A Baby Between Them Read online

  Her body language screamed pissed off. The bounce of Carl’s steps and the faint whistling sound drifting back on the wind suggested Carl couldn’t care less about his wife’s frame of mind.

  The weather had deteriorated, the thin fog blowing up the bluff, swirling overhead. Searching for an excuse to approach Carl before he talked Ella into getting into the car, Simon noticed movement in a dark sedan parked nearby. The door opened as Carl passed the front bumper. Carl didn’t even turn to look as a big man with a very bushy gray-streaked beard got out of the car.

  The huge man was dressed all in black and looked damn formidable as he peered around the parking lot, his gaze sliding right by Simon, whose instincts had warned him to step behind a pillar. Apparently making a decision, the giant fell into step behind Carl.

  It didn’t take Simon’s twelve years in law enforcement to figure out something was going on.

  Picking up his pace, the bearded man grabbed Carl from behind, twirling him around, throwing a punch that connected with Carl’s nose. As he staggered backward, Carl pulled a gun from a hidden holster. The bearded man instantly kicked the gun from Carl’s hand with an agility unexpected in a three-hundred-pound man. The gun flew over the bluff as the assailant produced a terrible, mean-looking knife with a curved blade.

  Ella screamed. Simon started running toward her, taking his own gun from the waistband holster. Facing each other, jockeying for position, the two men backed Ella against the car. She pushed them away from her, lurching off to the side as blood from a knife slash blossomed on her palm. It ran down her arm as she continued stumbling backward.

  Again and again, the bearded man swung his knife in wide arcs at Carl. Ella seemed oblivious of anything but the fight. The men kept at it, forcing her toward the edge of the bluff as the giant lashed out and Baxter recoiled.

  Birds wheeling up the bluff caught Simon’s attention. At once he realized the direction Ella’s retreat was taking her. He yelled her name. The two men turned to look at him, but Ella kept moving as though oblivious of anything except escape. She stumbled backward against the knee-high rock and wood post wall, her hands flying, her purse launched into the air. She’d been moving so fast her momentum sent her sailing over the edge of the fog-shrouded cliff.

  Both men lurched toward the bluff, became aware of each other again, and squared off. Carl peered at the empty spot where Ella had last appeared, obviously caught between his desire to find out what had happened to her and the one to save his own skin.

  His skin won. He used the big man’s momentary lapse of attention to get a head start back to his car.

  Simon was only vaguely aware of the two men taking off in their respective vehicles as he reached the place where Ella had tumbled over the cliff.

  Chapter Four

  The bluff was riddled with gullies and overgrown with Scotch broom, their brilliant yellow flowers dazzling despite the fog. More important than their color was the fact that they could cushion, maybe even stop, a fall.

  “Ella!”

  Twenty feet below him, he caught sight of movement, but it was impossible to tell if a person was responsible or if it was just the wind rattling the tortured boughs of a Sitka spruce.

  Slapping his revolver back in the holster, Simon climbed over the fence and onto the narrow ledge, calling her name again. To his infinite relief, he heard her voice.

  “Help! Someone help!”

  As he took a cautious step, the sandy rocks beneath his feet shifted and he slipped. He grabbed one of the wood posts and caught himself but not before a shower of rocks skittered down the gully.

  “Hold on!” he yelled.

  Leaving her there was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he had to get a rope or risk stranding them both. He knew exactly where it was in his truck and dug his keys out as he ran. It was over twenty miles back to town. A call to the fire station would set a rescue in motion. Should he take the time to fiddle with his phone and instigate it?

  No.

  Grabbing the rope, he ran back across the lot. There was no one else around.

  Fingers steady, he quickly rigged a bowline in the rope and hitched it over the wood post six feet north of where he figured Ella had landed or caught hold of a branch or root. The fate of the baby she carried flashed across his mind, but he let it go. There was nothing he could do except save Ella.

  “Ella?” he yelled as he tore off the green baseball cap and pulled on the work gloves he’d grabbed along with the rope.

  It took her forever to answer and when she did, her voice was faint. “Hurry. I can’t hold on much longer.”

  “Keep talking. I’m rappelling down to your left, so no rocks will hit you, but I can’t see in the fog. I don’t know exactly where you are.”

  “I’m kind of in a tree,” she called, her voice a little stronger.

  The cliff below the post he’d chosen wasn’t gullied like the other, but stuck out in weathered bare rock. Leaning backward and paying out the rope through his gloved hands, Simon backed down the face until his feet hit empty air. He swung back against the cliff, the impact briefly knocking the wind out of his lungs.

  Below him and to his right, he heard Ella yell, “Are you okay?”

  “Keep talking,” he sputtered, and immediately pushed himself away. Now he could start veering toward the sound of Ella’s voice as she recited the alphabet, catching his feet in the gullies and fending off the brush as it became more dense. At last he spied a glimpse of lilac that almost but not quite blended in with the foliage.

  Ella was wearing a jacket that color.

  Another foot or two and he could see the gleaming cap of her brown hair and then two wide blue eyes.

