhere, but the place had been perfectly preserved.

The great room was open to the kitchen, which had all the necessary appliances. Everything was in good shape and looked barely used. The white appliances were a nice contrast to the darker tile countertops. There was a microwave and a fridge.

“When was the last time you came here?” she asked, looking around. Dawson was right about one thing. No one would expect them to be there.

He didn't answer.

In one corner of the room was a toy box filled with baby dolls, books and Barbie dolls. There was a pink blanket folded neatly on the tan sectional. A thick cotton blanket was folded over the back of part of the sofa.

Melanie looked at Dawson. He stood there, staring out the window toward the lake, looking lost and alone. Based on the intensity of his expression, facing the place was harder than he wanted to acknowledge. And her heart felt as if it were locked in a vise while witnessing his pain. Breathing hurt.

Mason wiggled in her arms, his gaze locked on to the toys.

“Would you like to take him while I get the rest of his stuff from the van?” she asked Dawson, hoping that holding his son would help ease his pain.

Having Mason was the most grounding experience of Melanie's life. No matter how deep her pain had been at leaving Dawson behind, she'd held tightly to her little boy.

He turned to look at his son, and the pain in his expression only increased.

Her stress that Dawson's mother had been right sat heavy on her chest. Seeing him like this made her fear the worst. If Dawson had known about Mason, it would have ruined his life. And it was too late to turn back now.

“I'll get the stuff from the van,” he said, and his voice was gruff.

Was reality hitting him that Mason might've inherited the gene?

Melanie stared out the window, looking at the view. It was another warm sunshiny day in Central Texas. The waves on the lake sparkled like glass.

The heat would be unbearable soon and she'd never felt more hemmed in than she did right now.

She needed air.

Chapter Thirteen

“Want to go outside and see the water, Mason?” Melanie opened the sliding glass door onto the deck facing the water. The temperature felt much cooler on this side of the house and she figured that was most likely because of the breeze off the lake.

Mason's face broke into a wide smile.

“Ma'am,” came from behind her.

The voice startled Melanie. She spun around to find one of the agents in camo pants filling the door frame.

“I'd feel more comfortable if you came inside or allowed an agent to accompany you when you leave the house.” He introduced himself as Special Agent Norse but asked her to call him Andy.

The whole moment was awkward and uncomfortable, but if it would keep Mason safe, she wouldn't resist. Going inside, seeing Dawson in his current state, would just break her heart all over again. Besides, she knew him well enough to know that he needed time to sort out his feelings. He wouldn't want Mason to see his father struggling to this degree, and Melanie had no idea how to help. The one thing that always worked for her when life overwhelmed her—focusing on Mason—seemed to make the problem worse for Dawson. After all, it was Mason he was concerned about in the first place.

“I'd like to take my son for a walk,” she said.

“Mind if I come with you?” Andy was beside them in a heartbeat.

“Sure.” She didn't say what she was really thinking...that she wanted to be alone with her son. Besides, Andy was a nice guy and he was only doing his job.

Melanie set Mason down and took his hand. It would do him good to get some exercise after sitting in the van all morning and he seemed eager to explore the new place.

His smile, which was exactly his father's, had a way of brightening even the darkest situations. And it was that smile that she'd focused on when she'd driven her car into a brick wall last night.

“How old is your son?” Andy asked as they cleared the yard and headed toward a path around the lake.

“He's eighteen months.” She owed her life to the person who'd invented air bags.

“Got a newborn at home,” Andy said.

“Boy or girl?” She smiled. It was nice to talk about something normal for a change.

“Boy. Can't wait until he can start walking. I tease my wife all the time that he's all hers for now. Once he's old enough, we're heading out camping.” Andy wore a proud papa smile and it softened his serious expression. He looked like the camping-outside type. He was tan, despite having light hair and blue eyes, and had to be in his early thirties. He was half a foot shorter than Dawson and was built on a sturdy, muscular frame. As nice as he seemed, she had no doubt he'd be deadly. The gun on his hip reminded her of the fact.

“Sounds like fun.” She imagined Dawson doing those things with Mason and it made her happy. No doubt having a man in his life would be a great thing for her son. She could see that so clearly now.
If
Dawson could get past his fears. There had been no doubt that he would earlier. That was before she'd seen his expression inside the lake house with all the reminders of Bethany around.

One thing was clear. He was battling demons, and she hoped that he would win for Mason's sake.

