“Don’t argue with me. You damn near got yourself killed. No telling what could have happened to Simon.” He reached out and laid a palm against Simon’s cheek. “The baby needs a safe place for a while. And I want some answers.”

“Thanks for rescuing us, Cain, but I can’t stay with you.” Alanna gathered all her strength to remain still when he tried to urge her forward. “Please, just let me go.”

“I’m not letting you drive off tonight with Simon. And if you don’t level with me about my brother, I’ll haul you in for withholding information in a murder investigation.”

“Please, Cain, no.”

His steely gaze didn’t waver. “If you don’t want me to call the police in, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

Alanna reached for the car door handle. Cain grabbed it first, wrapping one arm around her. “Don’t get any ideas about running. I’m going to be right behind you.”

The Cradle Mission
Rita Herron

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling for kids for romance, and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Alanna Hayes—A pediatric nurse who will do anything to protect baby Simon—even kidnap him and go into hiding.

Cain Caldwell—A cop who believes Alanna is responsible for his brother’s death; will he turn her over to the authorities or become her personal protector?

Eric Caldwell—Cain’s brother and a vigilante who put his reputation and life on the line to help abused women. Did he die for his cause?

Simon—An innocent baby who becomes a pawn in a ruthless scientific experiment called Project Simon.

Paul Polenta—A geneticist who helped Alanna escape with Simon; is he Simon’s father?

Randall Ames and Stanley Peterson—Fertility specialists who created Project Simon; how far will they go to protect their secrets?

William Elk—The OB-GYN who delivered Simon. He knows the names of Simon’s parents, but will he die before he reveals them?

Arnold Hughes—The former CEO of the Coastal Island Research Park. Has he resurfaced from the dead? And if so, what is his relationship to Simon?

Phyllis French—This reporter believes Simon is her baby and will do anything to get him back, even commit murder.

To Jenni and Jennifer

for not laughing when I go out on a limb

(or at least for laughing in private!).

Thanks a million.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter One

Catcall Island

“Kill her,” the man ordered in a gruff voice. “Then take the baby.”

Alanna Hayes’s heart constricted. She had to save herself, so she could save baby Simon.

Frantic, she tried to free the bindings encasing her wrists, scanning the dark interior of the lab storage room for an escape. Shadows claimed the corners, dark clouds casting bleakness through the small window, the sound of rain slashing against the metal roof ominous. Another man’s husky voice filtered through the darkened doorway.

She should have known better than to snoop into unauthorized areas, but she hadn’t expected the security guard to take her hostage at gunpoint. And now they’d kept her in this cold, cramped space for hours, making her wonder—

The voice broke the silence again, a harsh mumble. She didn’t recognize the men’s voices. Did they belong to the doctors at the research center where she worked? The security guards?

Were they really going to kill her? And what would happen to innocent little Simon? He was only four months old, he needed her….

“I don’t like the idea of murder,” a deep voice said.

“We have no choice,” the man said matter-of-factly. “But make it look like an accident.”

“What are you going to do with the baby?”

A chill rippled up Alanna’s spine. The thickly accented voice belonged to her boss, Paul Polenta, one of the leading researchers in gene therapy in the country.

God, no. He couldn’t be a part of this…this lab project. She’d liked him, had thought he was a brilliant, caring doctor. Just as she’d believed everyone at the Coastal Island Research Park intended to help people.

She’d been wrong.

The man’s gruff voice cut through her fear like a razor blade scraping raw skin. “We’re taking him to the lab as planned.”

“Won’t it draw suspicion if one of our nurses turns up dead?” Polenta’s voice quivered. “After all, what does she really know?”

“Too much. I found her snooping in my files.” The other man cleared his throat, the sound echoing beneath the eerie drone of the rain. “And I’ve worked too damn long on Project Simon to let some nurse destroy it. I chose her because she has no family. No one will come looking for her.”

“She has a grandmother—”

“Who barely knows her name, much less if her granddaughter visits.”

Alanna’s chest constricted. Her grandmother had Alzheimer’s. The center’s research on the disease had been one thing that had led Alanna to take a job at CIRP. Even if her grandmother didn’t always recognize her, Gran counted on her visits. She had no one else. What would she think when Alanna didn’t show up for her weekly visit?

