SH Medical 07 - The Detective's Accidental Baby (7 page)

As quickly as she entertained the notion, Erica dismissed it. Once she had his signature on the paper, it would be best if they never saw each other again.

Chapter Seven

The smell of machine oil filled Lock’s office, although he could see that his client had made an honest attempt at cleaning up. On their previous in-person contacts, he’d visited Phil DiDonato at his garage, but this time the mechanic had insisted on coming to him.

On the desk lay a file open to the photo Lock had provided of Phil’s eleven-year-old niece smoking cigarettes with a couple teenagers. It had seemed precisely the evidence Phil needed to convince his mother that the girl needed stronger supervision than she could provide.

“When I said Kelli should live with me, Mom went ballistic.” The mechanic paced the floor. Although in his mid-thirties, he had a weathered complexion, in part from riding all-terrain vehicles in the desert. “She called me a bad influence. That’s crazy! I’ve been Kelli’s surrogate dad since her father died in Iraq.” He’d explained previously that her mother suffered from severe depression and couldn’t take care of the girl, which was why Phil’s mom had custody.

“Your mother must be concerned that her granddaughter is cutting school.” Lock tried not to get personally involved in cases, but this girl looked so young and vulnerable. Her situation reminded him in some ways of his own childhood, except that she had a grandmother and an uncle who loved her. Too bad she didn’t appreciate how lucky she was.

“Mom’s in denial, I guess you’d say.” Phil gestured with his oil-stained hands. In a frayed but clean work shirt and jeans, he was the picture of a hardworking guy at the end of a long day. “Now she’s mad at me. Mom even threatened to cut me off from Kelli, which isn’t fair to either of us.”

“Kelli doesn’t act rebellious around you?” Lock asked.

“She still likes going to the movies or bowling with her old uncle, even though she does spend part of the time texting.”

If this were his niece, Lock imagined he’d crack down on that. But never having been in such a situation, he was hardly in a position to give advice.

“The longer this goes on, the worse it’ll get.” Phil resumed pacing. “Today it’s cigarettes, tomorrow it could be drugs or sex. I figure if she lived with me, boys would think twice about messing with her.”

“Still, she needs a mother figure, too.” Since the grandmother had raised the girl for the past eight years, they must have a close bond, no matter how defiant Kelli acted.

“Any suggestions?”

Changing a grandmother’s mind and reining in a wayward adolescent fell outside Lock’s area of expertise. But without intervention, this girl was headed for serious trouble. “I know where she hangs out and who her so-called friends are. Let me keep an eye on her. I’ll swing by from time to time, but not so often that she’s likely to notice.”

Phil cleared his throat. “If you see her involved in anything illegal, you’ll call me, not the cops, right?”

“If there’s immediate danger, I’d have to call them. Plus, I do have legal obligations.” Lock had to be frank about that. “But that leaves a big gray area. Basically, I’m not here to sic the police on my clients or their families.”

“Thanks.” Phil shook hands. “I’ll pay whatever it costs.”

“I’ll try to keep it within reason.”

Lock escorted him out. At this hour, past six, the secretary had gone home and there was no sign of Patty.

Through the closed door of Mike’s office, Lock heard his brother on the phone, giving his standard spiel about what they charged and what services they provided. “Mind if I ask where you got our name?” he was saying. “The Yellow Pages? Well, I’d be happy to provide you with a list of references if you’d like.”

Good thing Mike spearheaded the sales end of things, because new business was essential and sales was his forte. The company had come with a list of corporate clients acquired by its retired founder, an ex-cop and ex-marine named Bruce Hunter, but they weren’t enough to keep three detectives busy.

After holding open the exit door for Phil, Lock was about to retreat when he heard a light step below on the stairs, and then the mechanic say, “Excuse me, ma’am.”

“I can squeeze by,” a woman responded. Lock’s throat tightened as he recognized the husky tone.

Erica.

