Austin's stomach roiled when he thought of that moment when she'd criedout that Lester was not Tyler's father. The full truth had hit himinstantly, with the force of a sledgehammer meeting concrete. His headhad been that concrete.
Why hadn't he known? Why hadn't he at least suspected? Had it beensimple stupidity that he hadn't put two and two together and come upwith four? Or had his guilty conscience been the culprit?
After all, screwing his best friend's daughter when he was thirty-twoand she was barely eighteen had not been one of his proudest moments.
More than likely that was the reason he'd stuck his head in the sand andmoved on.
Austin pounded the steering wheel, trying desperately to dam up theanger building inside him, fearing it would reach the explosive point.He wanted to throttle Cassie and hug his son.
Tyler.
It wouldn't do for him to find Sullivan before the cops did. For thefirst time ever, Austin believed he could take another man's life and not blink an eye.
That thought scared the hell out of him.
If he were to do something crazy like that, he would never get near his
son.
So he had to play by the rules, fair or not.
"What the hell are you doing here, McGuire?"
Austin twisted his head around and encountered a fierce-looking Ray
Malcolm staring down at him through the open window.
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
The detective toyed with his mustache, which glistened with sweat.
"Meddling where you have no business meddling," Malcolm said.
"What would you do, detective, if you were in my place?"
The other man's cheeks turned a rough red, then he hemmed and hawed
before saying, "Hell if I know."
"Yeah, you do. Your ass would be sitting exactly where mine is."
"Don't do anything foolish."
"Like blow the son of a bitch's brains out?"
Malcolm scowled.
"That's not something to joke about, McGuire."
Austin wanted to ask who was joking, but he didn't. He wasn't about to
get hauled off to jail himself on a trumped-up charge of obstructing
justice.
Nope, he intended to be around to see Sullivan's face when he was arrested.
"Not to worry, detective, I'm just helping the cause."
"Yeah, right," Malcolm muttered sarcastically. "Just make sure you don't
hinder it."
"So what have y'all found out?" Austin asked.
"Zilch." Malcolm frowned.
"We just left the Wortham place."
Austin wanted to ask how the mood was there, but he didn't have to.
He knew. Cassie was all broken apart inside, and until Tyler was
returned unharmed, no one could put the pieces back together, certainly not him.
Hell, he needed consoling.
"Why do you think Sullivan hasn't called back?"
Malcolm pulled on the brush that draped his lip.
"He will. I figure he's just torturing his ex, hoping to milk more money
out her."
"Damn him straight to hell," Austin muttered.
The detective coughed.
"Under the circumstances, I can see where you're coming from. But this
is a matter for us to take care of.
Don't go thinking you're John Wayne."
"If I see the bastard or any of his cronies, you'll be the first to
know. I don't want to do anything that would cause Sullivan to walk."
"Good, then we're together on this."
With that Malcolm strode back to his unmarked car and got in it.
Austin immediately focused his attention back on the house. Still no
activity. He would wait a while longer; then he would leave and go back to the hotel. Someone had to be in charge there. He couldn't count on Cassie for any help.
Cassie again. He had to stop thinking about her. Right now, his insides were too raw. And he was hurting.
Betrayal.
It was an ugly word with an ugly meaning. Unfortunately, Cassie and betrayal were synonymous. That was why he couldn't allow himself the luxury of confronting her, not until his son was all right.
Then. For a second Austin's heart skipped several beats. His son. He didn't think he would ever tire of saying those words. Yet he had no idea what the future held for him as a father to that boy.
But in the blink of an eye, his life had changed again. He had thought he would never have a child, only to find that he'd had one for eight years.
Hitting the steering wheel again wouldn't help, but he did it anyway.
If he inflicted enough physical pain on himself, surely it would relieve some of his mental anguish.
Deciding he was wasting his time here, Austin cranked the engine and
drove off. His next destination was Grant Hoople's house in Lafayette.
Maybe he would get lucky and find that son of a bitch at home.
If not, then he would keep on keeping on. The possibility that Tyler might have been taken out of the state didn't bear thinking about. He would find his son. And Sullivan would pay.
Austin gritted his teeth as the truck sped forward.
"I want my Mommy." Lester glared at the boy, hatred churning inside him.
"Stop whining."
"I hate you," Tyler muttered, his lower lip protruding.
Lester's eyes narrowed as he reached over, clasped a hand around Tyler's arm and jerked him up off the dirty pallet on the cement floor, not stopping until their noses were almost touching and their breath mingled.