Heart of the Raven Page 3

  An image of Heath popped into her head. A fascinating man, simmering with emotion he carefully controlled. Talented and intelligent. Angry. Somber.

  He had good reasons to be somber. Cassie had learned that his five-year-old son, Kyle, had died in a school bus accident three years ago, and that Heath had been with him but couldn’t save him. Heath was still married at the time, so the divorce had obviously come after they lost their son.

  The death of a child, a divorce and now the disappearance of the woman carrying his baby—Cassie was surprised he was speaking in complete sentences.

  She thought back to the look on his face when he’d opened the door to her last night. The hope that died fast when she didn’t have good news for him. She’d wanted to put her arms around him and tell him it was going to be okay. His pain sent her reeling back to her own, different but still caused by other people taking away control, making you—

  Someone was jogging up the stairs. Cassie pushed herself away from the wall just as a woman in her early twenties rounded the corner. Her hair was black and chin-length, a choppy cut popular with her age group. Her gold nose stud reflected light from a wall sconce. She wore a ruffled minidress over form-fitting jeans, a look that worked for her.

  She challenged Cassie with her eyes.

  “Are you Darcy?” Cassie asked.

  “Why?”

  “I’m looking for Eva Brooks.”

  She slid her key into the lock. “Get in line.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Eva bailed a month ago.” The door opened. “I had to take a second job so I could cover the rent.” She looked Cassie up and down. “What d’you want with her?”

  A month ago? “I have a document for her.”

  Darcy eyed the envelope Cassie held. “What kinda document?”

  “I really can’t say.”

  “Well, I can’t help you.”

  She started to shut the door. Cassie put her hand out to stop it from closing. “I really need to find her. It might mean a lot of money for her, if she’s the right Eva Brooks.” It was the right tactic. At the word money Darcy paid attention.

  “She owes me rent and stuff,” Darcy said.

  Cassie waited.

  “Look,” the young woman said, “I don’t know where she’s at. The lawyer she works for called, too, but I couldn’t help him, either.”

  “How long have you been roommates?”

  “Couple of years. She got herself knocked up, though, so I was kinda glad she left ’cuz I really didn’t want a baby around, you know?”

  “I’m sure. Did she talk about the father? Maybe she’s with him.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too old. Too stodgy. I don’t know. She had a list of reasons why she wasn’t hanging out with him.”

  Cassie could see how Eva would perceive Heath as stodgy, especially if she didn’t see past his pain. But, old? “Still, she is pregnant,” she said to Darcy. “It would make sense that she would turn to him.”

  “Maybe. Her mail’s still coming here, though. Bills. I’m not paying ’em.”

  “Could I take a look?”

  Darcy frowned. “Who are you?”

  Cassie gave her a business card.

  “A P.I.?” She gave a low whistle. “Sweet.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “She got a rich old uncle who died and left her money?”

  “Something like that. Maybe I can track her down through her mail, then you can get the money she owes you.”

  Darcy hesitated. For a second Cassie thought she’d convinced her, then Darcy shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right. And I really gotta go. If I’m late even a minute, they dock an hour’s pay.”

  “I wouldn’t open the mail. Just see who sent it.”

  “Naw.”

  “You’ve got my number,” Cassie said as the door closed.

  She made her way to her car. Now what?

  She didn’t like how this case was stacking up. Eva had lied more than once and now had left no trail. It was rare that someone could just disappear, but especially someone eight months pregnant.

  Cassie decided there were no leads to follow, no more calls that could be made at the moment. She could give Heath an update by phone then go back to the office and do the paperwork she’d ignored on her two other cases. Or she could call a friend and go out to dinner, maybe dancing. Blow off a little steam. Find a reason to laugh.

  She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. After a minute she put it away. She didn’t know why she tried to pretend with herself. She wanted to see him in person. It was stupid. She didn’t get mixed up with clients, and she especially shouldn’t get mixed up with this one, who had twice as much baggage as she did—and that was a lot, although hers had been stored in an overhead bin for a long time.

  She should do them both a favor and just call him and let him know how it went with Darcy.

  Then she pictured the look in his eyes when he’d said his child was missing.

  She glanced at her watch. The traffic would be miserable.

  She gripped the steering wheel. There was nothing to accomplish by going to his house. She would only add to an attraction that should be buried in businesslike behavior.

  If only someone had cared about me like he cares for his unborn child.

  Cassie blew out a long breath. Okay, so she was drawn to the wounded man in more ways than were good for her. Decency was a big lure. She’d known too many not-so-decent people.

  She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. He had to be especially lonely now. The hours must drag by as he waited for word.

  She resigned herself to the inevitable, started her car then eased into traffic.

  Heath eyed the telephone on the desk beside him. If Cassie had news she would call. He knew that. But the waiting was almost too much to handle. She’d called once today to say she had nothing to report. That was hours ago.

  He shoved away from his desk. He couldn’t work.

