He barely had time to savor that small triumph when the bodyguard who’d been stationed at the house stalked into the foyer, a paper in hand.
This one was Wade, he recalled. The guy had an impressive scar on the side of his neck and a don’t-mess-with-me demeanor that Damon appreciated in a protector.
“Is everything all right?” Damon’s eyes darted to Lucas and Caroline, and he reassured himself they were still right there with him. He reached into the baby carriage to lift his son from the seat so he could cradle him in his arms.
Behind him, Caroline slid off her boots and left them on a mat to one side of the entry. She padded closer in stocking feet as she unzipped her bright parka.
“There’s been no activity to report here,” Wade assured him. “But it’s a different story back at the Los Altos Hills house.” He passed Damon the paper while Caroline stood by him to peer over his shoulder. “The security cameras caught this guy on film shortly before he asked one of the groundskeepers if you were in residence. He took off without giving his name.”
“It’s the fisherman who rescued me.” Caroline’s arm brushed against his as she tilted the photo toward her for a better view. “I’m sure of it.”
It damn well couldn’t be a coincidence.
“This guy?” Damon gave the black-and-white printout to her so she could look more closely. “This is the same man who pulled you out of the water off the coast in Mexico?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “But I don’t understand why, that is, how he would find me. Unless—” She went very still. “Do you think he found out something about who kidnapped me? Or where I was being held?”
The bodyguard appeared ready to offer more information, but Damon held up a hand to delay his input, wanting to hear what conclusions Caroline reached on her own. If she was close to a breakthrough with her memories, he didn’t want to stifle it.
When Caroline’s dark eyes met his, he tried to help her think through the possibility she’d suggested.
“It seems unlikely a fisherman living south of the border would make a trip to the US to find you.” He articulated what she had to be thinking already. “Furthermore, you didn’t remember me at the time, let alone your married name. So he wouldn’t know to look for you at the Los Altos Hills house.”
Her face paled. She shook her head.
“You think he works for my father.” She thrust the photo back at Damon and spun away, pressing the heels of her hands against her closed eyes. “That he worked for my father even then. Which would mean he didn’t save me at all. He just acted out another part of some elaborate drama my father created to keep us apart?” Straightening, she relaxed her arms and opened her eyes. “Why would he ever do that? He’s not a madman, Damon. He’s just—”
She couldn’t quite fill in that blank.
Damon resisted the urge to do so himself, since he had a wealth of names to label the bastard, but none of them would line up with whatever fairy tale Caroline concocted in her mind to account for her father’s behavior. One day, she would be able to see her father’s actions for what they were—calculated, self-serving and, yes, unbalanced.
It was bad enough Stephan had thwarted an investigation of Caroline’s disappearance. If it turned out that he had masterminded her kidnapping? He was going to prison, no question.
“What else were you able to find out about him?” Damon asked, turning back toward Wade.
As much as Damon wanted to comfort his wife, her safety came first. He lifted Lucas higher against his chest, kissing the baby’s downy head while the little boy stretched sleepily.
“His name is Theo Bastien.” The bodyguard pulled out a phone and seemed to read from his notes. “He’s a French-Canadian transplant who moved to Vancouver two years ago, when his employment history shows he started as a chauffeur and groundskeeper for Stephan Degraff, who keeps a rental home there and visits frequently.”
At Caroline’s muffled cry, Damon interrupted the report. “Whatever you need to make sure the properties are both protected, it’s yours. For now, I’d like a copy of the information to go to Officer Downey at the Los Altos Hills police department.”
“We’ve already called it in,” Wade assured him. “The police still haven’t been able to locate Degraff to interview him.”
“Thank you.” Damon dismissed him with a nod and waved over the head housekeeper waiting on the periphery of the huge foyer. The McNeill mansion had no lack of personal servants. “Would you find Marcie and let her know Lucas is ready for a bottle? I’m going upstairs with my wife and we’ll take dinner in her suite in two hours.”