“But murder?” Polenta asked, sounding shaken. “We’re doctors, for Christ’s sake.”

“Hell, man, think of your reputation. You wouldn’t be able to work anywhere in the country if word leaked about this project. The Holy Rollers would picket. The press, the cops, the feds, they’d be all over us.” His voice escalated several decibels. “And the government would shut us down. Then there’s the damn Russians…”

Polenta grunted. “Can’t we use one of those experimental drugs to alter her memory?”

“Not after the mess with that cop, Clayton Fox, and the scientist Wells and his wife. I want all loose ends tied up,” the first man ordered. “Now let’s get out of here. We need to be long gone when the building blows.”

Outside, the rain intensified, pounding the roof with brutal force. Fear paralyzed Alanna as the voices faded into the howling wind. They were going to leave her to die. Then she’d never be able to save Simon. To hold the precious infant in her arms again. To see him gurgle and smile. To watch him grow. To know he would have a normal life.

The outside door slammed shut. Silence followed, earth-shattering in its intensity. The low hum of a car engine sprang to life in the chilling aftermath. Thunder rumbled. Car doors closed. Gravel crunched, then tires screeched as the car peeled away.

Tears trickled down her cheeks, soaking the rag in her mouth. How long did she have before the building blew? Minutes? Seconds?

Time enough to escape? And if she did, could she find Simon and save him?

Fighting panic, she forced herself to breathe through her nose, and shuddered at the strange odor. Gas? Or was it another lethal chemical? Her heart pounding, she twisted in the chair, searching the darkness, hunting for something to help free her. Dust motes floated through the haze. Spiderwebs clung to the corners. Her eyes slowly adjusted. Lightning flashed, momentarily illuminating the sooty darkness. She searched the metal shelves and cement floor. Assorted flasks, test tubes, lab supplies.

A broken petri dish in the far corner.

She struggled to slide sideways, then slowly pushed herself up from the chair. Dizzy from the gas fumes, her legs buckled and her knees hit the concrete with a painful thud. The chair legs splintered. She winced, pitching forward, but managed to right herself, then crawled awkwardly toward the supplies.

Several long minutes later, she grasped in the dark for the broken glass and maneuvered it behind her. Thunder rent the air outside as she sawed through the thick ropes. Sweat streamed down her neck. The jagged glass jabbed her palm. Somewhere in the distance, the incessant ticking of a clock chimed. Or was it a bomb?

Her heart racing, she ignored the cramping in her muscles, the pounding in her head. Finally the rope frayed. She tugged until the ends came apart, freeing her hands.

Jerking the gag from her mouth, she heaved for air and quickly cut through the ropes around her ankles. Dizzy, she staggered to the door. Damn! It was locked. The ticking sound escalated in her head, reminding her to hurry. Then the door swung open.

A scream died in her throat.

Polenta’s hulking frame stood in the shadowed awning.

“Alanna.” His expression looked pained.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please…don’t do this, Paul. Let me take Simon and leave.” She grabbed his arms, shaking him. She was crying openly now. “I love that baby, I’m the only person he knows. You can’t let him be treated like a science experiment.”

His jaw tightened, but he dragged her outside. Gravel crunched beneath her feet. Lightning zigzagged across the sky, illuminating his angry face. His fingers dug into her arms. Where was he taking her? Was he going to kill her himself?

She fought against him, shoving and kicking, but he slapped one hand over her mouth. “Be quiet.”

Panic once again surged through her, but he pushed her down the narrow alley, then slammed her up against a black sedan. A cat screeched in the background. A low streetlight glittered off the deep puddles of water. She struggled again, but he jerked her head back so far she thought her neck would pop. Rain poured off his face, hitting her, and running off the car. Fog coated the tinted windows.

Then she saw him.

Simon was in a car seat, sleeping peacefully, his thumb tucked in his mouth. Her heart lurched. She wanted to reach out and grab the child so badly she almost doubled over.

Why was Paul doing this? Was he trying to torture her?

