Some kind of wonderful (26 page)

Ignoring the pity in Maggie's eyes, Carol grabbed the wildly flowered diaper bag, and carried it across the room, walking like a zombie. "You forgot this." She slung the bag up over Lacey's shoulder, then took one heartbreaking moment to smooth her palm over the top of Liz's head.

Sucking in a gulp of air, Carol buried another sharp stab of pain and forced words past a throat too tight for air to pass through. "She wakes up about two and she's hungry again."

"I'll feed her."

"Sometimes," Carol said, as tears slid from her eyes to trail unheeded along her cheeks, "she likes music. Soft music."

Lacey lifted her teary gaze to Carol's. "I'll remember."

Brown eyes locked with blue. Carol nodded slowly,

brokenly, as if her body couldn't quite recall how to respond to her brain's commands. She bit down hard on her bottom lip and didn't cry out when Lacey took Liz and slipped through the door.

As the girl's steps echoed along the hall and down the stairs, Carol locked her knees in a desperate effort to remain standing.

"I'm so sorry, Carol." Maggie laid one hand on Carol's arm.

"I know."

"I want you to know," Maggie said and waited for Carol to look at her. "Lacey will have the support of the agency. She won't be completely on her own in this."

Carol nodded and didn't bother trying to form words.

"And I'll be handling her case personally," Maggie continued. "I'll make sure Liz is safe and well cared for. You don't have to worry about that."

Another nod.

Her throat closed up tight.

Banked tears burned her eyes.

Her lungs heaved unsuccessfully for air.

"I'm so sorry, Carol." Maggie's voice, as gentle as a cloud, settled over her, but it was no comfort.

There was no comfort for her in this.

Her heart had broken into jagged little shards slicing at her chest—and it was going to stay broken.

Finally, Maggie stepped past Carol, moved into the hall, and quietly closed the door.

Silence crashed down on her.

Quinn whined and butted his head against the backs of her legs. That was all it took.

Carol crumpled, dropping to the floor bonelessly. Pain erupted from the emptiness inside her and geysered

from her soul. A long, low moan tore from her throat and echoed through the apartment that was too big without Liz in it—and too small to hold the agony tearing Carol's heart apart.

hadn't, the shit he'd landed in just kept getting deeper.

He needed more time to think, dammit. Though why he thought that might help, he didn't know. He'd been thinking for hours and still hadn't found a way out of this.

Bottom line, it came down to the kind of man you were raised to be.

And damn it, a Reilly didn't walk out on his responsibilities. Like it or not, there was only one answer to this situation.

God help them all.

Jack had stalled as long as he could. He'd walked around town, down to the beach, and then driven up into the hills, losing himself in the cool green of the trees that promised a respite from the summer heat. Now, the stars were out and Christmas was closing its doors and folding up its sidewalks for the night.

He parked his car in front of Carol's place and climbed out. A stray breeze dancing in off the ocean fluttered past him, lifting the ends of his hair and teasing the back of his neck with damp, icy fingers. He looked up at the windows on the second floor.

His own apartment was dark—it looked abandoned. Light seeped from behind the curtains at Carol's place. Not as bright as usual, though, he thought, narrowing his gaze as he studied it. No one moved behind the sheer fabric at the windows. There was no soft echo of classic rock drifting through the partially opened windows and—an even bigger sign—there was no flickering light cast by the TV. She didn't have the television on and he knew there was a V marathon on tonight. Smiling to himself, he remembered that she'd circled it in red on her calendar.

The first whisper of concern drifted through him and

he told himself he was being ridiculous. So what? She wasn't watching TV. Lots of people made it through the night without ever once turning the TV on.

Not Carol, though, his brain taunted. Not on a night when she would ordinarily be front-row center on the couch with a bowl of popcorn on her lap.

Frowning, he started for the front door, and just as he did, one of the deep shadows on the porch moved. Jack stiffened, froze in place, then relaxed as Quinn pushed himself to his feet and stood at the head of the short flight of steps. The dog's silhouette was huge and the low rumble of thunder blossoming from his wide chest reminded him of The Hound of the Baskervilles.