Straightening, he fought back the urge to run his hand across his stubbly jaw. No time to shave, anyway.

Then it occurred to him what this must mean. Erica wouldn’t bother to drop by simply to relieve his concerns.

Lock reminded himself to stay calm. Yet if he was going to be a father… It didn’t seem possible. Even though he’d been turning over the idea for weeks, it now struck him as unlikely. She must have some other reason for coming.

Perhaps she’d found out he’d been spying on her? That
would
be awkward.

He stayed where he was, still holding the door open, as Erica came up the stairs. She looked crisply professional in a salmon blazer and print skirt. Despite the ironic twist to her mouth, he caught a hint of uncertainty in her eyes when she spotted him. “I didn’t expect a welcome committee.”

“Glad you could drop by.”

“Interesting location. I never heard of Sexy Over Sixty before. Get much business from the senior crowd?” As she moved past, a trace of sweetness floated in the air.

“Sometimes,” he said. “We’ve helped expose a couple of investment scams. And older people have cheating spouses just like younger ones.” Lock’s hands flexed with an impulse to touch that tumble of blond hair.

Her gaze traveled along the wall in the reception area, past the array of certificates to a framed newspaper clipping about Lock pulling two people from a burning building. “Something of a hero, are you?”

“Just doing my job.”

He was about to ask what brought her here when he heard Mike say, “I’ll stop by tomorrow morning at ten. Thanks for calling Fact Hunter Investigations, Mrs. Smith.”

Any minute, Mike was likely to emerge, and he’d almost certainly recognize Erica from the photos Lock had shot. If he learned of their involvement, there’d be hell to pay.

“Smith?” repeated Erica. “Are people afraid to give their real names?”

“Some people actually are called Smith.” Putting a gentle hand on the small of her back, Lock steered her into his office.

Had he left anything incriminating on his desk or computer screen? he wondered as he closed the door behind them. Although Lock was no longer working on the Ginnifer Moran case, he’d received an email from her this morning. She’d thanked him for his thoroughness and for preventing a marriage that would have been a disaster.

His computer monitor showed the usual array of icons. On the desk, the only thing that stood out was the photo of Phil’s niece, which he swept into a folder. “Pretend you didn’t see that.”

“I’m not here to pry.” She gripped the back of a chair, suddenly pale.

Lock hurried to her side. “Are you okay? Anything I can get you? Water or coffee?”

Growing even paler, she sank into the seat. “Just your signature on this.” From her large purse, she drew a file folder and handed him a legal-looking document.

Was she seeking child support? Lock hadn’t considered that possibility, but he could hardly object. Taking the paper, he read the header a couple of times before the meaning dawned. “You’re asking me to waive my parental rights. Is this your subtle way of telling me you’re pregnant?”

Her eyes widened. “I meant to say that first. Yes, obviously, I am.”

Lock struggled for a response. Hard to find one when so many different reactions seethed inside him. Wonder. Concern. A little guilt, too, for putting her in a position she so clearly didn’t want. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

“The doctor says I’m fine. I’d like to settle on an adoptive family as soon as possible.” A small, determined figure, she stared at him fiercely. “I never wanted to go through a pregnancy, as you well know, but now that it’s happening, I’ll try to make the best of it. And this will be the best.”

“For who?”

“For everybody. Especially the child.”

“It didn’t work out that way for me.” Realizing he was crumpling the paper, Lock relaxed his grip. Why was he arguing? He couldn’t force Erica to keep the baby. He wasn’t even sure he wanted her to.

“I don’t know why your birth mother chose those awful people, but I can assure you I’ll be careful,” Erica told him. “Furthermore, this isn’t your decision.”

He scowled at the paper. “Apparently it is, since you need my permission.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “Are you planning to spend the next eight months feeling like a bloated whale with the flu? You have a lot of nerve giving me grief over this.”

Lock flinched. “I never meant to do this to you.”

