The Secret Child

The Secret Child

Jamie Ann Denton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Tony

For two decades of love and encouragement, patience and understanding and not having me committed when I argue with my characters

And Janelle Denison

For having the wisdom to look inside and the generosity to highlight the positive

And for not paying attention in history class.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

M ARNI RODGERS TURNED to face the reporters. They were out in full force today. Bright lights from television cameras reflected off the heavy wood interior of the courtroom. The august forum had been transformed into a media circus. Dozens of reporters thrust microphones into her face as cameras clicked all around her, and Marni knew her photo would be splashed across the pages of newspapers throughout the nation. Her conviction of the serial killer had seen to that.

Grabbing her dilapidated briefcase from the table, she moved forward, trying to ignore the shouted questions.

“Ms. Rodgers, will the state be seeking the death penalty?”

“Yes, we will.”

“Marni, will the D.A. be assigning you to ‘death row’ now?”

She recognized the voice of Mack Henley, a field reporter from the Times, and grinned, dropping her professional demeanor for a split second. Death row was a term the local press gave to A.D.A.s who routinely prosecuted special-circumstance cases. “You‘ll have to ask District Attorney Dorlan, Mack.”

“What about a political career, Marni?”

She almost laughed. These guys were amazing. One high-profile case and the media had her running for public office. She recognized the reporter from one of the local news shows. “No comment.”

April Burnell stepped to the front of the crowd and thrust a microphone in front of her. “How does it feel, Ms. Rodgers?”

Marni had dealt with April before and didn‘t particularly like her style. The woman had the tact of a bulldozer. “How does what feel, Ms. Burnell?” Marni asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“To be responsible for sending James Kendell to his death?”

Marni took a deep breath before answering. “The penalty phase of the trial doesn‘t start for another two weeks.”

“But aren‘t you seeking the death penalty?”

“I‘m doing my job, Ms. Burnell. The job you, a taxpayer, are paying me to perform. Tell me, how do you feel when you do your job well?” Marni shouldered her way past April and reached for the door.

The family of one of the victims came into the hallway, and the surge of reporters changed course, heading toward their new target like vultures intent on the remains of a two-day-old carcass. Relieved, Marni veered away from the throng and headed toward the elevators. Her escape went unnoticed.

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor and Marni headed toward the exit. She pushed through the glass doors of the courthouse into the bright, unseasonably warm January sunshine, her steps hurried. As she neared the concrete steps, she glanced at her watch. Jenna, her twelve-year-old daughter, would be home from school in a few minutes. Marni couldn‘t wait to tell her the case was finally over. She smiled for the second time since hearing the jury had finally reached a verdict, a decision that had taken three weeks.

Marni stepped forward and bumped into what she immediately thought of as a brick wall in an Armani suit. Her attaché slipped from her fingers and the faulty latch clicked open. Papers tumbled out and skittered to the ground.

“I‘m sorry,” she said, bending to pick up the papers before they scattered away in the light breeze. “I wasn‘t paying attention.”

The brick wall didn‘t say anything, but bent over to help. After the mess had been picked up, he extended his hand to give her the forms.

Marni shoved them back into the briefcase. The scent of his cologne reached her nostrils. Polo. She inhaled deeply, then lifted her gaze to get a look at the guy who smelled so good. Her mouth fell open in shock.

Cole Ballinger.

Her Cole.

Jenna‘s father. Oh, God!

Recognition and then surprise flickered in his polished jade eyes. His lips curved into a disarming smile. “Marni. It‘s been a long time.” His voice was velvet-edged and strong.

Marni didn‘t know what to say. Yes, it had been a long time. Thirteen years, and if he wanted to get technical about the whole thing, she‘d give him weeks and days, too. Oh, yes, a long time indeed since she‘d accepted Cole‘s father‘s offer and left Elk Falls. Too long, since Cole had married someone else while Marni carried his child. A child he knew nothing about.

Time had been good to him. His neatly trimmed sable hair had no signs of gray. More devastatingly handsome than she remembered, he showed new strength and maturity. But, she reminded herself, he‘d only been twenty then, tall and gangly. He‘d filled out quite nicely if the way his broad shoulders fit the Armani suit was any indication.