And maybe, just a little bit, for her sake, too.

Andy sent a text. “Need to stay in communication with the guys at base so no one gets their feathers ruffled that we're not at the house.”

Mason pointed somewhere toward the middle of the lake and started babbling excitedly.

Something out there had him fired up.

How sad was it that Melanie's first reaction was panic?

“Fish,” Mason said clearly.

It was the first time he'd used that word. She bent down to his level to see what he was talking about. It seemed Mason was learning a new word every day. He was growing and changing so quickly that she almost wished she could freeze time.

“Mama, fish,” he said proudly.

Sure enough, there was a splash twenty-five feet away from them.

“Did that fish jump, Mason?”

He smiled up at her and her heart melted a little more.

“That's a great fish.” Andy bent down on the other side of Mason.

Mason clapped his hands. “Fish.”

“Stay down,” Andy said quietly as he scanned the lake, no doubt making sure there was nothing but fish around. He studied movement on the other side in the swaying grass.

Melanie's heart pounded against her ribs.

A few seconds later, another small splash came.

“All clear,” Andy said.

Mason repeated the last word, which came out more like “kere.”

Standing on weak legs, she took a deep breath. Everything inside her wanted to go back to the house, close the blinds and hide. The thought Sprigs could be out there somewhere, watching, sent creepy shivers racing up and down her spine.

But could he?

After that crash, he had to be hurt at the very least. No one had actually seen him since, which could mean that he's dead. Couldn't it?

Worrying about her own safety was one thing, thinking about Sprigs hurting Mason...an explosion of anger blasted her in the chest.

She couldn't even go there.

Andy's phone rang. At least they had cell coverage.

Melanie took Mason to the water's edge to get a closer look, gripping his hand tightly. Her all-too-brave little boy would jump in blindly if she let him. To have that kind of trust again. What was that like?

Speaking of which, she needed to call Abby. Her baby sister would be worried that Melanie hadn't reached out. They normally spoke every few days. Abby's classes at University of Texas at Austin would begin soon and she was most likely sucking up the last few days of sunshine at Zilker Park before another crazy-busy semester began and she stayed glued to her laptop or a book.

Melanie wished she'd brought her phone outside with her. She had a no-cell policy when it came to spending time with Mason, and habit had her leaving hers in her purse.

Andy ended his call.

“Special Agent Randall has arrived and would like to speak to you,” he said.

Melanie nodded, and then focused on Mason. “Ready to race back to the house, buddy?”

“Uh-huh.” Another smile spread across Mason's face revealing tiny white teeth. He turned, let go of Melanie's hand, and burst toward the path.

“Nice. I'll have to remember that one for later,” Andy said with appreciation in his voice.

“I learned by watching other moms at the playground. This little trick saves me from many a meltdown.” Melanie jogged past the agent, who immediately fell in step behind.

Inside, Melanie scooped up Mason, balanced him on her hip and then scanned the room for Dawson.

There was no sign of him anywhere and that didn't sit well.

A man who was medium height and build with a serious face, wearing dark slacks, a button-down shirt and brown rubber-soled shoes, walked in the back door. He introduced himself as Special Agent Randall.

She crossed the room, exchanged greetings and shook his outstretched hand.

Mason mimicked the gesture, sticking his hand out.

Randall shook Mason's hand next.

“Nice to meet you, big fella,” he said, smiling down at her little boy.

Mason smiled shyly.

It was past her son's lunchtime and Melanie figured he'd be getting fussy soon if she didn't get something in his tummy.

“Can we talk in the kitchen?” she asked. “He hasn't eaten yet.”

“Take your time,” Special Agent Randall said. “I need to update the others anyway. We'll be by the vehicles when you're done.”

“Good luck with your little boy,” she said to Andy as he filed out of the room.

“Thanks. You have a sweet kid there.” He motioned toward Mason.

Dawson walked into the great room, his gaze moving from Andy to Mason with a frown.

“I'll feed him,” he said, and his voice was raspy.

One look at his heavy expression and she could see the anguish and sadness written all over his face. It was the same look she'd witnessed all those years ago at his sister's funeral. And the real reason she'd sat on his steps every day afterward until he came out into the sunlight again.

“Can I hold him?” Dawson asked.

“Of course,” she said. Mason was already holding his hands out toward his father.

Dawson took him and held him to his chest for a long moment before kissing him on top of his head and releasing a breath.