“Let’s not get into a discussion of blame,” Erica said tightly. “Sign the damn paper and you can go your merry way.”

He ought to be grateful that she wanted nothing more than that. Instead, Lock kept picturing her cozy apartment, the radiance from a stained-glass lamp illuminating her face as she gazed invitingly at him. They’d found something, created something. Started a new life in a moment of ecstasy. That meant a lot.

“What’s the hurry?” He wished he didn’t sound so strained. Keep it casual and she might ease off, at least for now. “How soon could you select a family, anyway?”

Erica blew a tendril of hair off her cheek. “I suppose I should wait till after the first trimester, but I can start doing research now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“You, you big jerk.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “You don’t mince words.”

She fished in her purse and handed him a pen. “That’s right. So sign it.”

As he took the pen, Lock noticed the words printed on it:
Safe Harbor: a Place for Women and Babies.
What about fathers?

His fingers refused to do anything except return the implement. “I need a few days to process this idea. How about if I bring the paper to your place over the weekend and we can discuss it?”

“You can drop it off at the hospital on Friday. Signed.” Erica handed him the folder that had protected the document. “That’ll keep it safe. I’d rather you didn’t reduce it to a wad.”

He respected her toughness. “You’d have made a good cop.”

“Too short,” Erica said.

“Not necessarily.” Still, he was glad her job didn’t require that she put herself in danger. “Okay, Friday.”

“Leave it at the front desk.”

“I’d rather deliver it in person.”

She sighed. “I get off work around three-thirty. Cell phones don’t work in some areas, so have the desk page me.”

“Sounds good.” He wasn’t sure why he felt so reluctant to get this over with. Maybe because he didn’t want to sever his link to Erica, he supposed. But he would never use this as leverage to try to force a relationship.

Friday. Hopefully, he’d resolve his confusion by then.

She was on her feet. Lock hurried to get in a last word. “I hope you’ll consider me a resource during your pregnancy. With finances, for one thing.”

“I expect the adoptive family will take care of that.”

“Will they run errands? Cook meals? You need to eat healthy food,” he warned as he saw her out.

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“I’ve seen your refrigerator, remember?” he was saying before realizing that they weren’t alone.

Mike’s grim expression warned of trouble as he addressed Erica. “Hi, I’m Mike Aaron.”

“My partner.” Lock saw no reason to detail their relationship further. “Mike, this is—”

“Nice to meet you,” Erica interrupted. “I’m not a client, so let’s leave my name out of this.” Her frosty civility was more than a match for Mike’s. “I was on my way out.” With a glance at Lock that said,
Friday, and don’t screw this up,
she was off.

Mike waited until enough time passed for her to be out of earshot. “What was that about?”

Lock saw no point in ducking the question. “That was the woman I was investigating, Erica Benford. She’s pregnant.”

To someone who didn’t know Mike, his reaction might have gone unnoticed. Lock, however, registered it in the twitch of a jaw muscle and a watchful, wary tension. “This is the woman you reported didn’t sleep around.”

“Check.” Lock awaited the next question.

“And who refused your advances.”

“Check.”

“Who, according to your report, leads a nunlike existence, nursing the afflicted while remaining chaste.”

Lock inclined his head in the affirmative.

“Let me see if I got this straight,” Mike continued drily. “Ms. Benford has undergone a miraculous conception and dropped by our office because she couldn’t resist sharing the news with a man whose advances she rebuffed.”

“Also because I’m the father,” Lock conceded.

Mike dropped the sarcastic tone. “You do understand that you have committed a whole raft of…I don’t even know what to call them. Ethical breaches.”

“It isn’t what it looks like.” Lock didn’t rush to explain. His brother was not his boss.

“Well?” An edge of irritation testified to Mike’s fraying patience.

“It happened
after
I filed my report,” he said. “We ran into each other and I pulled her out of the path of a car. She was upset, and I did my best to comfort her.”