Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

I t was well past midnight when Kyle sat down behind the screen of his computer.

Mia and Sarah were sleeping, and he was careful to close the door to his office so that in case Mia woke up and went into the living room, she wouldn't be able to see what he was doing. As he waited for the system to boot, he thought about what Sibby had said as they cleaned up after dinner. He had been lonely after Meghan left, but he'd also been happy with his choice not to get involved with anyone else. He really had believed that it was working for him, this no strings attached sort of lifestyle. Then he thought about the auburn-haired beauty asleep in his bed. He knew better than to crawl in there after her, but that didn't lessen the desire he felt to do that very thing.

She appears to be a single mother without any idea of who she really is, asshole, he admonished himself, then stopped cold. Wait. What if she's not single? What if Sibby is right and she has a husband out there somewhere, worried sick about his wife and child? Even more reason to stay away, he cautioned himself, internally battling. Did she lose her wedding ring in the accident?

Realizing it was useless to guess, Kyle looked up at his screen and clicked on the Boston police department's database, hoping to find some answers to his questions. He typed in his badge number and prayed that he still had access, even though he was technically not supposed to be working. Magically, the program loaded, and he put in the case number for Mia's accident. He read over the police report and didn't see any detail that he didn't already know. Plus, there were notes from the hospital that outlined the diagnosis of a head trauma due to the crash, but the "next of kin" information was blank.

That makes sense, he told himself. If they asked her when she came to in the hospital about who they might call for her, she wouldn't have known. She has no memory of who she is.

Realizing that the basic information available to him was not helpful, he clicked on Google and put her name into the search bar. While there were many women named Mia Elizabeth Sawyer, none of their pictures matched the face of the woman in his bed. He opened a new screen and logged into Facebook. He couldn't find her there, either. Now, that was strange.

An hour later, he'd exhausted TikTok, Instagram, X and even Truth Social. Nothing.

No digital footprint? Odd for a woman of her age, even if she wasn't up to date with any new posts, she should be there. He should be able to find her.

Kyle leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and gave himself a moment to think. She had a NY State driver's license. Let's go with that.

He was able to access the NY State system with his ID information; police departments had a reciprocal arrangement with all traffic related incident reports. As the screen filled with a series of prompts, he realized that he'd need her driver ID number to move forward. Did he really want to rifle through her wallet, or could this wait until morning?

Kyle pushed back from the desk. It could wait. She'd been through enough, there was no real reason to do this now, it was late. He stood up and went to the window. He liked the quiet of this time of night, when the world seemed to take a breath and rest, if only for a few hours until the sun rose again. Even though he lived in the city, the street was empty, and the only light seemed to be from the lampposts; very few windows were illuminated. He realized that he should close his eyes and sleep, but he knew that his mind was still too active. He stood and quietly padded to into the living room telling himself that once he found Mia's family and returned her safely to them, he could get back to living his own life, hopefully working as a detective once more.

The next morning Kyle immediately knew that he'd made a mistake pouring himself a few glasses of Macallan the night before. Drinking until pre-dawn always led nowhere and he'd pay the price for the next few hours, that was for certain. He shook his head, trying to clear a path for his thoughts when he smelled the mouth-watering scent of frying bacon. He walked out to find Mia in the kitchen behind the stove and Sarah sitting in the little bouncy seat they'd borrowed from Sibby on the counter, gently cooing as her mother kept up a one-sided conversation with the little girl. It was a jarring sight, first because it seemed so plainly domestic, but secondly because it was the antithesis of the life he'd established for himself. He watched them for a moment before clearing his throat to signal his presence.

"Good morning, Kyle," Mia said cheerfully when she looked up at him. "I hope you don't mind that I started breakfast. I'm most definitely on the mend and wanted to do something that felt familiar. Is that okay?"

"Of course. I'll never turn down the offer of breakfast," he said with a smile, hoping to appear reassuring. He had to admit to himself that he was somewhat shaken by the sight of her, still in an oversized tee shirt and a pair of sleep shorts standing in his kitchen.

"Oh, and I made coffee. I'm not sure if it's any good, though. I don't know if I remembered the proper ratio of grounds to water."

"It will be better than having no coffee at all, I'm sure," he replied.

"Don't say that until you taste it," she said, pouring him a mugful.

He walked over to the kitchen and reached across it to take the hot drink from her hand. He took a long sip. "It's perfect. Strong, just the way I need it this morning."

