In Colton's Custody Page 6

  She couldn’t think about that now. Not when the state official, who could damage her business, was still inside. She had just pulled Luna from her car seat when the door to the house crept open. Candace leaned her head out, her thick salt-and-pepper ponytail falling forward over her round, amber-skinned face.

  “He’s with Tori and Alicia in the crib room,” she whispered.

  Willow peeked at her watch, noting that it was naptime. “Being quiet, I hope.”

  “He’s been okay, really. He’s already been through the kitchen, the toddler room, the activity room and the backyard.”

  “Did he go into my apartment?” She winced as she pictured her unmade bed and the rinsed cereal bowl in the sink. It was the one place she didn’t have to be fussy.

  “No. I made it clear that is your private residence, and none of our charges is ever allowed past that locked door.”

  “What will we do if he finds something? What if we get written up?”

  Candace shook her head, the ponytail swinging. “You know he won’t. You’re so focused on the rules that you could probably teach this stuff to anyone opening a new center.”

  “Rules keep the kids safe. That’s also our job.”

  “Yeah, you always say that, too. I’ll see you inside.”

  Candace closed the door, leaving Willow still holding Luna in the sweltering garage.

  Willow’s hurried breathing finally slowed for the first time since she’d received the call at the coffee shop. How could this all have happened on the same day? Wasn’t the news about Luna enough?

  If she hadn’t been wasting time at Java Jane’s, with a Colton no less, maybe she could have done something, at least been there when the inspector had arrived. She’d told Asher she’d agreed to meet him only so she could have the chance to tell her mother’s story, but it was more than that, and she knew it. More than wanting another opportunity to see Harper since they could be related, Willow was curious about the single father who was caught up in that mess with her and Luna. She knew better. Look at what curiosity did to cats.

  Anyway, what would she have done differently if she’d been the one to answer the door instead of Candace or one of the other staff members? Would she have refused to let the guy in? All that would have accomplished was to get the center shut down.

  Even if that had to be the intent of whoever had filed the complaint.

  Willow closed her eyes to hold the panic welling inside her at bay. She couldn’t let Tender Years be shuttered. She’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much.

  She took a deep breath that was neither fortifying nor calming and climbed the steps into the house. A pale, bespectacled man passed her just inside the doorway.

  “You must be Mrs. Merrill. I’m Inspector Robert Bilkey of the Arizona Department of Health Services, Child Care Facilities Licensing.” He lifted his badge so she could get a better look at his credentials and then smiled at her daughter. “Just a few more spaces, and I will be out of your way.”

  “Out of my way?”

  Was that code for he’d found something awful and would be filing a report about it? Though she followed him into the garage, he didn’t answer, already examining the see-through tubs of supplies. With a frown, she closed the door and continued into the house. It was the first time all day that Luna seemed at ease—except for those few minutes with Asher—and Willow was the one who wanted to cry.

  She moved from room to room, examining their contents with a more critical eye than usual. Were there sponges, which health officials considered breeding grounds for bacteria, on the kitchen sink? Were all outlets carefully covered in the toddler room, which had once been the formal living room? Were the gates closing off the trash cans in the diaper-changing area properly sealed?

  The sliding barn door marking the entrance to the formal dining room, which had been converted and lined with cribs, offered no clues about what the inspector had been looking for. Everything seemed to be in its proper place. If she’d made a tragic error, she had no idea what it was.

  Tori hurried toward her with a toddler, Derrick, propped on her hip.

  “Is the inspector gone yet?” she said in a stage whisper.

  Willow reached up to brush the child’s sweaty red hair and then gestured with a tilt of her head toward the garage.

  “Think he found anything?” Tori asked.

  This time, Willow shrugged. As with any other inspection from a governmental agency, what he found would depend on how hard he was searching.

  Candace passed them in the hall, guiding three-year-old Hannah by the hand. “You never said what happened at the hospital. Did they already do the test?”

  Willow shook her head. “I can’t even think about that right now.”

  “Didn’t you say something about a Colton?” Tori prompted anyway.

  Madeline rounded the corner with two-month-old Isabella in her arms. “Yeah, what’s the scoop?”

  She couldn’t blame her staff for being curious, after the way she’d bolted out of the center earlier. Anyway, they were friends and employees, a business model that had worked well for them until now. But everything was different today. She shook her head a second time. She wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  Candace released the little girl’s hand and held out her arms to Luna.

  “Here, angel. I bet you’re ready for some lunch and your nap.”

  Like always, Luna moved easily into the day-care worker’s arms. They all loved her like she was their own.

  Willow was still searching for the words to give them a brief accounting of what had taken place at the hospital when the door to the garage opened again. The inspector stepped inside, the tablet he’d been typing on earlier tucked under his arm.

  “Everything looks like it’s in order here.” He stepped toward the door.

