Читать книгу: «The Baby Protectors», страница 2

TWO

A gunshot cracked through the air. Carly gasped and jogged faster.

“Breathe,” she whispered to herself. She didn’t want to trip and fall because she was in a frantic state. She had to shove aside the fear pulsing through her body and get to safety.

What about the man who’d helped her? She hoped the bad guys hadn’t shot him.

Bad guys. They might have shot Mr. and Mrs. B. and now were after the baby. Well, they weren’t getting anywhere near sweet Mia as long as Carly was here to protect her. Carly might not be a martial arts expert or know how to handle a gun, but she was a fighter to her core.

Carly was the only thing standing between violent criminals and the innocent child strapped to her chest. Not entirely true. She wasn’t the only thing standing in their way. There was Mr. B.’s half brother, Whit.

Mr. and Mrs. Bremerton rarely mentioned extended family, nor had Mr. B. mentioned his handsome brother.

Handsome? Where had that come from? Must be the trauma of the past twenty minutes that had her noticing things like his warm blue eyes, eyes that radiated truth when he said she could trust him.

She knew better. He was a cop, and cops couldn’t be trusted.

As she crossed the well-manicured back lawn, she realized how exposed she was out here in the open. Carly spotted a shed. It was closer than the multimillion-dollar home in the distance, so she opted for a quick duck-and-cover.

When she approached the shed, she noted there was no lock on the door. She breathed a sigh of relief. Then she wondered if she was being watched by security cameras on the property. Couldn’t think about that now. Needed to hide long enough for police to rescue her.

Darting into the shed, she found a spot on the floor beside a large riding lawn mower. There were quite a few tools stored in the shed—hoes, rakes and shovels—along with jugs of gasoline. Although not the safest place for a baby, it was better than being out in the open, exposed to a gunman.

Kissing Mia’s head, she thanked God that the child was such a good sleeper. Even with all the jostling and juggling, Mia didn’t fuss much. Carly pulled out her phone and called Emergency again.

“It’s Carly Winslow. I escaped the Bremerton house and I’m about a mile south of the property. The gunman is still after us. A man named Brody Whittaker helped me—”

The shed door flung open.

Carly gasped.

“Get out of there,” said a large man looming in the doorway.

Her heart pounded against her chest and fear kept her frozen in place.

The gunman stepped inside the shed.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” She slipped her phone into her pocket and stood awkwardly, clutching Mia.

The guy moved out of the shed and turned his back on Carly, assuming she wasn’t a threat.

No matter how frightened she was, Carly Anna Winslow was not a quitter and she surely wasn’t going to let this man take or harm Mia. She snatched a shovel and just as he turned...

She swung with all her strength.

Unfortunately, she missed his head and nailed him in the shoulder, which seemed only to irritate him.

Reaching out with huge hands, he grabbed the metal head of the shovel and yanked. She stumbled forward and let go so she wouldn’t be pulled against the creep’s body.

He tossed the shovel aside, at least ten feet away, took a few steps back and withdrew his weapon. Mia was strapped to Carly’s chest, which meant if he fired he’d hit the baby. Carly instinctively spun around, turning her back to the attacker. She dropped to her knees and hugged Mia.

“Give me the kid!”

There was no way she’d willingly hand over this child.

“Let’s go, now!”

Carly rocked Mia and softly sang to her.

“I’ll shoot!” he threatened.

She heard grunting and a shot rang out.

She gasped.

Didn’t feel anything.

The bullet hadn’t hit her.

“Praise God,” Carly whispered.

Mia burst into tears, the sound of the gunshot having frightened her.

They were alive. Either that or Carly imagined heaven just like this, with a child in her arms.

“Carly, are you okay?”

She glanced up. Brody Whittaker stood above her wearing a concerned frown, blood seeping from a cut on his head.

“I’m... Yes?” she said. It came out as a question because the definition of okay was muddled at this point.

“The baby?” he asked.

“She’s okay, too.”

“Good.” He sighed.

She noticed more blood staining his jacket.

“Have you been shot?”

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.” He offered his hand.

