Protecting Her Secret Son

She answered as best she could, considering she’d closed that chapter of her life so many years ago. All the while, questions more essential to her heart, her future, pounded inside her in a vicious cycle.

Where was Aiden? Was he frightened or hungry? At four years old, he probably couldn’t reason out that she’d be searching for him. The despairing thought had her heart withering in her chest.

“Come on, Shannon.”

She followed the sound of the deep voice to Daniel’s face. She’d zoned out again and missed his return to the office. He held out a hand, strong and calloused from hard, honest work. Bradley’s hands had always been soft and well-manicured.

“Come on, now,” he said gently.

What else could she do except go with him? Sobbing and wringing her hands wouldn’t save her son. She thought back to her pregnancy and the days and nights coping with alternating waves of emotion. There had been soaring highs of hope and anticipation of seeing her baby followed by bouts of anxiety over motherhood and wondering how she’d provide. To fill the time, she’d researched, taken classes and socked away every spare penny. She’d prepared and planned to the best of her ability.

She would do the same for Aiden now. Waiting didn’t have to be stagnant. She could shift her focus to anticipating his safe homecoming. In the meantime, she would research her ex and prepare for a rocky road ahead.

Resigned, she put her hand in Daniel’s and followed him out of the club.

* * *

Daniel kept half an eye on Shannon as he drove back to her place. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left the club. Although the silence unnerved him, he didn’t have good cause to break it. She had every right to curl up in a corner until they found a helpful lead on Aiden. He doubted that would happen, but she had every right. Single parenting was tough for anyone. Single parenting the son of Bradley Stanwood? Well, that took more courage.

He’d walked into the club hopeful and walked out more unsettled. He recalled a few national headlines about Stanwood’s less-than-legit business practices. The guy slipped through the system every time. Although Daniel didn’t have all the facts—didn’t feel he had a right to them—she’d been married to a nasty criminal. That kind of mistake just didn’t fit with the sensible, smart and lighthearted woman he knew as an employee.

No, he suspected she didn’t have any influence at all over her ex-husband. Unless the kidnappers asked her for something else, this would not end well.

He shoved aside his doubts and reminded himself he’d seen more than one miracle in his life. As a firefighter, he’d watched people survive who shouldn’t have made it. Faith and belief were core components in survival, as effective as ladders and hoses and medical treatment. His purpose here was to keep Shannon safe while Grant worked on finding her son.

He parked in the alleyway behind her car. Still keeping an eye out for anyone too interested in them, he followed her inside. Her design choices set a clear mood, homey, tidy and comfortable. The furniture was secondhand, in good repair and clean. She’d probably refinished and reupholstered everything herself. Gleaming hardwood floors anchored the modest living room, ran back through the dining space to the kitchen and into an alcove with a stacking washer and dryer.

Without a word, she went up the stairs that bisected the first floor.

Looking closer, he got the sense there were clear rules here about cleaning up, making beds and eating whatever veggies were on the plate. None of that surprised him. Shannon had a reputation among the crew for being prompt, clean and friendly. She pulled her weight—more than—with the crew and she held firm about how much teasing she’d tolerate.

The evidence of a young boy in residence showed up in the booster seat at the table, the basket of children’s books under the stained glass floor lamp by the couch and a pint-size table in the corner of the living room bathed in light from the front window. Daniel smiled at the line of trucks—dump, cement, freight—waiting for their boy to come home and put them to work. He couldn’t help wondering if the kid had a fire truck somewhere in his fleet.

“Should I take some of Aiden’s things, too?” she asked.

He smothered his surprise, pleased her voice sounded stronger. Turning toward the stairway, he gave her a smile. “Only if it helps you. When the kidnappers release him, I’m sure you’ll both be able to come home.”

“Right.”

The single word, loaded with doubt, tore him up. As he debated the wisdom of giving her more reassurances when he didn’t have any guarantees, she headed back upstairs. He gave her a few minutes, checking the windows and door locks, wondering how to be respectful and polite in an untenable situation. Ten minutes later, concerned at her absence and more silence, he went up after her.

