Page 19 of False Evidence
Pow?
He held up the spoon again.
“No! Pow!”
Then he remembered “pau” in Hawaiian meant “finished” or “done.” He had a house on Kauai, and he and Lex had spent many happy weeks there. Together, they’d attended many pau hana—finished with work—cocktail parties and happy hours.
Gemma waspau.Done.
He wished he’d thought to ask Erica for a baby dictionary, but at least he’d managed to work that one out on his own.
“Got it,” he said, removing the food jar and spoon from her reach. Now he needed to change her diaper and then, blessed sleep.
His first diaper change went about as well as expected. Thankfully, the bulging diaper was full of urine and nothing else.
He wasn’t ready for the big league. He needed a few rounds in the minors first.
She squirmed, and he didn’t fasten the diaper tight enough, as evidenced by the fact that it fell off her the minute she started crawling toward the edge of the bed.
He dragged her back to the changing pad by a heel. “Where do you think you’re going, little missy?”
She squealed, and he stopped, but then she rolled over, and he saw her smile. He felt a strange flutter in his belly as he realized the squeal was a giggle and the smile…damn. It warmed his chest in a way he’d never felt before.
Who knew baby smiles triggered endorphins?
Probably everyone but him.
He smiled back at her and said, “Sorry, but motel rules require all non-potty-trained individuals towear diapers at all times.”
She twisted and started crawling away again.
He pulled her back and said, “Diaper time.”
She giggled.Giggled.“Nakey baby! Nakey baby!”
He laughed. Apparently, this was a thing for her, because she had a two-word response.
She was kind of adorable. But no way was she running—or crawling; he still didn’t know if she could walk—around the motel room without a diaper.
He finally got her butt covered, and then he set her on the floor to see what she would do.
She held on to the bedspread and pulled herself to her feet and then…she started walking. And immediately bumped her head on the edge of the round table and started to cry.
It was then that JT accepted he wasn’t going to get to sleep anytime soon.
ChapterSeven
Alexandra managed a few hours of fitful sleep. But whenever she dropped into slumber, her mind filled with horrific images as the evening’s events played out in nightmare form. Or she dreamed about Gemma, always crying, in danger. Out of reach.
Waking wasn’t a respite from these fears.
She finally rose just after eight in the morning and forced herself to eat plain oatmeal in spite of having no appetite. After breakfast, she searched the house from top to bottom, hoping to find a cell phone or other communication device, but came up empty.
She tried an internet browser built into the TV, but stopped short of logging in to any of her email addresses using the web interface. Surely the police were monitoring all her email addresses by now, and she didn’t have a secret address that didn’t appear on her laptop’s mail app. She could create a new account, but who would she reach out to? The satellite dish didn’t have a virtual private network, which meant her messages would be traceable.
She paced the house. In a few days, she’d either have to bite the bullet and send a message from the TV or drive to town in Kendall’s Jetta.
She searched the cabinets for something she could use to color her hair. Being blonde, her hair took color easily. She could cut it, dye it. Or maybe she should just wear a hat and a scarf. It was cold enough outside to warrant that. Sunglasses would complete the disguise.