All for Hope (22 page)

“
I'm glad you told me. It's cleared up a lot of things in my mind.”

“
What things?” Hope asked as she stood.

“
Kidnapping a baby just wasn't in your personality. At least not in the personality of the Hope I thought I knew. I guess I was wrong about some things?”

“
Some things?” She grinned in mock astonishment.

“
Some things,
” he enunciated with a laugh. “Don't push me, soon-to-be Mrs. Rawley.”

“
Yes, Mr. Rawley.”

Guillory’s gut told him something was off the moment he stepped into the hotel room. For one, the guy was “tweaking,” meaning he was spastic and frantic in his movements, a sign that he was likely high on methamphetamine. Even without the probable drug use, there was something about a liar that he could just sniff out.

Gerald “G-man” Traylor claimed he was a victim. Both lips were bleeding and split open. His right eye was swollen to the point that he likely couldn’t see out of it and there was a gash at the back of his head. He said “some dude” forced his way into the room and demanded all of his money.

“
Bro, I was just tryin’ to defend myself, ya’ know what I mean? He was knocking my head against the wall and I was like ‘pow.’” He jabbed his left fist in a form that would likely sicken a prize fighter. “And he was like ‘bam’ and he just kept hitting me, dude. I thought I was gonna die, bro.”

“
What were you doing before he forced his way into the room? You said you were watching television, but were you having a bite to eat, a drink—” He waited, leaning his head forward in anticipation of more information.

“
Nah, man, I ain’t ate nothin’ tonight. I’m ‘bout to get me some groceries soon as we get this cleared up.”

Guillory nodded, and glanced around the room. “Lotta blood there.” He glanced at the bright drops along the floor, leading towards the hotel door. “You sure you don’t want paramedics?”

“
I’m a’ight,” G-man insisted, gesticulating with both hands in wild movements. “So whadya think, bro? You gonna get my money back, you think? You gonna find the dude?”

“
How much did you say he took again?” The officer glanced at his notes.
One hundred fifty seven dollars
.

“
One.” The guy held up one finger, waving it in front of Guillory. “Five.” One hand with five digits waving. “Seven, bro.” The other hand joined the first with two fingers pointing in Guillory’s direction.

“
Huh.” Guillory pondered. “Funny, we just picked up a guy about a block from here. He just happened to have $157.00 in cash on him. He also had a knife stuck in his ribs.”

G-man’s face paled a bit, but he didn’t calm down any. “Yeah? Seriously, bro. You think he’s the dude that robbed me?”

“
Do you have your car keys with you, Mr. Traylor?”

“
There, man, on the bed.”

Gerald Traylor was not the sharpest tack in the box. His keys had a carabiner clip like the ones mountain climbers use. Guillory leaned forward and saw the manufacturer’s name on the clip. The same name they’d found on the knife embedded in the “dude” with the $157.00. The knife with an o-ring that was pulled apart indicating it was ripped away from its clip. The guy wasn’t seriously injured, but he did have a much different story than G-man.

Surprise, surprise. A drug deal gone bad was at the center of this entire affair.

“
I think we’d better go down the station and figure this out,
bro
,” Guillory told G-man, and before the perp could argue, a uniformed cop came inside to escort him from the room.

The days were ticking by in agonizing slowness for Robert Guillory. Retirement couldn’t come soon enough for him. He was tired of the game, the constant circle of painstaking investigations getting ripped apart by criminal attorneys who knew how to play the law. He was sick of the laws that were more intent on protecting the criminal than the community. Overall, he was just tired.

When his cell phone rang, he flipped open his belt harness and put it to his ear with an irritated “H’llo.”

“
What’s the matter, Sergeant Friday? Long day in the field? You are still on the job, right?”

“
You’re such a prick, Pollard,” he said to his friend even as he gave the room one last look over and headed to his car.

The caller’s voice turned low as if he was revealing a dark secret. “I may be a prick, but I found her for you, Rob.”

Officer Guillory stopped in mid-stride and dropped his head back to look at the clear, starry sky. Twenty days. He had twenty days until retirement. Was he really going to find a way to close the Sheffield case before he left the force?

“
You’re sure, Johnny? It’s her?”

Johnny laughed, a harsh, gravelly sound. A remnant of all the cigarettes Pollard used to smoke. “Hell, yes, I’m sure. I found her. Baby, husband and all.”

