Texan's Baby. Barb Han

Mercy.

      “Dawson, you’re shot.”

      “It’s not that bad,” he said.

      Mason’s cries intensified. She glanced in the rearview and saw that his eyes were closed as he tried to shove his fist in his mouth.

      “You have blood all over you,” she said to Dawson, not masking the panic in her voice as her heart ached to hold her son.

      “It looks worse than it is,” he said, dismissing her concern and focusing on Mason. “What can I do to help him?”

      “There’s an emergency pacifier in the diaper bag in the floorboard.” She motioned toward the backseat. “I’ve been weaning him.”

      Dawson held up his bloody hands.

      “There are wet wipes in the bag, too.”

      Dawson grunted in pain as he twisted around and pulled wipes from the bag. Distress was stamped all over his features at hearing the baby cry.

      Melanie had had the same look when her son was born and she realized that she didn’t have the first idea how to take care of a baby. A few months later, she’d become an old hand at caring for Mason, and she had no doubt that Dawson would, too.

      As soon as the pacifier was in Mason’s mouth, he quieted.

      “Make a left at the next light,” Dawson said, sounding satisfied.

      She remembered that feeling well. Those early wins were important confidence boosters.

      “You’re hurt. I’m taking you to the hospital,” she said emphatically.

      “No. I’m fine.” There was no room for argument in his tone. “A piece of the slug grazed my shoulder. That’s all.”

      “It looks a lot worse than that,” she said. Was he downplaying his injury? She wanted to believe he was fine. From her periphery she saw him one-arm his shirt off and then roll it up.

      “Nah. I’ll be okay.”

      “I have a medical kit in the glove box. There are a few supplies in there that should help.”

      “Since when did you start keeping an emergency kit in your car?” he asked.

      “Mason was climbing up the stairs to a slide at a playground. A mom asked me a question, distracted me for one second. I looked away. Next thing I know, Mason’s screaming and blood’s pouring from his forehead. A nice couple brought over a few supplies they’d learned to keep with them. I made my own kit after that.”

      “The sound of his crying is heartbreaking. He’s quiet, but what if he loses that pacifier I put in his mouth? Should I go back there and hold him or something?”

      “Not with blood all over you. Plus, he’s safer in his car seat.”

      “You’re right. Of course. I don’t know how you can listen to him and still drive. It kills me,” he admitted.

      “Believe me, it isn’t easy.” She didn’t want to say that she’d had more practice than Dawson or remind him of what he’d already missed.

      “I’ll watch out to make sure we’re not being followed,” he said.

      “Who was it back there?” she asked. “Did you get a good look at him?”

      “I didn’t recognize the guy. We had a scuffle and he got hold of the shotgun. He pulled the trigger as he ran away.”

      “I thought for sure it would be Sprigs.” Relief flooded her that it wasn’t him.

      “What would he want with you?”

      “He’s always given me the creeps,” she said with a shiver.

      “Ever since he developed that crush on you when you were in middle school and couldn’t let it go?”

      “Yes. And every few months he felt the need to make sure I knew he still liked me. He was really upset when you and I started dating and sent me a few odd messages through social media. I tightened all my privacy controls when I left town so he couldn’t see any of my stuff. I hoped that would send him the message to leave me alone.” Learning he was involved in a child abduction ring had shocked her until she really thought about it. Sprigs was creepy before. Now he was flat-out dangerous.

      “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

      “Had no reason to before. I just thought he was a creep. Now, with everything going on I’m scared.”

      “What makes you think it might’ve been him tonight?” Dawson asked.

      “I’m pretty sure that I got a piece of mail from him at my parent’s house the other day. It was cryptic but alluded to the fact that we’d be together again someday. At the time, I thought he might be saying good-bye.”

      “And now you’re worried he means you’ll be together now,” Dawson said through what sounded like clenched teeth.

      She gripped the steering wheel tighter.

      Mason stirred, crying without opening his eyes.

      Melanie sang her son’s favorite song while Dawson worked on his flesh wound for the rest of the ride. The baby settled halfway through the lyrics and fell back into a deep sleep.

      Riding in a car helped. How many times had she driven around the block to get him to take a nap in the past year and a half? She’d lost count.

      Singing in front of Dawson should embarrass her. For some reason, it didn’t. She chalked it up to their history and tried not to read anything more into it.

      It would be nice to know what Dawson was thinking. Then again, after all that had happened tonight, maybe not knowing was better.

      Reporting the crime didn’t take long. The deputy said he’d check the house personally and then lock up using the spare key Dawson provided. He also said that he’d make a note on the Sprigs case about the letter even though he seemed unconvinced the two were related, stating that stalkers acted alone.

      “That seemed like a waste of time,” Melanie said to Dawson on the way out of the sheriff’s office.

      “Agreed. Burglaries do happen, but this was not one of them. I have a feeling you’re right about Sprigs and he’s behind this in some way.”

      “Like I told the deputy, I’m not going back to that house tonight and I don’t for one minute believe that could be random,” Melanie said, patting Mason’s back as he slept with his head on her shoulder.

      Dawson agreed. “We’re not staying at my parents’ place, either. Sprigs is still on the loose and our friends have been targeted before. We need to take every precaution necessary to ensure your safety.”

      She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of “we.” However, she wasn’t in a position to argue.

      “That’s part of the reason I was watching your house earlier.” He seemed to realize that he hadn’t meant to share that news, giving an awkward glance in her direction. “I was concerned about you, Melanie, and it wasn’t like you were talking to me.”

      “I’m glad you were there, no matter what the actual reason was.”

      “By the looks of your initial reaction to my presence, you can take care of yourself.” His tone was lighter and that was meant to be a joke.

      It should be funny.

      Being a single parent was more than difficult, even though Melanie wouldn’t trade one single day with Mason for the world. If she were being totally honest, though, she was tired of taking care of everything on her own. Or maybe she was just tired. The early months had been a string of missed nights of sleep. Taking care of her son alone had been tough and rewarding and exhausting.

      And lonely.

      Part of her had a better understanding of why