The Lawman's Secret Son. Lorraine Beatty

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      Leo put his paws on Jack’s chair and whined. Jack reached down cautiously and touched the top of the dog’s brown-and-white head. Carrie wasn’t sure but she thought she heard a small giggle. The sound shot straight to her core, wrapping around her like a fast-growing kudzu vine. She stood. Time to get a grip, before she became more attached to the little fellow.

      Holding on to Jack’s small hand, she walked across the front lawn and up onto Seth’s front porch. It was dark, the only light coming from deep inside the cottage. A chill chased up her spine. You are my strength. Darkness had never been her friend. But this wasn’t about her. This was about Jack. She would explain the mix-up, hand the boy over and be on her way. This was none of her concern. She smiled down at Jack and knocked firmly on the door. Very firmly.

      The door swung open, and the outline of a man backlit from inside filled the doorway. He stood braced with feet apart. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. She’d forgotten how tall her neighbor was and how broad his shoulders were. In the shadowed light he seemed imposing. Her heart skipped a beat. Would he scare Jack?

      The porch light flipped on and Seth met her gaze with a questioning frown. “Carrie? Hey. What brings you by tonight?” He glanced down at the child, his frown sliding into a curious smile. “Who’s your little friend?”

      Carrie clenched her teeth. Really? The man didn’t even know his own son? This is why she’d vowed to steer clear of any romantic entanglements. Men were all totally irresponsible and self-absorbed. No matter how nice they might seem in the beginning, they would leave you in the end.

      “He’s your son. But I guess not seeing him for a long time might make him hard to recognize.” She hadn’t intended to react in anger, but his indifference had sparked a nerve.

      The warm smile vanished, replaced with a look of stunned shock before the dark brows drew together and the eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what kind of joke you’re playing, Carrie, but it isn’t funny.”

      “No, it’s anything but funny. It’s tragic and irresponsible and unforgivable.”

      Seth placed a hand on the doorjamb, leaning toward her, his scowl slightly threatening. “I don’t have a son. I’m not even married.”

      Carrie rolled her eyes and, stooping down, gently turned Jack to face her. “This is your father, Jack. He’s going to take good care of you, okay?” Unable to stop herself, she gave him a hug, then angled him to face Seth and gave the boy a nudge forward. “He’s already had hot chocolate and cookies at my house, but you might want to fix him something nourishing to eat.” She tried not to glare in disgust but failed. “Good night.” She pivoted and started down the steps.

      “Carrie.”

      Jack ran after her, grabbing on to her hand for dear life. She looked down into his frightened eyes and her heart broke. “Oh, Jack. It’ll be all right. I promise.” She glanced up at Seth, who had stepped to the edge of the porch. The look on his face tugged at her heart, too. It was an unusual mixture of concern, longing and fear. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he didn’t know about Jack. As she considered the possibility, Seth came and stooped down with them.

      “Hey, Jack. Why don’t we all go inside and get warm, huh?”

      With only a hint of hesitancy, Seth gently touched the child’s head before looking at Carrie with a pleading look in his eyes. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she couldn’t simply turn the child over to the man without making sure Jack was okay. But she shouldn’t get involved. Her emotions were too easily captured by the abandoned and abused. She would have to keep her emotional guard up. She nodded and stood, holding on to the tiny hand. It hit her that she was looking to the child for strength when it should be the other way around. At the threshold Carrie stopped, sending a quick prayer heavenward for strength, because she had a feeling stepping into Seth’s home would set her on a path she’d avoided most of her life. Jack looked up at her with soulful eyes.

      She’d be strong for Jack because no one understood what he was feeling like she did. She had no choice but to step inside.

      * * *

      Seth stood aside as his guests entered, the knot in his chest pressing so fiercely against his ribs it ached to draw breath. His thoughts darted in a dozen directions, trying to grasp something logical about Carrie’s announcement. The boy couldn’t possibly be his. He closed the door and moved to the living room, making a quick assessment of his lovely neighbor. She’d seemed nice and sweet the day he’d found her crouched down beside her small car staring at the deflated tire. Now he took a closer look. Was she a con artist? A mental case? It was his nature to question things, especially people. She didn’t look like she had a devious bone in her body. In fact, with her slender frame, her short, blond, feathery hair style and bright blue eyes she evoked thoughts of summer and sunshine. But as a cop he knew everyone had a dark side.

      He rubbed his forehead. “Have a seat.”

      Reluctantly, Carrie sat on the sofa, pulling the boy down beside her. The child had released Carrie’s hand, but his hand was now firmly wrapped around a toy he’d pulled from his pocket. The old Tonka truck looked like it had been through a war. In his other hand he grasped a dirty plastic grocery sack.

      Seth stood near the fireplace facing the pair, taking a position of authority. “Now, you want to explain what’s going on here? What makes you think the boy is mine?”

      Carrie pulled a paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “I’m sure this will clear everything up for you. It was pinned to his chest when I found him on my porch a short while ago.”

      “What?” He took the note and read through it, his mind refusing to grasp the words. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be true. Not now, when he was finally making things right in his life. A lump of old shame and regret formed in his gut. He was a Montgomery. The son of a prominent and well-respected family in Dover. But he’d turned his back on his heritage and his values for a year of freedom that had quickly become a life of darkness and regret. Now that shameful time might have finally caught up with him.

      He looked at Carrie, and the condemnation in her blue eyes stung. “I don’t understand any of this. And why was he left on your porch?”

      She pointed to the number on the back of the paper he held, lowering her voice so Jack couldn’t hear. “Five thirty-three. That’s your house number. Mine is five thirty-five. I think whoever left him thought they were leaving him on your porch.”

      That tidbit of information latched on to him like the talons of a hawk. “Tiff was dyslexic.” He muttered the words to himself, but Carrie pounced on them.

      “So she thought she was leaving him on your porch. Who’s Tiff?”

      The scorn in her voice shot his defenses into place. “My ex-wife. We were only married a short time.” Short was being generous. Six weeks, two days and four hours, to be exact.

      “Perhaps you should call her for an explanation.” Carrie stood and started for the door.

      “I haven’t seen or heard from her in years. She never told me about...” He looked at the child, who had scooted onto the floor and was playing quietly with the battered truck.

      Carrie crossed her arms over her chest, her expression clearly revealing her skepticism. “So you’re saying she kept the child a secret from you? Why would she do that?”

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