Page 7 of Protecting the Newborn

That was a reminder for her to get out of there with Abigail, since two cops she wasn’t 100 percent certain she could trust—Charla and Lieutenant Franklin—knew her location. Well, they knew the location of Lizzy Martin, anyway. But it was possible that they knew it was an alias she’d been using.

“How’d you end up with Allie’s baby?” Ruston asked.

Gracelyn gathered the long breath that she’d need. “Allie showed up shortly after I turned in my badge, just as I was about to go on the run. She was scared.” And sporting a black eye and bruises on her arms. “She told me her boyfriend was abusive. And that she’d just taken a pregnancy test and was about two or three weeks pregnant. So, I took Allie with me.”

She’d had no choice about that. Allie could be flighty and restless, but there was no way Gracelyn could have abandoned the child and her.

“Using an alias I’d set up for her, Allie gave birth to Abigail eight weeks ago in Houston,” Gracelyn went on. “Then, a week later, Allie disappeared. She left me a note, asking me to take care of Abigail, but that she wanted to try to make amends with Abigail’s bio-dad, Devin Blackburn. He’s bad news, Ruston.”

She didn’t get into the details of that, but Devin Blackburn had money and connections—and three restraining orders from previous relationships. He’d been arrested twice for assault and computer hacking, but the money and connections had kept him from doing any time in a cage.

However, there was one connection Ruston needed to know about. Except she could tell from his expression that he’d already figured it out.

“Devin Blackburn,” he repeated. “He was one of the names that came up during the baby-farm investigation.”

She nodded. There’d been dozens involved in that case, maybe hundreds, but Devin’s name had popped up because he had known associations with a baby broker who’d worked for the farm. Since that particular broker had turned up dead, the cops hadn’t been able to learn if Devin’s association had led to anything criminal.

“I obviously couldn’t risk Allie bringing Devin to the house in Houston, because I didn’t know who else he’d let know I was there, so I brought Abigail here,” Gracelyn added. “I keep a burner phone and a private Facebook account that Allie could have used to get in touch with me so I could let her know where I was.” She paused. Had to. “But she hasn’t contacted me, and I haven’t been able to get in touch with her.”

He shook his head. “If you’d come to me, I could have helped keep Allie, you and the baby safe,” he insisted.

“You would have tried, but it would have meant giving up your badge,” she insisted right back. “All four of us would have been in hiding until the people responsible for the danger are caught.” She paused again, then drew in a long breath. “I think I’m close to finding those people.”

That got his attention, and his glare morphed into a puzzled look. “Who? Is it Marty?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have names. I have computer identities that I found on a website that’s basically an auction site for babies. One of the identities is Green Eagle.”

Gracelyn didn’t have to explain why that was important. Ruston would recall it was what the person running the baby farm had called himself or herself.

“That can’t be a coincidence,” she added.

He made a sound that could have meant anything. Ruston certainly didn’t jump to agree to that. “I looked for leaks in SAPD. For any signs that someone had ratted us out. I found nothing.”

Gracelyn had known he would look, and if he had indeed found the culprit—if there was a dirty cop to find, that was—Ruston would have already told her.

“I did what I believed was necessary to keep Abigail safe,” Gracelyn went on. “And if I had learned the identity of Green Eagle, I’d planned to contact you and give you the name so you could arrest him or her.”

He went quiet again, but his gaze stayed intense. “We’re going to talk more about Abigail and Allie,” he said like a demand. “But for now, I want to know everything you have on Green Eagle and the baby auction.”

She nodded. “Not here, though,” she said and would have reminded him that it was too dangerous to stay here.

A sound stopped her.

It was that punch-to-the-gut beep from her security system, and even though it was possibly another deer, she whipped out her phone from her pocket and looked at the screen.

The slam of adrenaline knocked the breath out of her.

Because it wasn’t a deer. In the milky haze of moonlight, Gracelyn saw the shadowy figure coming straight toward the house.

Chapter Three

Even though Gracelyn didn’t say anything, Ruston instantly knew from the change in her body language that something was wrong.

She thrust out her phone screen so he could see what had put that alarm on her face. One look at the person in dark clothes, and Ruston was certain he was sporting plenty of alarm of his own.

He drew his gun and braced for an attack.

Ruston also took a harder look at the intruder to see if he recognized him, but he couldn’t see the person’s face because it was covered with a mask. He couldn’t even be sure if it was a man or woman. He definitely couldn’t rule out this being Marty. Or one of his hired guns.

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