Read Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Lauren Hope
Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1)
HIDDEN SHADOWS
LAUREN HOPE
Hidden Shadows
Copyright © 2014
Lauren Hope
Author photo by Emma Montandon.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Second Edition
Praise for The Shadow Series
"Hope draws wonderful characters that are three dimensional and very genuine. I recommend HIDDEN SHADOWS to any reader who likes a good suspenseful story with well-rounded characters."
- Romance Reader at Heart
"HIDDEN SHADOWS {…} entices the reader to settle in for a time of discovery. Lauren Hope skillfully creates a beautiful romance and a touching love story."
- Long and Short Reviews
"Lauren Hope is a deft hand with a mystery.”
- Enduring Romance
“Lauren Hope has done it again with this fascinating suspense story. This is definitely a book everyone should read. . . .”
- Night Owl Reviews
"I am very much looking forward to Ms. Hope's next book and will definitely be reading it."
- Simply Romance Reviews
The first time, this time, every time, to Michael.
Prologue
Desiree sat alone in the shadows of the dimly lit room.
She was lonely, heartbroken, frustrated, but most of all, she was angry. It possessed her, consumed her. And it wasn’t the pure old-fashioned mad where a good long walk could blow off the steam, it was fury. The desperate kind—the kind that drove you mad and pushed you to hate.
The hate had pushed her to depression, then shoved her to obsession.
How could I have failed once more?
The voice in her head sounded whiny, even to her own mind. That irritated her too.
She heaved a sigh, slouched lower in the lone chair furnishing her current home, careful that her foot did not touch the sliver of sunlight filtering through the flimsy curtain. She didn’t want any part of the light. Only darkness.
Only shadows.
She deserved them after another failure.
She’d been certain her plan was foolproof. Certain that after bouncing from hospital to hospital in the last five years, she had formulated a cunning and clever plan.
A plan that has yet to be executed
, she mulled with a surge of annoyance.
Though execution had been her exact intent this morning when she stepped out of her dingy room.
She’d been ready. Ready and willing to take what wasn’t hers and make it become hers.
But that chipper little nurse ruined it all. She’d come in just as Desiree was grabbing that beautiful newborn from her warm pink blankets and soft bed.
How many times had this happened? So many attempts without success, and without success there’d be no extended part of who she was to carry on after she left this miserable life.
If only she could be a mother! Then life would no longer be miserable, but full of joy, purpose, and meaning. There would be someone to love her and be her companion. A young life she could mold and shape. A baby, her baby, to hold, to sing to sleep at night, to clothe in pint-size outfits.
Any hope of that was now gone. Her failed attempt today left a hollow feeling in her gut. The agony and defeat were killing her, gnawing at her bones.
Today was the last try. It had to be. She’d already gone farther than she ever anticipated, and raising another woman’s child wasn’t even her initial goal. In fact, she had vowed to herself that only an offspring of her own blood could content her desire, but after years of disappointment, the yearning became so great, she’d conceded the hope of her own flesh and blood creation.
After that concession was when the idea first struck her that another child might need her love. Not her own child, but an unwanted baby.
She’d been walking aimlessly in some store, in some city she couldn’t remember, and behind a stack of collectable magazines Desiree overheard the conversation that changed the course of her life. The young employee at the counter prattled loudly into the phone: "My Dad is gonna kill me, you know my Mom will disown me, Chris could care less. And me? What am
I
going to do with a baby? I hate babies.”
And that’s when it hit Desiree. No woman (or child herself) should have a baby when she didn’t even want the thing! What right did she have?
The thought was infuriating. And illuminating.
After leaving that store, Desiree noticed things she never had before. A mother sighing heavily before picking up her precious child. A mother rolling her eyes in defeat at her screaming baby. A mother at her wits end juggling baby, bottle, stroller, and cell phone. Desiree chalked up her previous non-recognition to being lost in her own misery.
But then, her eyes had been opened.
And they opened even more after witnessing events in the hospital—mothers-to-be whining about the coming event, complaining about visitors, exhaustion, the hospital bills, insurance, labor pains, recovery, blah, blah, blah. She couldn’t take anymore! Why if that were her, she’d have glided in on a stretcher full of smiles for the life she was about to bring into the world.