"You want to chew on me a while?" Jack muttered, headed for the porch now with quick strides. "Get in line."

Quinn didn't move out of his way. The big dog stood his ground, keeping his gaze fixed on Jack's like some sort of canine hypnotist.

"Perfect," Jack muttered, meeting that stare with a glare of his own. "Look, you don't like me, I don't like you. We'll call it a draw, okay?"

The dog took a step closer and whined.

A spidery feeling crawled across the back of Jack's neck. Quinn didn't usually come whining to him. Growling, yes. Snarling, sure. But whining? No.

Jack glanced around at the darkened porch, then back to the front door and the house beyond. If Quinn was out here, where the hell was Carol? She and the damn bear were practically attached at the hip. She wouldn't let him just wander around on his own.

That uneasy sensation skittered from the back of his neck, all the way down his spine and back up again. Something was wrong. He felt it.

He knew it.

Reaching out, he laid one hand on the big dog's massive head. Quinn leaned into him for one brief moment, then took the steps down in a tangle of long, powerful legs. When the dog hit the sidewalk, he stopped and turned to face Jack.

"What?" Jack just stared at him. For crissake, was he supposed to be a doggie mind reader now? "Is Timmy in the well?" he muttered, feeling like an idiot.

Quinn only whined again, walked close and butted his head against Jack's legs before taking another step or two down the sidewalk.

In the glow of the streetlights, Quinn looked massive, and dangerous as hell. His dark eyes stared up at Jack, and for a single heartbeat, Jack thought he could almost hear the dog asking for help. "Damn. Timmy really is down a well, huh?"

Worry erupted in the pit of his stomach and then spun crazily. Something was definitely up. And his heart staggered as his cop's brain took over and drew graphic images of just how many things could be wrong. Just how badly Carol could be hurt.

He didn't want the images. Didn't want them staining his mind so that the possibilities would always be there. But there was no dislodging them now. Just as there was no way to stop the quickening sense of fear that began a wild gallop through his bloodstream. He could fight it with practiced calm. With logic. With the need to be focused. But he couldn't defeat it.

He could only endure as fear escalated to dread.

He came down the last two steps and stood beside the now practically quivering dog. Quinn obviously needed to be moving. Jack knew just how the animal felt. Every muscle in his body was tensed and poised for action.

"Okay, then," Jack said, giving the dog's big head a quick stroke. "Don't just stand there. Take me to Carol."

As if shot off a coiled spring, Quinn took off in a ground-eating lope. The animal's long, powerful legs raced down the sidewalk, splashing through one pool of lamplight into the next. Jack wasn't far behind him. He didn't have four legs, but at six foot five, he had long legs, and he wouldn't allow Quinn to outdistance him.

The night air smelled of summer. The damp sting of salt air swept past him, picking up an old echo of charcoal barbecues. Jack hardly noticed. The only sound he heard was the sharp slap of his tennis shoes against the sidewalk and his own heart thundering in his chest. He came across a kid's forgotten tricycle in the middle of the sidewalk and hurdled it like an Olympic sprinter, never slowing down. Quinn took a corner, then darted across North Pole Avenue.

The shops were darkened, just a few splashes of brightly colored neon glowing in the night. Deserted, there were no cars or tourists hustling up and down the street—there was only stillness. Except for the click of Quinn's nails against the pavement and the steady beat of Jack's running steps.

His breath puffed in front of him in short bursts. His gaze narrowed, sweeping the streets, the sidewalks, and then focusing on the dog, his one link to Carol.

"Where the hell are we going?" he muttered, but didn't pause to think about it. To wonder. All he focused on was keeping up with the dog flying along the ground like an oversized salt-and-pepper bullet, headed for the town square.

Oak trees lined the square in a tidy row, with low-growing, flowering bushes interspersed between their gnarled trunks. The scent of flowers, roses and others he

couldn't identify, was heavy, clinging to the wide patch of manicured grass that sat in the center of town. Quinn slowed down, gave a muffled woof that sounded as deep as a cannon shot.

Jack was right behind him. He stopped suddenly as he came out of the line of trees and his tennis shoes slid on the damp grass.