She took it and he helped her up. He blocked her view of the attacker, who lay sprawled on the ground.

“Keep your eyes trained forward,” Whit said.

With an absent nod, she followed his instructions and looked away. “Did you shoot him?”

“No, he took my gun, so I nailed him pretty hard with the shovel.”

In the distance, two sheriff’s deputies sprinted into the backyard. “Hands where I can see ’em!” one shouted.

Fear skittered across her shoulders. She shoved it back. This was no time to let childhood trauma dictate her behavior.

“Do as they ask and everything will be fine,” Whit said.

She had a hard time believing him. In her experience things went very bad very quickly where police were concerned.

Even if you were innocent.

“I’m a police officer,” Whit identified himself, raising his hands.

“On your knees! Hands up!” the second deputy said.

Carly hesitated.

“Hands!” the deputy repeated.

Her heart rate sped up.

“They don’t know what they just walked into,” Whit said. “It’ll be fine.” With a nod, he lowered himself to his knees, encouraging her to do the same. “Keep your hands where they can see them.”

She did as ordered, although every instinct cried out that she should cradle the baby. Lowering her gaze to the green lawn, Carly wondered how long she’d have to remain in this subservient position.

You’ll sit here until you tell us the truth.

Carly shoved the memory aside. This was different. She wasn’t being punished...well, not exactly.

“I...I’m sorry you got pulled into all this,” Whit said.

She glanced at him. “It’s not your fault.”

“I just...wanted...” He blinked his bloodshot eyes a few times and collapsed.

* * *

Harry Bremerton struggled to breathe through the pain of a throbbing head injury. The tight blindfold didn’t help. He reached for it.

“If you take off your blindfold, you’re dead.”

As if Harry and Susan weren’t already dead.

Harry couldn’t think that way, wouldn’t give up so easily. He needed to negotiate with their kidnappers, or at least buy some time.

“If this is about—”

“I didn’t give you permission to talk!” the kidnapper shouted.

Susan whimpered, and Harry pulled her close.

Was this a kidnapping for ransom? Who’d pay it? His mother and stepdad did okay but they weren’t nearly as wealthy as Harry, and Harry’s brother, Whit, was just a cop.

“Okay, you may speak,” the kidnapper said.

“Please, my daughter is sick,” Susan said. “She needs us.”

Their kidnapper didn’t respond.

“I have money,” Harry said.

Maniacal laughter echoed off the walls, sending a chill down Harry’s spine.

“Where is the child?” the kidnapper said.

Stunned, Harry didn’t answer. Why did they care about Mia? Were they going to use her to manipulate him? Control him?

Suddenly Susan was being pulled away. Harry held on to her.

“Stop, please, wait!” Harry shouted.

“Who has the child?”

“I assume Carly, our nanny.”

The kidnapper released Susan and she curled up against Harry’s chest, sobbing.

“What’s Carly’s last name?”

“Winslow.”

“Where does she live?”

Buy time.

“At our house.”

“Where would she go if she couldn’t be at your house?”

Harry had no idea. Between her nanny responsibilities and studying for her nursing exam, she didn’t have much of a social life.

Something jabbed his ribs, sending a sharp pain through his body.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” he croaked.

Harry feared that was the wrong answer. It was the only one he had.

Was this it? The last moments of his life? Regret tore through him for many things, especially for the resentment he’d carried around for years.

Regret for not making peace with his brother.

The next few, torturous minutes seemed to stretch like hours. Harry held his wife tight.

Please, God, he prayed, because during the course of their marriage he’d grown to accept the concept of a higher power. He’d opened his heart to God.

A door clicked shut. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally felt bold enough to peek out from beneath the blindfold.

He and Susan were alone.

* * *

Whit struggled to remain conscious. Pain seared down his arm as if someone held a branding iron against his skin.

Suddenly he was back in the dark alley lying in a pool of his own blood. Was this it? Was this how it was going to end, with Whit alone and bleeding out in a foul-smelling alley having done nothing substantial with his life? The thought made him fight back, fight harder than he thought possible.

“Brody, open your eyes,” a woman said.

