The Baby Trail. Karen Rose Smith

said you do security consulting work. What exactly is that?”

      “It varies.”

      When her eyes were still questioning, he knew she was going to come up with another inquiry. He remembered that determination he’d pegged in her. “I develop firewalls that are hacker-proof, along with suggesting physical systems for particular needs.”

      “You make Web sites secure? So that if I use my credit card number, nobody can filch it?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Is that what you did for the FBI?”

      Now she was treading into territory where he didn’t want to go. “The skills I used in the FBI were varied.” If his job had only been concerned with Internet security maybe Cheryl wouldn’t have divorced him…maybe she wouldn’t have lost their child.

      “Classified?” she asked as if she knew what that was all about.

      He laughed. “Let’s just call it that and say the subject’s off-limits.”

      But she didn’t stop probing. “For personal or professional reasons?”

      It was time he stopped her get-to-know-you session, although at some point he hoped to turn the tables on her. He didn’t see a ring on her finger and wondered if she was involved with anyone.

      “This conversation has nothing to do with Baby Amy, and that’s who we came here to talk about.”

      “All right,” she acquiesced begrudgingly. “What are we going to do next?”

      Gazing into Gwen’s beautiful dark brown eyes, he almost lost his train of thought. Focusing again, he answered her. “My guess is, the couple wasn’t here more than a day. The fact that they bought the supplies they did at a convenience store rather than a grocery store or drugstore tells me they might have been passing through, maybe living out of the kid’s truck. Maybe the girl even had the baby in the truck.”

      “But if she wasn’t from here, why would she leave the baby with me? How did she know who I was?”

      “You tell me.” He had an idea, but he wanted to see if he was right.

      After Gwen fingered her menu and chewed on her lower lip—whether she knew it or not, the habit was damn sexy—she explained, “When I go to a town to set up a program, like Jackson Hole or Cheyenne, sometimes there’s an article in the paper about what I’m doing. But I don’t think anyone would see that and decide to leave a baby with me.”

      “That depends. I imagine it’s clearly stated that you’re an obstetrical nurse practitioner. That would qualify you to take care of a child. My guess is, if she’s not from Wild Horse Junction, the mother met you at one of your programs. I want you to make a list of any young girls you talked to within the past year.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding!”

      “No, I’m not.”

      “But I usually don’t know last names.”

      “I don’t care. Just try to get down names and if you can, picture faces with the names.”

      Suddenly Gwen’s serious expression was overtaken by a brilliant smile as she spotted somebody coming through the door. It was a couple with a baby who looked to be six to eight months old.

      The tall, sandy-haired man carrying the child and the pretty woman beside him came straight to Gwen. The two women hugged while the man looked on patiently. Then Gwen gave him a hug, too, baby and all. “It’s so good to see you. Are you all unpacked?”

      “Almost,” Gwen’s friend answered with a sideways glance at Garrett. “We have decorating to do, though. We’re using lots of Dylan’s photographs, of course, but I need some sconces and hangings.”

      “She really needs them,” the sandy-haired man joked, trying to suppress a smile.

      His wife playfully swatted his arm.

      Before the conversation developed further, Gwen gestured to Garrett, who had stood.

      “This is Garrett Maxwell. He’s helping me find Baby Amy’s mother. Garrett, this is Shaye and Dylan Malloy and their son Timmy. Shaye is the social worker I called.”

      Now the puzzle pieces fit. Garrett had seen the article in the Wild Horse Wrangler about Dylan Malloy’s show at the Flutes and Drums Gallery and how successful it had been. The man was a top-notch wildlife photographer. Garrett also remembered the write-up on the accident that had taken the lives of Dylan’s sister and brother-in-law in February. Timmy had been born right before his mother had died.

      Garrett shook hands with the husband and wife. Timmy was a cute little guy with blond hair and green eyes, but he was already getting itchy, squirming in Dylan’s arms.

      “Okay, big fella,” Dylan said. “We’ll pick up dinner and go.”

      “We called after church,” Shaye explained to Gwen. “We’re taking a meal out to Kylie.”

      “I spoke to her last night,” Gwen said. “I’m worried about her. Ever since Alex’s funeral, she’s been working twice as hard as she should while she’s pregnant. Now at over five months, she should be slowing down.”

      “I know.” Shaye shook her head. “That bull-riding accident didn’t just end Alex’s life, it left Kylie with a burden that’s too big to handle on her own.”

      “That’s why we’re going out to Saddle Ridge,” Dylan interjected. “She has a fence down and Dix hasn’t had time to get to it. I’m no expert, but I can rig up something.”

      After realizing they were keeping Garrett out of the conversation, Gwen turned to him. “We have a friend who was widowed in July. She’s taken on running the ranch with her foreman and it’s a lot to handle, especially with her being pregnant.”

      The cashier near the door waved to Dylan and Shaye and motioned to the takeout containers on the counter.

      As Timmy began to fuss louder, Dylan lifted him high and wiggled him a bit. “We’re going. We’re going.”

      Shaye gave Gwen’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll call you later.”

      After goodbyes all around, the Malloys went to the counter to pay for their dinner. Dylan’s arm curved around his wife’s waist as they waited for the cashier to ring up their food.

      “They’ve only been married since July,” Gwen told Garrett as she sat down once more. “They’re still newlyweds.”

      “I imagine it’s hard to be newlyweds with a baby.” Garrett kept his tone even. When he thought about the child he’d lost before it even had a chance, his insides went cold.

      “Timmy brought Shaye and Dylan together,” Gwen explained. “So they cherish every day with him.”

      “Timmy was Dylan’s sister’s child?”

      “Right. Are you from around here? Did you know Julia, Dylan’s sister?”

      “I was born here, but left when I was a teenager. Since I came back, I don’t socialize much. I didn’t know his sister.”

      “How long ago did you return?”

      He wondered if he was attracted to Gwen because she irritated him or in spite of the fact. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

      Instead of being offended, she smiled sweetly. “How else am I going to learn what I want to know if I don’t ask questions?”

      Shaking his head, he had to chuckle. “I returned five years ago.” Now he turned the beacon of questioning on her life. “How long have you and Shaye Malloy been friends?”

      “Shaye and Kylie and I were pals in grade school. When Kylie skipped a grade, we kind of took her under our wings.”

      “Her husband died