He fell to his knees and gripped her arms. "You're okay! Oh, thank G.o.d you're okay!"

Her lip trembled, and tears threatened to fall. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his. "I love you, Daddy," her voice squeaked.

"I love you too, honey," he said, hugging her tighter. It surprised him how good it felt to hear her call him Daddy, and he wondered-how long had she known?

"Aiyana," he said gently, "did you know I was your daddy all along?"

She pulled back and shook no. "Not till you picked me up in your arms to chase Mommy. That's when I knew for sure."

"How did you know?"

She shrugged. "When your daddy holds you, you just know I guess."

His face tightened to fight back the onslaught of emotion about to take hold of him. He had to keep it together. He couldn't let Jenna see him all teary-eyed and blubbering. How would he explain that?

Aiyana put her hands on his shoulders. "You have to make up with Mommy. She didn't mean to..."

"I know," he said. "I'm not angry with her. She didn't see the beautiful and talented little girl that was shown to me. She only saw a piece of tissue. If she had seen you, she could never have let you go."

"So you'll make up?"

"I hope so."

"And we'll be a family?"

"Honey, I should have married your mother two years ago. If I had, none of this would have ever happened."

He heard a click, and the door opened. The detective gave him an examining look. "Am I-interrupting something?"

Jake considered his posture on the floor of the cell and squeezed his eyes closed. "And so that's about it-Amen." He got to his feet and brushed the dust from his knees.

The detective opened the door wider. "Come on. She's in the waiting area below."

Jake stepped out onto the elevated metal grating and immediately saw Jenna through the steel railing sitting at one of the picnic bench style tables below in the communal area. The detective led him down, and Jake sat across from her. Aiyana tagged along and hopped up on the bench beside him.

Jenna played with the strap on her pocketbook, unable to decide what to say first.

"This is my fault," said Jake.

Her head lifted sharply, her face revealing her heart. She felt guilty for what had happened. She had expected to be the one to apologize; she opened her mouth to speak.

"No. Wait. Hear me out." Jake held a hand up. "I've been living my life in fear, fear that I would end up like my mom. I've been so afraid to make a decision because I didn't want to face the consequences of making the wrong choice."

She reached across to touch his hand. "You don't have to do this..."

"Ma'am," said the guard by the door, "no contact."

She glanced his way, then back at Jake. "We don't have to jump into this."

"Do you have a stick of gum?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"A what?"

"Gum, you know, the Big Red you always keep in your purse."

She gave him a look, then dug the pack out of her purse.

"Slide me a stick."

She pulled one out and pushed it across the table.

He picked it up, tore the paper and silver coating off, and put the stick in his mouth. "Mmm-mmm, that is de-licious," he said.

"I'm glad you like it," she said, baffled by his behavior.

He took a couple more chews, then leveled his eyes on her. "Jenna, I have loved you from the first moment I saw you playing hacky sack in the college courtyard. I have never been more sure about anyone in my life. This is not about the baby. This isn't about being pressured to marry you. This is about me saying I should have been a man and married you years ago. It was my childish fear that drove you to that clinic. You didn't want me to choose you because of a baby. You wanted me to choose you because I love you, and this is me telling you-I love you Jenna. Even if there was no baby, you are the only person I could ever see spending the rest of my life with."

Her fingers squeezed on the strap of her purse, and the tears began to flow.

He brought up a silver ring he had made from the tin foil of the chewing gum wrapper. "I realize this is silver, but it's all I have to work with, and I don't want to let another day go by without asking."

She brought her hand to her chest, and gasped for air.

"Jenna, will you marry me?" His own eyes were watering now as he held the ring up, pinched between his thumb and index finger.

"Yes," she squealed. "Yes, I'll marry you!"

He held the silver ring out exactly half way between them and said, "No contact..."

She reached up and slid her finger slowly through the hole in the wrapper ring.

The officer at the door didn't say a word, only gave a subtle nod and a pressed smile.

Chapter 54.

Angela Grant followed a uniformed officer down the cell block of the local county lockup, feeling strangely apprehensive about her impending visit. This was the last place on earth she expected to be. The Sunbury authorities had everything well in hand, and Perez was already on a flight back to Washington. A visit like this was highly unorthodox and even mildly frowned upon. The case was closed, and any continued involvement on her part showed an emotional investment which might cast a shadow on her ability to be objective with this or future cases.

