Chapter 3
He put his mental battle gear on and forced himself forward.
He was only playing chauffeur and looking out for Shana—his partner.
It was her case, but naturally he had her back.
That was how it went. Maybe she thought it worked differently in private business.
But it didn’t. Maybe she thought it worked differently for them.
He peered ahead inside the glass-fronted establishment.
Few sights had ever taken his breath away the way the sight of Shana George holding a baby girl did at that moment.
He didn’t know which girl’s smile was more heart-wrenching.
He aimed his glare at Father Donahue before he found himself freezing up again.
The priest sat at the table sipping something—probably coffee.
That was his best guess because this place didn’t serve alcohol.
Dane closed in, pulled out a chair next to Father Donahue.
He figured the man was maybe late thirties, no more than early forties and in good shape.
Too slick for a priest, in Dane’s opinion.
Dane thought about Shana’s directive that she do all the talking and tossed it aside.
Besides, Shana was all preoccupied with the little bundle of joy.
Dane only glanced at the bundle once, met the baby girl’s eyes, and looked away.
Father Donahue faced him, smiled, and put a hand out to shake. But when Dane leveled his stare at the priest and leaned in, Father Donahue turned a satisfying shade paler and dropped his hand. The priest’s smile vanished.
“We know who the father is, Father. Who’s the mother?” Dane’s voice was dead calm, and not very friendly.
“What do you mean? I don’t know—”
“If you don’t know then no one does. If you can’t even make a stab at guessing then I’m questioning the church’s whole system of keeping their priests in line. Abstinence-wise. You must’ve really burnt up that confessional Father Donahue.”
The priest turned red and looked away, turning toward Shana and the baby. His baby. Dane was certain.
“Spill it. Consider me an honorary confessor.”
“I don’t—”
“You are the baby’s father.” Dane spoke loud enough for Shana to hear him this time and she swung around and looked at Dane, then the baby, and then Father Donahue before lowering herself into the third chair at the table with the babe clutched tight in her arms.
“Please.” Donahue glanced around, to make sure no one else heard. The place wasn’t exactly hopping, lucky for him.
“Is it true?” Shana gave him a hard look.
He nodded.
“Who’s the mother?” she asked. It wasn’t a demand, she didn’t use a menacing voice or a loud voice or an angry voice.
But it was that same “mother” voice—the kind of question leveled in the kind of voice by the kind of woman that one did not ignore.
Father Donahue answered Dane’s beautiful Shana.
The priest had a sweet tooth when it came to women, it was clear.
“I’m not sure. I don’t really know. I...” His gaze dropped to the floor. “I know how this looks, how it sounds. Please forgive me. I’m a good priest in every other way.”
“Except with the abstinence,” Dane said.
He nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m discreet. I don’t tell women that I’m a priest. I don’t have affairs with parishioners or lead innocent women on.”
“No, you pick up strange women and have sex, is that it, Father?” Dane didn’t care, but he was enough of a bastard that he enjoyed making the man squirm.
Shana kicked him under the table. And she didn’t bother with being subtle.
“Looks like one of these women found out who you were.”
“Yes.”
“And someone took a shot at the nun who was taking care of the baby?”
“Yes, I’m sure it has something to do with the mother. Maybe an angry family member.”
“You think they were attempting a kidnapping?”
“Yes. They tried to take Paulette—demanded she be handed over.”
“But that makes no sense since they left her with you in the first place,” Shana said.
“Maybe the mother left the baby with you for safekeeping. Maybe she did it on the QT out of respect for you and figured you would protect your own child.”
“I think so—the note said to protect her and I thought it was strange at the time.”
“How did you know the baby was yours?”
“I could tell. And the note made mention of something private—something only women I’ve been with would know.”
“I see. Care to share?”
Shana kicked him again.
“Let’s see the note. It could contain clues.”
“I don’t have it with me.”
“You didn’t destroy it, did you?”
“No—not yet. It’s private and incriminating.”
“Father—don’t you think the baby is already incriminating enough?” Shana arched her brow and cradled the babe like a pro.
Dane forced himself not to stop and marvel.
“We need to see the note—find the mother and find out who is trying to get the baby and what’s going on or else the little girl is never going to be safe. It’s not like we can keep her here on the island forever. I doubt even the church has that much money,” Dane said.
“Money won’t be a problem. You do what you have to do.” Father Donahue took a fat white envelope from his inside pocket and put it on the table and pushed it toward Dane. Dane glanced at Shana, knowing this would piss her off since it was supposed to be her case.
But the baby in her arms seemed to override everything. Calmed her. She smiled at him. Then pressed her lush lips lightly to the baby’s hair and tightened her arms.
A few things in him tightened, but he looked away in an effort to stay focused. Possibly a futile effort. But no—he was better than that. A better soldier than to let a woman undo him. Or a baby.
Dane picked up the envelope and stuffed it into his back pocket without examining it first.
“Tell me about this shooting.”
“I don’t have much. The man was dressed in black and he had a smallish gun.
That’s all Sister Anne had to say. He was bald.
He had dark glasses. He tried to take the baby from her, but she screamed and ran for a door, shielding the baby.
He shot at her but by then several people were on their way to her—including me. ”
“Did you see the man? Did you give chase?” Dane knew the answer.
Father Donahue shook his head.
“How did he get out?” Dane asked.
