The Baby Scheme Read online

  “Better safe than sorry. Follow me.”

  Alli dodged behind a parked truck. Keeping low, she and Kevin made their way between the rows of cars.

  The van continued to prowl. Passing several vacant spaces, it came relentlessly in their direction.

  When the glare of a lamp illuminated the interior, she saw two men in the front seat. Pairs of men didn’t generally cruise around swanky hotels in the middle of the evening, passing up available spaces.

  Unless they were looking for someone.

  Kevin kept darting in a stop-and-go pattern, homing in on his car. At last they reached the sedan and he opened the door with a key.

  “The next part’s going to be tricky,” he said. “Keep your head down in case they start shooting.”

  “Maybe we should call the cops….”

  Dear Reader,

  As a former newspaper and Associated Press reporter, I enjoy reliving the excitement—and the sometimes sharp mix of personalities—that one finds in a newsroom. I may lack Alli’s disregard for danger, and I never suffered a backstabber on the order of Payne Jacobson, but if fiction didn’t heighten our experiences, it would be dull indeed!

  Kevin Vickers isn’t based on any individual police officer or detective I’ve known, but in my single days, visiting the police station was the highlight of the morning. After reading the log, I’d chat with lieutenants and sergeants in the detective, patrol and traffic bureaus. Some of them definitely fit the bill as hunks! Most proved patient and quite helpful. I’m glad to say that, unlike the stereotype of the antagonistic reporter, I sometimes managed to repay the favor in my articles by encouraging witnesses to come forward.

  So there’s a bit of nostalgia for me in this tale, but Alli and Kevin ran away with the story and made everything fresh again. I hope you feel that way, too!

  If you enjoy the book, please e-mail me at [email protected] and visit my Web site at www.jacquelinediamond.com.

  Best wishes,

  THE BABY SCHEME

  Jacqueline Diamond

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A former Associated Press reporter, Jacqueline Diamond has written more than sixty novels and received a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times magazine. Jackie lives in Southern California with her husband, two sons and two cats.

  Books by Jacqueline Diamond

  HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

  913—THE IMPROPERLY PREGNANT PRINCESS

  962—DIAGNOSIS: EXPECTING BOSS’S BABY

  971—PRESCRIPTION: MARRY HER IMMEDIATELY

  978—PROGNOSIS: A BABY? MAYBE

  1046—THE BABY’S BODYGUARD

  For Kurt

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter One

  Alli Gardner had just arrived at her newsroom desk on Thursday morning when she spotted the startling front-page headline. As she sank down and read the story, her feeling of shock shifted to outrage.

  The allegation that the recently named mayor of Serene Beach, California, had run backroom gambling tournaments to benefit his computer stores didn’t surprise her. After all, she’d done the research and written the story.

  The problem was, it didn’t carry her byline.

  She read the first few paragraphs again. Those weren’t only her facts—they were her words. Yet she hadn’t quite finished the exposé the previous night and therefore hadn’t submitted it, although the assistant managing editor had known she was working on it.

  The byline belonged to Payne Jacobson, the assistant managing editor’s nephew.

  In her five years with the Orange Coast Outlook, Alli had never considered the possibility that someone might raid her computer. That is, not until Payne joined the staff six months ago.

  After he’d twice written articles based on her research and quotes, she’d complained to his uncle that he must have found a way to access her computer files. But not only had Ned Jacobson sided with his nephew, he’d hinted that Alli feared competition.

  This time, she’d deliberately kept all the notes on her personal laptop to prevent Payne from accessing them through the newspaper’s networked computer system. She’d taken the laptop home at night, too, but she’d left it unattended on her desk several times during the past few days.

  The jerk couldn’t have read her files last night. That meant he must have installed spy software.

  Alli felt as though steam were pouring out of her ears. If that weasel thought she was going to sit still over this, she had news for him—the kind of news he wouldn’t want to steal.

  She flipped open the laptop and typed in “You little thief!” then added a few more colorful insults for good measure. As she saved the file, she glanced across a group of desks to where the twenty-three-year-old sat smirking while typing on his keyboard.

  His blond, designer haircut and trendy suit couldn’t offset the thinness of his face or the deceitful cast of his small eyes. Of course, she wasn’t exactly an unbiased observer.

  As she waited for his spyware to steal her latest keystrokes, Alli reflected on how hard she’d worked to earn her reporter’s job, while Payne had waltzed into it, courtesy of his connections. After completing journalism school, she’d labored for two years as a writer in a public relations office, then spent three years at a weekly before landing this position against stiff competition.

  Even so, she wouldn’t object if Payne were honest and did good work. But his writing—when he did any of his own—had a clunky, amateurish quality despite Ned’s editing. In addition, according to his annoyed interviewees, he often misquoted them. Surely anyone other than a doting relative could tell that he hadn’t written this exposé.

  Across the room, she saw Payne’s cheeks flush and his gaze flick toward her. Insult received. She’d proved her point about the spyware.