Melanie, tears soaking her eyes, busied herself pulling together lunch from the food Dawson had packed.

They'd have to go out for more supplies later, but there was enough to get through the afternoon.

After lunch, she cleaned up while Dawson handled the nap routine.

Bethany's crib was still in the master and that was where Dawson told Melanie she should sleep, since it was already set up.

She didn't argue, not in his current state. But they were going to have a conversation about the arrangements later. No way did she feel comfortable sleeping in his mother's bed. Just the thought of that woman sent angry pins poking through Melanie's skin. A rash would've felt better.

Now wasn't the time to get into it.

By the time Dawson came back, Special Agent Randall had returned and Melanie had poured three cups of coffee.

The trio assembled at the massive knotty pine dining table off the kitchen. She had so many questions reeling around in her mind. The dots she was having the most trouble connecting had to do with how any of this was tied to the original abductions.

“Going all the way back to the beginning, how does any of this tie into Thomas Kramer?” Melanie asked. “He took seven-year-old boys. How is he linked to the ring?”

“He was and that's really what led investigators to the operation in the first place. He'd been identifying younger kids, circling back to help abduct them in some cases. He was one of several spotters the masterminds used to target victims. You already know that he worked in the breakdown crew for the Renaissance Festival.”

“Why didn't law enforcement figure him out then?” she asked.

“If he was the only one involved, it would've been easier. The trail of kids would have followed the festival and the pattern. They didn't. Most of the kids were much younger and the spotters waited six months or more after the festival had gone to strike. Another problem was that there were other spotters involved and they typically took younger kids.”

“Beckett Alcorn has been protected by his father and his money. That couldn't have made it easy to identify him,” Dawson added.

“Which is true. Beckett had his father, and his father had a relationship with both the mayor and the sheriff. It was difficult to make the linkages we needed early on,” Randall said. “Kramer abducting those seven-year-old boys fourteen years apart had to do with a personal issue. He became greedy.”

“What does that mean?” Melanie asked.

“He had a son who died at the age of seven,” Randall supplied.

“So Kramer is out there identifying targets and in some cases abducting young kids and he thinks why not take an older one for myself?” Dawson confirmed. “How any father could do that to another parent is beyond me.”

“Which is the reason Shane Hughes was located safely earlier this summer,” Randall said.

“And what happened to him?” Melanie asked. “What did Kramer do while he had Shane?”

“Not much. He used his aunt Sally to help raise Shane, and by all accounts, he was well cared for. Of course, Kramer lied to her about how Shane came into his life and she didn't question him,” Randall said.

“The other boy they found recently. What was his name?” Melanie looked to Dawson.

“Jason,” he said.

“What about him? Didn't they find him living in terrible conditions?” Melanie asked.

“Kramer was aging and starting to lose grip on reality before the car crash that killed him. He was hoarding and he kept the boy at that filthy house with him after he lost his job,” Randall said. “The best we can tell he must've been trying to figure out another excuse to give his aunt for bringing home another boy not so long after Shane went into the military.”

“It's a miracle that Shane's okay. That he was never hurt,” Melanie said, tears welling in her eyes. She couldn't even think about Mason being taken away from her and not finding him again until he was grown. She'd always understood her friend Rebecca's need to search for her brother Shane, on some level, especially because Melanie had a little sister that she loved. Now that Melanie was a mother, she couldn't fathom living through the kind of pain Mrs. Hughes had endured or imagine a life without Mason.

She prayed she'd never have to try.

* * *

“D
ID
YOU
GET
anything else out of Beckett this morning?” Dawson asked Randall.

“He's holding strong to his story that Sprigs is the leader and that it's only the two of them in the operation.” Randall shook his head. “We know that for the line of bull it is. The problem is that he's lawyered up. Dad is sparing no expense for his son's defense.”

“There's no way they could get away with this for so long if it was just the two of them,” Dawson agreed.

“Their networks are too sophisticated. They could be aligned with any number of criminal organizations running other ‘products' through the state,” Randall said. “We've had our eye on a number of possible links.”

“I realize that Melanie was just attacked last night, but I'm guessing that this level of security means you think he's going to strike again soon.” Dawson glanced at Melanie, whose face had gone pale.

Randall shook his head. “He might be dead and we're hoping to find his body. However, he's escalating his fixation on Ms. Dixon and we believe it's because of the pressure on him.”