Missionary Daddy by Linda Goodnight Page B

original cause of the problems. Wouldn’t they have more to hide than anyone?
    “What about someone in the Harcourt family?” he asked, reaching out to catch the stress ball in mid-toss. “Could they be involved in the cover-up?”
    Ross thought about the question, weighing his answer like a good cop. “I don’t think so. This whole thing has them pretty shaken and Sam certainly wouldn’t want all this extra publicity. She came home for a break. Not to say we shouldn’t be alert to any possibility. A lot of adoptions went through this agency during the corrupt reign of Barnaby Harcourt.”
    He held out his hand for the stress ball. Eric tossed it to him.
    “Are you saying more than one person may want to keep the past buried?” Now that was a scary thought. Dealing with one sicko was bad enough.
    “Possibly.” Ross tapped the spongy ball against his stubbled chin. “I lose sleep at night trying to figure this thing out. Some people will go to extremes when threatened. I was there the night Lindsay tried to kill Kelly. It was the most terrifying moment of my life.”
    Eric had seen the steely-eyed detective turn to mush in the company of his wife. He had no doubt Ross would have taken a bullet for Kelly if necessary.
    “Thank God no one was killed.”
    “You got that right, buddy. I thank God every single day that we all came out of there alive.” Ross picked up the file he’d come for and started toward the door. “I don’t want things to get that crazy this time. We have to figure out whose cage we’ve rattled. The sooner, the better.”
    “Anything I can do to help?”
    “Be alert and pray a lot.” With a grin, Ross tossed the stress ball. Eric one-handed it. “Other than that, we have to wait for this person to either act or reveal his identity.”
    The notion of waiting for a nut to crack was about as comforting as sleeping with a python.
    His intercom buzzed and a teenage volunteer reminded Eric of a four o’clock appointment.
    “Sorry to run out on you, Ross, but I have a meeting with Rachel Cavanaugh.”
    Ross frowned. “I thought Rachel was on bed rest until her baby comes.”
    “She is, but apparently the woman can’t be stopped from working on Noble Foundation causes from her bedroom.”
    “Eli must be going crazy about that.”
    “She’s lucky to have a doctor for a husband.”
    “Yeah.” Ross laughed. “If only she’d pay attention to him. Tell her I said hello.”
    He executed a jaunty salute and disappeared down the hall toward the records room.
    On the way to his meeting with Rachel, Eric tried to shake off the worries Ross had dropped on his desk. In Africa he’d dealt with tribal tensions, wild animals and limited water supplies. If Tiny Blessings’ staff were in danger, as the primary male employee, he’d have to keep his eyes and ears open.
    Ross was right about one thing. He needed to pray a lot.
    At the door of the charming older brick colonial the Cavanaughs called home, Eric was met by a scrub-clad nurse.
    “Rachel’s holding court in the living room,” the young woman said, showing Eric into a beautifully restored room with wide-plank flooring and dentil molding. The rest of the house appeared to be in a state of progress. Eric liked the cozy feel instantly.
    “Don’t keep her too long,” the nurse instructed. “Even though she protests, she tires easily.” She shot an affectionate look at her charge.
    Rachel smiled back. “Thanks, Shelby. Would you mind bringing my guest something to drink?”
    Eric waved her off. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
    The young nurse smiled and disappeared, taking a pair of empty glasses and a magazine with her.
    Eric seated himself. “How are you doing, Rachel?”
    He and the Cavanaughs attended the same church and through additional work with the foundation had developed a budding friendship. Rachel came from a wealthy family, something that normally set his teeth on edge, but the Nobles used their money for good, unlike most