Page 45 of Night Moves
“Gentry has cameras all over the house. I saw them in several smoke detectors and one in the bookshelf door.”
Her heart sank. “So he knows I went into the basement then.”
Drake gave one sharp nod, like a guillotine coming down. “And we both know he can’t let you live to tell about it in court.”
After Drake’s last statement, he was worried Natalie would be terrified, but oddly, she appeared calm as she hung her suit coat in the entryway. Maybe she seemed relaxed with Brendan monitoring the driveway so they would be forewarned if Gentry showed up. Or maybe it was because of the warm feeling his mom created in the cabin. The smell of her hearty beef stew and crusty bread filled the air, and a roaring fire warmed the space.
She was humming from an easy chair in the family room, two-year-old Sadie on her lap. Willow sat on the couch with Drake’s father. She chewed on her lower lip and stared at a large bin of Legos sitting between them, but she wasn’t even touching them. Logan played with Duplos on the floor, building tall towers. Pong stretched out in front of the fireplace, his paws under his head as he cast a wary eye at Logan.
Drake figured his mom had brought the toys. She’d kept many of their childhood things in the attic and cleaned them up when Brendan brought Jenna’s daughter, Karlie, over for a visit. His dad slid down on the floor and started building with Logan and talking to him about structures. His dad had always been able to handle kids so well.
Natalie looked at his mom. “The bread smells amazing. I didn’t know you could bake it so fast.”
His mom got up and settled Sadie on her hip. “I make the dough in advance and always have a bucket of it in the refrigerator. All I have to do is take it out, let it rise for a bit, and then pop it into a cast iron Dutch oven and bake. I learned to do that in self-defense once I had five growing boys to feed.” She laughed.
“You make it seem simple, but to someone who doesn’t cook or bake, it seems like a big deal.”
“I can teach you in a few minutes. Only four ingredients. No kneading. No fuss. Anyone can make it.”
Natalie smiled at his mother. “If it tastes as good as it smells, I’ll take you up on it.”
“Trust me,” Drake said. “You’ll love everything Mom puts on the table.”
“And speaking of the table.” His mom held Sadie out to him. “Lunch is ready, so take this little one.”
“But I—”
“Have free hands.” She nearly pushed Sadie into his arms. “Sadie, this is my son Drake. You’ll like him.”
The baby’s lip quivered but, despite her sad little chubby face, she tugged at his emotions. Or maybe the sadness made her even more adorable. But then she started whimpering, and panic took hold of him.
He started to give Natalie a plea for help.No. No.He couldn’t let a two-year-old best him. Time to conquer that fear. Her fussing increased. Now what? He shot a quick look around the room for something to help him out. A fish mounted on the wall near the fireplace grabbed his attention. That might work. He bounced her in his arms and hurried over there.
“Fishy. Pet.” She reached up to touch it.
Drake lifted her closer, proud of himself for stilling her complaints. But how long would the fish work, and what did he do next? His mom had just been sitting with Sadie on her lap, and the child seemed contented. Had something changed other than a different person holding her? Maybe she was tired. Or hungry.Thathe understood.
He glanced back at his mom, who was placing the pot of stew on a hot pad on the table and looking at his dad. “Will you get Erik for lunch? Clay dropped into bed the minute he got back, so we’ll let him sleep. And we’ll take a bowl out to Brendan.”
His dad patted Logan on the head. “Be right back, sport.”
Logan cast a disappointed look at Drake’s dad but went back to building. Drake imagined his dad back when he was in his thirties. Did his dad have experience with kids, or did he learn it after he got married? A lot of law enforcement officers knew how to deal with kids. They had to. The job required it. Drake chased fugitives. Not many kids to interact with there.
“Time to wash up for lunch,” his mom announced as she carried a crusty loaf of bread on a cutting board to the table.
“Willow. Logan. Come with me.” Natalie held her hand out to the kids. They quickly got up and followed her to the bathroom.
Okay. Fine. Now what? He had the little kid. Did she need her hands washed? Did she eat bread and stew?
“In here, son,” his mother said.
He crossed the room.
“Time for lunch, sweetie.” His mom tweaked Sadie’s nose, and she giggled.
The sweetness of the sound felt like a party to Drake, and he smiled with her. But what did he do with her?
His mother moved past him, a pitcher of water in her hands. “Set her on the counter and help her wash.”
