The Cowboy's Son. Delores Fossen

asked for help from the pediatric community. I was able to get names of adopted babies, and I compared them to those who had been legally adopted.”

      He pushed the silver tray toward her and motioned for her to eat. When he motioned a second time, Collena pinched off a piece of raisin wheat toast and popped it into her mouth. Even though it was cold, it tasted heavenly.

      “And you’re saying that Adam’s name came up on that list of adopted babies?” he asked. But he didn’t just ask. It was buried under a mountain of skepticism.

      She nodded. “Adam’s name and one hundred and twelve other infant boys. There were a lot of them, and that’s why it’s taken me so long to find my son.”

      His jaw turned to iron. He paced a few steps in front of the fireplace, turned and stared at her before taking one of the biscuits, opening it and handing both it and the silver jam spoon to her.

      With the hopes that her faintness would go away, Collena smeared some strawberry jam on one half and started to eat. Dylan didn’t say anything until she had finished.

      “Adam’s my son,” he insisted. “And I don’t really care what kind of proof you have. You gave him up—”

      “I didn’t give him up.”

      Oh, that had not been easy to say. Collena had to choke back all the pain and emotion just so she could speak.

      “Sixteen months ago, I went into premature labor while I was at Brighton,” she explained. “Without my consent, a doctor gave me a strong narcotic so that he could steal my baby. I fought him and his accomplice as much as I could. I managed to escape…eventually. What I wasn’t able to do was find my child. Until now.”

      He cursed. And then as if he’d declared war on it, he peeled off his jacket and tossed it into the closet. He didn’t stop there. Dylan came across the room, bracketed his hands on his desk and leaned in so he could stare at her some more.

      “And why should I believe you?” he challenged.

      Collena tried to keep her voice level. “In my car I have the police and doctors’ reports detailing what happened to me and the subsequent arrest of the director at Brighton. I also have the original files. Both sets, the legal ones that Brighton put together, and the illegal ones they figured no one but them would ever see.”

      He shook his head. “Reports and files don’t prove anything about Adam. So what if you had a child? It could have been any child.”

      “Adam’s date of birth matches the day I delivered,” she pointed out.

      “That could be a coincidence. You could be confused about the date.”

      She took a deep breath and tried to tamp down her frustration. She couldn’t say she hadn’t expected this though. In fact, Collena figured there’d be many rounds of stonewalling before he started to come to terms with this.

      “I’m not confused. There were only four baby boys born that particular day at Brighton,” Collena said. “And three are already accounted for.”

      He waited a moment, and she could almost see the thought process going on behind those eyes. “This doesn’t make any sense. I want to talk to Adam’s birth father.”

      “He’s dead.” And for the time being, that’s all she intended to say about her late fiancé, Sean Reese. Thankfully, Adam would never have to have Sean in his life, but that didn’t mean Sean’s DNA couldn’t come back to haunt them. Later, she’d have to explain all of that to Dylan. “Look, I know this is hard to accept—”

      “You have no idea.”

      “But I do. Remember, someone stole my baby and tried to kill me. I have an inkling of what it’s like to lose something as important as a child.”

      Oh, mercy. She felt the tears threaten, and she tried to blink them back. One escaped anyway, but she quickly wiped it away so there’d be no proof of the pain that had ripped her heart apart.

      “Look at me,” Collena requested. “Don’t you see some kind of resemblance between Adam and me?”

      It was a gamble, because Collena had no idea if her son did indeed resemble her.

      But the gamble paid off.

      Dylan combed his gaze over her. Studying her, hard. And at the end of several snail-crawling moments, he groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. He dropped down in the chair across from her and raised his head.

      “Adam has blond hair and brown eyes,” he admitted. “Like you.”

      The relief washed over her. Not because she doubted this child was hers. No. She was positive of it. But the resemblance might go a long way to convincing Dylan of what she already knew.

      It might also convince him to accept the deal she was about to offer.

      “I won’t believe any of this until I see DNA results,” he added a moment later.

      Collena had anticipated that, as well. “I already have DNA results to prove he’s mine.”

      “You couldn’t.”

      “But I do. You probably remember telling your adoption attorney that you wanted your baby’s umbilical cord to be stored in case it was needed in the future. Since the storage facility was also owned by Brighton, the police got a search warrant to have all the umbilical cords tested. The newborns’ identities were all in code, so I knew that one of the babies was mine, it just took a lot of DNA tests to figure out which one.”

      He pulled in his breath. “And how do you know that you unraveled the code correctly?”

      “Because all the other babies have been accounted for. All except Adam. He’s the last one on the list.”

      Collena took the small DNA test kit from her pocket, opened it and wiped the sterile swab on the inside of her cheek. She put it in the plastic bag, resealed it and handed it to him.

      “You can send it to any lab you choose,” Collena instructed. “Ask for a maternity study. Have them expedite it. Within forty-eight hours you should have the proof you need.”

      “Need for what?” He stood and dropped the kit onto his desk. He pressed his thumb to his chest. “I love him. Adam is my son.”

      Collena stood also, so she could make eye contact. “I love him, too. And he’s my son.”

      He cursed, and it wasn’t mild. “I can’t give him up.”

      “Neither can I.”

      “I’ll fight this in court.” His stare turned to a glare. “I’ll have to.”

      “Maybe not.”

      Dylan blinked, and his forehead bunched up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

      “I know you’re a good father.” She motioned around the room. “And I can’t give Adam all the material things you’ve given him. Or the stability. Or the respectability.”

      There was more.

      She’d save that for later.

      On top of everything else he’d learned, it might be too much for Dylan Greer to hear that they might both lose the precious child they loved.

      “And I can’t overlook the fact that you’re the only parent that Adam knows,” Collena added, hoping that she was making her case. “To take him from you now would be as criminal as what happened to me at Brighton sixteen months ago.”

      His glare softened. “Are you saying you won’t fight me for custody?”

      “Not exactly.”

      The softening vanished. “Then, what are you saying?” he asked.

      Mercy, she only hoped this sounded better aloud than it did in her head. But it didn’t matter if it sounded insane. She had no choice.