Suddenly he released his grip, spun her around and shoved an envelope toward her. The dark stubble on his face looked almost as abrasive as his piercing gray eyes. “There’s some money and a cell phone in here in case you need to contact me. Take the baby, go to Atlanta, to Lake Lanier, and find Eric Caldwell. He’ll help you.”

Alanna’s pulse hammered against her ribs. “You’re…you’re letting me take Simon?”

“I…yes.” He ran a hand through sweat and rain-soaked black hair, his expression clouded with remorse. “The baby deserves a real life, not the kind they want him to have. And if Arnold Hughes resurfaces, there’s no telling what he’d do.”

“Oh, God, Paul, thank—”

“Don’t thank me, Alanna.” His bleak tone sent a shudder of terror through her. “You don’t know what you’re up against. When they discover you’re alive, they’ll hunt you down like an animal. They’ll kill you just to keep you quiet.” He gestured toward the dash. “My pistol’s in there if you need it.”

Alanna trembled at the thought. She couldn’t shoot anyone. “I can go to the police, to the papers.”

He shook his head. “No. Don’t you understand? Simon is different. We don’t have time to get into the details now.” The sound of a car backfiring in the distance jarred them both, and he opened the door. The baby stirred inside the black interior. Paul gave him a sad look, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “If you go public, Simon won’t have a chance. Every researcher across the world is going to want their hands on him for testing. And think of the press, labeling him, dogging him his whole life.”

He was right. “Then I have to run.”

Polenta nodded, then took one long look at her, regret, confusion, resignation in his eyes. The envelope crinkled in her hands as he released it. “You can trust Eric Caldwell, he’s an old friend of mine. He works with a monastery that helps abused women obtain new identities. They can make you invisible.” He scrubbed his hand over his neck. “But watch out for his brother. He’s a local cop, ex-military, with some kind of medical background. He might be trouble.”

She nodded, got in the car and started the engine. “What about you, Paul?”

He placed a shaky hand on her bruised cheek. “Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Simon.” He murmured some phrase in Spanish she didn’t understand, kissed his fingers, then touched them to her hand. “God be with you.”

Alanna gave him a last, soulful look, then put the car into gear and sped off.

Just as she exited the alley, the building exploded behind her.

Lake Lanier, Georgia

The next morning

CAIN CALDWELL PROPPED a booted foot against the doorjamb in his brother’s small cabin, well aware Eric seemed to be in a hurry. Early morning sunlight settled over the dark room, highlighting his brother’s gray expression. Eric was throwing together a suitcase, the bare essentials strewn across his oak bed, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Dammit, Eric, just tell me if you know anything about Charlene Banks.”

“I told you I didn’t,” Eric said irritably. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You’d probably hunt her down and arrest her instead of that sorry-ass old man of hers who beats her every other day.”

Cain gritted his teeth. Damn his little brother’s vigilante ways. Eric had a good heart, but his methods weren’t always on the up-and-up. The very reason Cain had had to stop by. Official police business.

He jammed his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to study Eric’s reaction as he made the announcement. “Her sorry-ass husband is dead.”

Eric hesitated, but only for a split second, before he threw his head back and laughed. “Nice present for her. I hope he suffered like hell.”

Cain silently agreed. But he was a cop, and he lived his life by the law. He had to think in terms of black-and-white, not shades of gray, as his brother did. “Look, my captain suspects you’re running some covert operations here. I can’t keep covering for you.”

“Covering for me?” Eric stabbed his cigarette into an empty cola can, stuffed his laptop into a black leather case, then slung the strap over his shoulder. “Is that what you call hauling my butt in for questioning three times this year?”

“They were all legitimate cases. What choice did I have?” Cain’s patience snapped. “I know you’re helping abused women find cover, which is not a bad thing, but what about that drug dealer who disappeared?”

“I don’t know anything about him,” Eric argued. “Don’t you have something better to do than harass me, like look for some real crooks?”

Cain clenched his jaw. “Where’s the witness in the Bronsky case, Eric?”

“What?” Sarcasm laced Eric’s voice. “Did the police lose another witness?”

“We do the best we can. Do you know where he is?”