“How did he get in?” Shana asked
“We’ll have to talk to Sister Anne ourselves. Looks like a road trip to the church is in order—unless she’s in the hospital.”
“No. The shot only grazed her. We had a doctor make a house call. We are trying to be discreet.” Father Donahue looked concerned so Shana spoke up.
“Don’t worry, Father. Discretion is our hallmark. We’ll come up with a cover. Chances are Sister Anne already has it figured out anyway.” She looked down at the baby and Dane could see a clear family resemblance. Even at this young age.
“If it’s absolutely necessary. But I want you to keep the baby away—keep her safe.”
Dane wasn’t so sure the father was thinking of the baby’s safety as much as his own career.
It was a high-profile parish he belonged to, according to Dane’s research—the kind where they might notice a priest and promote him to bishop.
The kind where lots of prominent and wealthy influential people went—like Madeline Grace, the governor’s wife.
“Anything else you want to confess—tell us about that might be useful?”
“There is one thing—the baby’s name.”
“What about it?”
“Paulette. It could be a coincidence, but Paul is one of the names I used—with the women.”
Dane took a deep sigh.
“Make a list of all the names of the women who you told your name was Paul about twelve months ago. Names of the places where you met them. Email it to me.” Dane handed him a card.
“How do you know the baby is three months old?” Shana asked.
“I’m a pro.” He was guessing. But it was an educated guess. He’d been through this exercise once before. Didn’t care to think about it, but he’d learned a thing or two.
The priest nodded, stood and looked at his watch. “I’ll have it for you tomorrow when you arrive.”
Then he picked up a large bag and handed it to Shana. She stood and slung it over her shoulder. Damn if she didn’t look like a pro at this baby thing herself. His insides tightened again with all kinds of feelings jumbled in. But the dominant feeling was desire. Damn.
“Here’s my card with my private cell number.” Father Donahue handed the card to Dane. “Call ahead. We can have someone pick you up at the ferry landing—or the airport. Whichever you prefer. But make your cover plausible and let me know what it is.”
Dane thought of telling him this was Shana’s case but he figured that would unnerve the man so he put up with the charade.
They watched the priest walk out the door to a waiting taxi and take off.
*****
Shana looked at Dane and didn’t know what to think. She kept her face and voice neutral and tried not to squeeze the sleeping baby too close.
“I thought you weren’t on this case.”
“I’m not. No need to spoil it for you. Let Father Lothario think what he wants.”
“I did some background on him. He’s a go-getter. Has ambitions. Gets involved in high-profile causes and wins awards.”
“Not surprising.”
“So what the hell are you doing, Dane?”
“Right now I’m driving you back to the shack. Then I suggest you get us some tickets to Boston and we interview that nun and set up some appointments—maybe some surveillance—”
“Stop right there. If we’re doing all that—what about Paulette?”
“Don’t look at me, girlie.”
“Oh—don’t you worry about that. I wouldn’t leave a full-grown adult with you, let alone a baby.”
“Then what do you want from me? You want me to do all the work for you while you babysit?” He stared her down.
She hadn’t been thinking that—not consciously. But now that he mentioned it, it sounded a lot like where she’d been headed. But no.
“I want to do it all. I want to protect the baby and do the legwork.” And I want your help.
“Ah. Firsthand experience on the dilemma of every working mother that ever lived.”
“What would you know about it?” she snipped. Then she felt hot and gulped. She’d forgotten that his mother was a working mother all his life practically. “Never mind.”
“No mind taken.” He gave her a knowing look. It was the kind of look that melted her insides with his forgiveness and understanding and the implied kindness underneath. Except she knew it was all an illusion. Had to be.
“So what are we doing here?” she asked on a sigh. She looked down at the long eyelashes lying against the porcelain-white baby cheeks and felt a contraction. She was doomed. She wasn’t even thirty years old and she already felt the pull.
“You need to get yourself a sitter. One with skills. Preferably one who will keep the baby at their place—”
“I have a place.”
“That oversized closet you live in? I can’t even turn around in there. You’ll never be able to keep a baby there.” He eyed the giant bag in front of her. She firmed her lips and mentally put her hands on her hips, adopting the attitude. It was her only hope with him.
“All right—I’ll get a babysitter. But only for two days. It won’t take us any longer than that.”
He smiled and shook his head. It was that same kind-looking face. It was new to her and she didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust him.
“You planning to help me or aren’t you? ‘Cause if you’re not, I believe you have a fat wad of cash that’s rightfully mine.”
“It would be on me if you got into trouble. I’ll help you. You knew I would anyway.” He spoke in a measured voice. “But that’s all. No baby time.”
“No one’s asking you.” She stood. “And don’t worry. There will be no trouble.”
That’s what she said before the bed broke. The words popped into her head—her father’s favorite saying. She’d heard him say it a hundred times.
Dane stood and picked up the baby carrier. He wisely didn’t suggest she put the baby in it. She rose and turned from him.
From behind her he said, “Nothing will go wrong? That’s what she said just before the bed broke.”
Shana snapped around so fast the baby woke with a start and a whimper.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Relax. Your brother—”
“He told you my father used to say it?” She wasn’t breathing. She gulped air. “How dare you—”
“Relax. I thought it might be apropos, is all.” He moved ahead of her like a lethal cat on good behavior. He grabbed the bag from her hand as she tried to heft it and pushed the door open as she juggled the baby. Then he gave her that kind look again, but now it all made sense.
He’d been talking to one of her three brothers.