A woman, not his partner, Tina. She’d never call him by his given name.

“He’s stable,” another female said.

Stable? More like unstable and disabled. For life.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to release the child,” a man said.

“I’d rather not.”

Whit recognized her voice. He fought the urge to drift off to sleep.

“The child isn’t yours, and it’s not his,” the man said. “Which is why you need to relinquish her to the state.”

“Absolutely not.”

The edge to her voice sounded more than determined. It sounded threatening.

“If I have to arrest you, I will,” the man said.

Whit groaned and willed his eyes to open. Talk about a crowd. One guy, obviously a cop, stood at the foot of his bed, a woman Whit guessed was a doctor stood next to him, and on Whit’s left was a nurse in colorful scrubs. Then Whit slowly turned to his right.

There stood the woman he’d rescued from his brother’s house and she still clung to Whit’s niece. What was the woman’s name again? Carly, that’s right. The nanny.

Carly was glaring at the cop. “Brody Whittaker is the child’s uncle and he should decide what happens next with the baby. I’m not surrendering Mia to the foster care system when her uncle is right here and perfectly capable of taking custody.”

All eyes focused on Whit. He wanted to puff out his chest, sit up in bed, something. His arm still burned. He clenched his jaw against the pain, not wanting to wince and expose his weakness. Carly was right. The child shouldn’t be sent into temporary foster care, especially with a potential threat still out there.

The threat. Someone was after Whit’s niece and Whit had bashed the guy’s head with the shovel before he could shoot Carly. Whit would’ve shot him if the guy hadn’t taken his piece.

“Brody, I’m Dr. Monroe,” the woman with short red hair said. “You have a bullet wound, a head injury and a concussion. How is the pain on a scale from one to ten?”

“About a three,” he fudged. “What about the assailant?” he asked.

“He’s in custody. I’m Detective Harper with the Summit County Sheriff’s Office,” the cop, midforties, introduced himself.

“My weapon?”

“The hospital has secured it until you’re released.” Harper glanced at the others. “Can I get a few minutes alone with Detective Whittaker?”

Okay, so Harper must have checked with the Dallas PD to confirm Whit’s identity.

The nurse in colorful scrubs placed the call button beside Whit’s hand. “Use this if you need anything.”

She and the doctor left. Carly, the nanny, did not.

“Would you...?” Harper motioned for Carly to leave.

“I’d rather she stays,” Whit said.

Harper eyed him. Whit could tell he wanted to say something cop-to-cop but held back.

“Could you help us piece together what happened today?” Harper said.

“Someone broke into the house and shot Mr. and Mrs. Bremerton, that’s what happened,” Carly said in a defiant tone.

“Ma’am, I’m speaking to Detective Whittaker.”

Whit looked at Carly, who wore a protective expression on her face.

“It’s okay,” Whit said to her. “Let’s talk this through.”

She nodded. Didn’t look pleased.

Whit redirected his attention to Harper. “I went to visit my brother and heard gunshots.”

“Do you visit your brother often?”

Guilt sparked inside his chest. “Not often, no. He hadn’t returned a few phone calls, so I decided to check on him.”

“From Dallas.”

“Yes.”

“Which meant you were worried about him. Why?”

How could Whit explain that?

“I don’t know, gut instinct?” That and Harry had a way of getting into trouble, at least as a teenager. “Besides, I hadn’t met my niece yet.” He shot a slight smile toward Mia.

“Were you inside the Bremerton home at the time of the break-in?” Harper asked.

“No. When I got to the property, the gates were open, which I thought was odd. Once on the grounds I heard gunshots and decided to investigate. That’s when I saw Carly fleeing the scene.”

“Fleeing?”

“Bad word choice,” Whit said. “Escaping, with my niece in her arms. A tall man, dressed in black, was in pursuit. He fired off a warning shot and she kept running. I saw her disappear into the forest and followed.”

“The man in black didn’t follow her?”

“He kept to the trail. She did not. Nor did I.”

“Then what happened?”

