“Since our divorce was all about getting out of playing mommy and wife, yeah. She did.”
Kristen wasn’t sure how to respond. There had been a time in her life when she couldn’t imagine how a woman could turn her back on her child. But that was a long time ago, before she’d seen firsthand what a mother was capable of doing to her children. She cleared her throat. “Some women just aren’t meant to be mothers.”
When she dared to look at him again, she was shocked to find his expression sympathetic. She’d expected disgust.
She hardened herself against the compassion in his warm blue eyes. “I looked into your ex anyway. She’s just become engaged. Did you know that?”
He looked surprised. “More background checks, Detective?”
So he didn’t know about the engagement. Interesting.
“Who’s she marrying?” he asked, almost as an afterthought. She wasn’t sure if he was indifferent or just pretending to be.
“Graham Stilson,” she answered.
One dark eyebrow notched upward. “Junior or Senior?”
“Junior. Do you know him?”
Sam turned to face her fully, resting his elbows on the narrow breakfast bar behind him. “Stilson Junior was a trial lawyer in the D.C. area before he was elected to the state senate. We crossed paths now and then. I know his father better, though. Stilson Senior is a judge.”
Clearly, he didn’t care much for Stilson Junior. Kristen wondered how much of his dislike was wrapped up in unresolved feelings for his ex, annoyed with herself for her curiosity. What had she expected, that he’d have lost all interest in a woman he’d once loved enough to marry?
Not that Sam Cooper’s feelings were of any importance, she reminded herself. It was his ex-wife who was currently on Kristen’s suspect list, not Sam.
“I asked her assistant to track her down and have her call me. Nothing yet,” she said aloud.
“Norah doesn’t get motivated to return calls unless she thinks you can do something for her,” Sam said with a shrug. “I left a message for her, too.”
“I thought you said you didn’t think she was a suspect.”
“I don’t,” he said firmly. “But she’s Maddy’s mom. She should know what’s going on.”
Would Norah Cabot even care? She hadn’t given much thought to her daughter’s life so far—why would she start now?
Sam might not be indifferent to his ex-wife, but he clearly resented her abandonment of their child, and on a surface level, Kristen knew she should find Norah Cabot’s actions selfish, as well. But her own mother had had no business raising children. Kristen had seen the horrible consequences. As far as she was concerned, Maddy was lucky. She had a daddy to love and protect her, and she didn’t have to deal with her indifferent mother at all.
How much different would Kristen’s own life have been if she’d had a father around to make sure she and her brothers and sisters were safe and cared for?
Sam interrupted her dark thoughts. “I had my office e-mail me the felony cases I’ve worked on since I took the job a few months ago. There are only five—they gave me a light load until I could get my bearings. I’ve printed them out, if you want to take a look tonight. We can see if there’s anything in those files that might have set someone off.”
Following him back to the sitting area, she kicked herself for not having asked him about his current case files sooner. She was letting her kid phobia take over this whole case.
Time to cowboy up. If she couldn’t handle one four-year-old poppet—and her sexy grouch of a father—her career was in serious trouble.
SAM SAT BACK AN HOUR LATER, rubbing his eyes. He’d read through all five cases and saw nothing he could imagine enraging someone enough to come after his child. “What if this isn’t about me?” he asked Kristen.
She looked up from the case file she was reading. “Just some random kidnapper stalking Maddy? For what purpose?”
His stomach recoiled at the only answer that made sense. “A pedophile?”
She shook her head. “This doesn’t fit a pedophile’s M.O. They’re cowards. They like targets of opportunity.”
“That guy in Utah broke into his target’s house and took her out of her bedroom,” he reminded her.
“That’s rare.”
“But not impossible.”
She wrinkled her brow at him. “Do you want it to be a pedophile?” she asked pointedly.
“God, no!” The thought was horrifying.
Her expression gentled. “Whatever pushed this guy’s buttons, it’s not your fault.”
How could she know that? What if he’d done something, said something or forgotten something that had set the kidnapper off? What if this whole thing was about payback?
What if he’d been the one who’d put his daughter at risk?
Kristen’s hand stole across the sofa and curled around his, her grip tight. The touch felt like a jolt of electricity, setting his whole body abuzz, and he was caught off guard by a flood of pure male attraction.
He’d always gone for high-octane women like Norah Cabot, with her expensive French perfume and her designer shoes. He’d worked with many beautiful, even glamorous women, and he’d always found them exciting and sexy. He’d just figured that kind of woman was his type.
So why was this quiet, no-nonsense, small-town cop making his blood run hot in a way it hadn’t in years?
She let go of his hand and looked down at the files spread across the coffee table. “We should look at some of your case files from D.C. Can you get your hands on those?”
His fingers still tingled from her touch. He closed his fist and cleared his throat. “Probably more red tape than we’d like. I’ll help you set that into motion. However, I keep a detailed log of all my cases—the major figures involved, whether the outcome was a conviction, an acquittal or a plea bargain, that kind of thing. It’s in one of the storage boxes at home. I’ll stop by and get the log, and we can go through it, as well.”
“Could you get it tomorrow?”
“If you’re okay with being here alone with Maddy,” he said, watching her carefully for her reaction.
The line of her lips tightened a little, but she gave a nod. “Of course. It’s my job.”
He wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or herself. He could tell she still had doubts. He dropped his gaze to the back of Kristen’s hand, where a white burn scar still marred the skin. Had she seen her mother kill her brothers and sister, or had she stumbled upon the aftermath?
Did it even matter which? Both would have been horrific.
Kristen’s eyes flickered up to meet his, as if the sudden silence between them made her nervous. He felt a rush of pity he couldn’t quite hide, and her expression shifted from vulnerability to a hard, cool mask of indifference. She edged away from him, readying herself to stand. “It’s getting late,” she began. “I need to go home and pack for tomorrow.”
His cell phone interrupted, the shrill sound jolting his spine like an electric shock. He fished it from his pocket. The display showed an area code he didn’t recognize.
“Cooper,” he answered, slanting a quick look at Kristen, who sat very still, watching him.
A low, vibrant voice greeted him. “Hi, Sam. It’s me.”
Norah.