Her Stolen Son. Rita Herron

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СКАЧАТЬ creeping in. “Do you have some ID?”

      His eyebrow shot up in question, but he removed his wallet and flashed his GAI badge. So he was really a private investigator. “If you’re worried that I’m working for the sheriff, I’m not. Your son hired me.”

      Her gaze latched with his. “Petey hired you?”

      A smile quirked at his mouth. “Yes, he offered me all the money in his piggy bank.”

      Fresh pain and love squeezed her heart. “I’ll pay you,” she said firmly. “You’re not taking Petey’s money.”

      His jaw hardened. “I never said I’d accept it.”

      She frowned at his curt tone. He almost sounded offended. “It’s just that…I feel bad for my son. Ever since my husband died, Petey thinks he has to be man of the house.”

      A pained look crossed Colt’s face. “A big job for a little guy.”

      “Exactly.” Her voice cracked. “He doesn’t deserve this right now. He’s been through so much already….”

      Colt cleared his throat. “Then let’s see if we can clear up this matter, and get you home with him. Now, tell me what happened last night.”

      Serena chewed on her bottom lip. Lord help her. She hated Parker for dying. And she hated feeling helpless, as if she was failing her son.

      Even worse, she hated to give her trust to a stranger. After all, Parker’s murder had taught her not to trust anyone.

      COLT STUDIED Serena Stover, his nerves on edge. He understood her wariness to trust. If little Petey was telling the truth, it sounded as if Lyle Rice was a bastard and had probably deserved his fate.

      But kids lied to protect their mothers all the time. What if she had used that fire poker on the man? Or what if he’d come back after Petey went to bed, and they’d fought? She could argue self-defense.

      Unless she had gone after the man with the intent to kill him…

      But everything about this woman, from her delicate bone structure to her wild curly hair to those mesmerizing terror-stricken eyes, screamed that she was a victim.

      “Serena?” he asked.

      She worried her bottom lip for another moment, then inhaled a deep breath. “Like I said before, Petey’s father died a couple of years ago. He was a cop, shot in the line of duty.”

      He didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but simply nodded, silently urging her to continue.

      “I…haven’t dated since he died.” She picked at a loose thread on that scraggly blanket. “I didn’t want to. I was grieving.”

      “But you decided to go out with this man Lyle?”

      She nodded, regret wrenching her face. “The worst mistake of my life.”

      He let that comment simmer for a moment. “Go on.”

      She lifted her gaze to his, tears swimming in the crystal orbs.

      God, that hurt look sucker punched him and made him want to yank her in his arms and comfort her. Made him want to promise her he’d make everything right.

      But that wasn’t a promise he was sure he could keep.

      “Serena, I’m not judging you for dating. That’s human, normal.”

      She sighed, then glanced away, and he realized she had judged herself. That she felt guilty, as if she was cheating on her husband when he was dead and never coming back. She must have loved him deeply.

      “Anyway, Lyle and I only went out a couple of times,” she said softly. “First coffee. Then a movie. But last night we had dinner, and I sensed something was different, that he was ready to take things to the next level.”

      “You mean sex?”

      A blush crept onto her cheeks, then a sliver of fear darkened her eyes. “Yes.”

      “But you weren’t ready?”

      She shook her head. “No. Not at all.” She swallowed, then licked her lips, making him uncomfortably aware that she was sensuous and fragile and a woman.

      “Anyway, when he brought me home, he came in for a drink, which I never should have allowed,” she added beneath her breath. “Then he came on to me. I told him right away that it wasn’t going to work between us and asked him to leave.”

      Colt didn’t like the images forming in his mind. “But he didn’t?”

      She twisted that ratty blanket in her hands, fidgeting. “No, he got angry, then pushy. I asked him to leave again, but he refused to accept my rejection, and he pushed me against the fireplace.”

      She paused, her breath coming faster. “Then Petey came in, and…” Emotion thickened her voice. “Petey tried to pull him away from me, but he threw him to the floor.”

      Her hands knotted into fists around the blanket. “So I grabbed the fire poker and ordered him to get out.”

      “Then he left without a fight? You two didn’t struggle?”

      “No, but I did knee him in the groin. Then he did leave.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But he was seething and before he went out the door, he warned me I’d be sorry, that I had no idea who I was messing with.”

      She dropped her head into her hands. “God, I am sorry, but not that I told him to leave. I’m sorry I ever met the man.”

      So far her story matched Petey’s.

      Colt gripped the cot edge to keep from drawing her up against him. Her fragile body was trembling, her lip turning blue where she kept worrying it with her teeth.

      “What happened after he left?”

      She shifted restlessly, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. “Petey was upset, so I cuddled him for a while and lay down with him until he fell asleep. This morning we were having breakfast when the sheriff knocked on the door.” She waved her hand. “Then they tore Petey away from me and arrested me….”

      “Lyle didn’t come back during the night? Maybe he broke in and attacked you—”

      “No,” Serena said firmly. “He didn’t come back, I didn’t fight with him, and I didn’t go to his place. In fact, I’ve never been to his house.” Her voice grew stronger. “And I would never leave Petey alone. Never.”

      Colt frowned. “Do you have proof, someone who can alibi you?”

      “Petey, but he was asleep.”

      “Did you make or receive any phone calls during the night? Were you on the computer?”

      “No, I fell asleep beside Petey, then woke up around four and went to my bed.”

      Damn. A typical single mother routine, СКАЧАТЬ