“Can’t help you, bro.”

“You can’t go around undermining the cops and the FBI, Eric, or killing every criminal who escapes the system.”

His brother glared at him, blue eyes blazing. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

Cain swallowed. Why did he even try? They would never see eye to eye. Yet he loved him all the same.

“I just don’t want to see you get in trouble. It’s like you’re on a death mission, taking everything into your own hands. One day you’re going to cross the wrong people.”

“Like you don’t cross the wrong kind of people all the time.” Eric grabbed his keys off the battered dresser and strode toward the door.

“It’s not the same thing. I’ve got people covering me. You’re on your own.”

Eric hesitated momentarily, his shoulders squared. “You could quit the force and help me. Make it your New Year’s resolution.”

“New Year’s has come and gone.” Their gazes locked briefly and Cain’s stomach clenched. Eric was serious.

But Cain could not straddle the line. He had sworn to uphold the law and do it honestly and he’d die trying to do just that. “You could join the force, make enforcing the law your focus.”

“I guess we’ve hit that impasse again,” Eric said quietly.

Cain clamped down on his jaw and shook his head, frustrated and worried. “Watch your back. If you get in trouble—”

“Then you’ll be there to help me.” A cocky grin slid on his brother’s face. “Now, I’d love to stay and argue politics, but I gotta go.”

Cain caught him by the arm before he could fly past. “Where are you going?”

Eric stared him down hard, the dark emotions in his eyes a reminder of the bond they’d shared growing up. The painful memories—the awful fights in his house, the night their mother had given up and committed suicide.

Eric had only been ten. The police had let them down then, the very reason he justified using his own methods. The reason he refused to work with the police.

But Cain had done the opposite—he’d made enforcing the law his life.

“I have business to take care of,” Eric said in a quiet voice. “Legitimate business with the ranch.”

Cain studied him for a long moment, then finally nodded, although he didn’t believe him for a second. He released him anyway, then stood in the doorway and watched while Eric threw his bag over his shoulder, stalked down the long driveway behind his cabin to the lean-to he’d built as a carport for his Jeep. Eric had built the cover near the woods so the sun wouldn’t blister his new paint job. Ironic, since the Jeep would take a mud bath going through the north Georgia mountains to get to his ranch. If that was where Eric was really going.

Dark clouds rolled in, obliterating the fledgling rays of sun. The wind howled off the lake, like it had the day his mother had taken her own life.

Her screams haunted him.

He shook away the thought and focused on the present. The smell of parched earth, dead leaves and something even more threatening filtered through the air. Cain’s instincts screamed that something was wrong. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. Like the winter storm gathering on the horizon, he had a feeling the wheels had already been set in motion.

And he had no idea how to stop them.

Cain turned to face the opposite direction, wishing one more time he could get through to his brother. Behind him, a cricket chirped, then Eric’s car roared to life. Cain gripped the doorknob to shut the front door when an explosion rent the air. The wooden boards beneath Cain’s feet shook with the impact.

It wasn’t thunder.

Cain spun around. Horror immobilized him as Eric’s car erupted into flames. He tamped down his emotions and catapulted into motion.

By the time he made it down the driveway, another explosion rocked the ground. The gas tank exploded, and fire shot into the air. Cain yelled his brother’s name as he ran for the door. But heat scalded his face, the force of it knocking him backward. It was too late.

Eric was gone forever.

Chapter Two

“Hush, Simon, honey, everything’s going to be all right. We’re going to meet someone today who’ll help us.” Alanna rubbed her temple where a headache pulsed, fighting panic.

She didn’t understand why Eric Caldwell hadn’t met them at the Three Dollar Café for lunch as he’d promised. When she’d spoken to him last night from the hotel, he’d seemed eager to help her.

He’d advised her to disguise herself, so she’d bought a dye kit, whacked off her honey-colored hair and colored her hair black.

But she and Simon had waited for two hours at the café and he hadn’t shown. She fastened Simon into the car seat, and drove away.

Staying in one place might give the men following her time to catch up. And although she had no idea who they were, she was certain they were after her. Twice, she’d spotted the same dark car behind her. But she’d managed to lose them in the rain and traffic. Was Arnold Hughes head of this secret project the scientist had been working on?