Across the square from him, Carol sat in the shadows on a bench near the well-lit Nativity set. Instantly, the tight band around his chest loosened and Jack drew his first easy breath since starting the late-night sprint through town. She was okay. His heart slowed down, and his brain clicked off the graphic images of mayhem and violence it had been playing on a continuous loop.

He wanted to swallow hard enough to dislodge his heart from his throat, but his mouth was dry. Thinking of Carol hurt or in danger had terrified him. Seeing her now, perfectly safe, irrationally infuriated him. What the hell was she doing sitting out here in the middle of the night? Letting that damn bear run around town terrifying him into imagining all sorts of hideous things?

Why the hell wasn't she at home?

Silently, he watched as Quinn trotted up close to the woman, then plopped his butt down right in front of her. Carol didn't move. Didn't reach out a hand toward the dog she loved. Hardly looked as though she'd noticed he was there. Anger fizzled into black worry that settled like an icy ball at the bottom of Jack's stomach.

Something was definitely wrong.

And he was pretty sure he knew what it was. Obviously, the thought of being pregnant with his kid wasn't sitting any easier with her than it had with him. Naturally, the next emotion on the food chain was guilt. It bit Jack hard, tearing a chunk off his soul and chewing on it

long enough to make him shift his stance uneasily. What the hell could he say to her? Sorry I screwed with your life?

Shit.

Quinn turned his big head and stared across the distance at Jack as if to say, What's the holdup? I brought you here. Do I have to do everything?

As his charging heart settled into a regular beat again, Jack took a long, slow breath and let it slide from his lungs in a quiet sigh. It pained him to see that being pregnant with his child had put her into a coma so deep she couldn't even see the dog she loved. And he wasn't quite sure what he could do to fix it.

Shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, he started across the grass, making no move to be quiet. Didn't matter, though. It was as if she were on another planet. She didn't react. To him or to Quinn.

Not a good sign.

He walked up to the bench and sat down beside her. Only then did she turn her head to look at him. Despite the dim light, he saw the tracks of tears on her cheeks and the glistening sheen of them still dazzling her whiskey-colored eyes. His heart lurched. Dammit, he'd never been any good with a crying woman. Tears made a man as useless as—well, hell.

There was nothing so useless as a man facing a teary woman.

"What're you doing here?"

"I was gonna ask you that." He stared at her for a long moment, then let his gaze slip past her, looking for Liz's stroller, before focusing on her eyes again. "Where's the baby?"

She snorted a laugh that sounded painful as it ripped from her throat. Reaching up, she swiped her hands over

her face and blew out a shaky breath that seemed to tremble through her. "God."

She tipped her head back and stared up through the leaves at the sky above. "Do you realize how many times you've asked me that question?"

He frowned. "You're not answering it."

"No, I'm not."

That icy ball of worry formed in his gut again and sent chills leaping through his bloodstream. "What's going on, Carol?"

She finally turned her gaze from the star-scattered sky to meet his. Desolation glittered in her eyes and her mouth trembled as she said, "The baby's gone."

"What? Where?"

"Her mother reclaimed her."

"Her mother?' Jack leaned in close. "Who?"

"Lacey Reynolds," Carol said, whispering the name as though she still couldn't believe it.

Lacey? Jack's mind whipped up an image of the girl, one of his sister Peggy's best friends. A chubby kid with a nice smile and plans for the future. Plans that were now pretty much screwed. As a brother, he felt for the kid. Becoming a mother at eighteen wasn't exactly the best life plan he could think of. As the sheriff, he'd have to make a call on Lacey. Soon. "Jesus."

"That about covers it."

"How do we know the baby's Lacey's?" he asked, cop voice stern and harsh. "She could be lying."

"There would be no point in that," Carol said, her voice carrying the weight of the world. "Why would she? Anyway, Phoebe examined her. She has given birth. Phoebe's running a DNA test to be sure, but we all know the truth now."

Carol pushed up from the damp green-slatted bench

and walked toward the Nativity scene. The lights focused on the life-sized statues inside the wood-and-straw manger silhouetted her. She'd only taken a few steps before she stopped again and turned around to look at him.