  After Kyle died Heath had thrown himself into work, resting only when he fell asleep at the computer. Mary Ann had left him the day of the funeral. It should have been the least creative, least productive time of his career. Instead he’d overflowed with ideas. He’d designed buildings that would never be built, futuristic-looking skyscrapers beyond man’s ability to engineer. But he’d also produced winning, workable designs—buildings he’d never seen except in video, whether already constructed or under construction now.

  A psychologist would undoubtedly tell him it was avoidance, that he was only delaying his grief by immersing himself in work. And to a psychologist, that might be the easy truth. Heath knew it was much more complicated.

  When Eva told him she was pregnant he was stunned at first, then in denial. But he’d come to believe that the child would be his chance to do it over, and do it right.

  The doorbell rang. He dragged himself out of his office, grabbing his wallet as he went. He’d ordered dinner from Villa Romano.

  It wasn’t the delivery boy at the door, however.

  “Am I interrupting you?” Cassie asked.

  Except for the fact she was wearing a blue shirt instead of white, she was dressed as she had been yesterday. Her uniform, he decided. Damn but it looked good on her. He tried to read her expression. Do you have good news for me or bad?

  He fought the urge to take her in his arms. His need for human touch—her touch—came from out of the blue.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, angling as if to leave. “I should’ve called.”

  He’d stared at her in silence for too long. She didn’t know he was fighting a rush of feeling for her—the last thing he needed right then. Especially since he couldn’t define what that feeling was.

  “No. Cassie, I’m glad to see you.”

  A refurbished postal Jeep left dust in its wake as it sped up the driveway and came to a quick stop.

  “Dinner,” Heath told
Cassie.

  “Hey,” said a kid with sixteen or so piercings and tattoos down his arms. He hopped onto the porch. “How’s it goin’?”

  Heath traded the boy money for the take-out containers. “Thanks.”

  He jogged off with a backward wave.

  Heath moved aside to let Cassie in.

  “I was presumptuous,” she said.

  “Not at all.” He waited for her to say something about Eva. Anything.

  “I don’t have any news to speak of,” she said, following him into the kitchen. “I made a lot of calls to obstetricians’ offices, without results.”

  He wondered how many more blows he would have to take. Damn you, Eva. “Would you like a beer or something?”

  “No, thanks.” She leaned against the counter. “I went to her previous apartment, but I didn’t find anyone at home who remembered her. I’ll go back tomorrow when I might catch a few more tenants. Of course people are often out running errands on Saturday, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “Okay.”

  “I contacted her business school, but they’re on a two-week break before the next semester. They wouldn’t tell me if she was registered. Then I went to the two maternity-wear consignment shops. One of the clerks recognized her photo but said she hadn’t been in for a couple of months. Which makes sense. At some point, you’ve got enough maternity clothes. Anyway, I left her my card and asked her to call if Eva came back.”

  “You were busy.”

  “Yeah. And just before I came here, I met Darcy. Eva left the apartment a month ago, no notice. Darcy doesn’t know where she went, and she’s pretty ticked off that she’s been left with the full rent to pay.”

  “Too ticked off to give you any information?”

  “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know anything, but I’ll try her again, too. She may know more than she thinks.”

  He opened a bottle of beer for himself. If Darcy didn’t have any information, what chance did they have? Eva could be anywhere. With anyone. He may never see his baby. Ever.

  What the hell had he done to deserve this? Hadn’t he paid a big enough price already? He took a long swig of beer then plunked the bottle on the counter.

  Cassie rested her hand on his. “We’ll find them. We will.”

  He didn’t pull his hand away, but he tried to figure her out. “You could’ve called and told me this, Cassie.”

  She straightened, probably because he’d sounded accusatory. “I could have.”

  Why didn’t you? “I’ve got enough ravioli for two,” he said by way of invitation, testing the waters.

  She hesitated. They seemed to do that a lot with each other.

  “I appreciate the offer,” she said, “but I need to get going.”

  He’d read her wrong. It only served to frustrate him more. “Just thought I’d ask.”

  “Thanks.” She walked out of the kitchen.

  He followed. His mood, not good to start with, got blacker. Just yesterday he’d been glad she was the investigator on his case. Now he wasn’t sure.

  “I don’t know how much I can do until Monday and the doctors’ offices are open again. I contacted every local hospital and will continue to do so,” she said.

  She’d been as efficient as he’d expected. But he still didn’t know why she’d come instead of called, especially since she wouldn’t even share dinner with him.

  She waited, apparently giving him the opportunity to say something. When he didn’t, she opened the door and stepped outside. It was a beautiful evening, warm and breezy, a good night for driving the silver convertible parked in his garage. The one he hadn’t driven in three years. The one that undoubtedly wouldn’t start. He should take care of that.

  “I’m sorry,” Cassie said, then walked away.

  “For what?”

  “For disturbing your evening.”

  He didn’t tell her she was wrong, because she had disturbed his evening—and he liked the disturbance. But it was better that she leave.

