Page 51 of Paternal Instincts
“Can I see the note?”
Quaid presented it, sealed inside an evidence bag. “I have to get it to the lab for fingerprints, but I doubt we’ll find any.”
I read the message and frowned. “‘I did my own research and discovered the truth.’ What does that mean?”
“Jude came to mind, especially after we found him digging around Nixon’s office, but I’m not sure he would have had enough time to send it.” Quaid shuffled and glanced over his shoulder. “Imogen’s response is bothering me. When she snapped, she blamed her husband. She legitimately pointed a finger at the man and said, ‘This is all your fault.’ She also demanded he give Crowley back. Az, it was the most… volatile thing I’ve ever seen. She lost her mind. She cracked. It was like watching a psychiatric patient in a movie have a complete mental breakdown. She knows something she isn’t sharing.”
“We talk to her. Put the pressure on. Turn up the heat.”
“And cause her to go into premature labor? The baby may not survive. She’s only thirty weeks.”
“What do you propose?”
Quaid paced a few steps down the hall, hands on his hips as he thought. “I could go after Nixon. He’s been a sobbing mess since he arrived at the station.”
“Do you think it’s an act?”
“Could be. The tears seem real. The man looks utterly broken.” Quaid threaded his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Az.There’s also a mountain of tension with the grandparents and brother that isn’t entirely clear.”
“And there’s Jude,” I pointed out.
Quaid threw his hands up. “And there’s Jude, who showed up at the Soccerplex and lied about it.”
Jordyn returned from delivering the food and leaned against a nearby wall. “Do we have a game plan?”
Quaid checked the time on his phone, cursed under his breath, and stared at the ceiling for several long minutes before seemingly deciding. “It’s almost six. Tempers are too high to put everyone in the same room together, and according to Zoey, no one has eaten since this morning. We’ll be here all night if we plan to talk and put pressure on people individually.
“I say we send everyone home and inform them they are not to return tomorrow. We will go to them if and when we need to ask questions. They are not to speak to the press. Preferably, they should stay indoors until we can resolve this. Tonight, we talk to Imogen and Nixon. Separately.”
Jordyn didn’t question Quaid’s decision and headed to make it happen. When she was gone, I snagged Quaid’s hand and drew him into my arms. He collapsed against my chest with a weary sigh, burying his face in my neck. “I just want to go home and have a baby,” he whimpered.
“Should I remind you that you chose to take this case? No one forced you. No one twisted your arm. In fact, Edwards told you not to.”
“I know… I had to, Az.”
“I know.” I rested my cheek against the side of his head, inhaling his unique scent and savoring his weight in my arms. I wanted to take him home and start our new life together. Forget work for a coupleof months and settle into parenthood. It was our turn for happiness. I was even looking forward to sleepless nights and an anal-retentive husband who was probably going to tell me I was doing everything wrong because he read too many books and absorbed too many facts.
But Quaid wouldn’t be who he was if he wasn’t chasing psychotic kidnappers and stretching himself thin. It was why I’d fallen so madly in love with him.
I massaged the tips of my fingers over his scalp and cradled his head in the palm of my hand. “What do you need, hot stuff? How can I help?”
“This. More of this.” He burrowed deeper into my arms. “Don’t let go yet.”
“Never.” I held him close, keeping his seams from unraveling like I’d been doing for years. Quaid would always be Quaid. He would always throw himself heart and soul into a case, sacrificing his health for the greater good, and I loved him for that. I had a feeling it was exactly how he would parent our child. Wholeheartedly.
“We probably won’t get out of here for a few more hours, but when we do, can I request a full-body massage?” He peeked up with such hope in his baby blues; I could never say no.
Chuckling, I kissed his temple. “Absolutely.”
“Do I get a happy ending?”
“It’s part of the package. I give the best happy endings.”
He hummed and lowered his head again. I felt him smile against my neck. “Happy ending with your mouth?”
“That might cost extra.”
“I always return the favor.”
