Kit smiled. “Archie it is. I found some clothes that will work for me, but the only baby-sized thing is a sunhat and a toddler-sized snow jacket.”
“I have an idea about that, Kit,” Archie said. “And you need some shoring up too. We can’t have you trekking around in bare feet.”
While the bottle warmed, Cullen prowled the cupboards but couldn’t find anything big enough for Kit to put her feet into for a warm water soak. His level of respect for her continued to rise. Their escape had been surreal. Barefoot and without a proper jacket, she’d somehow kept Tot from injury. He recalled that he’d actually dropped the baby off his roof into her arms. Cold sweat pricked his forehead. Thanks be to God that Kit had risen to the occasion. Point of fact, she’d been an absolute dynamo since he’d found her in her wrecked rig. He’d met a lot of strong women in his day, starting from his mother and extending to a long line of exceptional cops, but Kit topped the list.
Into the last clean bottle went one of the two remaining packets of formula. He found a clean mug, warmed the water, and shook up the milk.
Warmth. Food. That handled, he’d beeline for the phone.
Kit emerged from the bathroom, clutching the flannel shirt around herself. “Thanks for changing her, Mr. Esposito.”
“You will call me Archie, young lady. No arguments.”
With a smile, she reached for the bottle Cullen brought, but Archie took it first.
“Now, let an old soldier handle the grub. I’m a pro. You drink some water, and if you’re hungry, there’s cookies I keep stashed in the break room and a half bag of corn chips.”
“Food of champions,” Cullen said with a laugh.
“Beggars and choosers.” Archie settled Tot on his lap and watched in delight as she clamped onto the nipple. “Look at that. Eating like a professional. Never seen anyone with such a healthy appetite. Phone’s behind the desk.”
Cullen practically sprinted to the ancient rotary device. It took him a second to remember how to work one, but he kept his back to Archie to conceal his hesitation. When he untangled his brain, he dialed the emergency number. A busy signal. He disconnected and tried again. Same result. Not surprising.
Kit drew close, handing him a cookie on a piece of paper towel. She had another for herself.
“Thanks.” He was pleased for some reason that she’d thought of him. “Emergency line’s overwhelmed. I’m going to try my brother.” He dialed. “Ringing.”
Her eyes lit up, a hue somewhere between black coffee and the coat of the most beautiful quarter horse he’d been privileged to own. His stomach was doing flips as the phone rang once, twice. Before it got to three, his brother answered. Blood surging, Cullen gripped the phone. “Gideon...”
“If it isn’t my baby brother. Where are you?”
“Grandlake, ten miles from my cabin.”
“Why?” His brother’s tone sounded lazy, soft, but Cullen wasn’t fooled at the unspokenWhy are you there?Why didn’t you evacuate like any sensible person wouldhave?The edge was there under the velvet.
“In a minute. In case we lose connection, I need to tell you some things right away.”
Gideon was quiet as he relayed the information aboutthe crash and their pursuers. “Kit Garrido is here with me and the baby. We nicknamed her Tot.”
“Identity of the dirt bike guy?” Gideon asked.
Cullen fished around in his back pocket and examined the driver’s license he’d seized. “Name’s Kyle Wallace, out of Los Angeles. I like Evel better.”
“What?” Gideon said.
“Never mind. We don’t know what any of the men want with Tot’s mom.”
Kit’s eyes flew wide. “Wait a minute.”
“Hold on, Gideon,” Cullen said.
She pulled the paper from her pocket. “I found this when you took the license.”
Archie listened in as he read to his brother from the paper.
“Gideon, it’s a copy of an article ripped from a newspaper, theWashington Trib, dated June 7, five years ago. No more text except for a caption. ‘Annette Bowman was ...’ and the rest is torn off. Woman looks young in the photo, maybe late teens.”
The static on the line made him work harder to hear. A series of rattling thunks indicated the wind-driven debris was striking the upstairs windows. “Gideon, the mountain’s about to blow.”
