Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (46 page)

She had the nerve to give him a haughty toss of her head. “God gave him to me.”

“Bullshit. God didn’t give you anything. You took what you wanted.”

“No, it’s true. His angels led me to a pregnant woman who wouldn’t be able to care for her baby. He shined a ray of light down on her to let me know—”

“He did no such thing. In your warped mind you might have seen a light, but it sure as hell wasn’t God telling you to kill a woman for her kid.” He shoved his hands through his hair and gripped it by the roots. “I have listened to you use God as an excuse for too long. It ends tonight.”

Her face hardened. “What does that mean?”

“Where’s the mother?” he asked instead. If the woman was still alive, he could return the baby to her, then make an anonymous call to the authorities. Afterward, he’d come home, grab what they could carry to the truck in one trip, then leave. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with Dimples once they left, he only knew they needed to put serious distance between them and Chicago.

“
I’m
Elton’s mother now,” she said, cradling the crying baby close to her chest. “The woman who carried him is with God.”

“You…killed her?”

“No. She was alive when I left.”

A small amount of relief broke past his anger. “Good. Then there’s still a chance,” he said, stepping aside and opening the door. “Get the baby a bottle to quiet him, then you’re going to show me where his mother is.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” she said, moving past him and out the door.

He caught up with her in the kitchen. “Yes, you will.” Because she read the Bible constantly and took the passages literally, he’d hit her where she placed all of her screwed up morals and values. “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands, as to the Lord,” he quoted Ephesians 5:22.

She lowered her eyes. “You’ve never spoken the Lord’s word before, and never in that demeaning tone.”

“I should have a long time ago.” He’d been more than an accomplice, he’d been enabling his wife to kidnap and kill. That realization smothered him with guilt. Had he taken her to the doctor the moment she’d suggested they kidnap the first baby, none of this would be happening. But he’d wanted her happy, and a baby was all that seemed to make her happy.

“I see,” she said, her tone quiet. “Here. Hold Elton while I fix him a bottle.”

He didn’t want to touch the baby. In his mind, the child was a murder weapon and he wanted nothing to do with it. “Go set him on the bed, or on the floor in the living room.”

“Please, hon,” she said, her eyes imploring. “Be mad at me all you want, but don’t punish our son.” She gently pressed the baby against his crossed arms. “Once you hold him and look at him, I know you’ll fall in love.”

The baby wouldn’t be around long enough for that to happen. He took him from Dimples anyway, hoping the bottle would calm him down long enough for his wife to tell him where the child’s mother was located. Once in his arms, he finally looked at the infant and felt nothing but sympathy for his mother. “Why is he so small?”

“All babies are small.”

Not like this. He wasn’t sure how much he weighed, but with the way he could hold the baby in one hand, he guessed he was less than five pounds. Otherwise, she was right. Even though his face was red from crying, he was a pretty baby. He removed the tiny knit cap from the baby’s head. The boy had a head full of dark, curly hair, and when he noticed the dried mucus on it, he swallowed his disgust. “How long ago did you take the baby from his mother?”

“I didn’t
take
him. It was nothing like what happened with Missy.”

He glanced down at the newborn. “You delivered him?”

She grinned and tested the temperature of the bottle. “It was the most beautiful experience of my life. I wish you could have been there with me.” She set the bottle on the counter. “Let me have him. He’s been screaming his little head off and needs to eat. Then I need to give him a sponge bath and put fresh gauze over his belly button.” After she took the baby, then rubbed the bottle’s nipple along his mouth, she let out a gusty sigh. “I wish you could have cut the cord. I think if you could have been part of the experience, you wouldn’t be so mad.”

“Mad doesn’t describe what I’m feeling.” He leaned against the counter and watched the baby struggle to take the nipple into his mouth. “I need you to think about this rationally.”

“I’ve never been clearer in my life.” She moved to the living room sofa. “Come on, Elton, drink your bottle for Mama,” she said in a syrupy-sweet voice.

“The nipple’s too big. How far along was his mother?”

“The nipple isn’t the problem. He just needs to learn how to suck.”

“How far along, Dimples?”

“Thirty five or so weeks.”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth and tried to control his temper. “He came too early and is going to need to be seen by a pediatrician.”

“I realize that.”

“A pediatrician’s office is going to expect a copy of his birth certificate and or his social security number. How do you plan to explain that?”

“Why won’t he take the bottle?” she asked as the baby bawled.

“How, Dimples?”

Frowning, she looked at him and shrugged. “We didn’t have to worry about that with the other Eltons.”

“You also never intended to keep them.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She shook her head. “I guess I didn’t think that far ahead. Right now, I can’t think much with all of Elton’s fussing.”

The baby’s cries became hoarse. He’d likely exhaust himself and fall asleep, but he’d need to eat soon. If he continued to refuse the bottle, whether Dimples wanted to admit it or not, the baby would need medical attention.

She gasped and grinned. “Look, he’s taking his bottle. What a good boy.”

After he took a seat next to her, he looked to the baby, who couldn’t have been ingesting too much of the formula since most of it was running down his chin. But at least he was quiet for now. “Do you remember what you asked me before dinner?”

Still smiling she looked at him. “I’m having a hard time remembering anything but how wonderful and exciting it was to deliver our baby.”

“You asked me if I thought you were a killer,” he said, trying desperately to hang on to the last shreds of his patience.

“Yes, you told me no.”

“I also said you did what you thought was right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “
This
is wrong. If his mother is still alive, she needs to be hospitalized. You can’t let her die. If you do, that’s murder.”

“Not if God wills it.”

“Enough with your almighty God BS. I guarantee God doesn’t want you to be a killer, but that’s what you will be if you let the woman die. Where is she? At her home? Her apartment?”

