Chickasaw County Captive

Sam might not be indifferent to his ex-wife, but he clearly resented her abandonment of their child, and on a surface level, Kristen knew she should find Norah Cabot’s actions selfish, as well. But her own mother had had no business raising children. Kristen had seen the horrible consequences. As far as she was concerned, Maddy was lucky. She had a daddy to love and protect her, and she didn’t have to deal with her indifferent mother at all.

How much different would Kristen’s own life have been if she’d had a father around to make sure she and her brothers and sisters were safe and cared for?

Sam interrupted her dark thoughts. “I had my office e-mail me the felony cases I’ve worked on since I took the job a few months ago. There are only five—they gave me a light load until I could get my bearings. I’ve printed them out, if you want to take a look tonight. We can see if there’s anything in those files that might have set someone off.”

Following him back to the sitting area, she kicked herself for not having asked him about his current case files sooner. She was letting her kid phobia take over this whole case.

Time to cowboy up. If she couldn’t handle one four-year-old poppet—and her sexy grouch of a father—her career was in serious trouble.

SAM SAT BACK AN HOUR LATER, rubbing his eyes. He’d read through all five cases and saw nothing he could imagine enraging someone enough to come after his child. “What if this isn’t about me?” he asked Kristen.

She looked up from the case file she was reading. “Just some random kidnapper stalking Maddy? For what purpose?”

His stomach recoiled at the only answer that made sense. “A pedophile?”

She shook her head. “This doesn’t fit a pedophile’s M.O. They’re cowards. They like targets of opportunity.”

“That guy in Utah broke into his target’s house and took her out of her bedroom,” he reminded her.

“That’s rare.”

“But not impossible.”

She wrinkled her brow at him. “Do you want it to be a pedophile?” she asked pointedly.

“God, no!” The thought was horrifying.

Her expression gentled. “Whatever pushed this guy’s buttons, it’s not your fault.”

How could she know that? What if he’d done something, said something or forgotten something that had set the kidnapper off? What if this whole thing was about payback?

What if he’d been the one who’d put his daughter at risk?

Kristen’s hand stole across the sofa and curled around his, her grip tight. The touch felt like a jolt of electricity, setting his whole body abuzz, and he was caught off guard by a flood of pure male attraction.

He’d always gone for high-octane women like Norah Cabot, with her expensive French perfume and her designer shoes. He’d worked with many beautiful, even glamorous women, and he’d always found them exciting and sexy. He’d just figured that kind of woman was his type.

So why was this quiet, no-nonsense, small-town cop making his blood run hot in a way it hadn’t in years?

She let go of his hand and looked down at the files spread across the coffee table. “We should look at some of your case files from D.C. Can you get your hands on those?”

His fingers still tingled from her touch. He closed his fist and cleared his throat. “Probably more red tape than we’d like. I’ll help you set that into motion. However, I keep a detailed log of all my cases—the major figures involved, whether the outcome was a conviction, an acquittal or a plea bargain, that kind of thing. It’s in one of the storage boxes at home. I’ll stop by and get the log, and we can go through it, as well.”

“Could you get it tomorrow?”

“If you’re okay with being here alone with Maddy,” he said, watching her carefully for her reaction.

The line of her lips tightened a little, but she gave a nod. “Of course. It’s my job.”

He wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or herself. He could tell she still had doubts. He dropped his gaze to the back of Kristen’s hand, where a white burn scar still marred the skin. Had she seen her mother kill her brothers and sister, or had she stumbled upon the aftermath?

Did it even matter which? Both would have been horrific.

Kristen’s eyes flickered up to meet his, as if the sudden silence between them made her nervous. He felt a rush of pity he couldn’t quite hide, and her expression shifted from vulnerability to a hard, cool mask of indifference. She edged away from him, readying herself to stand. “It’s getting late,” she began. “I need to go home and pack for tomorrow.”

His cell phone interrupted, the shrill sound jolting his spine like an electric shock. He fished it from his pocket. The display showed an area code he didn’t recognize.

“Cooper,” he answered, slanting a quick look at Kristen, who sat very still, watching him.

A low, vibrant voice greeted him. “Hi, Sam. It’s me.”

Norah. He’d left a message for her to call, but he hadn’t expected to hear from her tonight. “Thanks for calling back.”

Kristen gave him a curious look, but before he could tell her who was on the other line, the bedroom door opened and Maddy stumbled out, her hair wild and her eyes damp with tears.

“Daddy?” she mewled.

Torn between dealing with Norah and comforting his daughter, Sam shot Kristen a pleading look. For a second, her eyes widened and she looked ready to bolt, but she regained control quickly and crossed to Maddy’s side.

“Sam, are you there?” Norah’s voice drew his attention back to the phone.

Sam watched Kristen crouch by Maddy and begin talking to her in a soft tone. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Maddy woke up.”

“Your message said you had something important to tell me.” He heard a hint of impatience in Norah’s voice, probably because he’d mentioned Maddy. She didn’t like to hear about Maddy. Must be easier to believe she did the right thing when she didn’t have to think about a little girl growing up without her mommy.

Too bad. What he had to tell her had everything to do with Maddy. And this time, she was going to listen.

KRISTEN COAXED MADDY BACK into the bedroom, though she wished she could stay and listen to Sam’s end of the conversation. He hadn’t said the caller was his ex-wife, but Kristen could tell from his defensive body language and the immediate tension in his voice that he was talking to someone with the power to hurt him. She assumed Norah Cabot was such a person.

“Can you read me a story?” Maddy asked.

Kristen looked at the sleepy little face staring up at her from the pillows and her heart shattered. She struggled to stay focused, to keep her mind in the present as it began to wander helplessly into the nightmarish past.

Read the little girl a book, Kristen. You can do that.

She picked up the book lying on the small bedside table. Dr. Seuss. Her heart squeezed.

Seuss had been Julie’s favorite. Kristen had read Green Eggs and Ham so often she had it memorized. Sometimes, usually late at night when she was tired and couldn’t fight off the memories, the rhymes and rhythms of the child’s book flitted through her mind, interspersed with the image of Julie’s limp body lying at the foot of her bloodstained bed.

Kristen closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clutching the book against her chest.

“Can’t you read, Miss Kristen?”

Her eyes snapped open. Maddy Cooper gazed up at her with wide green eyes full of sweet sympathy.

“I can read it for you,” Maddy added, patting the bed beside her in invitation.

Kristen stared at the tiny hand thumping lightly on the pale pink sheet. Another image of Julie fluttered through her mind, surprisingly sweet. Like Maddy, her little sister had also owned a favorite pair of pajamas—bright yellow with black stripes, inspiring Kristen to nickname her Julie Bee. Julie used to “read” to Kristen, too, flipping through the pages as she recited her favorite books by memory.