  Beyond him, behind a glass office window, J. J. Morosco stood up and stretched. Despite the early hour, the short, rotund managing editor had been at work for quite a while.

  A forty-something go-getter, J.J. had stepped on more than a few toes during his first year at the Orange Coast Outlook. Hired from a newspaper in the San Francisco Bay area, he’d revamped the sports and entertainment sections, turning them into showpieces that the publisher trumpeted in TV ads. The result had been an increase in subscriptions and newsstand sales.

  Alli hated to bother him with an intramural quarrel. But how could anyone tolerate having stories stolen? Besides, this act of plagiarism threw the newspaper’s ethical stance into question.

  After unfolding her five-foot-nine-inch frame from behind the desk, she marched across the linoleum. Reporters nudged one another and turned to watch, probably expecting a showdown. She’d made no secret of her allegations about Payne.

  The sight of her reflection in the glass made Alli pause. Where she’d stuck a pen in her shirt pocket, a telltale spot of ink revealed that she’d forgotten to cap it. The way her skirt had swiveled around her hips didn’t improve her appearance, either.

  What a mess, and at only nine o’clock in the morning. She lacked the patience to repair to the ladies’ room, however, especially since she could do nothing about the inkblot.

  After hiking her skirt into place, Alli
realized she’d done so in full view of the managing editor. With a sigh, she resumed her approach. She couldn’t back down now.

  When she stepped into his office, J.J. rose out of courtesy. Noticing that she loomed over him, she quickly found a chair.

  “I’m here about the story in this morning’s paper,” she said. “The one concerning Mayor LeMott.”

  “Ned tells me you were working on something similar.” J.J. eased into his seat. “He says Payne warned him you might have a complaint.”

  “It wasn’t similar. This is my story,” Alli told him. “Word for word.”

  “But you hadn’t filed it yet.”

  “I’d written it, but I was holding off so I could double-check a couple of points,” she explained. “And there’s a side-bar I didn’t have time to complete. Mr. Morosco, Payne’s planted spyware in my laptop. He stole every bit of that piece from me.”

  The editor’s forehead wrinkled. He’d been putting in such long hours that he’d begun to lose his tan and had gained a few pounds, she noted.

  “The two of you have never gotten along, have you? He’d only been here a month when you accused him of stealing your notebook.”

  “It disappeared from my desk right after he passed by, and the next day he turned in a story based on my research!”

  “A guard found your notebook outside that afternoon, right next to where you usually park,” the M.E. replied.

  “I didn’t drop it. I’m not that careless.” Alli hated being put on the defensive. “Look, you can talk to any of the people I quoted in today’s story and they’ll confirm who did the reporting.”

  “Except that most of your sources spoke anonymously,” he pointed out.

  “I was going to identify them to Ned when I handed in the piece!” That was standard procedure. “Also, since when does this paper assign two people to the same story?”

  She’d heard of a few big papers that ran their operations in such a cutthroat manner, but the Outlook couldn’t afford such a waste of staff time. Besides, that kind of competition did horrible things to morale.

  “He says Payne asked if he could pursue the same subject. He decided to let the kid show what he could do, and he beat you to the punch.”

  How could she win when the assistant managing editor was stabbing her in the back? If she were in J.J.’s seat, she probably wouldn’t believe her accusation, either.

  “Give Payne his own assignment, something he can’t steal from anyone else,” she said. “He’ll blow it.”

  “As it happens, he’s going to have plenty of chances.” J.J. fiddled with some papers. “I’m sure you’re aware that I’ve streamlined two other sections. In the meantime, the publisher and Ned and I have been tossing around ideas for the news operation. I’m about to put those proposals into effect.”

  Why was he telling her this? Allie wondered uneasily. And why was he avoiding her gaze?

  “The publisher believes we’ve got too much duplication and dead wood,” he went on. “Some of the older staff members will be asked to take early retirement, but I’ll have to cut deeper. After careful consideration, I’m afraid we have to let you go.”

  “What?” Alli stared at him in disbelief.

  Until six months ago, she’d been one of the Outlook’s stars, a feat she’d accomplished through hard work, drive and an instinct for news. Despite her abilities, she knew as well as anyone how few jobs opened up in the newspaper business. Being laid off might mean banishment from the career she loved.

  “I was going to wait a few more days, but this seems as good a time as any,” J.J. said. “It’s best if you clean out your desk and leave immediately. Naturally, you’ll be eligible for unemployment, and we’ll give you two weeks’ severance pay.”

  “You can’t—” She stopped. Of course he could lay her off if he wanted to. But it was so unreasonable! “Was this your idea, the publisher’s or Ned’s?”

  Ignoring the question, he began to talk about issuing her last paycheck. Alli didn’t ask again because she was too busy trying to absorb the awful news that she’d just been fired.

  A minute later, when she emerged into the newsroom, a hush fell over the place. Even through the glass, people must have realized what was happening. Payne buried his face inside that day’s paper.

  Alli ignored him. Obnoxious as he was, he’d never have gotten away with this thievery if his uncle hadn’t condoned it.

