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Her pulse quickened with alarm. “Oh, no! Phillip, don’t tell me—!”
His deep voice was somber, almost a monotone. “Frank and Julia Goodwin were both killed.”
Victoria’s breath caught. Dear God, she didn’t want to know, and had to know, but how could she cope? To find her child and have him immediately snatched away? She couldn’t stand it if—please, God, don’t let it be! “And my son?” she barely whispered.
“He survived,” said Phillip quickly. “He was injured, but my sources indicate that he recovered.”
Relief radiated through her body. She sank back, every muscle like jelly. “Where is my baby now?”
Phillip removed a slim notebook from his vest pocket. He thumbed through several pages. “Your son was released into the custody of his maternal grandparents—Julia’s parents—Maude and Sam Hewlett. They live in Middleton, a farming community north of San Francisco.”
“San Francisco?” Victoria repeated carefully. “That’s not far. Maybe half a day’s drive.”
“No, it’s not bad,” Phillip agreed. “The boy could have been in some remote city halfway around the world.”
“Middleton, you said? North of San Francisco? All right, wonderful. That’s where I’ll go to find my son.” Impulsively she added, “Would you like to go with me, Phillip?”
“Hold on,” he said, reaching over and touching her hand, a cautionary gesture. “There’s more, Victoria.”
“Bad news?” she asked with apprehension. She didn’t want to hear anything that would dampen her spirits. She knew now where her son lived. What more did she need to know?
“Not exactly bad news,” said Phillip. “It’s more puzzling than anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had a colleague of mine from San Francisco check your son’s neighborhood and the local school system for some record of the boy. So far he hasn’t been able to uncover any evidence of your son’s existence.”
Victoria shook her head, baffled, “Wait a minute, you’re confusing me. No record of his existence? How can that be?”
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what we’ve found.”
“My son is six years old now. He should be in first grade, or at least kindergarten.”
“I agree. But there’s no record that a Joshua Goodwin or a Joshua Hewlett was ever enrolled in any public or private school in the area.”
Victoria’s heart stopped in mid-beat. “Joshua, you say? That’s my son’s name?”
Phillip nodded.
“Joshua.” She repeated the name several times, marveling. “Joshua. It sounds strange and wonderful all at once.” Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. “I always wondered what he was called, my son, what name he answered to. Joshua. I like it. Don’t you, Phillip? It’s a good, strong name. A biblical name. If I recall correctly, it means ‘Jehovah is salvation.’“
Phillip sat forward and rubbed his hands together methodically, as if marking time until her emotional outburst subsided. At last he cleared his throat and said, “Unfortunately, Victoria, it’s a name we can’t trace past the accident that killed his parents.”
Victoria looked back in stunned silence, trying to make sense of Phillip’s words. “That can’t be,” she said, shaking her head. “Surely you’ve missed something, some clue. Have you checked with his grandparents?”
“No, not yet. That could be a ticklish situation, especially since we don’t want them to know Joshua’s natural mother is looking for him.”
“You think there could be trouble?”
“It’s happened before.”
“Have you talked to the Hewletts’ neighbors?” She tried to keep her voice under control, but couldn’t help hearing the nervous, urgent edge as she questioned Phillip.
“My colleague contacted every house on the block,” he replied. “No one has ever seen the youngster.”
Victoria’s voice rose with a shrill desperation. “But that’s impossible. Little boys play outside. They have friends. Surely someone has seen him.”
“No one,” said Phillip. “Everyone says the Hewletts are very private people. Not much is known about them. But all the neighbors agreed on one point. The Hewletts live alone.”
Victoria stood and walked to the window, hugging herself protectively. She felt a chill inside, like a clammy hand crushing her heart, making it hard to breathe. “Something’s wrong, Phillip. Something’s terribly wrong.”
He joined her at the window and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “That’s the way I read it, too, Victoria.”
She turned to face him, tears wetting her cheeks. “I’m scared, Phillip.”
Impulsively he drew her into his arms and gently stroked her back, a friend offering comfort. He whispered against her hair, “It’ll be all right, Victoria. I promise.”
