Lindsay Longford

Dead Calm


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at all the way she’d been with George.

      And none of the prickliness she showed him.

      One more puzzle piece.

      But he couldn’t make sense of any of it until he’d had a couple of hours of sleep.

      “Hey, Judah. Heads up. We’re needed over on 15th and Oak.” Tyree tugged at him, and with one last glance, Judah left, the glass doors snicking shut behind him.

      “Detective Hunkster has left the house.” Cammie poked Sophie in the ribs.

      “What?” Sophie lifted her stethoscope and patted the baby, her palm lingering and warming the tiny chest.

      Cammie pointed to the exit. “The detective with the hormones and the ’tude.”

      “Oh.” Lifting the baby, Sophie curled her over one shoulder, close to her neck. She looked toward the exit. The baby mewed softly and nuzzled closer. “What a sweetheart you are.” Reflexively she cupped the baby’s bottom, swaying slowly from side to side, rocking the infant.

      She could barely make out the faces of Finnegan and his partner. A gust of wind puffed out Finnegan’s yellow slicker. Rain striped down his faded jeans, and he yanked the slicker closer to him, rolled his shoulder and vanished into the darkness.

      His shoulder had to be hurting him. Anybody with any sense would have stayed and taken the pain scripts. But the stubborn idiot had chosen to assert himself and leave her ER instead of doing the sensible thing.

      For all she cared, he could fall down in a heap if that’s what he wanted.

      Absently she crooned to the warm baby.

      Still, Judah had looked like the burnt end of a match when she’d walked up to him and Cammie. Stubble shadowed his cheeks, and black circles pouched the skin under his eyes. He’d looked like a hundred miles of bad road, as she’d heard one of the local doctors say.

      Faded jeans, a look of weary dissipation, and that attitude. Attitude to burn.

      But sexy.

      It was in the eyes, she decided. He had that look about him that women talked about in hushed tones. The kind of man who would be hell on wheels in bed. The kind of man who could leave a woman smiling in the morning. Oh, no question. She knew exactly what Cammie meant about hormones. Judah Finnegan fairly reeked of pheromones and sex.

      Dirty, lowdown, wonderful sex.

      She’d felt the flutter of her pulse every time she’d thought of him during this past year.

      He was exactly the wrong kind of man for a woman like her.

      Even without their history.

      Sergeant George Roberts might be dead, but even a year later his presence was a powerful ghost.

      The night Roberts had killed himself he’d also killed the tenuous something building between her and Detective Finnegan.

      Maybe if they’d had more time together first…

      Maybe if they’d slept together…

      No, she didn’t think so.

      If they’d slept together? Impossible.

      She’d known from the beginning that Judah was a man who kept his emotions under tight control. That had been part of the attraction. He was so different from her that it was tempting to see what it would take to make him lose that reserve. A buzz-cut, reined-in kind of guy, he wasn’t a man easily given to showing his emotions. Or handing out forgiveness.

      Except with Roberts.

      Cammie tapped her arm. “Want me to call the Department of Children and Family Services?”

      “Yes, please.” Sophie looked away from the empty glass doors. “Until we find out where our little angel belongs, that’s our only choice. I hope the woman who died wasn’t her mother. I hope that somewhere out there is someone who’s looking for this beautiful baby.” Near her breast the tiny mouth moved damply, tugging at something deep inside her. “This little girl doesn’t deserve to be thrown into the system. Be passed around from foster home to foster home.” Sophie found her arms curling possessively around the infant. “She needs parents, Cammie. A mother.”

      “All the babies do. It’s not our decision, though.” Cammie looked away. “If her parents or relatives can’t be located…you know how it is, Dr. Brennan. Like you told your cop. That’s where she’ll wind up.”

      “I do. It’s a hard world sometimes, Cammie.”

      “It is. Nothing we can do about it. It is what it is.”

      Sophie shifted the baby to her other shoulder, settling her in snugly. “How long have you worked at Poinciana? Have things changed so much?”

      Cammie shrugged.

      “Because in the two years I’ve been here, it seems as though we’re seeing a lot more gunshots and beatings. Abused babies and kids. Or is it my imagination? I haven’t checked the hospital statistics.” Sophie tried to smile past the ache in her heart. “I know what you said earlier, but tell me it’s my imagination and the result of too many long hours, Cammie. Please. I need to believe that.”

      “Poinciana’s a good town. People are good here. Most of them are. But, sí, things have changed. There’s a different feel to the town these days. All this graffiti springing up everywhere, overnight, it seems. Kids hijacking the Santa kettles. And these fires at places of worship, for heaven’s sake. Sometimes, I am afraid. It doesn’t feel like my town anymore. Not the Poinciana I knew.”

      From the corner of her eye Sophie glimpsed stringy hair. She turned, snuggling the baby closer. “What is it, Billy Ray?”

      “I wanted to see the baby. They said the baby was here.” He edged around the curtain into the examining room. “Is the baby all right?”

      “Yes.”

      His face scrunched up in something that she thought might be relief. “Okay, then. I was wondering, that’s all. What’s going to happen to her?”

      “She’ll stay here for a day or two for observation. We’ll see if anyone can identify her.” Even saying the words felt so wrong to Sophie that she stumbled over them. “If she’s healthy and we haven’t found her family, then Social Services will come and take her to an out-placement home.”

      Billy Ray twisted a strand of his hair. “That’s okay. I guess. She’s safe, isn’t she?”

      “Sure she is.” Sophie held up the baby girl so Billy Ray could see her.

      Sleepy brown eyes peered over the edge of the light blanket as Billy Ray leaned farther into the room. He chewed his lip. “She looks okay then. Okay. I gotta go finish my shift.”

      And as abruptly as he’d appeared, he vanished.

      Sophie watched him lurch away. “Did Billy Ray seem more Billy Rayish than usual? Or is that my imagination, too?”

      Cammie laughed and reached for the baby. “He’s been Billy Rayish all night long. There’s a full moon. I’ll take the baby up to pediatrics and then alert Social Services. I see Dr. Bornes is finally here. You can head for home now, can’t you?”

      An inexplicable reluctance kept Sophie’s arms around the fragile bundle. She stared down at the silky eyebrows and wide-open eyes watching her. “Oh, you decided to wake up and join the party, did you, sweetheart?”

      From the safety of her blanket, Baby Doe reached up and caught a curl of Sophie’s hair and gripped for all she was worth, holding on as if she’d never let go, holding on as if she had understood every word Sophie and Cammie said.

      Holding on to Sophie as if she were a lifeline.

      “Cammie, I’ll take her up to Peds. And hold off on the call to Children and Families, okay?” she said abruptly and