  She walked over to Ned Jacobson. Swiveling in his computer chair, he peered at her from beneath a shock of graying hair.

  Keeping her pitch low, Alli said, “I always respected you. You had high standards and you taught me a lot. I don’t understand why you don’t apply those standards to your own family.”

  She strode away with her head high. There was a lot more she wanted to add, but hurling insults would reflect worse on her than on him.

  After reaching her desk, Alli couldn’t think what to do. She’d never been fired. She had no idea where to start.

  The newsroom secretary scurried over with an empty box. “I guess you’ll be needing this,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  Alli nodded in response and bit her lower lip. Thirty was too old to cry, and besides, she prided herself on her toughness.

  From the drawers, she scrounged a few personal items and discarded an assortment of candy wrappers, sandwich boxes and plastic spoons. A clipping fluttered to the floor. When she picked it up, the dark, brooding eyes of Detective Kevin Vickers seemed to fix on her.

  The article, which dated back three years, announced that he’d left the police department to start his own agency. She couldn’t remember why she’d saved it, except that he was probably the hunkiest guy who’d ever booted her out of his office.

  She and Kevin had butted heads frequently when he worked for the PD. Unlike larger police departments, Serene Beach’s didn’t restrict reporters to dealing with a public-information officer, unless that reporter proved unreliable.

  Most cops had cooperated once they got to know Alli, but not Detective Uptight. He’d refused to answer all but the most obvious questions about his cases, and she hated taking no for an answer.

  She’d been relieved when he left. Well, not entirely. The picture captured his intense gaze and thick brown hair, reminding her how much aesthetic pleasure she’d taken in their encounters. She’d imagined they might run into each other again after he went out on his own, but so far that hadn’t happened.

  And, obviously, it wasn’t going to. If she did land a new reporting job, it would have to be somewhere else. Maybe another state.

  Without thinking, Alli tossed the clipping into the box, then added some documents she’d dug up about the mayor. Not that she had any use for them, but she wasn’t going to leave them for Payne’s follow-up.

  He had to sink or swim on his own now. She wondered when he would realize that and what he’d do about it. Probably steal from somebody else.

  Larry Corman, a young photographer Alli hung around with, approached with a glum expression on his round face. “I can’t believe what I heard. They laid you off?”

  She nodded.

  “It stinks.”

  “You’re not kidding.” The rasp in her voice embarrassed her. Alli had always been the strong one in the family, bucking up her mom after her father left them and whenever they hit rough financial waters. “I’ll survive.”

  “Everybody knows Payne’s a lousy reporter,” he muttered. “This is going to hurt the whole paper.”

  Hearing him say so made Alli feel better. “Guess what he did? He bugged my laptop.”

  Larry pushed his round glasses higher on his nose. “Take it to the High Tech Emporium, their main store near the mall. There’s a guy named Brett who can clean it up.”

  How ironic, Alli thought. The emporium chain belonged to Klaus LeMott, the man whose shady dealings and political ambitions she’d been investigating. “I’m not sure I’d trust anyone there.”

  “I went to high school with Brett. H
e’s okay,” Larry said.

  “Thanks.” Right now, Alli wasn’t sure she could afford to pay anybody to do anything. How much did unemployment compensation pay, anyway?

  “Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends,” he added.

  She would have hugged him if so many people hadn’t been watching. “Of course.”

  “I’ve got your phone number. And you’ve got mine. And you’ll probably land a job in no time…aw, phooey.” He hurried off, his eyes misty.

  When her phone rang, Alli nearly ignored it, but her instincts wouldn’t let her. Besides, the call might be personal.

  “Hi. This is Alli,” she said into the mouthpiece.

  “Allison Gardner?” a woman asked. “My name’s Rita Hernandez. You don’t know me, but I read your articles all the time. Something’s happened that I think you should look into.”

  Alli hated to explain that she didn’t work here anymore. Why not hear the woman out and, if it proved to be a non-story as so often happened, at least let her down easily?

  “Go ahead.” Alli listened, at first out of politeness and then with growing curiosity. From habit, she almost began typing into the computer; then, remembering the lack of privacy, she pulled out a notepad, instead.

  As the source talked, she scribbled rapidly. Rita Hernandez had stumbled onto something interesting, all right, and Alli didn’t intend to hand it over to Payne or anyone else at the Orange Coast Outlook.

  The woman had become the victim of a crime she didn’t dare report to authorities. Alli made a snap decision to investigate on her own, no matter how impractical that might seem.

  “I appreciate the call, Mrs. Hernandez,” she said when the woman finished. “I’ll work on this and get back in touch. Let me give you my cell-phone number. It’s the best way to reach me.”

  “Thank you so much!”

  After she rang off, she saw Ned regarding her curiously. “What was that about?” he asked.

  “Wrong number,” she responded, and was pleased to hear a few chuckles. Before he could quiz her, an intercom query from the back shop distracted him, and then a woman from Accounting showed up with her check.