His name echoed through her mind. “Cole,” she whispered as he took her elbow and helped her to her feet. In an instant, Marni was eighteen again. Memories of the summer they‘d shared in Kansas before she left for California assaulted her suddenly fragile composure.

“What brings you to Los Angeles?” She struggled to maintain an even, conciliatory tone. Dear God, he hadn‘t found out about Jenna, had he?

An odd expression crossed Cole‘s features, one Marni couldn‘t define. “Ballinger Electronics is being sued,” he told her.

A slight surge of relief shot through her. She nodded, unsure what to say to him. A thrum of tension filled the air. Her composure slipped again under his watchful eyes, and she shifted her feet. “Are you in town long?” she asked tensely.

An older gentleman stepped forward to stand next to Cole and glanced pointedly at his watch.

“Gordon Bentley, this is Marni Rodgers. We‘re old friends,” Cole said casually. Too casually.

We were more than old friends, she wanted to say, but kept silent. No sense dredging up the past. No good would come of it.

“Gordon‘s my attorney,” he told her.

Marni extended her hand to the lawyer. “Pleased to meet you.” She hoped neither of them noticed the shakiness of her voice.

She welcomed the man‘s intrusion and shook his hand, thankful for the reprieve. Cole had left a burning imprint on her soul and one look at him, one simple touch, was enough to scorch her still. How could he be so dangerous to her sanity and her heart after all these years? He‘s not, she told herself. It‘s only the shock of seeing him again.

Gordon interrupted her thoughts. “I‘ll meet you inside, Cole. Miss Rodgers, it was a pleasure.” Marni nodded and watched him disappear into the courthouse. She hadn‘t even noticed the man‘s initial approach. But Cole had always had that affect on her. His nearness could cause her to forget the world existed. But not any longer. Not after the way he‘d hurt her when he married Elizabeth Wakefield. Regardless of Marni‘s bargain with the devil, she knew she‘d been young and foolish and wrong. Horribly wrong. Thirteen years of loneliness had taught her just how mistaken she‘d been in accepting Carson Ballinger‘s offer.

“I should be going.” Her senses were under siege. She had to get away from him. He‘d given her a shock and she needed time to recover.

Cole glanced at his watch. She couldn‘t help noticing how large his hands were. Manicured, yet strong. “Look, I‘ve got to get inside. Would you meet me for a drink later?”

Marni forced herself to settle down. The blood pounding in her ears deafened her. “It‘s not a good idea.”

“One drink, Marni. Surely you can fit an old friend into your busy schedule?” He studied her with an intensity she found unnerving.

“Cole, really, I–” Her thoughts trailed off when he gave her that lopsided grin she‘d always loved so much. The light winter breeze ruffled his dark hair, and for a split instant they were kids again. Young, innocent and free of Carson‘s influence.

“One drink.” He was obviously determined. Cole could be relentless when he set his mind on something.

“I‘m sorry.” Marni moved to step around him, anxious to be away before she gave in to him.

“Marni.” He sounded almost desperate. When he laid a hand on her arm to prevent her escape, a twinge of excitement raced through her. What was wrong with her? She hadn‘t seen Cole in years. It was ridiculous to react this way.

Marni chewed her lower lip. If she had that drink, maybe she could find out what he knew about Jenna, if anything. Besides, what harm could one drink with Cole Ballinger do? She was a grown woman, not a kid with stars in her eyes and dreams of happily ever after. The Ballinger wealth couldn‘t hurt her anymore. Cole was no longer a part of her life. Seriously doubting her powers of reason, she agreed. “Okay. One drink. Muldoon‘s at five-thirty. It‘s on the corner of Sixth and Spring.”

Before she could change her mind, she pulled away from him and ran down the concrete steps of the courthouse. She didn‘t stop until she reached her car. Unlocking the door, she slipped in behind the wheel of the Honda Prelude and tossed her attaché on the passenger seat. The lock unhitched and Marni glared at the old briefcase. “I‘m buying a new one. Tomorrow.”

