Silent Run - Barbara Freethy [64]
Why? Why had Sarah tucked his shirt into Cait-lyn’s bed?
Had she wanted to give their daughter some memory of her father, some tactile sense of his presence in her life? Or was he grasping at straws, wanting to believe that Sarah had cared a little about the fact that she was separating father and daughter?
What did it matter? Even if she had taken his shirt for some sentimental reason, it didn’t change anything. Still, he found himself raising the shirt to his face, inhaling deeply, and wondering if he could really smell Caitlyn’s scent or if it was just his desperate need to feel some sort of connection with her.
He set the shirt back down in the crib and gripped the railing as a rush of emotion swept through him. He’d stuffed the pain down deep, refusing to let it come to the surface. It was the only way he’d gotten through the days, the weeks, the months. And he couldn’t let the pain overwhelm him now. He couldn’t get lost in the memories. He had to find Caitlyn. He was so close to getting his daughter back. So damn close.
“I’m coming, baby,” he murmured. “I’m coming to get you.”
Turning away, he walked back to the kitchen table and sat down. He picked up the sketch of the man Sarah had drawn and focused on the facial details. Aside from his dark eyes, his other features weren’t particularly exceptional or memorable. Jake would put the man’s age to be in his thirties, maybe forties. He dressed like a thug, but did that describe who he was, or simply provide a good disguise? The multiple attempts on Sarah’s life led Jake to believe that whoever was after her was powerful and determined. Was it this guy? Or was this man just the hired gun?
Whoever was after Sarah certainly hadn’t given up over the number of years that she’d been gone, especially if the trouble had begun in Chicago eight years ago. What would make someone want to hunt her down and kill her after all this time?
For some reason the dangerous reality hadn’t sunk in for him until this moment. Now it hit him hard. Someone wanted to kill Sarah, and he had to keep her alive, not just for her own sake, but also for Caitlyn’s.
The only fact that made him feel marginally better was the belief that if the person who was after Sarah already had Caitlyn, they would have said so by now. They would have used Caitlyn to get to Sarah, which meant Caitlyn was still safe—for the moment. Who knew how long that would last? The bad guys knew more about Sarah’s life and past than Jake or Sarah did.
So, what next? Sarah’s place of employment, he figured. She might have made a friend there, someone she’d confided in, although he found it doubtful. She’d lived with him for two years and never told him any of her secrets. Why would she tell some other night janitor any truths about herself? Still, it was the only lead they had in this part of town. And he had to hope that Caitlyn was somewhere close by. It was certainly possible that Sarah could have found herself a babysitter without giving away her secrets, and that babysitter could have come from her workplace.
He looked up as Sarah emerged from the bathroom in a pink floral robe that had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door. She grabbed some clothes out of her dresser and closet and disappeared again.
It was a good thing, too. Seeing her bare legs peeking out of that robe and the shadow of cleavage between her breasts had made him hard in an instant. He had to get over this insane physical attraction to her. She’d practically killed him with her actions. He should not want her in any way whatsoever.
Only he did. And that was the damnable truth. For the past seven months he’d done nothing but concoct