  “I don’t understand, Mr. Bilkey,” Willow called to his retreating back. After the panic he’d caused at her place of business, she couldn’t let him leave without answering some of her questions.

  “Why did this inspection happen in the first place?” she asked when he paused.

  “As I told your staff when I arrived, there was a complaint against your center, filed with the state.”

  Who’d ever had a problem with Tender Years that hadn’t been solved through a simple conversation? She searched her memories. None of her employees had left under uncomfortable circumstances. No children had been unenrolled because of a disagreement in the past few years, either. Sure, like at many day-care centers, she’d occasionally had trouble with parents who regularly picked up their children late. Had someone been upset enough about the extra charges—a clearly stated penalty in their contract—to try to hurt her business by contacting the state?

  “But the complaint appears to be unfounded, so there shouldn’t be any further follow-up at this time.”

  Was the guy serious? It seemed to be “unfounded,” so the state agency didn’t plan to ask more questions about it? Or about the person who’d submitted it?

  “Is it possible to find out filing details?”

  He was already shaking his head before the question was out of her mouth. “Sorry. But we don’t release that information.”

  “You mean someone can suggest that a business has safety or quality issues, but the owner has no way to address the accuser?”

  The inspector didn’t appear to be listening as he slid his finger over his tablet and tapped through several screens. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “That’s strange.”

  “What is?”

  He lifted his gaze as if only then realizing he’d spoken aloud. Again, he shook his head.

  “Come on. Give us something here. You know the report was bogus.”

  Finally, he shrugged. “It’s just that the report appears to have been filed anonymously. It’s not supposed to be possible
to file a report without a claimant. I don’t even know how it was processed.”

  Willow blinked several times, that anonymous character scoring points against her for the third time: first the threatening letter, then the call to the hospital about the possible baby switch and now the complaint with the state. All three things had to be connected, didn’t they?

  He licked his lips and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she found herself saying. “You were just doing your job.”

  Clearly, someone else hadn’t been doing hers or his, but she didn’t say that. His embarrassment assuaged, he finally allowed her to usher him to the door.

  As soon as she closed it, she collapsed against the wood. It was all too much. This morning she’d believed that the news they’d learned was the worst thing that could happen to them. Now, though, no matter the results of the DNA test, if whoever was targeting her business was successful, she would have no way to support her child and nowhere for them to live.

  If they learned that the babies were switched, what judge would grant custody of either of those children to her?

  * * *

  “Everything’s going perfectly,” the woman said into the phone without bothering to say hello.

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” he said. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  Because she could picture him grinning like an idiot, she was glad this wasn’t a video call. Still, she had to give him credit for his effort. Their plan was working out just as they’d hoped. She had to ensure that it stayed that way.

  “All of the important players seem to be in on the deal,” she said. “They’re making this easy.”

  “I told you we could do this. I said it would be a piece of cake, too.”

  “Yes, sweetheart, you did.” She would give him that, though, technically, the idea had been hers. They always were. Her friend might have had the desire to make it work, but she was better at execution.

  “So, it’s ‘sweetheart’ now?”

  “Sure.”

  And it would continue to be if he didn’t screw this up for her. For them. She’d waited too long to find the perfect plan and an adequate partner to execute it to let it fall apart like her past few attempts.

  “Now get back to your job,” she said. “It’s almost time for me to do mine.”

  “Have fun and stay in touch.”

  “You know I will.”

  For effect, she made several kissy noises into the phone and hung up before he could reciprocate. She would stay in contact, all right. Every step of the way. Everyone else appeared to be finding good things in this life. It was about time for her, well, for them, to get their fair share.

  Chapter 7

  Asher pulled his pickup to the side of the road for the third time during the drive from town to the Triple R and allowed the latest emergency vehicle to pass. The first two had been unfamiliar police patrol cars, and the third was an ambulance. All were headed back toward town.

  “What the heck is going on?” he asked the passenger buckled in the car seat in the back.

  Harper’s only answer was a whimper that stretched to a whine. He couldn’t blame her. Instead of going back to the ranch and putting her down for her afternoon nap in her own bed, he’d driven around Mustang Valley several times, surveying some of the damage from the earthquake a month before. He’d even driven by a few sites where his brother Grayson, a first responder for his own agency, and Grayson’s new fiancée, Savannah Oliver, were helping with relief efforts. Still, Asher hadn’t wasted enough time, so he’d stopped at Mustang Park.

  He’d burned through more of the diesel in his quad-cab pickup than he cared to admit, while he let her nap in the back, but at least Jace would already be at his hospital appointment by the time he returned to the ranch. He was in no shape to answer more of his potential brother’s questions just yet.

  “Sorry, kiddo. We’ll be home real soon if we can stop having to pull off all the time.”