The bedrooms were on either side of the stairs, with a good-sized bathroom wedged in between. “Shannon?”

He found her in the smaller bedroom at the back of the house. Sitting in a rocking chair, she had her hands wrapped around a floppy blue rabbit and her gaze locked on her son’s small bed. “Shannon, honey, we need to go.”

“Why?” The strength she’d displayed minutes ago was gone. “We should stay, be here so they can bring him home.”

He recognized the shock and denial that often set in amid crisis and dire circumstance. Kneeling in front of her, he covered her hands with his. “Is this his favorite?”

“From day one,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “He doesn’t sleep—can’t sleep—without it.” She held it to her face, breathed deep, lowered it to her lap. When her weepy eyes met his, his heart clenched. “He gets so grumpy when he doesn’t sleep.”

“He’ll be all right.” Daniel didn’t want to give her false hope, and yet there was nothing else to offer. “Take it with you. It will make you both feel better when you’re reunited.”

“You sound so confident.” She tried to smile, but her lips wobbled. “I appreciate it.”

It took some prompting to get her moving and keep her on task as she gathered clothes and toiletries to spend a few days away from home. She would pause, her hands full and her expression empty. The stark terror in her brown eyes made him wish for the power to restore everything with a snap of his fingers.

Regardless of Grant’s trust in Daniel to stick with her and keep her safe, he wasn’t a bodyguard or an investigator. Hell, at this point he wasn’t sure he could even keep Shannon in line with the plan or explain her presence on the job site tomorrow. She was devastated, unfit for work, and he didn’t have a clue how to pull her out of the worry that kept dragging her down.

Going on instinct, he decided to start by making sure she wasn’t alone and building on that foundation. He kept up a monologue of nonsense, sharing his ideas for the charity house while he packed her suitcase and stowed the things she handed him from the bathroom into a smaller tote.

“What about tonight?” he asked, noticing she hadn’t selected anything special for their next visit to the club. “The concert,” he reminded her. “Grant could have news,” he added when he thought she might launch another protest.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to the closet, shoved hangers back and forth until she eventually pulled out a black dress. She repeated the mute search for heels and dropped them on the bed. Sitting on the velvet-covered stool in front of an antique vanity table, she gathered makeup and dropped it into the tote.

At last they were done and he carried her things downstairs.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, trailing him to his truck.

He tucked her suitcase and tote in the cab behind the seats. “There’s a flip I haven’t quite finished over in Francisville. We’ll stay there tonight. Once we get you settled, we’ll swing by my place before the concert.”

Her lips thinned, confirmed she wasn’t happy with him shadowing her.

“Are you going back to the site today?” she asked as he backed out of the alleyway.

“No. Ed’s got it under control.” He weaved his way through the neighborhood streets crowded with parked cars on both sides.

She groaned. “What did you tell him about me running off?”

“I only said there was a mix-up at the sitter about which kid got hurt on the swings and things are under control. He has kids, he gets it.”

“I hate lying to him,” she said.

“On the upside, the place is done.” The news seemed to deflate her more. “It gives me a solid reason to take them out and celebrate at the concert.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.” She tugged at the seat belt, as if she felt choked. “I’m not sure I’ve done the right thing at all, going to Grant, putting you in this awkward position.”

“I’m fine.” How many more times would she need him to say it? “It was my idea to go to Grant, remember?”

“When he starts asking questions...” Her voice trailed off.

“You didn’t disobey. Kidnappers say no cops all the time,” he pointed out. “I think it’s a standard step one.”

“Maybe in the movies,” she said. Her cell phone on her denim-clad thigh, she tapped her fingertips across the black screen as if she could summon contact from the kidnappers at will.

“Grant would support you if you wanted to file a report and get a formal search going.”

“I want that very much. A formal search, I mean.” She swiped away the errant tear rolling down her cheek. “If the kidnappers are like my ex, I doubt it would get us anywhere.” She cursed under her breath. “I want my son home safe, sleeping in his own bed. I want to go back to yesterday and stay there, freeze time. Or fast forward to tomorrow or the day after, when he’s home.”