  She’d been stopped from the three-hundred-foot drop to the surf below by the branches of the spruce, themselves twisted by the wind. She clung to the end of a slender branch, one leg looped over the top, both hands clinging to the rough bark. The tree didn’t look all that sturdy, but the thick foliage above her head explained why he hadn’t been able to see her from above.

  Pushing with his legs, he swung toward her, landing on the bluff right below her dangling foot.

  “You have to let go,” he said. The sound of the surf seemed twice as loud as it had from the top of the bluff and he raised his voice, reaching up to touch her denim-covered leg. “Trust me.”

  She looked down at him but hesitated. He wondered if she recognized him. Even if she did, why would she trust him? She didn’t remember she knew him, and the basic Ella he’d come to understand was a woman who liked to control her own destiny and didn’t trust easily.

  “You sure that rope is strong enough for both of us?” she called.

  He knew the rope was strong enough. They’d soon find out if the wood post at the top was. He said, “Would you rather hang around here all day?”

  The tree creaked as she adjusted her weight. “Okay, point taken. Just be ready.”

  “I’ll manage. Go slow. Keep a good grip on the tree as long as you can. Use me like a ladder. When you get down here where I can grab you around your waist, we’ll figure out how to get back up the cliff, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, and slowly began unhooking her death grip from the tree. He braced himself, tying off the rope around his waist so he could use both hands to grab her. Within a few moments, her foot hit his shoulder and his fingers wrapped around her calf. She all but slithered down his body until she paralleled him, one arm swung around his neck. The palm of her other hand was still bleeding and her clothes were splotched with blood.

  She craned her neck and looked into his eyes. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was hushed and amazed.

  “Saving you,” he said. “Hold on,” he added as he pushed them away from the bluff, shifting his weight to the left, landing a few feet back toward the direction he’d descended from. Ella caught on quickly and helped him by synchronizing her body movements to his, though he still wasn’t sure how he was going to climb hand over hand up th
is rope with her in tow.

  He heard voices from above.

  “Who’s up there?” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. Hell of a time to feel a surge of sexual recognition.

  “I have no idea,” he muttered. There was suddenly new tension on the rope. Had some Good Samaritan figured out they needed help? “Other than your hand, are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so.” She glanced between their feet and added, “Just scared.”

  “Don’t look,” he cautioned, though he knew from his own brief glance all she could really see was thick fog creeping through the brush and trees. It was the faraway sound of the crashing surf that was alarming.

  More voices drifted down the bluff, and the rope slowly started pulling them upward. “Hold on to the rope with your good hand and me with the other,” he said. “Try to keep your feet against the cliff and walk with the rope.” He didn’t add that he hoped whoever was up there knew not to go too fast.

  The most harrowing part was the last bump of rock that meant they hung suspended for what seemed an eternity, but after their feet hit the ground again it was simply a matter of taking the last few steps.

  At the top, people reached for Ella and for him. Simon saw his rope had been tied to the towing wrench on a big four-by-four. The driver of the truck jumped out of the cab, clapping Simon on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear. Simon shook his hand and thanked him.

  After a few moments, Simon sidled up to Ella, who stood shivering in the cold, a clean cloth someone had apparently given her wrapped around her left hand. “We need to get you to the hospital,” he said.

  “No. I don’t have time for that,” she said. “My husband. Where is he?”

  “After he saw you fall, he drove off. The attacker went after him.”

  “Could you tell what direction they went?”

  “North. Why?”

  “Because we have to follow. The man with the beard was trying to kill Carl.”

  “I know. But you need attention. There’s your head and the—”

  He stopped a microsecond before saying the word baby and mumbled, “The cut on your hand to consider.”

  “No, please, you’ve helped me this much. Can’t you help me just a little longer? Take me to the next town. I’ll rent a car.”

  He wasn’t sure it would be smart to admit he’d been spying on her, that he knew she had to get to Tampoo. Feeling his way, he said, “Is your memory back, Ella?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you call me Ella? Carl calls me Eleanor.”

  “Well, I—”

  She shook her head impatiently, wincing as her eyes refocused. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. No, my memory hasn’t come back, but I now know I have a father who needs me. Something is happening that includes him, something Carl knows more about than he’ll tell me. I have to find Carl. I have to get to Washington.”

  “The police,” he said firmly. “They can put an APB out on your rental.”

  “No police!”

  “But they can—”

  “No,” she insisted. “I don’t want the police.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip. “Just promise, no police.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Listen, whatever my father is involved in is dangerous for him and apparently for Carl, too. Carl has a cell phone. If he wants to call the cops, let him.”

  “Okay, okay, calm down.”

  “Can’t we just drive north to the next town and see if Carl is there?”

  Still he paused. Going about this on their own on the heels of that knife attack seemed foolhardy to him. But what about Ella? How deeply was she involved in all this? What had she done that she couldn’t remember? He knew she didn’t like police work, she’d complained about his job constantly, but without her memory, what was driving her to react to this extreme?

