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Agent Daddy
Alice Sharpe
HE'D QUIT THE BUREAU TO WRANGLE TWO KIDS…AND GOT LASSOED BY ONE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN All hell broke loose when word spread that a vengeful serial killer was headed for the Triple T ranch. Fearing the worst, former FBI agent Luke Tripper entrusted his orphaned niece and nephew to Faith Bishop's tender loving care while he hunted down his prey. Their smoldering attraction chased away the winter chill, but the fiercely independent schoolteacher bristled when the brusque cattleman ordered round-the-clock protection.Despite the looming danger, Faith's unflinching courage stirred Trip's deepest emotions…and he hungered to hold her close. Now with the body count rising and his loved ones in peril, would this hometown hero lay his heart on the line?
“In a perfect world I’d go lock that door and make love to you,” Trip said.
“Would I have any say in it?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Well, then, in a perfect world, I’d race you to the door to see who got there first to turn the lock.”
Faith looked surprised by her own words. Before she could take them back, he touched her lips with his own. Holding the sides of her head, her hair like silk beneath his fingers, he gently kissed every part of her face he could reach.
She returned the favor, her warm, wet mouth awakening every corpuscle in his body. He wanted to peel her out of her clothes as she grew softer and warmer with each passing second.
Suddenly, she twisted away from him. Her breathing sounded labored as she rested her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s not a perfect world,” she murmured, reminding him of the danger that lurked right outside their door.
Trip ran his fingers down a strand of her golden hair and whispered, “I noticed.”
Agent Daddy
Alice Sharpe
This book is dedicated to my beautiful mother,
Mary Rose LeVelle, who has always been there for me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alice Sharpe met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. One year later they were married. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes registering over 6.5, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing.
Alice loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 755, Brownsville, OR 97327. SASE for reply is appreciated.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Luke Tripper—Once an FBI agent, “Trip” is now a reluctant rancher and “Daddy” to his orphaned niece and nephew. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect those he loves from the violence of his past.
Faith Bishop—Still recovering from injuries sustained back in her hometown, she’s moved to Shay for solitude and quiet. What she’s found is terror and danger—and maybe the love of her life.
Gina Cooke—The babysitter for Trip’s niece and nephew. Her mysterious disappearance sets everything in motion. Is she alive or is she dead? Who’s responsible?
David Lee—Is this bodybuilder content to bully Faith or is he out for blood?
Neil Roberts—An escaped serial killer with one thing on his mind—destroy the man who sent him to prison (and anyone else who gets in the way).
Eddie Reed—What secrets does his shy manner mask? Will this mechanic come through when all else fails?
Peter Saks—Gina’s boyfriend has a major attitude problem. He claims he loved Gina—did he love her to death?
Police Chief Thomas Novak—This lawman doesn’t appreciate Trip’s experience. Is there more to his bluster than meets the eye?
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
Epilogue
Chapter One
Thanks to the fussy baby in the backseat and the rain pounding the truck cab, it was amazing Luke Tripper heard the shrill ring of his cell phone. He answered quickly, expecting to hear his foreman detailing yet another problem on the ranch. “Trip here.”
The response was a gravelly voice Trip had assigned to his past. “What’s that racket?” his former boss demanded. Timothy Colby was the SAC of the Miami office of the FBI and he had the bark to prove it.
A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed tufts of reddish-blond hair, eyes squeezed almost shut, plump, tearstained cheeks and two new teeth that glowed like freshwater pearls. “That noise is a frustrated ten-month-old baby,” Trip said.
“Say again? I can barely hear you.”
“It’s Colin, my nephew,” Trip all but yelled. His raised voice did what his cajoling murmurs hadn’t been able to—Colin abruptly stopped crying. Into the relative quiet, Trip added, “What can I do for you, Mr. Colby?”
“Miss the Bureau yet?”
“I haven’t had time,” Trip replied.
“I thought being knee-deep in babies and cows, you might miss the excitement, the danger—”
“If you think infiltrating a group of terrorists is tricky, you’ve haven’t tried to raise two little kids,” Trip said. “And please, don’t get me started on ranching.”
Colby laughed, or maybe he growled. The exact spirit of the noise was hard to define.
A car in the other lane swerved too close and Trip accelerated out of the way. He’d witnessed a terrible accident on this very road just a few months before, when a bus driver suffered a heart attack and the bus careened off the highway. He had no intention of being part of one now. “Sir, I’m running late. If this is a social call, maybe I could get back to you later.”
“Not just social,” Colby said, his voice sobering. “It’s about Neil Roberts.”
Trip frowned. “What about him? He’s rotting away in jail.”
“No. He got away during a prison transfer last night. Killed an officer in the process. Given your past relationship with this man, I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
Special Agent in Charge Timothy Colby wasn’t the kind to overreact. The fact he felt it prudent to issue a warning went a long way with Trip. “Is there any word Roberts is headed in this direction?”
“Not exactly, but he escaped on his way to Pelican Bay Penitentiary, down in California. All that stands between you and him is the state of Oregon.”
Trip glanced back at his nephew again. The baby had snagged Trip’s beloved Stetson and was putting his new teeth to work gnawing on the brim. “What are you doing to get him back?”