* * *

WITH COLE OCCUPYING her thoughts, Marni drove across town to her office. He hadn‘t told her how long he‘d be in town. Was he only here as a witness or would he be attending the trial on a daily basis? She‘d have to find out which judge was hearing his case. Marni had always made a point of having a good rapport with all the judges’ clerks, and now it was about to pay off. She could easily ask for the estimated length of the trial without raising suspicion. With as much time as she spent at the courts, she supposed running into Cole would be inevitable, but the thought of seeing him on a daily basis was almost more than she could bear.

She guided the car into her assigned parking slot and killed the engine. Leaning back in the seat, she closed her eyes and rubbed the throbbing ache in her temples. Why had she agreed to meet him for a drink? Stupid, Marni. Real stupid. She‘d have to call Jenna and let her know she‘d be late.

The thought of Jenna got her moving. She collected her things, making certain the latch to her briefcase was secured.

A group of attorneys and secretaries stood waiting in the lobby when she entered the dingy county offices. A resounding cheer went up when she closed the door behind her. Marni couldn‘t help but laugh. She‘d worked hard to win the Kendell case, and now, because of her, one less killer roamed the streets of Los Angeles. And no matter how corny that sounded, the thrill of prosecuting such an important case was heady. Still, she‘d better keep her feet on the ground. There were other dangers in her life now.

Her secretary, Peg, stood to the side of the group, holding a dozen latex helium balloons secured with colorful curly ribbons. Someone popped open a bottle of champagne and shoved a glass in her hand. Before Marni realized it, she was regaling her colleagues with the finer points of the murder trial.

Her boss, Walter Dorlan, approached. “You‘re the lead story on tonight‘s news.”

Marni smiled. “Mack Henley wants to know if I‘m being assigned to death row.”

Walter may have been an active prosecutor at one time, but now politics were his mainstay. His term as D.A. would be over in another year, and rumors were already circulating that he was seeking the governor‘s office. Walter grinned, his pale blue eyes twinkling. “Sure, if the butterflies you get waiting for the juries to come in don‘t kill you first.”

Marni‘s teasing tone evaporated. “Walter, are you serious?”

The D.A. took a sip of champagne, then nodded. “I‘ve been thinking about it. No one‘s taken over on a permanent basis since Jackson left. You could handle the responsibility for a while.”

“I don‘t know what to say.” And she didn‘t. Despite her euphoria over winning the case, did she really want to send people to their deaths, no matter what she‘d told April Burnell? She pushed the unwanted thought aside.

“Don‘t say anything, Marni. Just do your job.”

“Rodgers!” someone called. “Telephone.”

Marni excused herself from Walter and the group. They didn‘t need her to continue the celebration. Drinking and raising hell were two things attorneys did extremely well.

Marni took the call in her office. She plopped down in the squeaky leather chair and cradled the receiver between her ear and shoulder. “Marni Rodgers,” she said absently as she looked at the stack of mail on her desk. Her secretary sorted her mail into separate folders according to importance. Even junk mail had its own file.

“Mom?”

“Jenna. Hi, sweetie. What‘s up?” Marni opened the folder for junk mail and emptied the contents in the trash bin under her desk.

“I saw you on the news!” Jenna‘s exuberance vibrated through the telephone.

Marni could picture Jenna standing in their cozy kitchen, her jade green eyes sparkling with excitement. Her thick, waist-length sable hair, so like her father‘s, would be pulled back into a ponytail. Marni would kill for hair like Jenna‘s. Her own blond hair hung in unruly curls just past her shoulders. She usually kept it pulled away from her face in a tight French braid.

“Everyone‘s gonna be talking about you tomorrow. My mother the celebrity. I‘ll be famous.”

Marni laughed. “No, Jenna, I‘m not a celebrity and I doubt you‘ll be famous just because I was on the five o‘clock news.”

“Well, Denise Lambert already called and her mom said you‘re a famous lawyer now.”

Marni rolled her eyes and looked at her watch. She was supposed to meet Cole in fifteen minutes. “I‘m gonna be a little late. I have a...meeting. Still ready for pizza?”

