Baby Girl Doe (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 5) (2 page)

Present Day

“Yup, she went up just like that.”

Gus and I stood next to Richard Tate, the Montauk fire chief, watching our vacation rental go up in flames. White and orange flames soared toward the sky throwing off enough heat to cook a goodly-sized Butterball turkey. I turned toward Tate and saw firelight flickering on his face. “I just can’t believe it. Any idea what happened?”

“Hot as the dickens all week long and absolutely no rain—sometimes all it takes is a spark,” Tate said. “We won’t know for sure until the fire is out and it’s safe for my men to enter. Sorry about that, my friends. You must be really bummed out.” He turned his head until he could see my son’s face. “Don’t seem to bother the little guy none.” He smiled at our son despite the fact that Max was out for the count and completely oblivious to his presence. Max was asleep with his face smooshed against my shoulder. He did, however wiggle his nose. Maxwell Francis Lido, newest of the clan, was playing it cool—the commotion of a dozen firefighters dashing about in a mad frenzy didn’t seem to bother him one little bit.

“Wow, this really sucks,” Gus said as we literally watched our vacation plans go up in smoke. He raked his fingers through his hair, a clear sign of frustration. “Why does this shit always happen to me? I must be the friggin’ Antichrist.”

I think he doth protest too much.
“Yeah, you’re the Antichrist all right: young, handsome, and newly married with a gorgeous baby son. Gee, I can see why your life really sucks,” I said with unfiltered sarcasm. “I don’t know why you don’t just end it all.”

Tate elbowed Gus. “God love ya, man. You certainly know how to pick ’em.” He winked at me. “Don’t take any shit from this big palooka, Stephanie.” Turning to Gus, he added, “You should bless your lucky stars that you weren’t in the cabin when it caught fire.”

It wasn’t the first fire I had witnessed, not by a long shot, but it was the first time that one had directly impacted my family or me. We had rented the cabin for the last couple of weeks of July, time with Max . . . you know, quality time alone with the adorable little guy. I was as disappointed as Gus, but I didn’t want to show it. “Hey, Rich, I don’t suppose you know of any places we can rent at the last minute, do you?”

“Sorry, Stephanie, you’re talking to the wrong person.” Tate removed his fire helmet and wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “Go cool your heels while I check on my men. I’ve got Gus’ cell number. I’ll call you after we get this fire under control.” His cell phone rang just as he moved off. “Tate,” he answered, and then his voice disappeared behind the clamor of the firefighters.

I looked at Gus and shrugged. “Now what?” We had just spent more than three hours in the car, and the prospect of heading back to Manhattan was about as enthralling as a rampant case of head lice. “You think we’ll find another place to stay?”

Gus rolled his eyes. “
Yeah
, good luck.” He looked absolutely miserable. He had been so excited about the vacation and was really looking forward to spending time with his baby son. It was one whopping disappointment for a brand-new daddy to overcome.

“I told you we should have brought marshmallows.”

Gus shook his head. “Not funny, Stephanie.”

Montauk is a summer hot spot for city dwellers and is absolutely packed Memorial Day through Labor Day. “All right, look . . . we’ll figure something out.” I was doing my best to sound encouraging. “I’m sure there’s another place—people cancel all the time.” Max lifted his head and moved it until his sleepy little face was next to mine but never even opened his peepers. “It’s too hot for him out here. I’m getting back into the truck. Coming?”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” He handed me the keys and then dug his hands into his pockets. He looked beaten.

“Okay, I’ll give you two minutes to sulk, but then you have to get over it. Deal?”

Gus nodded.

“Good. Your son and I can’t have you swallowing a 9mm over a charbroiled hovel.” I walked over to our SUV which was parked safely out of harm’s way about thirty yards down the road. I put Max in his car seat and cranked the engine. I couldn’t remember air conditioning ever feeling as good. I silently said a prayer in memory of Colonel Carrier, the man who invented air conditioning.

