Page 13 of Ransom for His Secret Son

“Got it, boss,” Holt was quick to say and hurried to the trunk of the cruiser to grab his bag before heading inside.

Brody went to the back seat to unbuckle the baby, and the moment he had the baby in his arms he, too, started for the house. Remi followed, still keeping watch around them.

The front door opened before they even reached the porch. Sandra stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by light spilling from inside. Her face was tight with worry, but when she saw the baby cradled in Brody’s arms, her expression softened.

“Oh, thank God,” the words rushing out with her breath, and she stepped aside to let them in.

The house smelled faintly of coffee and something floral, maybe a candle burned down to the wick. It was tidy but lived-in, with family photos lining the walls, most of them faded from the sun.

Sandra hovered as Brody carried the baby to the couch. “I’m not finished setting up the nursery,” she said, her voice a mix of nerves and excitement. “But I’ve got a bassinet and some basics ready. Diapers, formula, bottles—I had Holt stop by the store on my way here.”

Brody gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable as he gently placed the baby in his mother’s arms. Sandra cradled the little boy like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. The tension in her shoulders eased, her thumb brushing over the baby’s tiny fist.

“Oh, Brody, he’s precious,” Sandra gushed. “And he looks just like you.”

He did, and Remi wondered if Brody could see that. Maybe. Or maybe part of him was still in denial.

Brody stepped away, his focus shifting to the front door. He locked it with a flick of the dead bolt, then pulled out his phone. Remi watched as he tapped the screen, arming the security system with a few swipes.

“Is it a good system?” she had to ask.

Brody didn’t look up. “It’s solid,” he said. “But I’ll have it beefed up in the morning.”

Remi nodded, her gaze flicking to the baby sleeping in Sandra’s arms. The faint rise and fall of his chest was the only thing that seemed steady in this whole nightmare.

Brody slipped his phone back into his pocket and glanced at her. “No one’s getting in here without me knowing.”

His words were firm, but Remi could hear the worry behind them. The fear he wouldn’t say out loud. She felt it, too. Because whoever wanted that baby wasn’t finished yet.

Brody led the way down a narrow hall, with Sandra close behind as she kept the baby nestled in her arms. Remi followed, her footsteps muffled by the worn rug beneath her boots. They stopped in front of a door across from the main bedroom, and after taking a long, deep breath as if to steady himself, Brody pushed it open.

Remi needed a steadying breath, too.

The nursery was painted a soft yellow but didn’t have a lot of stuff in it. In the center of the room was a small bassinet with a pale blue blanket draped over the side. And against the wall, there was a changing table that was stacked with diapers and wipes. Sandra or maybe Holt had brought in a folding chair. That was it.

Brody moved straight to the window, his hand on the curtain. But before he pulled it closed, he paused, his gaze drifting outside.

Remi followed his line of sight.

The window framed a wide stretch of pasture bathed in white moonlight. The barn stood like a dark silhouette in the distance, and a pair of horses grazed near the fence line, their heads dipping low as they moved through the grass. The view was peaceful, deceptively so.

Because Miranda had picked this room.

Miranda had painted these walls. Had bought the bassinet and changing table. She had planned for her and Brody to raise their baby here.

Remi could picture it: Miranda looking out that window, hand on her belly, dreaming about the life she and Brody were supposed to have. Close enough to the baby to hear every cry, with a view of the land they both loved. It was supposed to be perfect.

But life hadn’t cared about perfect.

Brody’s shoulders tensed, and after a beat, he yanked the curtains closed, shutting out the view. And maybe the memory along with it.

With the muscles in his face hard, he turned back toward his mother. “We’ll keep him in here tonight.”

Sandra nodded, moving to the bassinet with practiced ease and gently lowering the baby inside. She adjusted the blanket, her hand lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

“Can you stay here and take care of the baby?” he asked her.

“Of course,” Sandra was quick to say. “Of course.” She repeated it with both love and worry on her face.