Calder Storm (Calder Saga 10)

If he found any contradiction between her appearance and the address, he didn’t comment but simply pulled back into the traffic. Jake started crying, sending Sloan on a search through the bag for his pacifier. One-handed, she stripped off the elastic bands securing her braids and finger-combed her hair loose.

A dozen times she darted looks behind her, convinced her absence had been discovered by now. But with any luck, they would check all the obvious places first.

“What the hell do you mean, they’re gone?!” Max bellowed into the phone.

“She went into a dressing room in the back—to freshen up, she said. When the photographer went looking for her, he couldn’t find her or the baby. Her dress, shoes, and makeup were in the dressing room, but Mrs. Calder and the baby were gone. The studio has a rear exit to the alley behind the building. We’re assuming that’s how she left.”

“You were supposed to be guarding them. Why didn’t you have a man stationed there?” Max demanded.

“It was a solid metal door, locked from the inside. No one was going to come in that way, and we had no reason to think Mrs. Calder—”

“Dammit, you screwed up. Admit it!”

“Yes sir. It was an oversight.”

Furious as he was at their laxity, Max recognized that fixing blame was a pointless exercise. “What are you doing to find them?”

“We’ve got men on the way to the bus and airport terminals just in case she’s headed there. She mentioned she had a home in Hawaii, but is there anyone here she might—”

“She has in-laws at the Cee Bar. Get men over there to cover the approaches to the ranch. How long has she been gone?”

“Roughly ten or fifteen minutes. It couldn’t be more than that. Just a minute.” A hand muffled the phone, garbling the exchange on the other end of the line. “We may have something. A young woman with a baby was seen getting into a cab half a block from here.”

“Track down that cab and find out where he took her. I don’t care what you have to do—or how much it costs—you get that address.”

“We’re on it.”

Pushed by a cold rage, Max slammed the phone down and pivoted his wheelchair from the desk to face the glass wall of his executive office. There was only one explanation for her actions—Sloan had overheard his phone conversation with Donovan, just as his instincts had warned him. His mistake was not trusting them.

But all wasn’t lost yet. All he had to do was keep her from reaching the Calders and putting that baby in their hands.

Spring flowers abounded, brightening the exclusive River Crest district located in the hills overlooking the Trinity River. Sloan barely noticed them as the cab wound through its curving streets. The vehicle’s pace was a slow one, allowing the driver to scan the street signs and estate numbers. Aware of the necessity for that, Sloan held her tongue.

Ahead of them, a set of scrolled iron gates on the right stood open, marking a driveway’s entrance. The cab made the turn between them and followed a looping driveway that culminated in front of grand Italianate mansion.

Hurriedly, Sloan pushed some bills in the driver’s hand, more than enough to take care of the fare, slid out of the backseat with the baby, and pulled the bag after her. She glanced back at the lane to make sure she hadn’t been followed, then crossed to the front door and rang the bell.

When the cab pulled away from the house, she briefly wondered whether she should have asked the driver to wait. Now it was too late. Then Jake started to cry. This time the pacifier didn’t satisfy him.

Sloan rang the bell again, feeling much too vulnerable standing out there in the open.

The door opened, and she found herself standing face to face with an older, balding gentleman, dressed in the dark formal gear of a butler.

“May I help you, ma’am?” he inquired with cool politeness.

“I need to speak to Tara right away, please. It’s extremely important,” Sloan rushed.

“I’m sorry, but Mrs. Calder isn’t here at the moment. Perhaps if you—”

She cut him short. “How soon will she be back? I’d like to wait for her. I’m Sloan Calder.”

Something that was almost a smile took the aloofness from his expression as his attention shifted to the baby in her arms. “Then this must be the late Mr. Calder’s grandbaby. Mrs. Calder will be delighted to see him. She just returned from Europe. She called a few minutes ago to say she was on her way home. She should be arriving any time. My name is Brownsmith. I’m Mrs. Calder’s houseman. Please come in.” He took a step back to admit her, then paused as he spotted the sleek black car coming up the driveway. “What excellent timing. Mrs. Calder is just now arriving.”

When Sloan turned toward the driveway, the houseman moved past her to greet his mistress, traveling with the shuffling gait of the elderly. Jake continued his cranky cry, and Sloan rocked her shoulders in a side-to-side motion to calm him as she followed the houseman out to the driveway.

Seconds after the car rolled to a quiet stop, the chauffeur exited the vehicle and trotted around to open the rear passenger door, extending a hand to its occupant.

Tara stepped out, clad in a silvery gray traveling suit and trailing a sable coat. The houseman inclined his head in a respectful greeting.