"Great," she said, turning back to the frying pan on the burner. "How would you like your eggs?"

"Any way you're making them for yourself works for me." He pulled out a stool from underneath the counter and sat down, watching her lithe movements as she cracked two eggs into the hot bacon fat.

Kyle knew he should ask her about her social media accounts but didn't want to ruin this moment. She probably wouldn't have any answers for him anyway, so he turned his attention to the baby.

"Hey pretty girl. Do you want to come out of that seat for a bit?" he asked Sarah.

The baby turned her attention to him, her deep blue eyes wide with wonder.

Kyle lifted the infant out of the seat, settling her warm, compact body against his own. She fit perfectly in the crook of his arm, and he had an overwhelming feeling that he wanted to protect her from some of the unsavory element he knew lurked in the dark corners of the world they lived in. But then again, it was even more important to stay on task, to help find the right people who could nurse Mia back to full-strength and send them on their way. Don't get comfortable, fool. These ladies are not yours.

"Here are your eggs," Mia said, interrupting his thoughts as she slid a plateful of food his way. "I can hold her while you eat." She held her arms out and Kyle passed the baby to her.

"Thanks for breakfast," he said, lifting the fork and knife she'd put on his plate, cutting into the soft yolk.

"It's the least I could do," she said, smiling. "If it's alright with you, I think I'll take a shower while you eat. This one can go back into her seat for a bit."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, showering alone? What if you get dizzy in there?"

"If that happens, I'll call for you. Don't get your hopes up, though. I think I'm good to go."

She winked at him, and Kyle felt the eggs lodge in his throat. He honestly didn't know what he was rooting for, and her felt her teasing response directly in his groin. Now he knew he'd need to sit there for a bit to conceal his growing erection, which was currently straining against his sweatpants.

Mia returned from the shower, dressed in black leggings, a crisp white cotton button down shirt and a heather gray cashmere cardigan. Kyle didn't know a lot about fashion, but he recognized that the material looked expensive. Then he started down a mental checklist of the other details he knew about her. She was driving a late model car when they met, the baby was in a pricey looking car seat, both had clothing that didn't appear to come from Target. She had cash in her wallet, and he was pretty sure he'd seen a credit card there as well. He made a mental note to get a better look when he asked her for her driver's license to run her number through the computer once more. As she walked past him to pick up her daughter, he breathed in her perfume; a fresh, lightly floral scent that reminded him of the lilacs outside of his childhood home.

"After I feed Sarah, I'll need to figure out how to get another car and hopefully get back on the road."

"I see. Did you suddenly remember where you were going while you were in the shower?"

"No, not exactly. But I am feeling better, and I was hoping that you might uncover something in the next day or so. I have an overwhelming sense that I'm supposed to be somewhere."

He looked directly into her blue eyes, searching for any hint that she was keeping important information from him. He didn't see anything other than the specks of gold surrounding her irises.

"I'm going to shower first. Then we'll check the computer and see what turns up in the database."

"Sounds good," she said, lifting Sarah up.

That was his cue to leave them alone. He walked into his bedroom and shut the door. He saw her bag open on the floor, clothing neatly folded within. The bed was made, and the room was tidy; it was clear that a woman had been here. He stepped into the bathroom and found her toiletry bag hanging on the doorknob. Her scent was even stronger in here. Lifting a bottle of her shampoo, he inhaled and felt her essence surround him. He shook his head. No. No, no attachments. He turned around and reached into the shower, rotating the faucet to the hottest setting. He stripped off his sweatpants and tee shirt and submerged himself under the steamy spray. He had to wash away any thoughts of Mia. She wasn't here to stay, and she wasn't here for him. He had to keep his life as simple as possible. He already had enough of a tangle of complications with work. He couldn't handle anything else.

A few minutes later after he rinsed his own shampoo out of his hair, he shut off the water and grabbed a clean towel from the rack, drying himself off before wrapping it around his midsection. He walked back into his room to grab some clean clothing from the chest of drawers that sat squarely between the room's two windows. Glancing to the right, he saw a black sedan parked across the street with two burly looking men sitting in the front seat. From this angle he couldn't see their faces, but he was able to make out the license plate number of their car. He went over to his night table and grabbed a pad and pen from the basket he kept there for scribbling his late-night thoughts. Jotting the series of numbers and letters down, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and threw them on commando, ripped off the top sheet of paper and stuffed it into a pocket. He knew that he'd have a better line of sight from his office window. That's where he was headed next.