“I helped Carly and the baby into a boat and we went downstream. The perp followed us on foot. I sent Carly to what I thought was safety, but the perp—” Whit hesitated, not wanting to admit this part “—overpowered me and went after her.” Whit glanced at Carly. “Didn’t you give him your statement?”

“I did,” Carly said with a lift of her chin.

“I’d like to hear your version,” Harper said, nodding at Whit.

“I regained consciousness and climbed up to the property. I knocked the guy out just as he was about to shoot Carly. That’s when deputies arrived.”

Harper directed his attention to Carly. “Would you care to fill in any blanks, Miss—” he hesitated “—Winslow?”

“That accurately describes what happened after the break-in.”

“You have no idea who broke in to the Bremerton home?”

“As I said before, I was upstairs. I heard gunshots through the monitor and called 9-1-1.”

“And left the premises,” Harper said. “You didn’t consider waiting for police?”

“Wait where? They had guns. They shot Mr. and Mrs. Bremerton.”

“So, they did shoot my brother?” Whit said.

“There’s no evidence of that,” Harper said.

“I heard it through the baby monitor,” Carly said. “I heard Mrs. B. screaming her husband’s name and said he was hurt.”

“And you ran,” Harper said, accusation in his tone.

Carly clenched her jaw tight.

“Because what, you changed your mind about kidnapping the kid?”

“Excuse me?” Carly said. “They tried to kill me, too, just like the Bremertons.”

“Back up, they killed my brother?” Whit said, struggling to control his panic.

Harper shook his head. “No one was killed today. When we got to the house it was empty, ransacked and shot up pretty good, but empty. The Bremertons weren’t home. So...” He looked at Carly. Waited.

“I know what I heard through the monitor,” Carly said.

“That your final answer?” Harper pressed.

“Hey, ease up,” Whit said, having developed an inexplicable need to protect Carly Winslow. Maybe not so inexplicable considering she’d saved his niece’s life. “The guy who was shooting at us was very real.”

“Yeah, well, I’m wondering if this was a burglary-kidnapping gone wrong. The nanny had a change of heart and the guy came after her.”

“Wait, you think I—”

“You’re basing that on what, exactly?” Whit interrupted Carly.

The cop looked Whit straight in the eye. “The fact that the nanny has a record.”

* * *

And there it was, Carly’s past rising to destroy any chance she had at a normal life. She didn’t miss the dimming of Brody Whittaker’s eyes, or how his expression changed from protective to skeptical. She thought she even read betrayal.

Shame flooded her chest, making her feel three feet tall, like that confused child. The trauma burned raw and painful, and so very real.

She was thirteen again, being questioned by police. Feeling bullied, shamed and, worst of all, abandoned by her parents.

“Carly?”

She glanced at Whit, who looked like he expected her to explain herself, proclaim her innocence. She couldn’t lie. She had, in fact, broken the law, thinking she was doing so to protect her baby sister, Greta. Only years later, as an adult, did Carly truly understand what had happened. Carly’s parents could be so convincing, so manipulative. Mother was especially a master at it.

“Yes, I have a record.” Carly glanced at Detective Harper. “From when I was thirteen. And it’s expunged.”

“Which doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Harper said.

A shudder trickled across her shoulders. It was just a matter of time before the wound would be ripped open again, and Whit found out the truth.

“Okay, something’s not making sense here,” Whit said. “Did my brother know you had a record?”

“He did,” she said.

“Yet he hired you to take care of his child.”

Right, because someone who’d been tricked into making a horrible mistake at thirteen years old wasn’t redeemable. Bad was bad. Forever. Or so many people believed.

Thankfully Carly’s aunt Vicky had taken Carly in with a warm and compassionate heart at a time when Carly could have drifted deeper into the darkness. Aunt Vicky believed in second chances, in the power of prayer and healing. She believed in Carly, and challenged her to believe in herself. With the help of her aunt and God, Carly had found a modicum of peace.

“Miss Winslow?” the detective pushed. “Or should I say Miss Garber?”

“You changed your name?” Whit said, suspicion coloring his voice.

How could she explain that she didn’t want any connection with the criminals who were her biological parents?