Jenna‘s laughter made Marni smile. “Pizza? Mom, you deserve a night on the town for what you did today. Do you have a date?”

Marni opened the folder entitled For Your Signature and ignored the hopeful note in Jenna‘s voice. “No, I don‘t have a date.”

“You need a man, Mom.”

Marni couldn‘t believe her ears. “Jenna!”

“Denise‘s mom thinks you do. She says you work too hard and if you don‘t get out more, you‘ll–”

“Jenna, that‘s enough.”

Jenna sighed heavily, her exasperation registering clearly.

“You wanna order in or go out for pizza?” asked Marni, anxious to steer the topic away from her lack of male companionship. She‘d had offers, plenty of them, but the truth was, she just wasn‘t interested. She‘d convinced herself her career and Jenna were all that mattered. Especially since she had paid such a high price for both.

Marni could practically feel her daughter‘s shrug. “Doesn‘t matter.”

“Why don‘t we decide when I get home? Around seven, okay?” She signed her name to a letter without proofreading it. She didn‘t need to; Peg‘s efficiency spoke for itself.

“Sure, Mom. Oh, the phone‘s beeping, I‘ve got another call coming in. It‘s probably Denise again.”

“Sweetie?” Marni said before her daughter could hang up on her. “I love you.”

“Yeah, me, too, Mom. I‘ll see ya tonight.”

An indefinable fear settled over Marni. If she told Jenna her father was in town, she would insist on seeing him. When Jenna had asked the identity of her father, Marni had told her daughter as much as her young mind could understand at the time. She had been careful not to color her daughter‘s feelings in any way.

What had happened between Cole and Marni had been special, at least on her part. How she‘d loved Cole, and she‘d thought he‘d returned that love. But Marni hadn‘t been gone two months when Cole married Elizabeth Wakefield, a woman of his own social class. Even though Marni had ended their relationship without explanation, she still experienced an unreasonable stab of jealousy every time she thought of Cole with Elizabeth.

Marni replaced the receiver, finished signing the rest of the correspondence, then put the remaining folders in her briefcase. “I‘m really gonna get a new one tomorrow,” she promised herself.

She flicked off the light and closed the door to her office, then dropped the folder with the signed correspondence on Peg‘s desk. She picked up her messages, stuffed them into her jacket pocket and headed toward the door. The crowd had thinned somewhat, and Marni escaped without too much trouble.

Entering the parking garage with her keys in hand, Marni headed for her car. She opened the door and slipped inside.

Muldoon‘s.

Cole.

The drive would take her about twenty minutes in downtown traffic. Glancing at her watch, Marni realized she was already late. Maybe if she was lucky, he‘d have already left and she‘d never have to see him again. She tossed the briefcase onto the passenger seat, and the latch flipped open again. The old leather case had been a gift from her mother, and if she hadn‘t been so attached to it, she never would have run into Cole.

Marni sighed, glaring at the briefcase. She had an uneasy feeling that fate had just intervened.

* * *

FATE HAD DEFINITELY smiled on Cole Ballinger today. He arrived at Muldoon‘s thirty minutes before he was supposed to meet Marni and secured a table in the back of the downtown pub. Happy hour would be in full swing before long, and he wanted to ensure they had a relatively quiet place to talk.

The day he arrived in Los Angeles, he‘d seen Marni on the nightly news. He couldn‘t believe his eyes. Marni–his Marni–was prosecuting an extremely high-profile serial killer. He‘d immediately gotten the number to the D.A.‘s office from the information operator. But every time he picked up the phone to call he replaced the receiver before he could punch in her number. Too much time had passed. After all these years, she certainly had to have a life of her own–a point she‘d made perfectly clear when she‘d told him she never wanted to see him again. No explanation, no justification. Simply goodbye. The next day she‘d been gone, almost as if she‘d never existed in the first place.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. She‘d matured, naturally, and although the image she projected in her navy blue suit spoke of a fashionable professional, her conservative attire could not completely hide her sensuality. Yet cool was the word that came to Cole‘s mind when he thought about her. She had a don‘t-touch-me look, and he wondered why. Had someone hurt her? What had happened to change the soft, warm young woman he‘d loved? Hell, he still wanted to know why she‘d left him. He‘d played their parting scene over and over in his mind and still couldn‘t come up with a plausible reason for her actions.