“She’s homeless.”

“Homeless,” he repeated, more concerned than ever. If the baby’s mother was homeless, then she’d probably never had proper care during her pregnancy, which would explain the small size of the baby.

“See, I told you she couldn’t take care of the baby.”

“How do you know she didn’t use drugs?”

Dimples looked away. “I won’t lie to you anymore. The mother did pollute her body, but I read up on how to handle babies born with an addiction and it looks like—”

“What kind of an addiction?”

“That’s not important.”

“Yes, it is. You don’t have a birth certificate and if you take the baby to the hospital to treat him for an addiction, they’re going to want to test you.” He stood, then paced the small room. “I guarantee Child Services will get involved and then we’re in a world of shit. Is this baby, or any other for that matter, worth going to prison? Think.” He pointed a finger to his head. “If you go to prison, you have no baby and no future. We can stop this now. We can leave Chicago tonight and once we’re settled somewhere new, we can look into adoption or foster care. You can still have a baby, and you can still save his mother.”

She stared at the baby, who now slept, and slipped the nipple from his pink lips. “I’m sorry. But I can’t do that.” After she set the bottle of formula on the coffee table, she stood. “I need to bathe Elton.”

He stopped her before she could leave the room. “Why can’t you? Are you that obsessed with having a baby that you’d risk his health or our freedom? Remember, I would go to prison, too.”

“You don’t understand,” she said with vehemence. “I helped bring this child into the world.
I
was the first one to touch him, and from the moment I did, I swore to love him unconditionally. Do you know what it means to feel a love as powerful as that?”

“I’ve stayed with you all of these years, haven’t I?”

Tears filled her eyes. “I love him, Wayne. I love you, too. But I’m not giving him up and I’m not telling you where his mother is. She’s seen my face, knows my first name and which apartment building is ours.”

“Oh, my God.” He threw his hands in the air. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking she’d end up like Missy and I needed to gain her trust. Let her go. After the poor choices she’s made, she’s better off with God. And this baby is better off with us.”

When she left the room, he thought about going after her. But once Dimples had her mind made up, there was no changing it.

The L rushed by and rattled the apartment. He moved to the window, and stared out at the car lights moving along the neighboring streets. There were millions of people living in Chicago, and thousands of places the baby’s mother could be. After all of the lies, he didn’t believe that Dimples had told the mother her name or where they lived. She’d always been careful in the past and he couldn’t imagine that she would have screwed up that badly.

What if she had?

A wave of panic gave him vertigo as he looked down upon the city streets. He might be an accomplice and an enabler, but he wasn’t a murderer. Dimples was, and if he couldn’t reason with her tomorrow, he’d find a way to stop her.

He just hoped tomorrow wasn’t too late.

Chapter 18

“WHY DIDN’T YOU wake me up before you left?” Dante asked. “I missed having coffee with you this morning.”

When Jessica smiled, her cheek hit the cell phone screen. “You mean you missed me making the coffee,” she said, and took a few steps toward Alex’s car. “Trust me, I would’ve rather made coffee, along with a gourmet breakfast, than start my day with a homicide.”

“How bad is it?”

“A prostitute put a bullet in her pimp’s chest. How’s that for a wake-up call?”

“Yeah, I’ll stick with my boring pawn shop case.”

“I don’t blame you.” She leaned against the car and faced the crime scene tape. “Any word on the composite sketch?” she asked, even if her focus should be on the prostitute she’d finished interviewing before Dante’s call.

“Nothing yet.” He let out a sigh. “I have to run. Lola and I just pulled into our first storage unit of the day.”

“Have fun. I’ll talk to you later.” She ended the call as Alex walked away from interviewing one of the neighbors who lived next door to the murder victim. “Well, anything new?”

“Same story as the other neighbor. Malory ‘Roman’ MacBride was a piece of shit pimp who kept his prostitutes drugged and locked in his house during the day. At night, he loaded them in a van and, from there, it’s all speculation.”

“Considering he was a pimp, I don’t think there’s much to speculate.”

“Right.” He thumbed toward the house of the woman he’d spoken with moments ago. “This neighbor said she thinks MacBride sold drugs out of his home. During the day, there’re always cars coming and going.”

“Why not report him?” she asked. “This isn’t the worst neighborhood around, why allow a pimp to carry on his business?”

“Apparently everyone was afraid MacBride would sic his muscle on them. A guy who calls himself The Bull has roughed up a few people in the neighborhood who’ve made the mistake of complaining.”

“Roman, The Bull…awesome street names,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “Those are about as good as the ones MacBride gave to his girls. The one who allegedly shot him went by Dee Lite. Real name is Adrienne Nash.”

“I felt bad about scaring her. Did she tell you what happened?”

The young girl had been afraid to go near
any
of the male officers. While Alex had interviewed neighbors, she’d sat in the back of the ambulance and talked with her. “Despite being pretty strung out and having what EMS thinks is a broken jaw, she gave a good detail of what happened. She said MacBride beat the hell out of her a few days ago—for what reason, I’m still not sure—then kept her drugged and locked in the attic. She said he was also bringing men to the attic and letting them use her. When the guy who was with her late last night left, he forgot to lock the attic door. She tried to escape. MacBride, went after her, she saw his gun on the kitchen table, aimed and fired.”

Alex shrugged. “Can’t say as I blame her.”

She couldn’t, either. She’d also spoken with the two other girls MacBride had kept locked in the house. They, too, were high on drugs. Heroin, she assumed, based on the track marks along their arms. They’d both told the same story as Adrienne ‘Dee Lite’ Nash. From the sound of it, MacBride had also been holding them hostage in his house, and only let them out when he was selling them.