Simon twisted his tiny hands into fists, flailing them around, his face red with fury. “It’s okay, honey, we’ll stop in a bit and I’ll see if you need changing.”

She reached behind her and tried to slip a pacifier into his mouth, but he spit it out, his legs and arms circling as his sobs escalated. So did the rain.

It was coming in thick sheets now, just as it had yesterday when she’d left Savannah. Tears pressed against Alanna’s eyelids, but she blinked furiously to control them and darted around a Ford pickup. More than anything she wanted Simon to have a normal life.

She’d felt an immediate bond with the four-pound infant the minute she’d seen him in the neonatal nursery, and it had grown stronger every day. Finally she’d understood how much her own mother had loved her before she died. In spite of the fact that she was a single mother, she’d tried to give Alanna everything she’d wanted. Alanna wanted to do the same for Simon. She wanted him to go to school. Have friends. Play sports.

But strange circumstances surrounded Simon’s birth, which Paul wouldn’t divulge. The less she knew the better, he’d said. It was safer. But why…?

How could they ever have a normal life on the run?

A knot of worry took hold in Alanna’s stomach as she recalled Paul’s last words, “Simon is different.” How different, she wondered? What if he got sick? She’d had a fever for the past twenty-four hours, plus flulike symptoms. What if Simon grew ill? What if he had special needs that they hadn’t told her about? What if he needed a doctor?

She spotted the exit sign for Lake Lanier, the area north of Atlanta where Eric lived, and drove toward the lake, squinting at the signs to make sure she didn’t miss the turn. Several ski boats and houseboats came into view, and she breathed a sigh of relief, then turned onto the dirt road that supposedly led to Eric’s cabin, the car bouncing over the gravel.

Five minutes later, she parked in front of the rustic-looking cabin. She had no idea why Eric Caldwell had stood them up, but she was desperate. She would beg him to help her if she had to.

THE FAINT KNOCK at the front door barely registered in Cain’s mind. The rain must have stopped. Only it was still thundering in his head.

Had his partner, Neil, returned for something?

He ignored the knock, too grief stricken to move. He didn’t want company now, not even his partner. The whispered condolences and sympathetic looks were more than he could bear.

Had the CSU unit forgotten to check something? Frustration clawed at him. He’d wanted to help, but the captain ordered him to stay out of the investigation, so he’d simply stared at the sooty ashes and burning embers while they’d recovered his brother’s burned body.

The knock sounded again, louder this time, and he cursed. Dammit, if it was those rookies, Wade and Pirkle, telling him he had to leave his brother’s cabin, he’d give them a piece of his mind.

Riddled with grief and fury, he opened the door. Instead of the rookies, a small dark-haired woman with big doe eyes stood on the steps staring up at him. An infant swathed in a blue bunny blanket squirmed in her arms.

“Mr…Caldwell?”

Her soft, feminine voice broke through his blurred haze, cutting into the pain with images of another life that might have been if he hadn’t chosen police work, of sultry hot looks and sinful nights with a woman in his arms. Of a family of his own.

But Eric had been his family. And now he was gone.

“Does Eric Caldwell live here?”

He couldn’t be thinking lustful thoughts, not with his brother dead. Besides, this woman looked like a drowned rat. “Yeah. I mean no.” The hazy orange of dusk almost completely shadowed her face, but he catalogued her features, his detective training kicking in. Short jet-black hair plastered to her head, dark blue-green eyes, slender, attractive, almost angelic.

Scared.

She was trembling beneath that baggy, wrinkled sweater and skirt, her fine-boned hand shaking as she patted the baby’s back. The bruises caught his eye. Purple and yellow ones marring her delicate wrists. Perspiration dotted her forehead and upper lip, too.

Oh, yeah, she was in trouble.

His gaze flew to her face, searching for answers. Thick black lashes curled downward over cheeks that were so pale they looked like milk. Her black hair looked unnatural, as if she’d dyed it, and the ends were tangled as if it had been aeons since she’d seen a brush. Judging from the dark circles beneath her eyes, she hadn’t slept in a day or two.