  “Yes, okay, I’ll help you,” he said as though there’d ever been any real doubt he would.

  She took a deep breath. Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair.

  She began thanking their benefactors. Simon picked up his green cap from where he’d flung it. Nearby, a woman and her children seemed to be searching for the contents of Ella’s spilled handbag and pressing it back into her uninjured hand.

  As they left the parking lot, Simon heard sirens approaching from the other direction. It appeared someone had called the fire department to come to the rescue.

  “SO, WHY DO YOU CALL me Ella?”

  The road they traveled ran high above the ocean with hairpin curves and trees everywhere. Most of the scenery was obscured by the fog. She looked over at him and saw his brows knit.

  “My mother’s name is Eleanor. Everyone calls her Ella. I guess when I saw you fall I just switched back into an old habit.”

  “Oh.” Well, that kind of made sense. She could see how that could happen. “I’m very lucky you saw me go over that cliff,” she added.

  “I’d just driven up to the restaurant,” he said, “and noticed your husband and the big guy fighting. And then I saw you backing up to escape them.”

  “You yelled a warning. You yelled Ella.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And then you ran toward me.”

  “I didn’t think you saw or heard me,” he said, glancing at her and away as a big camper whizzed by going the other direction.

  “I did but kind of in a hazy way. I was just so worried about that damn knife. And Carl had a gun. I didn’t know before that he…” Her gaze swiveled to him. “You had a gun, too! I glimpsed it in your hand.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Why do you carry a gun?”

  “I don’t know if that’s any of your business,” he said, but his voice was gentle.

  He had a point. Why was she grilling him? Why was she treating him as though she had the right to question anything he did?

  He broke the awkward silence by adding, “Would you rather I call you Eleanor?”

  “No,” she said at once. “I prefer Ella.”

  “Then Ella it is.”

  “It was very brave of you to come after me like you did. You saved my life. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Are you a fireman?”

  “Why would you—oh, because of the rescue?”

  “Yes. You know all about ropes. It just seems like the kind of stuff a fireman knows. Don’t they rescue people all the time?”

  “Mainly we put out fires,” he said.

  “So you are a fireman,” she said. “I was right.” That explained the muscles she’d felt under his clothes as she slid down his body and the way he’d balanced her weight as they scaled the mountain.

  “I’m used to helping people out of jams,” he added.

  “Let’s get something straight,” she said firmly. “I’m not expecting anything from you but a ride to a car rental place.”

  “I understand.”

  “I have to find Carl. He’s been lying to me.”

  “Aren’t you worried the guy with the knife will catch up with him first?”

  It was her turn for evasion. Worried? Hell yes, if it meant he carved Carl into little pieces. She wanted to ask Carl about her father; she didn’t want to find him dead.

  Good heavens, was she really such a cold person that she could think like this about a man who claimed they had a good marriage? Yeah, well, he lied; he’d proven that this morning.

  The silence was growing and, given the paucity of comforting thoughts in her brain, she blurted out, “You missed breakfast when you rescued me and then I dragged you away.”

  “I’ll grab something later. Actually, I seldom eat before noon.”

  “My dad was like that. Just coffee with cream. I’d sit in his lap and he’d give me sips.”

  The words had left her mouth before she realized the significance of the thought behind them—or maybe a more accurate thing to say would be the lack of thought behind them.


  Simon pulled the truck off the road into a lookout and set the warning lights. “You remember your father?” His voice sounded excited.

  “Not really,” she said slowly. “I just suddenly remembered sitting on his lap, drinking his coffee, liking the cream.”

  But there was more. The warmth of his arm around her waist as he held her, the faint odor of pipe tobacco, his deep voice booming above her head as she took tiny, sweet sips.

  Already the memory, so tangible just a second before, began slipping away.

  “That’s great,” Simon said. Hooking one strong arm over the steering wheel, he added, “We need to be honest with each other, not hold things back, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. For a second, she was back in his arms, hanging from the rope. She’d been frightened, yes, but she’d also felt safe. She added, “I should tell you about the man in the restaurant. But couldn’t you drive while I did?”

  He blinked a couple of times. “The man in the restaurant?”

  “This will all make more sense if you know about him.” She motioned with her fingers. “Drive?”

  He stared at her a second longer. “Okay,” he finally said, and within a few moments, he had merged back into traffic.

  She told him about the old guy and the way he’d contrived to meet with her alone and her conviction that Carl had known about the meeting days before. Simon asked if she was sure the old man didn’t seem familiar in some way, and though she had to admit he’d appeared to be acquainted with her family, she had no idea who he was or who the man he’d called Jerry was, the man he’d said she was the last to see, presumably before she lost her memory.

  They passed a sign announcing the next town a mile away. “So you can see why I need to get to Tampoo, Washington, can’t you? I don’t know what’s going on, but it must be serious. My father needs me. And Carl—he knows something he’s not telling.”

  Simon slowed down as they entered the city. To Ella’s dismay it was bigger than Rocky Point. “I’ll never find Carl here,” she said.