"This is it," said the officer, swiping his keycard on the door lock. He opened it a crack and gave her the handle.

The door opened slowly to reveal Jake Paris sitting on the edge of his bunk. He gave a sheepish smile and a limp wave.

"This better be good, Mr. Paris," she said, stepping into the cell. "I'm supposed to be on a flight to Washington." His eyes looked down by her leg, and then flicked back up. She looked down to see if perhaps there was something on her pants.

"I was never a man who believed in coincidences," he said, "but I had one phone call to make, and your business card was the only thing in my pocket."

She a.s.sessed the implication of his statement. "I don't know how you think I can help you. You were caught breaking into a private facility..."

"I know, but I was thinking if you knew why, you might consider putting in a good word for me."

"I'm sorry you wasted your phone call on me, I'm afraid I can't help you." She turned to knock on the cell door.

"Wait. I need to ask a question. Just one question."

"And that would be?" She made an attempt to mask her irritation, but not much of an attempt.

He was looking at her leg again. "What were you supposed to tell me?"

She squinted at him. "I wasn't supposed to tell you anything." She paused. "Mr. Paris, my eyes are up here."

He pulled his eyes up and stammered. "Sorry." They went back down, up, then down again.

"What did you think I was supposed to..." His erratic behavior made her pause. "Are you all right?"

A big grin stretched across his face. "I knew it!"

"Listen, I don't have time for games. If you're looking to plead insanity, you have to convince your lawyer, not me."

"You're gonna fwee me." His eyes widened and he cleared his throat. "I mean, free me."

Agent Grant stared at him, incredulous. "And why would I do that?"

He thought for a second, then his face grew bold. "Because your daughter says you will."

She squinted. "What? I don't have a... "

"I know this is weird, but please, just hear me out."

She shifted position like a caged animal.

"I know you're pregnant with a daughter, because I can see her. She is standing in front of you right now."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're insane."

He looked down again. "She says she's sorry about making you sick."

Without realizing it, Angela's right hand slid off her hip and rubbed her belly. "A lot of woman have morning sickness," she said defensively.

He listened. "No? Not morning?"

Her heart started to pound. "Okay. Whatever you're doing, stop it right now."

"At night? It happens every night at the same time?"

"Mr. Paris!"

"Listen, I'm not making this up. She's right here. She has curly blond hair and penetrating blue eyes and..."

Angela turned to leave. "This is over..."

His voice intensified. "She looks just like a little Cabbage Patch girl. She's wearing a yellow dress and..."

The room began to shrink around her. "What did you just say?"

He looked back up. "What? She looks like a little Cabbage Patch girl?"

She could hardly believe her ears. "My father..." Her eyes took on a faraway look. "He used to call me his little Cabbage Patch girl-when I was very young." Her voice trailed off.

Jake looked down at her leg again. "She says she's taking good care of Grammy's bunny." His eyes fluttered as if he were studying the imaginary thing. "She carries him everywhere. She says she loves him; he's her favorite."

Angela was utterly speechless.

"What?" He leaned in to listen to her knees. "He has a name? Mr. Hairs?"

Angela became rigid. "Okay, that's enough. How do you know that name?

"So, it means something to you?"

"Yes, it means something," she snapped. "My mother had a stuffed rabbit named Mr. Hairs. I used to play with it as a child. It's sitting in a box in the attic. But how could you have possibly known that?!"

His face grew exasperated. "She's telling me..."

She rolled her eyes. "The baby inside me is telling you this?"

"I can see her standing right in front of you," he said. "For some inexplicable reason, for the past two days, I've been seeing unborn children, including my own. That's why I broke into that clinic. I met my unborn daughter, and when I found out my girlfriend was going to the clinic, what else could I do but try to rescue her?" he pleaded. "Wouldn't you have done the same?"

Angela explored his face for deception, but saw instead an undeniable sincerity. "I have to admit, whatever scam you're trying to pull..."

"It's not a scam, Agent Grant. I'm telling you the truth. I'm just an ordinary guy trying to make sense of all this. I have a beautiful fiance who is carrying my little girl, and I just want to be with them. If what your daughter says is true, and you can help me get out of here-please-I'm just asking that you try."

She heaved a deep sigh. "I can't believe I am about to say this-but-who am I to argue with my unborn daughter? I'll see if I can persuade the clinic to drop the charges. Under one condition."

"Anything."

"Never bring this up again. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

Chapter 55.