In Protective Custody. Beth Cornelison

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      “Is she hurt?” Laura asked.

      “It’s a boy. And he’s okay. I think.” The man added an obscenity as he struggled with trembling hands to free the infant from the straps.

      “Here. Let me.” She nudged the man aside and mashed the release button that freed the baby of the seat straps. The infant’s cries wrenched her heart. He was tiny, like a newborn, and his face had turned beet red from bawling.

      The man raked a hand through his black hair, leaving the thick waves rumpled. Taking his son from her, he awkwardly put the infant on his shoulder and rubbed the baby’s back. “Thanks.”

      “Glad to help.”

      Deep worry lines etched the man’s face as he surveyed his crumpled bumper and scanned the gathering crowd. Obviously shaken by the accident, he patted the baby’s back harder and began pacing. “Easy, fella. You’ll be all right. Shh.”

      The baby’s howls didn’t abate, and the louder the baby cried, the more agitated the father grew.

      Laura couldn’t blame him. The infant’s shrieks had her edgy too. She hated hearing a child in distress. At the day care center, she was always the first worker rushing to soothe an upset child.

      She remembered too well what it felt like to be young, scared and all alone. No one to comfort you, no one to dry your tears, no one who even noticed you were there.

      She fell in step with the dark-haired father as he strode anxiously back and forth beside his wrecked Cherokee, muttering.

      “If you’d like, I’ll hold your son while you talk to the police.”

      The man came to an abrupt halt, and his head snapped up. He pinned her with a dark brown stare. “What?”

      “I work with children, and I’m good at calming them down, if you want me to—”

      “The cops. Damn!” He squeezed his eyes closed, scrunching his face in frustration.

      Laura tipped her head and studied the father, who seemed even more disconcerted now. A thin sheen of perspiration dampened his forehead, and a palpable tension vibrated from his square jaw. His concern seemed ridiculously out of proportion to the circumstances.

      “Is there a problem, sir? I’d be happy to help if—”

      He spun to her with an abrupt jerk. “Where’s your car?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Your car. I need it.” He tore his dark gaze away and glanced nervously around the accident scene.

      “My car? Wh-why?”

      The man’s odd behavior set her on edge. She backed away from him a step, only to have him grab her arm. His touch sent a strange jolt through her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her. The sensation of his strong, hot hand on her arm was overwhelming. He balanced the baby with one hand while his long fingers tightened around her upper arm. The first inkling of panic fluttered to life in her chest.

      “I’ve gotta get out of here before—” He clamped his mouth shut and sighed. “Where’s your car?”

      The baby now screamed so hard Laura feared he’d hurt himself. Her stomach bunched with worry for the infant’s well-being. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to hold your baby just for a minute? I really think I could calm him down.”

      The father gave her a wary look then glanced down at the hollering infant. Finally he released her arm and thrust the tiny boy at her. “I’m sure not having any luck. Go ahead.”

      Laura cradled the wiggling infant against her chest and rocked him gently. “How old is he? He’s so small.”

      “Huh?” The man pulled out his wallet as he surveyed the area. “Oh, he’s…uh, just a couple days old. Listen, I need your help.” He seized her arm again and guided her farther away from the bustle of people examining the damage to the vehicles.

      She shrugged out of his grip, glowering at him. “Would you stop grabbing me like that? What is your deal?”

      The man wiped a palm on the leg of his jeans and took a deep breath. Then, raising a hand and lowering his voice, he explained over the baby’s continued howling, “My truck is trapped and probably not driveable. I need wheels. Fast.”

      She narrowed her gaze on him, eyeing him with suspicion. “Why? What’s the hurry?”

      He opened his mouth as if to answer but then closed it again. With another sigh, he fished his driver’s license and some small cards from his wallet. “It’s…the baby. I have to get him home. Quickly.” He stepped closer, and his expression reeked of desperation. But desperation over what? His own situation or the baby’s?

      “Go on,” she prodded reluctantly.

      “He’s…sick.” The man’s black eyebrows knitted in a frown. He glanced away, huffed then pinned her again with a pleading look. “He needs his medicine. That’s why he’s crying.”

      Laura’s breath caught. “Medicine? Oh, my God…what—”

      “Will you help us?”

      “I…of course. But what about your car? The police haven’t written up the accident yet and—”

      “I can’t wait around for the cops to get here. Don’t you hear him screaming? He needs his medicine. Now!”

      “But the other drivers…” Indecision and apprehension swelled in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. When she hesitated, the man grunted and jabbed his wallet back in his rear pocket. With long-legged strides, he stalked over to the driver of the Camry and shoved a business card in the other man’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta get the baby home. I’ll be in touch about the insurance. Are you hurt?”

      When the Camry driver shook his head, the dark-haired man hustled over to the pickup and poked a card through the window to the teenager, too. He drilled a hard look on Laura as he returned. “No one’s hurt, and they have my contact numbers. Now can we go?”

      The sounds of the baby’s wailing tore at her heart. What if the child really was sick, and he suffered because she wouldn’t help? How could she live with herself? Then again, how could she trust that this jittery-acting man was telling her the truth?

      The man’s gaze froze on someone or something in the crowd, and his expression hardened. “Oh hell, he’s here! We’re outta time. Where is your car?”

      His tone brooked no resistance.

      “I…the Honda over there.” She tipped her head, directing his gaze across the intersection.

      “Good. Let’s move!” With his fingers wrapped around her wrist, he grabbed the baby seat in his other hand and hustled her toward her Honda.

      “Who did you see? Who’s here?” She stumbled to keep up with his long strides and struggled to keep a safe hold on the baby.

      He СКАЧАТЬ