I put my head back against the headrest and looked out through the window. The fire seemed surreal now that I was encapsulated within the climate-controlled womb of our SUV. I watched the flames rage from the small countryside cabin—sparks and burning embers swirled in the air as currents spun them about. I could smell the aroma of burnt wood in the air flowing through the vents. Firefighters sprayed the trees next to the house to prevent the fire from spreading.

I saw Gus taking it all in with a hapless expression on his face. “That’s your daddy out there,” I said to Max. “He wanted to give you a nice vacation and now he’s sad.” I thought about the tools in Max’s repertoire of daddy-pleasing gimmicks.
Let’s see, what can we do to cheer daddy up?
I couldn’t come up with much—aside from being downright lovable, Max’s repertoire was pretty much limited to cooing, burping, and smiling and he was definitely most proficient at the burp. “Burp for daddy when he gets back into the car; he’ll like that. You know what? Don’t even worry about it—I’ve got it covered.” I mean how much pressure could I put on a sleepy little boy?
You do have a full complement of feminine wiles at your disposal, Stephanie. Time to step up your game, girl.
Like most new parents, Gus and I were not getting a ton of sleep, and our romantic connection had suffered as a result. I figured my husband could use a little impromptu carnal stimulation.

Gus trudged back to the SUV with his head down. I yanked my blouse apart the moment he pulled the door closed, spraying buttons in every direction. One of them hit him on the nose. He did his best to fight his emotions but lost the battle, bursting out in laughter.

“Very subtle, Stephanie. What’s the matter, didn’t you have time to slip into a peignoir?” He turned back to check on Max. “Did you see what your mother just did? No, of course you didn’t. There are never any witnesses around when you need them.” He kissed me full on the lips.” Man, you are out of your mind. You get nuttier with every passing day.”

“Most men wouldn’t complain. What if you were married to a prima donna? What if my conversational range was limited to
buy me, take me, show me, bring me
?” I said imitating one of those Real Housewives television divas. “What’s the worst that you can say about me . . . that I’m a smidge uninhibited?”

“Jesus, button up,” he said. “There are firemen everywhere.”

“Are you for real? There’s an eleven-hundred-degree fire burning over there—under the circumstances, I don’t think I’ll draw much attention.”

Gus smiled. “Baby, you certainly light up
my
life.”

He leaned in for a second kiss just as an explosion went off. The SUV rocked from the force of the blast. I jumped in my seat and looked out the window to see firefighters hurrying away from the cabin. “What the—”

“I’ll bet it was a propane tank. I doubt they have natural gas lines this far out in the woods.”

“God, I hope no one was hurt.” I checked Max. “There’s no question he’s your flesh and blood.” Gus was capable of sleeping through a nuclear blast. “The little man didn’t move a muscle.”

“It’s a Lido family trait.” Gus put his hand on the door lever. “Stay with Max. I want to make sure everyone’s okay.”

“Be careful!”

“You bet.” Gus smiled as he got out of the car. The disappointment he had displayed just moments ago was gone, and he was once again the strong and charismatic man I loved. He glanced back at Max and then at me. “I’ve got a lot to live for.”

Max couldn’t take his little brown peepers off my sweet potato fries.
He had been fed, changed, and seemed totally content to ponder the mystery of my deep-fried high-fat munchies. I wondered what was going through his mind,
Hm, doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever eaten before. Seems easy enough to manipulate though—I think I’m up to the task. Lovely orange color—looks like a crayon but smells like heaven. I want one.
Max reached for a fry and uttered a demanding,
“Ah!”

“Aw look, Gus, he wants my junk food. That’s so sweet.”

Gus rolled his eyes.

“He’s a carb hound just like his mommy. I’ll bet his first word will be
piz-ghetti
.”

Gus looked puzzled.

“Spaghetti is tough for little ones to enunciate. Trust me, he’ll be crazy for the stuff.”