She cleared her throat and he realized he hadn’t answered her. “Are you Eric Caldwell?”

He stepped backward, a sudden jolt to his system he hadn’t been prepared for. His throat closed momentarily, but fear radiated from her eyes and he figured she smelled the beer on his breath. She was afraid of him, he realized, a sick feeling splintering through him at the thought.

“Eric’s not here.” For some reason, he could not make himself say the words aloud, that Eric was dead. “I’m his brother, Cain.”

“Oh.” She took a wobbly step backward, the one word filled with so much disappointment that he narrowed his eyes. The baby whimpered and she crooned, murmuring nonsensical assurances in that throaty voice that tore at his gut.

“What did you want with Eric?”

Her gaze raked over him, wary and uncertain. “I…we had an appointment. He didn’t make it.”

The jolt slammed into him again, both sensual awareness and something else—suspicion? Eric was supposed to meet this woman today? The day he had died? Was that where he had been rushing to in such a hurry?

One look at the baby and another thought crossed his mind. Eric had so many secrets.

Or was she another one of his charity cases, running to Eric for help?

His jaw tightened with dread.

Could she possibly have something to do with his brother’s murder?

ALANNA COULD NOT STOP the trembling inside her, but she made a valiant attempt to mask it in front of this man. The interior of the cabin was dark, a single light from a small lamp looming somewhere in a back room. Something was wrong. She could feel it in every fiber of her being. Despair hung in the room, heavy and intense, a mirror of her own mood.

Paul Polenta’s warnings rang in her head. Watch out for the brother. He’s a cop, ex-military, medical background. He could be trouble.

Emotions seemed to war in his eyes as he glared down at her. His black gaze was so penetrating and soulful she stepped backward, intimidated by the anger simmering beneath the surface. His potent sexuality drummed up every feminine instinct within her. And every protective one as well. She had to guard herself against him.

He was starkly handsome and one of the biggest men she’d ever met, well over six feet, with broad shoulders that pulled against the fabric of his faded black T-shirt, and hands that could probably crush a rock. Black hair framed a chiseled face that was all planes and angles and solid strength, and the thick black stubble of a five-o’clock shadow indicated he hadn’t shaved today. Bronzed skin covered well-defined muscles, the heat radiating from him so powerful her belly clenched.

He’d been drinking. She smelled the beer on his breath and, for a faint moment, wondered if alcohol affected his temperament. It didn’t matter.

He was Eric Caldwell’s brother. Paul had warned her not to trust him.

She should get out of there fast.

But where would she go?

She had to find Eric Caldwell.

“Come in and we’ll talk.” He gestured toward the shadowed foyer.

Alanna hesitated, but she slowly moved inside, hugging Simon to her. “I’d like to wait on your brother if you don’t mind,” she said. “It’s important that I see him. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Pain flashed in his eyes. “He’s not coming back.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering her, his voice hardened, almost defensively. He shut the door and moved in front of it. “Tell me how you know Eric, and why you were meeting him.”

Renewed panic wove its way inside her. “I…I can’t. It’s confidential.”

“You want to know about Eric, you have to talk to me, lady.”

His harsh tone startled Simon. Tension escalated between them as she tried to soothe him. Oddly, Cain Caldwell shifted and jammed his hands in his pockets, his face pinched as if Simon’s cries disturbed him almost as much as they did her.

Thankfully he did lower his voice. “You can start by telling me your name.”

She glanced around, spotted a newspaper lying on the hall table, and saw a headline about a Jane Doe. “Jane…Jane Carter.”

A thick, black eyebrow rose in question. “How well did you know Eric, Jane?”

He murmured the name as if he suspected it was fake, and she shifted Simon on her shoulder, rubbing circles around his back. “Well enough,” she hedged.

His other eyebrow rose. “You were involved personally?” He nodded at Simon. “And the little boy?”

Alanna opened her mouth to tell him no, then clamped down on her tongue, reminding herself not to offer too much information. If this man thought the baby was his brother’s or that they’d been friends, maybe he’d help her. At least maybe he’d tell her where she could find Eric.