But no, the ungrateful women thought nothing of the positive. They only dreaded the changes the little ones would bring to their lives and pocketbooks.
So she’d decided to help them. She would take their burden and make it her own. Raise it, love it, and give it her name.
Thus far, culminating with today’s failure, that plan had not come to fruition.
And a cherry on top of the whole dreadful situation was that her dear Tommy had left. He’d just up and gone one day. Said he’d had enough. He didn’t want to live like this anymore. Couldn’t take her crazy spells . . . the yelling, not eating, not sleeping, mood swings, and fits of rage.
“No more for me,” he’d said. “You need help, Desiree.” He’d grabbed her shoulders and shook. “You’ve gone mad!”
Mad? The only part of her that had been mad was her blood, head, and heart that filled with fury at his attack.
Wasn’t he the one who had forged the dream of a child? Their love had been the initial sling that catapulted her desire to make a family.
Since she’d never known her father, and only seen a drunk mother from time to time during her childhood, she’d never felt the slightest tug for family, much less a longing for a child of her own. But her dearest Tommy had changed all that. He'd seen her walking down the road in Western Tennessee after yet another abusive bout with an old boyfriend. He filled her belly with food, her voice with laughter, her eyes with stars, and ultimately, her heart with love.
They’d tried for so many years to have a child—so many heartbreaking years. While friends around her threw showers and plastered ‘It's a Girl’ or ‘Congratulations’ signs in their front yards, she was home, alone, injecting herself with shots and swallowing medicine with hopes of a chance to conceive.
That desolate journey, along with her new enlightened vision of the world, had shown her the way. Shown her she must take a child.
And if Tommy wasn’t there to help, she’d raise the baby alone.
All a child needed was its mother. That’s what her own mom had yelled to her over the booze and music one night when Desiree asked the simple question—where’s my Daddy?
At any rate,
she thought lazily, as her mind began to lag with the memories,
today was my last attempt
.
Her spiraling depression made her unsure if she could even make it to the hospital the next day, much less go unnoticed—especially after being dismissed and escorted out today by the burly security guard for her suspicious behavior.
The self-pitying thoughts turned to anger again, a hot, boiling, lava-like rage that burned under her skin. She felt as though her head would explode with the pain.
She jumped up, screamed the wrath, and ran to the bathroom’s small stretch of counter. Her thin, pallid face reflected back at her in the mirror above the sink. Breaths puffed out raggedly from her tight lungs as she looked around blankly at the numerous infant outfits scattered throughout the room. She balled her hand in a firm fist, punched the mirror with force, and watched numbly as bits of bloody glass shattered over the sink.
It was freeing in a way, a sense of relief and release to watch her veins spew their red anger. It calmed her some, settled her thoughts.
Control, control
, she ordered herself. “You are a bright woman who deserves what she wants. You will not be outsmarted.”
She stared down at her white tank top, now stained with maroon blotches. She couldn’t stay here.
Where to go next, where to go next?
Her mind raced with the question.
She raised her head to examine herself in the broken mirror, and a sly smirk looked back. She knew exactly where to go and who to see.
Only for one precious, fleeting moment in her life had she carried life in her womb. And it was terminated, taken from her by one lousy, inexperienced doctor.
She would go now, go to the one person who turned her life into what was around her, who turned her into the woman that lived in the dirty, dark hotel room, who made her become the ghostly figure that stared back at her in the shattered mirror.
Just where was the old doc who’d stolen her child, anyway? And more importantly, was the doctor happy? If so, as Tommy would say, this mad woman would change all that.
With one last wicked grin to the splintered reflection, she briskly turned and walked through the door to the waiting world outside. Time for plan B.
If misery loved company, she was about to have herself one heck of a party.
ONE
“Those are great shoes.” Jenna Gregor tried to relax her tense smile as she stared across the table at the big man wearing a big cowboy hat.
She was mildly surprised by his wardrobe choice since they were dining at The Palm—a well-to-do restaurant in downtown Nashville—but she remained polite, cordial, and deliberately open-minded. This was their first date and first meeting after all.