Colby detailed the combined police and FBI efforts to recapture Roberts and promised to stay in touch. They disconnected just as Trip took the exit into Shay.
The grammar school was on the other side of town and traffic was a mess—made more harrowing by frantic Christmas shoppers with less than two weeks left. Trip drove with extra caution, knowing he was distracted by Colby’s news.
Neil Roberts on the loose. Neil Roberts, the scum of the earth, the sludge beneath the mud. Trip didn’t want the brute within a thousand miles of his niece and nephew, or anyone else for that matter.
Another glance in the rearview mirror revealed Colin had dropped the hat and was revving up for a new tirade. Not only was Trip running late, he was bringing a sibling to a meeting with his niece’s new teacher—even Trip knew that was bad form. There wasn’t a thing he could do about it, since the babysitter hadn’t shown up or answered her phone. He’d kept his eyes peeled for her broken-down heap beside the road as he drove into town, but he hadn’t seen it.
He pulled into the parking lot twenty minutes late, grabbed his hat and the baby and dashed through the rain to the front office. A few minutes later he had a visitor’s pass and directions to the afternoon kindergarten. Happy to be out of the car seat, Colin hung on to Trip’s collar, his small legs clenched tight around Trip’s torso, making little excited noises as they hurried.
The kindergarten was off by itself at the end of a long hall. When Trip finally reached the door, he paused to catch his breath and peer into the classroom.
This close to Christmas break, the room was festooned with chains of colored paper and hanging snowflakes. Toy-cluttered shelves rimmed the perimeters, easels stood ready for young Picassos. Children’s books were scattered across a circular rug in the middle of the room, and a fuzz ball in a cage next to the window gave a small exercise wheel a workout.
No teacher, no Noelle. Now what?
Part of him wanted to slink away. He was sure the teacher would have “suggestions” to fix whatever she thought he was doing wrong with Noelle, and he was just as sure he didn’t want to hear them. This was a new teacher, barely here two weeks, a replacement for the last teacher who had left when her husband fell ill. That teacher had bombarded him with unsolicited advice.
Colin grabbed at a painting pinned to the wall and ripped off a corner, stuffing it into his mouth with lightning speed. As Trip rescued the rest of the painting from sure destruction and pried the paper out of Colin’s mouth, the baby squealed—he might be small, but he had a mind of his own and the lungs to back it up.
At the sound of Colin’s cry, Trip detected movement in the back of the room and watched as a woman seated at a desk he hadn’t noticed before raised her head from her folded arms. She looked around blankly, blinking a few times until her gaze fastened on him and Colin. Like a shot, she was on her feet, speaking before she’d taken a step, straightening her ruffled white blouse, patting her hair, smiling.
“Mr. Tripper? Hello, welcome, I’m Ms. Bishop—Faith Bishop. I’m sorry, I…well, it looks like I nodded off.”
At the sound of her voice, Colin swiveled in Trip’s arms to face her, his noisy protest dissolving into a drooly grin and a series of coos.
At six foot three inches, Trip was used to towering over people, but this woman was truly petite, small-boned and delicate. She had a heart-shaped face, clear blue eyes, a delicate nose and surprisingly full lips. Wavy tendrils of wheat-blond hair escaped a little knot at the nape of her neck. Tiny silver earrings, no ring on any finger, slim hands, silver watch. He detected a slight limp, barely noticeable. He placed her in her midtwenties.
As she neared, the overhead fluorescent lights illuminated three or four fading scars on the left side of her face. He realized he’d been staring when her hand flew to her cheek, fingers barely grazing the scars before continuing on to push a few strands of hair behind her ear. It looked like a subconscious and recurring gesture.
Meanwhile, Colin was becoming increasingly hard to keep hold of, as he wiggled and kicked and stretched tiny arms toward the teacher. The cries morphed into squeaks of delight and anticipation as she stopped a foot or so away.
“You have to be Colin,” she said to the baby. “Your big sister told me all about you.”
Trip wondered what else Noelle talked about. She was pretty quiet around him, though he was beginning to sense a slight thaw.
The woman took the baby’s hands in hers and smiled up at Trip. “It’s very nice to meet you, too. Thank you for coming in.”
Colin had almost squirmed his way into her arms by now, and laughing, she took his weight. “Persistent little guy, isn’t he?”
“You have no idea.” Taking off his hat and running his fingers through his short hair, he added, “I’m sorry we’re late. The babysitter didn’t show up.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” she said as she gently disengaged Colin’s hands from her hair. She peeled the baby’s damp jacket off of him and dropped it on a pint-size chair.
“She’s usually pretty conscientious,” he added, determining at that moment to swing by Gina’s place on the way home and make sure she hadn’t taken ill. “I know I’m not supposed to bring another child to a meeting, either, but there wasn’t a choice.”
“It’s not a problem,” she said. “Let’s go back to my desk and talk about Noelle.” Effortlessly hitching Colin on her right hip, she led the way to her desk. For a small woman with a limp, she had a great walk, enhanced by the snug fit of her trousers and the way her blouse nipped in at the waist.