Hearing him say those words, she believed him, as if he truly could make everything right for her—this man of such strength, integrity and sensitivity. She wanted to stay in the warmth of his arms and savor his consolation; she had never felt so safe before. But as he held her she sensed the stirring of something more between them, not just comfort, but a physical attraction. It was the same delicious rush of adrenaline she had felt with Rick Lancer, only better, for she had always been on her guard with Rick. In Phillip’s arms she felt almost as if she were home where she belonged.
She lifted her face to his and for an instant she thought he might kiss her, but even as his lips parted, he released her and stepped back abruptly. “I’m sorry, Victoria. I didn’t mean to—I promise, that won’t happen again.”
She brushed back a stray lock of her burnished hair. She felt flustered, breathless.and disappointed. “Don’t apologize, Phillip, please. I’m sure you were just trying to calm a distraught client.” She laughed feebly. “I suppose it’s all part of the job description, isn’t it?”
“Not until today,” he murmured, smoothing his hair back and straightening his jacket.
It was obvious they both felt at a loss for words, so she said with forced lightness, “What are we going to do, Phillip?”
His brows arched quizzically. “Do?”
“About my case.”
“I knew that,” he said with a sheepish smile. When he spoke again he was all business. “I think we’ll have to confront the Hewletts and see what they have to say.”
“We?”
“I thought you might want to drive down the coast with me and meet them for yourself.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“We have no other leads. And frankly, I think the situation warrants a face-to-face meeting with your son’s grandparents.”
“When should we go?”
“I’m free next weekend.”
“All right That works out well for me, too. The school term is over. I’ll be finished with my duties at the university and have my grades turned in by then” She paused and searched Phillip’s eyes. “What will we say to the Hewletts?”
He shrugged. “Let’s see what happens when we get there “
She nodded, then patted Phillip’s arm in a gesture of camaraderie. As anxious as she felt about her son, she was grateful that God had sent her a man like Phillip, a man she sensed she could trust to help her with her quest. She gave him a pleased, slightly abashed smile and said, “I just realized you’ve been here an hour and I haven’t even offered you a cup of coffee “
He grinned and squeezed her hand, the warmth of his touch as pleasurable as a kiss “Thank you, my lady I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_a1dab409-e52a-550a-ad5d-0fa8b17c1f4c)
Early Saturday morning, Phillip and Victoria drove down the coast to Middleton through a slanting, presummer rain After lunch at a local pancake house, they drove to the Hewletts’ home on Blackberry Street. As Phillip pulled up beside the shingled, Victorian-style house, Victoria emitted an exclamation of dismay. “Oh, Phillip, it looks like one of those frightful haunted houses from a horror movie!”
The rambling, slate gray house sat back from the street on a steep, grassy incline Beveled crystal windows, dark green shutters and gingerbread-gothic trim gave it a remote, turn-of-the-century aura Even in the mid-afternoon sunlight, it seemed to possess a life of its own, an ominous presence that tightened a knot of foreboding in Victoria’s stomach.
“Can you believe it, Phillip? To think that this is the home of my child’s grandparents!”
“Not the most inviting place I’ve ever seen, but no use sitting here letting our imaginations run wild” He pulled the door handle. “Guess we’d better go up to the house and see what’s waiting for us inside”
“Wait,” said Victoria. “Both of us going may arouse suspicion. Maybe I should go alone “
“Do you think you can handle it?”
“I’ve got to, for Joshua’s sake.”
“Are you going to tell them who you are?”
“I don’t know. Right now I just want to meet them and see if I can find out something about my son.”
“They may not take well to a prying stranger.”
“I won’t pry. I’ll be very subtle.”
Phillip took her hand and held it for a long moment, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of concern and admiration “You’re quite a courageous young lady, you know that?”
She flashed a grateful smile. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
“I’ve never considered myself a brave person,” she admitted. “It must be my maternal instincts taking hold. I need to protect my son, whatever the cost”
He squeezed her hand. “You know I’m in your corner, Victoria.”
She nodded, a pleasant warmth flushing her cheeks “You don’t know how much that means to me, Phillip. You’re the one who’s given me the courage to look for my son.”
With obvious reluctance he released her hand. “But if you’re not back here in ten minutes, my brave lady, I’ll come looking for you.”
“Pray for me,” she murmured as she slipped out of the car.
“My prayers haven’t got past the ceiling lately, Victoria,” he called after her.
She looked back at him. “Pray, anyway. My knees are knocking.”