“Oh.” Gus was in the process of devouring a man-sized burger. Beef makes him happy, and I’m happy when he’s happy. The burnt vacation home had really put a damper on our evening, so if a mound of freshly ground Black Angus could make him happy, Black Angus it would be. Through a mouthful of beef, he muttered, “I think it’s too soon to go down that road. He’s got an entire lifetime to devour French fries.”

“Not even one?”

“No.”

“Really? The baby puffs again?” I groaned on behalf of my son.

Gus nodded.

“This flies in the face of my eat-whatever-you-want-mantra. I don’t want my son to think all food tastes like wallboard.”

“I’m not talking about a lifetime of quinoa and tempeh—let’s just get him off to a good healthy start, okay?”

“I’m wolfing down fries, and you’re three molars deep into a cow patty. Is it any better that he grows up thinking his parents are hypocrites?”

“I’ll worry about it when he knows what the word hypocrite means. I’m only eating this because I’m stressed,” Gus said defensively.

“Judging by the number of burgers I’ve seen you put away since I’ve met you, it appears you’ve been stressed most of your life.”

Gus glared at me.

“Fine.”
I reached into my baby bag, which was large enough to transport a small Fiat. “You know I thought it would totally be the other way around—with you being the one trying to sneak the little buckaroo a Slim Jim.” I shook a pile of banana-flavored puffs onto Max’s tray. “No junk food for you,” I said. “Daddy’s a bore.”

Max shoved a handful of puffs into his mouth, but never took his eyes off my fries.

“I still can’t believe that the stupid cabin caught fire.” What were the chances of
that
happening? The thought of going home and unpacking the truck was more than I could bear. I scrunched my lips, pretending to pout, and spoke in a child’s voice, “I want to go on vacation.”

We had made our way to the MTK Café, a place to fill our bellies and buoy our spirits while we formulated Plan B. There was no way that I was getting back on the Long Island Expressway where you can spend a lifetime just trying to get from point A to point B. “So what now?” I asked. “I really don’t want to drive three hours back to the city.”

Gus looked up. He had a little cow grease on the corner of his mouth. I reached across the table and wiped it away for him. “It’s almost nine o’clock,” he said powerlessly.

“Let’s find a hotel room for the night. We can look for a new place in the morning.”

“If we find one, it won’t be cheap.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ebenezer.” I scowled at him and clenched my fist. “Consider it an investment in your personal wellbeing.”

Gus laughed and tried to speak with his mouth full. “That’s big talk for a sex crazed—” His eyes bulged, and then he began to choke. The technique for the Heimlich maneuver raced through my mind. I was already out of my seat when the girl at the next table stood and smacked Gus squarely between the shoulder blades, dislodging the food that was stuck in his throat.

“Oh God,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Gus covered his mouth.

I could see that he was no longer in distress.

He nodded. It took a moment before he was able to speak. “Thanks,” he said. “That did the trick.” He stood up to thank her. “I should know better than to talk with my mouth full.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said. “Glad I could help.”

Most cops aren’t overly cordial to strangers, and generally speaking, Gus was no exception to that rule, but . . . the woman had just saved his life after all. “I’m Gus.” He pointed to me. “This is my wife Stephanie.”

“Hi.” She flashed a quick, energetic smile, a real go-getter smile, and then turned her attention to Max. “And who is this?” she said with a nurturing voice and a broad smile. “Who is this handsome little man?”

“That’s Max.” I think she overwhelmed him. Max’s chin quivered, and he started to cry.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t give it a second thought. It’s way past his bedtime.” I lifted him out of his booster seat and bounced him in my arms to quiet him down. “It’s okay,” I told him. “Daddy’s all right now that he’s not gagging on cow parts.” I sensed that Max was really pooped—he nodded out in mid-cry. I had him in my arms but managed to extend my right hand so I could shake hands with my husband’s savior. “Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem,” she said as she glanced at Gus. Her eyes lingered a moment longer than I liked before turning back to me with an expression that said,
I helped your husband, and you didn’t.