“Yes, I changed my name,” she said. “I met Mr. and Mrs. Bremerton when I was working for Palace Catering. They were at a party and—”

“Wait, you worked private parties?” the detective asked. “In people’s homes?”

Carly straightened. “Just because there was an incident when I was thirteen doesn’t mean I’m a violent criminal as an adult.”

“So you’re admitting your crime was a violent one?” Detective Harper jotted something in his notebook.

She ignored the detective’s question and looked at Whit. “I’d been hired to serve at a party. Mrs. Bremerton was having an anxiety attack and I helped keep her calm until paramedics arrived.”

The detective seemed skeptical. Whit, however, looked interested, as if he wanted to hear more.

“Later that year, the Bremertons tracked me down and asked if I’d consider being Mia’s nanny,” Carly continued. “I explained my situation, that I was finishing up nursing school. They offered me a generous salary, and the baby was so sweet.” She kissed the top of Mia’s head and glanced at Whit. “That’s when I told them about my past, how I made a mistake when I was thirteen. They knew what happened and offered me the job anyway.”

“You want to tell us what you were charged with?” Detective Harper asked.

Keep your mouth shut. Don’t share too much or they’ll use it against you.

“Not at this time,” she said.

“You told the Bremertons,” he pressed.

“Because we were about to enter into a relationship where I’d be living at their house, like a member of the family.”

“But you aren’t family, and this isn’t your child,” Detective Harper said.

“I’m perfectly aware of that.” His statement burned, especially since she’d felt like a member of the Bremerton household for the past six months.

On cue, Mia woke up and squirmed in Carly’s arms. She wanted to be fed, and Carly had nothing to give her.

“The child needs to be checked out by a doctor,” the detective said to Whit. “Miss Winslow is refusing to let us do that.”

“Mia isn’t hurt. I’ve kept her safe.” Carly looked at Whit. “If you’d like a doctor to examine her, that’s fine. Since you were unconscious, I feared they would take her away and put her into the foster care system. I didn’t think that was the best thing for Mia.” Carly gently rocked with the child to calm her.

Whit pressed the call button and a moment later the nurse entered the room. “I’d like a doctor to take a look at my niece to see if she’s okay.”

Her grip tightened around Mia. Carly still feared the child would be taken away, that she’d never see her again.

Like Greta.

With a heavy heart, Carly kissed the top of Mia’s head, unhooked her from the carrier and passed her to the nurse. “She’s probably hungry. She drinks soy-based formula.”

The nurse nodded and left the room with Mia.

Carly glanced out the window at the Colorado sky, gray, like her mood. She unstrapped the baby carrier from her body and slowly placed it on the chair. Sadness consumed her.

It was over. Her fresh start as a nanny, being able to shower Mia with oodles of love Carly had stored up for years, love she’d wanted to lavish on her baby sister.

“I’d like you to come with me, Miss Winslow,” the detective said.

Carly sighed. She should have known that was coming.

“No, thank you,” she said politely.

“No, thank you? What kind of answer is that?”

“I’m not leaving the hospital until I’m relieved of my duties.” She turned to Whit. His brows furrowed in a puzzled expression.

“Since the Bremertons are missing and I’m Mia’s nanny, that makes you my temporary employer,” she said to him. “Therefore, I’ll stay until you release me.”

“Miss Winslow—”

“You have no cause to arrest me,” she interrupted Detective Harper. “Just because I have a juvenile record does not mean I’m a criminal. Besides, I protected Mia.”

The detective shook his head.

“It’s true,” Whit confirmed. “She did protect my niece.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Whit appreciated that there was more to Carly than her past.

“However,” Whit continued, holding her gaze, “Detective Harper could use your help with the investigation about what happened today.”

In other words, Whit was dismissing her from duty into the hands of a bully.

“Bring Carly back when you’re done, Detective,” Whit said. “I’ll need her help with the baby when I’m released.”

Sure. Whatever. They all knew she wasn’t returning to the hospital, that she’d never see Mia or Whit again.

Go live with Aunt Vicky for a while. We’ll send for you in a couple of months. Everything will be okay.