  He watched her walk away, her pace even quicker than usual. He’d never been drawn to a woman this fast before. He’d known Mary Ann for months before they dated. Eva hadn’t been any temptation at all until almost a year of seeing her once a week and then only because of her overt come-on. But Cassie—

  She was gone. He returned to the house to wait for the phone to ring. He ate dinner because he knew he needed fuel, then he retreated to his office. Midnight came. One o’clock. Two. He fought sleep. Until recently every time he slept he heard Kyle call for him. Daddy. Dad-dy! He woke up sweating and trying to catch his breath. Recently he’d been hearing a baby cry.

  He jerked up, hitting his head on his work lamp. The baby was crying again—

  No. It was his doorbell. He blinked to clear his eyes and looked at the clock. Four thirty-five. He’d fallen asleep at his worktable.

  The bell rang again. He shook his head and hurried out of the room, down the stairs. He glanced out the glass panel next to the door.

  Eva. Holding a baby.

  Four

  Heath yanked open the door. His gaze went to the bundle in Eva’s arms then to her face. Her eyes were blank, her hair straggly, her freckles prominent.

  “Come in,” he urged her, picking up the diaper bag she’d set on the ground beside her. He looked over her shoulder and spotted her car. He hadn’t heard her drive up, he’d been so soundly asleep.

  He guided her toward the living room. She sat down gingerly. He took a seat beside her and waited, knowing he couldn’t push her for information but wanting to yell at her, Where have you been? Why did you worry me like that?

  “It’s a boy,” she said.

  A tornado of emotion spun through him, fast and furious, destroying the walls of resistance built months ago, obliterating uncertainty in one gigantic whirl. A boy. A son.

  “Do you want to hold him?” Eva asked solemnly.

  “Yes.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs then reached for the baby. The blanket fell away from his face and Heath looked at his son for the first time. He wriggled, pursed his lips and arched his back but didn’t open his eyes. He had dark hair, a sweet pink face. Heath’s eyes blurred as he dragged a finger lightly down his son’s face. “He’s perfect.” He reached to take Eva’s hand. “Thank you.”

  She stared at him for a long time, then she lifted her chin. “Do you want him?”

  “Of course I want him. I’ve told you so all along.”

  “I mean—” she pulled her hand free “—do you want to keep him yourself? Forever?”

  His heart slammed against his sternum. “What?”

  “If you do, I’ll leave him here with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you or don’t you?”

  Heath tried to make sense of what she was doing. Why would she offer such a thing? Postpartum depression? If so, undoubtedly she would be back to claim her child.

  But in the meantime, no one else would have his son. “I do,” he said simply.

  “How much is he worth to you?”

  Shock ripped through Heath. She was selling him? He didn’t know her at all. He realized he never knew her.

  My son is worth everything. How could he place a dollar value on his own child? “I can write you a check for ten thousand right now. If you want more, you’ll have to wait until the bank opens on Monday.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  He hesitated. So little? She knew he could afford much more than that.

  Something wasn’t right. But when he looked at his son, the thought fled. “Will you sign a letter agreeing to my assuming full legal custody of him?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  He started to put his son in Eva’s arms while he tended to business but realized he couldn’t let go of him. “Come up to my office. We’ll draft an agreement.”

  He dictated the note as she typed it, her hands shaking, then they both signed it. He wrote out the check and gave it to her.

  “You’d better not stop
payment on this or I’ll take him back,” she said coldly. “I only have to claim severe postpartum depression. Everyone will understand that.”

  He was more concerned that the document wouldn’t hold up in court. “Did you give him a name?”

  “No.”

  “When was he born?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Yesterday? Shouldn’t he still be in the hospital?”

  “No.” She started to leave the room, her face ashen, legs wobbly.

  “Eva,” he said, touching her shoulder. “You need to rest. Stay here. Sleep for a while. Have something to eat.”

  “I can’t.” Her eyes shifted to the baby, then she ducked her head and hurried out of the office and down the stairs. She flung open the front door and raced out.

  “Wait!” he called, but she didn’t stop. He tucked the blanket more tightly around his son and followed her into the yard. “Where can I contact you?”

  “There’s a bottle in the diaper bag. You just have to warm it.” She got in her car and slammed the door, then she was gone.

  He stood there until he could no longer hear her engine, then he walked back into the house. The baby made a noise. Heath pulled the blanket from his face and stood in the foyer staring at him. His son. His second chance.

  He leaned over and kissed his tiny forehead. He felt dizzy, almost nauseated. He made his way into the living room and sat down to stare at the boy. Soon he started to fuss, then whimper, then cry. Heath dug through the diaper bag in search of a bottle.

  He cried in earnest now. Heath didn’t know whether to heat the tiny bottle in the microwave or—

  He decided to run hot water into a bowl. It might take longer but it couldn’t melt the nipple or anything.

  While he waited for the bottle to warm, he walked the kitchen floor, whispering soothing words, holding his son close, bouncing him lightly. His cries got louder. Heath tested the milk. Not warm yet. He ran more hot water, then picked up the telephone. He glanced at the business card sitting on his kitchen counter.

  Five-fifteen in the morning, he noticed as the phone was ringing. Would she mind?