  As if responding to his comment, a strange-looking truck with a flashing light sped toward them. It wasn’t uncommon for him to pass no cars on a trip to and from town. This made four. Even though the vehicle was three-quarters of a mile back, Asher remained on the shoulder until it passed. Under the emblem for the Arizona Department of Public Safety were the chilling words Bomb Squad. His stomach muscles clenched.

  “Oh, God, no,” he said what he hoped was under his breath.

  He didn’t want to upset Harper more than she already was, but he had to know if he was right. Without any proof, he was almost certain that those emergency vehicles were headed straight to Colton Oil headquarters.

  After making a U-turn in the middle of the two-lane highway, he pulled behind the fast-moving vehicle and kept pace. He could afford a ticket, not the loss of his family members.

  A half mile from the exact location he’d predicted, they came upon a police roadblock, a squad car with the familiar Mustang Valley Police Department insignia on the door, parked across the two lanes. Lit flares were on the road in front of it.

  The bomb squad vehicle wove around the police car, tossing up gravel from the shoulder. If not for the precious cargo in his back seat, he would have followed it. Instead, he honored the posted officer’s demand to stop.

  He parked his car at the side of the road, unbuckled Harper from her seat and pulled on her hat and sunglasses. Then he approached Officer Lizzie Manfred.

  “Hey, Lizzie. What’s going on at the headquarters?”

  “Oh, hi, Asher.” She waved at his daughter. “Hey, Harper. Sorry. I can’t let you guys through here. No one, other than emergency personnel, is allowed beyond this point.”

  “But my family—” His gaze shot in the direction the bomb squad truck had already disappeared.

  She shook her head. “The whole Colton Oil staff has been evacuated, using local school buses. You can be reunited with your family members at the Affirmation Alliance Group Center.”

  “Why there?”

  She shrugged. “They have the facilities, and they offered.”

  “Makes sense.” The group had been helping the community a lot lately, particularly following the earthquake. It was great to see local organizations doing some good.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Sorry. Any official announcements need to come from Sergeant Colton.”

  “Spencer wouldn’t mind if you shared details with me.” He was a distant cousin, after all.

  “I like my job. I plan to keep it.”

  “Fine. Thanks.”

  Asher returned to his truck and buckled Harper in. He forced himself not to speed as he drove to the Affirmation Alliance Group Center. Sure, he’d heard that his brother and sisters were fine, but he needed to see it for himself.

  A yellow school bus remained in the center’s lot when he pulled in and parked. About a dozen people chatted in groups outside the building’s front door, a fair, blonde woman he recognized as Affirmation Alliance founder Micheline Anderson milling among them. He could only hope that his family members were inside.

  He carried Harper to the entrance. His sister, Marlowe, pushed open the door just as he reached the curb. Her face ruddy, her long, light blond hair falling forward over her face, Marlowe looked nothing like the unflappable Colton Oil CEO he knew. She cradled her rounded belly as if trying to protect her child.

  “Marlowe,” he called out as he rushed toward her.

  His one arm closed around her, his wiggling daughter sandwiched between them. He pulled back but still rested his hand on Marlowe’s arm.

  “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

  Despite her red face, she smiled. “I’m fine, big brother. We’re fine.”

  “Well, you don’t look so good. You should sit down.” He guided her to a park bench
farther down the walk. “Did you call Bowie?”

  “I just got off the phone with him.” She awkwardly lowered herself onto the wood and then gestured for him to join her. “A good fiancée wouldn’t let him find out about this on the internet, would she? Speaking of which, how did you find out?”

  “I saw all the police cars.”

  “You saw them from the ranch?”

  “I was in town.”

  He stopped at that. His sister was already worked up enough. He could share his own story with the family later.

  “So, what happened?”

  Marlowe held her hands wide. “Someone called in a bomb threat to the main office line.”

  “To Dee Walton? What did she do?”

  “Dee was the perfect admin hero.”

  She waved to the olive-skinned woman with short brown hair. Dee waved back.

  “She followed Colton Oil emergency protocols and the Department of Homeland Security bomb threat procedures checklist,” Marlowe continued. “She didn’t hang up the phone and called from a different one. She copied down the number from the phone’s display and even wrote down the caller’s exact words.”

  “Who’d want to blow up Colton Oil?”

  Asher’s gaze met his sister’s, her frown mirroring his. They both had a good idea, even if they didn’t know the specific who. It had to be connected to the anonymous email that opened the can of worms about Ace not being a real Colton. It could even have been the same person who’d shot their father.

  What about the tip regarding his and Willow’s switched-at-birth situation? He blinked as his mind added that last matter to the list. Whether the switch could be connected in any way, nothing was his and Willow’s. Only Harper’s and his.

  “Have you called Mom yet?”

  Marlowe shook her head, her frown deepening. “Wish we could keep this from her altogether, but someone at her Garden Society meeting has probably already told her. She’ll be calling anytime now.”