“Stop that.” His hands pinched her shoulders. “You were the one good person Wyatt had on his side.”
“And you.” She tipped back her head to search Nash’s face. “But we gave him up. We had him protected, and we handed him off.”
“We didn’t have a choice, Emily.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” She twisted away from him. “You play by the rules, but I don’t. If it were up to me, I never would’ve handed Wyatt over to DCS.”
“That would’ve gotten you arrested, and I can assure you that would’ve been a lot worse than getting fired from a PD. Focus.” Nash’s head jerked to the side as the sound of sirens pierced the darkening sky. “Wyatt’s alive, and he’s going to stay that way because he’s valuable to the person who took him.”
“Who did take him, Nash? The way I see it is that we have three suspects or groups of suspects—the drug thugs, Brett and Lanier.”
“I agree. You saw the car the two cartel guys were driving, didn’t you?”
“Black sedan, Crown Vic, dark tinted windows, white wall tires, antenna, paper plates on the back.”
“Good job. You got all that when you saw the car driving by my house?”
“I thought I might need that information later—and here we are.” The emergency vehicles came into view, and Emily gritted her teeth against the cacophony of horns, beeps and sirens. She pressed her hands against her cheeks. “Poor Alice. She was just doing her job. Why’d they have to kill her? They could’ve taken Wyatt from her at gunpoint.”
“Maybe she wouldn’t let them. It seems Wyatt had someone else on his side.”
IT WAS ALMOST ten o’clock by the time they got through questioning at the Border Patrol station. Denali had been napping in an interview room with a bowl of water and someone’s leftover steak.
The Pima County Sheriff’s Department had put out an APB for Brett Fillmore, using one of his old booking photos. Every patrol unit had an eye out for a black Crown Vic with paper plates. Detective Espinoza had even put a call in to Marcus Lanier when they told him the billionaire might be involved, and discovered he was out of the country.
Emily, her emotions wrung out, slumped in the passenger seat of Nash’s truck, holding Wyatt’s caterpillar against her chest. Denali whimpered in the back, but Emily couldn’t bear to turn around and see the empty car seat.
Wyatt joined her in the truck and clutched the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. “It’s a good start. We’ll find him.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m exhausted.”
“I know you are.” He rubbed her leg. “We’re going back to my place, right? There’s no way I’m dropping you off at that motel to be on your own.”
“I wouldn’t want to be.”
“Good.” He started the truck and veered toward the main drag in town. “And we’re eating.”
She dropped her chin and pulled at the fabric of her grimy blouse. “I’m not going out looking or feeling like this.”
“We do have take-out pizza in Paradiso, believe it or not. I’m going to run in to the pizza joint and place an order for delivery.” Nash parked in a strip mall boasting a chain pizza place and whistled through his teeth. “Denali, take care of her.”
When Nash slammed the door of the truck and locked it with his remote, Emily pulled her purse into her lap with the gun pocket on top and then reached back and scratched Denali under the chin. “I trust you, boy, but I need extra insurance. Whoever named Paradiso must’ve been joking.”
Nash returned faster than she expected and hopped into the truck. “I ordered us a large with everything on it. They’re going to deliver it in about forty minutes.”
“I don’t think I can eat with Wyatt out there somewhere.”
“In one way it’s a blessing he’s still a baby. He’s not going to remember any of this drama when he gets older. We’ll have stories to tell.” The truck bounced as Nash wheeled out of the parking lot and Emily’s stomach bounced with it.
Did this mean Nash was going to accept the conditions of Jaycee’s will and adopt Wyatt? If he did... Her thoughts trailed off into some vague, hazy future of Nash raising a son by himself. Where did she fit into that picture?
If Jaycee’s mother took Wyatt, Emily would never see him again. If Lanier or Brett got him, God forbid, she’d never know another good night’s sleep. It had to be Nash.
They drove through town and made the turn to Nash’s place. Emily gripped the sides of her seat. “It seems like we left here so long ago, but it was just yesterday. We thought we were keeping Wyatt safe and we turned him over to danger.”
“We didn’t know that, Emily. Stop blaming yourself for one minute.” He slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Stop blaming me.”
She grabbed his bicep. “I’m not blaming you. I’m sorry if it seems like I am. I’m just so damned worried about him.”
His nostrils flared and he closed his eyes. “We’ll get him back. Do you still have that straw with Lanier’s spit on it?”
“Yes, why?”
“I wanna know who fathered Wyatt. That can go a long way to tell us motive. If Brett’s his father, I can’t understand why he’d want to kidnap him. He can’t seriously want to be Wyatt’s father without Jaycee around to take care of the baby.”
“But if Lanier really is the father and Brett took him?” Emily held her breath, her muscles stiff.
“Maybe Brett wants to continue the blackmail scheme he and Jaycee started. Maybe he’s going to hold Wyatt over Lanier’s head until Lanier coughs up some money.” He parked the truck, but neither one of them made a move to get out.
“What if those two goons are the ones who took Wyatt?” She shivered. “They must believe Wyatt is