Cole ordered a light beer and nursed it while he waited. He couldn‘t help wondering if she would show up or not. She‘d been anxious to get away from him. He thought he‘d seen fear in her eyes, and again he questioned her reasons. Why would she fear him? Cole decided there was only one way to find out.

Nearly an hour later, he spotted her at the front entrance. He stood, impatient for her to see him. He waved, caught her attention and watched her cross the crowded pub with the natural grace of a dancer. There was an easy confidence about her Cole didn‘t remember from their youth. In the dim light of the bar, she appeared ethereal. He caught himself wishing she‘d worn her hair down, bouncing around her face. Did it still shimmer like a wheat field swaying in a gentle breeze? Her delicate features hinted at a patrician background. No one would suspect she was a fatherless girl from a rundown trailer park on the wrong side of town.

“You‘re late,” he told her tersely, hiding his relief that she‘d really come.

She cast him a quick, nervous glance, nodded, then scooted into the booth. The skirt of her navy blue suit hitched up, showing him a goodly portion of her legs. Cole admired the long shapely limbs for a moment before signaling for the waitress. Sliding into the booth opposite her, he asked, “What‘ll you have?”

She kept her gaze averted from his, and he wondered if she was truly afraid, after all. The notion was ridiculous.

“Whatever you‘re having is fine.”

“Beer?” When she nodded, he chuckled. “A woman after my own heart.” The waitress glanced his way and Cole motioned for two beers.

“I heard your name on the radio while driving here. Congratulations.” Pride had surged through him when the newscaster reported the conviction of James Kendell and the part Marni played in bringing him to justice.

She shrugged her slim shoulders as if the event was a common occurrence. “I‘m sure I‘m on the six o‘clock news right now, too.” Her voice held a detachment he found unnerving. She used to look at him with such adoration and he silently berated himself for wanting to see that look in her eyes again. Marni had always been bubbly, a happy-go-lucky type. Time had changed her, hardened her. He wondered if it was because of her job.

Cole dropped a bill on the table when the waitress delivered two bottles of beer and a bowl of warmed peanuts, along with a glass for Marni. “Did you get a conviction on all the charges against this guy?” He hoped to bring her out of wherever she was hiding. Maybe talking about her victory today would do the trick.

She glanced his way. Her eyes darted back and forth, refusing to hold his gaze for longer than a second or two. “I was able to get him for the kidnapping and murder for five of the six victims.”

Cole leaned back into the dark green Naugahyde. “Why only five?”

She looked at him and he saw the intelligence in her eyes. The coffee-colored orbs were sharp and assessing, as if she sized up everything and everyone within seconds. A habit, he assumed, she‘d developed since becoming an attorney.

“The fourth victim may have been a copycat and we had no hard evidence.” She absently fingered the bowl of peanuts. “I should still be able to convince the jury to go for the death penalty.”

“Good. Kendell is a real scumbag.” Taking a sip of beer, he watched her transformation. Within minutes, she was talking animatedly, gesturing to make her points. Still, a detachment in her demeanor irritated him. He‘d seen that look before, the day she told him to get lost.

She laughed lightly at one of his remarks. Cole liked the soft, melodious tones drifting over him.

“Doesn‘t it get to you, though?” he asked, becoming serious again. “You see the very worst side of humanity every day.” He didn‘t care if they were discussing the exchange rate in China–at least she was talking to him.

She sighed. “You get used to it.” Marni took a sip of beer, then glanced away. She stared at the cheap, framed print behind him as if it were the most fascinating work of art she‘d ever seen. “So, are you in town long?”

“I moved here about six months ago,” he answered lazily, and waited for her reaction.

She looked back at him abruptly. “Why?”

Cole frowned at the alarm in her gaze. The yellow flecks in her eyes turned to gold, signaling the intensity of her reaction. “I‘ve taken over the software division of Ballinger Electronics.”