As she approached the massive door with its arched windows and frosted-glass panes, Victoria noticed a small, hand-lettered sign tucked in the molding- Room For Rent. An idea formed as she knocked soundly. A full minute passed before she heard a scuffling sound inside. As the door swung open, a large-boned woman in a flowered, ill-fitting housedress glared out at her.
“Yeah?” the woman grunted, her shrewd, hazel eyes narrowing.
Her brows were thick and unattended; her white, wispy hair was pulled back tightly from her full-lobed ears.
Victoria squared her shoulders and drew in a sharp breath. “Hello,” she said with a buoyancy she didn’t feel. “I—I’m Victoria Carlin—”
“So?” the woman interrupted. She stepped back, a beefy hand on her hip as she gazed appraisingly at Victoria. She had a long horse face with sagging cheeks and a rippling neck. “You selling something?”
“No,” Victoria said quickly. “I—I saw your sign about the room for rent.”
The woman’s thin lips twisted into a smile. “You’re looking for a room? Why didn’t you say so?”
Victoria chose her words carefully. “I’m very interested in finding just the right place.”
“Well, I’ll tell you right up front I’m very particular,” said the woman. “I just put the sign up a few days ago, and I already turned down a couple of drifters I don’t take kindly to strangers in my house, but with times so bad and the pittance we get from Social Security—well, a body has to pay the bills somehow, and my Sam can’t work anymore with his lame back.”
“I know how it is,” said Victoria with genuine sympathy. “It’s very hard to make ends meet these days.”
“And getting harder all the time,” said Maude. “Anyways, you look like a decent sort. Come on in.” She held out her hand. “I’m Maude Hewlett.”
Victoria shook the woman’s hand, then followed her into the dimly lit living room with its antique cherry wood furniture. The heavy drapes were closed, and the flower-print walls were cluttered with primitive paintings and knickknack shelves. Scattered randomly were several artificial plants and wicker baskets overflowing with yarn.
“The room is fifty dollars a week,” said Maude. “Twenty more for meals. I want references and a month’s rent in advance.”
“I’m really not sure I…” Victoria began. She looked around, flustered. The television set was on, distracting her—a game show blaring with overeager contestants laughing, clapping, shrieking.
Victoria’s gaze moved to a framed photograph on top of the TV—a large picture of a young woman and child, their heads together, smiling, the boy’s arms wrapped adoringly around the woman’s neck. Something in the child’s face clicked in Victoria’s memory—the recollection of a photo of herself at age five. The same curly red hair, freckled cheeks and laughing eyes. My son! she thought with a sudden swell of emotion She felt tears gathering, rimming her eyes. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away. She wanted desperately to reach out and touch the picture, pick it up, caress it, but she sensed she was raising Maude’s suspicions, so she glanced away before the woman saw her face.
But Maude Hewlett had already followed Victoria’s gaze “That’s my daughter and grandson,” she said matter-of-factly.
“It’s a lovely portrait,” Victoria managed to say.
“They’re both dead,” Maude continued in her detached monotone.
Victoria stared incredulously at her. She felt as if the woman had struck her with a two-by-four. “Both dead?”
“A car accident six months ago.” Maude’s mouth contorted slightly. Her expression hardened as if she were defying Victoria to pity her. She turned abruptly toward the hallway. “You wanna see the room now?”
Victoria clutched the back of a chair. She felt faint; her mind was reeling. Surely it wasn’t true. Her son couldn’t be dead. Oh, God, please, no! Not after I’ve come so close to finding him!
“You coming or not?” inquired Maude sharply.
With great effort Victoria found her voice. “Yes, I—I’m coming.”
The room was small but pleasant enough, with chintz curtains, a polished oak floor with rag rugs and a patchwork quilt on the bed. The dresser mirror was dim with age, the wallpaper yellow and peeling in spots around the mahogany cornices.
“How long you planning to stay, Miss Carlin?” queried Maude.
“I don’t know,” Victoria replied distractedly. How could she carry on a rational conversation when her mind registered only one appalling thought—her son could be dead! Somehow, God help her, she had to convey a semblance of normalcy. “I—I’ll be staying just for the summer,” she said with forced brightness. “I teach up north at a state university. I’m working on my doctorate in contemporary American literature. I need a place with lots of peace and quiet to write my thesis.”
