Her Stolen Son

“No, but I did knee him in the groin. Then he did leave.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But he was seething and before he went out the door, he warned me I’d be sorry, that I had no idea who I was messing with.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “God, I am sorry, but not that I told him to leave. I’m sorry I ever met the man.”

So far her story matched Petey’s.

Colt gripped the cot edge to keep from drawing her up against him. Her fragile body was trembling, her lip turning blue where she kept worrying it with her teeth.

“What happened after he left?”

She shifted restlessly, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. “Petey was upset, so I cuddled him for a while and lay down with him until he fell asleep. This morning we were having breakfast when the sheriff knocked on the door.” She waved her hand. “Then they tore Petey away from me and arrested me….”

“Lyle didn’t come back during the night? Maybe he broke in and attacked you—”

“No,” Serena said firmly. “He didn’t come back, I didn’t fight with him, and I didn’t go to his place. In fact, I’ve never been to his house.” Her voice grew stronger. “And I would never leave Petey alone. Never.”

Colt frowned. “Do you have proof, someone who can alibi you?”

“Petey, but he was asleep.”

“Did you make or receive any phone calls during the night? Were you on the computer?”

“No, I fell asleep beside Petey, then woke up around four and went to my bed.”

Damn. A typical single mother routine, but not much for an alibi.

Colt tapped his foot, thinking. “Did the sheriff mention the evidence he has against you? How he knew you were involved with Rice?”

Serena’s forehead puckered. “No.”

“How about the cause or time of death?”

She shook her head. “No, he hasn’t told me anything.”

A situation he would rectify.

“Tell me more about Rice. What did he do for a living? How did you two meet?”

Serena heaved a breath. “He told me he was an entrepreneur, that he had investments in small companies. I run a bookkeeping business out of my home, and one of my clients gave him my name as a reference in case he needed my services.”

He definitely needed more background information on Rice. “Have you phoned a lawyer yet?”

A sense of despair seemed to wash over her. “No. I haven’t had a chance to call.” Her voice cracked again. “Besides, I don’t know who to call. I’ve never needed a criminal attorney before.” She swung her gaze toward the cell door. “I can’t believe I need one now.”

Colt gave up the battle to keep his distance, and tugged her hands into his. “Listen to me, Serena. I know a good lawyer. I’ll put in a call to her.”

The sheriff’s footsteps echoed down the hall, and Colt stood. “Hang in there. I’ll call my friend about arranging your bail. And I’m going to question the sheriff and find out more about Rice’s murder.”

Sheriff Gray appeared at the door, keys jangling as he motioned to Colt.

Serena rose and gripped his arm. “Please, Colt. Tell Petey I love him. And don’t let him end up in the system. I grew up there myself. It’s not pretty.”

He’d been a cop long enough to know what could happen, too. But the law was the law, and his hands were tied.

Petey was going back to Magnolia Manor.

SERENA PACED the jail cell, the tiny space closing around her. The nauseating scent of old sweat, urine and dirt wafted around her, nearly suffocating her.

She felt trapped. Panicky. And worried sick about her son.

Colt Mason’s face flashed into her mind, and a sliver of something frightening stirred in her belly. He had a strong, prominent jaw that seemed permanently set in anger. That crooked nose, the scar on his forehead and his black, intense eyes gave him a menacing look.

But she’d heard a tenderness in his voice when he’d mentioned Petey. And if he worked with GAI—and she had seen his badge as proof—then he had to answer to his boss and the other agents, meaning he had to be legitimate.

His questions about Lyle also roused her own questions. What would the sheriff tell him about her case? Sheriff Gray had to have some kind of evidence to hold her. But what kind of evidence could he possibly have against her?

Her shoulders and body ached with fatigue and tension, and she collapsed onto the cot, sick at the thought of having to spend the night in the cell.

At the thought of Petey sleeping in a foster home or orphanage where God knew what could happen to him.

He was so little, so young. He wouldn’t know how to protect himself against the bullies or the street-savvy kids. And he didn’t have enough strength to protect himself if one of the caretakers assaulted him.

Memories of one foster father in particular taunted her, and she automatically rubbed at the scar below her breastbone.

His wife…she’d been just as bad. A religious fanatic who’d sacrificed Serena to her husband in order to save herself from his vile touches. God’s will, the woman had said.

But God never meant for a man to do the things that man had done to her. God never meant for people to hurt children.

Tears threatened again, but she willed them away and let her mind go to that safe place where she’d retreated as a child. Where nothing could hurt her. Not the evil touches of those who pretended to care for children, not their hateful words or degrading comments or their beatings.

She was not that little girl anymore. She was strong. She had found love once. She had a son, and she would die protecting him.

Suddenly exhausted, she lay back on the cot and closed her eyes. But just as she was about to fall asleep, the image of Lyle Rice’s face materialized. Then her foster father.

Except this time he and Lyle were teaming up, and they were both chasing Petey…

She jerked up, shaking all over, a chill skating up her spine.

Please, Colt, help me. And please hurry…

PETEY ROCKED back and forth in the big chair, his legs dangling. Mr. Colt had been gone a long time.

He kept staring at the door, hoping he’d come in any minute.

Hoping his mommy would be with him and she’d take him home. And this horrible day would be over.

Mr. Colt’s friend Mr. Derrick set a drawing pad and some crayons on the coffee table. “Wanna draw while we wait on Colt to get back?”

He stared at the crayons and paper for a minute. He was a pretty good drawer. But he didn’t feel like drawing. His stomach was growling and jumping up and down, he was so hungry.