Everything wasn’t okay. Her parents didn’t send for her. Her mom didn’t even call or write. Worse, they eventually moved without giving Carly a forwarding address.

She stepped up to Whit’s bedside and placed her hand on his arm. “It’s been an honor taking care of Mia. She’s a precious little girl. May the Lord protect you both.”

With a weak smile, she turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

The kidnappers left a few water bottles and a box of crackers in the room where they kept Harry and Susan.

The room. Their prison. Harry wished they’d get on with it, make their ransom demands. He prayed that Mia and Carly were safe. There was something about Carly, a kind of strength and determination that made him choose her for the job as nanny.

The lock clicked on the door.

“Keep the blindfold on.” He shifted Susan’s blindfold in place and did the same with his own.

“Mr. Bremerton,” the kidnapper said. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to have everything taken from you?”

Not quite, but Harry had suffered loss in his life. It seemed like he wasn’t done suffering.

“I know, yes,” Harry said.

“What have you lost, you arrogant, entitled prince?”

That’s when Harry realized nothing he said would appease this man.

“I want to help you,” Harry said.

“How generous. Isn’t he generous? I’ll bet he’s a good father. Are you a good father?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Do you think Mia misses you?”

The image of her sweet face tore at Harry’s insides.

“Does the little girl cry for her papa?” the man said, closer now, as if he was trying to get inside Harry’s head.

“Papa, where’s my papa?” He mimicked a child’s voice.

“What do you want?” Harry ground out.

Then Harry had a horrible thought: What if they hurt Susan to punish him for his sharp tone? Harry held her close.

“I was taught never to lay a hand on a woman,” the man said. “I was beaten when I slapped my sister.”

Too bad the guy’s parents didn’t teach him it wasn’t right to kidnap and torment strangers.

Footsteps tapped against the floor as the man crossed the room.

“No one takes what is mine. You will spend the rest of your life suffering for your mistake.”

* * *

A few hours later, Whit struggled to put on his clothes at the hospital. It wasn’t easy with one semifunctional arm and the other still throbbing from a gunshot wound. He could have used Carly’s help right about now, yet he’d sent her away, into the lion’s den, to be questioned by police.

Carly, the nanny with a criminal record. A juvenile record. Would her past show a pattern of behavior, or had she made a stupid kid’s mistake? He’d seen plenty of those in his years on the force, and he’d also seen plenty of crimes that indicated a consistent pattern of behavior.

He managed to get his jeans on and dug into the bag for his shirt. He hesitated as he remembered Carly’s fierceness while protecting baby Mia. That was not rehearsed or fake. Love shone in her eyes when she looked at the child, when she hugged and kissed Mia. Whit might be aloof; however, he knew what love looked like.

You couldn’t help but read every emotion that crossed Carly’s face. She wore it all out there, like a book with words in extra-large print. Unless you were consumed by procedure and protocol, blinded by suspicion, which Whit normally would be if he were on the job.

Today he was a brother and an uncle. He’d let the cops do their job and he’d do his: protect his niece.

Harry, where are you? Detective Harper said they weren’t at the mansion when police arrived, which meant they’d been kidnapped.

Whit decided to call his brother in the hopes he’d escaped somehow and needed help. His call went into voice mail.

“Hey, it’s Brody. I hope you’re okay, man. We’re all worried about you. Your daughter’s safe. She’s in my custody until you return. The nanny is helping to make sure Mia’s okay, because...well, we both know I’m not the best caregiver in the world. Anyway, call me.”

He slipped the phone into his denim jacket, ignoring the now brown bloodstain where he’d been shot.

“Hey, where are you going?” a nurse asked, stepping into his room.

“Hospitals aren’t my thing.”

“Let’s at least sling that arm.” The nurse helped adjust the sling around his shoulder. “What’s the hurry?”

“I’ve got a baby girl to take care of.”

“She’s fine. Her aunt Judy is here.”

Whit froze. “Who?”

“Aunt Judy, from Boulder?”

“She doesn’t have an aunt Judy.”