Yes, Gus is a catch and he’s my catch. I narrowed my eyes at her a little, not a scathing glance just more of a step-off-beeatch sneer.

“I was closer. I’m Camryn Claymore,” she said introducing herself. “What a handsome family. I’m glad I was able to help.” Camryn was slightly built and professionally dressed, in slacks, a silk blouse, and loafers. She wore a lot of makeup: face powder, concealer . . . the whole enchilada, much more than most young women customarily wore.

“I’m glad too,” Gus said. “Thanks again, Camryn.”

I’m a student of body language, and Camryn’s body language indicated that our conversation had limitations and we had reached the end of ours. She had been thanked, and thanked, and thanked again. I thought our introductory exchange was over, but I was wrong. I guess I misread the signals—it was merely an awkward pause.

“Hey, I’m not a nosey body or anything, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.”

She overheard our conversation? Jesus! The last thing Gus uttered was, “That’s big talk for a sex crazed—” A little embarrassing, ya think? Anyway, at least she knew that I was taking care of business in the bedroom.

“So your cabin burned down?” she asked. “Was that Bill Alden’s place?”

Gus nodded with large eyes. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I just got a call from my office—I’m in real estate,” she said. “Montauk’s really a pretty small community. The whole town will know about it before it makes the local news broadcast.”

“I know,” Gus said, “I’m from around here.”

Camryn’s eyes sparkled. “Oh really, where about?”

“Southold,” Gus replied.

“Oh,”
she pooh-poohed. “Over on the North Fork?” She frowned for the briefest moment as if to say,
Southold, are you kidding?
Some East-enders are kind of elitist and look down their noses at anyone who doesn’t specifically hail from Montauk or the Hamptons—I guess Camryn was one of them, an East End snob. The North Fork of Long Island is very different from the South Fork. It faces the Long Island Sound and not the Atlantic and has lots of farms and vineyards . . . but just because there’s a big emphasis on agriculture doesn’t mean that all of its residents are bumpkins.

Gus glanced at me as if to say
here’s an idea.
“You’re in real estate? You wouldn’t happen to know if anything’s available for the next couple of weeks, would you?”

“I can’t believe this,” Camryn said. “I was eating my dinner and thinking about how to approach you when I heard you choking. My brother and I just rehabbed a place. I didn’t think it would be ready until August, but my brother really knows his way around a toolbox and he worked around the clock. He’s still trimming up the exterior, but it’s completely done on the inside. I was going to list it in the morning.”

“That’s incredible,” I said happily.
It is incredible, isn’t it?
I was honestly too relieved to be suspicious of our newly found serendipity. “Is it
nice
?”

“Can we afford it?” Gus asked sheepishly.

She shrugged as if to say
I don’t know
. “It’s completely redone. It’s not like Bill’s place—it has modern furniture, a new steam shower, oak floors, and a granite kitchen. Can I ask what you paid Bill?”

Gus turned to me to ask for my approval.

I nodded. I mean what was our alternative, a two week vacation back in the sweltering heat of the city pushing Max around in his stroller?

“Seventy-five hundred for the two weeks,” Gus said.

Camryn gritted her teeth. “That’s a little cheap. Um . . .” Her head rocked back and forth while she appeared to mull over the number. “Can you do a little better? We dumped a ton of money into the place.”

“It’s better than having it sit empty for the next couple of weeks when you could be getting income from it,” I said. “How fast do you think you can rent it anyway?”

Her expression said
oh yeah, that’s right.
“Okay, but only because you’ll have to put up with some noise while my brother finishes up. The view’s not as good as Bill’s, but it’s very secluded, and like I said, the inside is brand spanking new.”

It had been a very long day. I stretched and retreated to another place in my mind. I pictured a brand-new steam shower made of tumbled marble with spotless chrome body sprays. I could almost feel the hot water running down my back. “You know what, Camryn? Let’s go take a look.”