The marriage didn’t take place the day after Hope’s package arrived from Mark, but within ten days, they were Mr. and Mrs. Brennan Rawley. Brennan’s Uncle James arranged for the minister and also for the conveniently “lost” marriage certificate. In order to relieve Hope’s worry, it was decided the marriage certificate wouldn’t be recorded into the public record.

Although the threesome – Hope, Brennan and Michelle – were living in the cottage, they spent their days at the manor as often as not. Uncle James and Jeremy would be leaving toward the end of spring to spend the summer months attending to estate matters in Durma, so the family decided to enjoy as much of the time together as possible.

They settled into a steady routine, but Hope found herself plagued with short bouts of melancholy. Brennan’s new family reminded her how much she missed her own. She hoped her mother and father were coping with her absence as best they could. She knew her father would be terribly disappointed to have missed her wedding, and her mother would worry about her no matter what.

Today, Meg and Hope returned from a short shopping trip to find Brennan with both of Meg’s boys and Michelle in the game room. Hope stopped short to watch them and shook her head when she realized he was explaining to all of the children about Gary Cooper in
High Noon
.

“Haha,” he said. “It’s the pol-it-icians fault. Grandpa hates pol-it-icians.” The oldest boy Jareth pronounced the longer word slowly and with deliberation. Standing beside Bren, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, he had one little hand clasped on Brennan’s shoulder while the other tugged at his own curly blond locks. “But why don’t nobody help him?”

“Why doesn’t anybody,” Bren corrected gently and Hope felt her cheeks flush with love as she listened. “The people of the town were scared. They thought if they just kept quiet and got Will out of town that they could deal with those baddies without any trouble. Will stood up for everyone. The townsfolk, himself and his wife. Hey, and would you believe in real life she was an honest-to-goodness princess?”

“A pwincess?” Jenson, the younger murmured in awe from his spot in Brennan’s lap.

Michelle cooed and gurgled happily in her spot just in front of them, every so often glancing at the television when she wasn’t playing with her chubby feet.

“He’s such a good man. And a loving father.” Meg spoke softly, coming to stand beside her.

“You think so?”

“Oh, of course. You wouldn’t even know she isn’t his own child. Do you and Bren plan to have children of your own?”

Hope didn't answer for many moments, then unable to withhold any longer, she peered behind into Meg’s eyes with her face aglow. “Actually—”

Meg's mouth dropped. “Oh, Sealla, that's wonderful! I don't know how Brennan has kept it from Jeremy, as much time as they spend together now.”

Hope’s eyes widened and she placed a hand to Meg’s mouth. “Shhhh. Bren doesn't know yet.”

“Why not?” She understood the other woman’s words even though her fingers still covered her lips.

“I just haven't known how to tell him. I don't know if he wants a child. I mean, one of his own.” She dropped her arms to her side with shoulders drooping.

“But Nichole
is
his own, Sealla. Haven't you seen the way he looks at her? Even when she's screaming the chandeliers from the ceilings, his eyes are full of love. Fatherly love.”

Hope shook her head.

“Good morning,” said Jeremy as he entered the room.

Brennan looked back at all of them, only just noticing they were in the room.

“Hey gorgeous,” he said to Hope. “Look, Mommy’s here.”

That was when Hope burst into tears and turned to leave the room. It only took a few moments for Brennan to catch up with her, pulling her into the formal living area.

Nausea flooded her senses, and everything suddenly began to spin around her. Brennan caught her before she fell over.

“Baby, what's wrong?” he murmured, his eyes wide with concern. “Please, tell me what's wrong.”

Hope gasped for a breath and brushed her hair back from her face as she waited for her stomach to settle.

“For the love of God, Hope—”

“We're going to have a baby,” she blurted out, and sighed in relief for having finally told him.

“Oh—” he said in astonishment.

Hope searched his eyes for a clue to his thoughts, and when he suddenly chuckled, she frowned. “You're okay with that?” she asked.

“Okay? Of course. You didn't think I would be?”

She shrugged and shook her head.

“I have to tell Uncle James. Aw, hell, are you all right? Did you almost faint?”

“I didn't faint,” she scoffed. “I just got dizzy. Now go tell your uncle, and I'll talk to Meg and Jeremy.”

“Why don't we tell everyone together?”

“Just go tell your uncle,” she smiled and ushered him off as she met Jeremy and Meg waiting for them in the hallway, Michelle in Jeremy’s arms and the two boys watching curiously.

“Did you tell him?” Meg asked.

Jeremy's frown became more intense. “Tell him what?”

“Yes, I told him, but he doesn't know I told you first so, just keep it to yourself, okay?”