“Where is my niece?” he asked as he took off his leather jacket and hooked it on the back of a chair at the side of her desk. Sitting down, he crossed Levi’s-clad legs, and perched his rain-speckled hat on his knee.
“I sent her to the library with an aide.” She scooped up a few plastic shapes and scattered them in front of Colin. The baby squealed in delight as he pounded his hands and scattered them.
“You’re sure good with kids,” he said.
“It’s a plus in my occupation.”
“Do you have any of your own?”
She seemed to flinch at his question, but answered quickly enough. “No, but my brother and his wife have seven-month-old quadruplet girls. I’m very close to them.”
“Local?” he asked, thinking of that flinch. After ten years in the Bureau, he’d learned to read people pretty well and to trust his instincts. Those instincts now said there were nuances here that aroused his curiosity. Ms. Bishop might look put together on the outside, but inside, he’d be willing to bet, there were troubles.
He instantly chided himself. He wasn’t an agent anymore and she wasn’t a desperado. What had driven him to invade her personal space by asking about children? He made a mental note to knock it off.
“No, my family lives up closer to Seattle, in a little town called Westerly.”
“I imagine you’re planning to go home for the holidays,” he said, unsure why he kept questioning her, just intrigued by the undercurrents.
She blinked a time or two and said, “No, not this year,” and in what appeared to be a blatant attempt to get the discussion back to him, added, “I want to be honest with you. Even though I’ve only been in Shay a couple of weeks, I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Don’t look so nervous.”
“Where did you hear about me?”
“Here and there. The teachers’ lounge.”
“Gossip,” he said.
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it that. Concern for Noelle, intrigue over you—”
“Me?”
She titled her head. “You’re a hometown boy who left the family ranch and joined the FBI. Plus you’re a bona fide hero.”
“That hero stuff is way overblown,” he said, repositioning his hat, hoping she’d let it drop.
“Modesty aside, you saved everybody on an overturned bus right here in your own hometown. That’s heroic.”
“Not everyone,” he said, glancing away from her blue eyes and down at Colin. The baby had abandoned the blocks and now lay sprawled against Faith’s breasts, fingers curled in her ruffled blouse, eyes drooping, perfectly content. What male wouldn’t be in such a position?
“I didn’t know,” she said gently. “I was under the impression everyone got out.”
“There was an older woman trapped under a seat—” He stopped talking again as his nostrils seemed to fill with the smell of gasoline, his head with the screams of the trapped woman. He shifted in his chair.
“I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable,” she said. “I didn’t realize…”
The truth was, he was used to being the one who knew things about other people, and he was finding he didn’t much like being on the other end of things. “It’s okay. People talk.”
“But not unkindly. You shouldn’t think that.”
“Well, it’s water under the bridge,” he said. “Old news.”
His next thought made his blood run cold. Was it old news? It had happened less than five months ago when he came home to see his dying mother. There’d been a newspaper article, too, despite the Bureau’s attempt to keep it hush-hush.
What about Neil Roberts? All the escaped man had to do was hit a library computer and do a little digging.
Trip’s jaw tightened. He had to get back to the ranch, alert people, get a picture of Roberts and pass it around. But not now. For fifteen more minutes he was here to focus on Noelle, not Neil Roberts.
At first he was relieved when she brought the subject of the meeting back in focus. “Noelle is a great kid,” she said.
“Yeah—”
“A little shy, but you know that.”
“She’s been through a lot,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“I know.”
“But she’s resilient. She’ll be okay.”
“I’m sure she will. I know she will.”
“Losing her folks was hard on her,” he said gruffly.
“And on you, too, Mr. Tripper. Hard on all of you.”
Here it came, the “How To Help Noelle” speech. Hell, maybe she had an idea or two on how to fix him, too. Very carefully, he said, “I think Noelle is coping as well as can be expected. She needs stability and time—”
“Mr. Tripper? Please don’t get the idea I have anything negative to say about Noelle, or your parenting, either, for that matter.”
A big knot Trip hadn’t even been aware of seemed to unravel in his gut. “I guess I’m getting defensive,” he admitted slowly. “I’m new at this.”
“Noelle and Colin are lucky kids to have you. Not all uncles would be willing to change their lives and step in when needed.”
He nodded, feeling uneasy with accolades he knew he didn’t deserve. He’d done what needed to be done, sure, but he’d had to give himself a few stern lectures along the way. At thirty-seven years of age, it was no easy trick going from self-centered bachelor agent to single dad in the course of a day or two.
He glanced back at Faith in time to witness her smothering a yawn with her hand. She’d done it a couple of times already, and up close, bluish smudges showed under her eyes. When she caught him watching her, she shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Keeping late hours?”
“Not intentionally.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, intrigued.
She took a deep breath, seemingly on the edge of explaining, and then she shied away, glancing down at Colin again, running fingers lightly over his spiky hair.
Undercurrents. Issues. He’d bet the ranch she was in trouble, but what kind he couldn’t imagine. She didn’t seem the kind for trouble with the law—that left family, and she’d said she had no family here. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a boyfriend, however. So, what was worrying her at home? Something to do with the scars on her face and the limp?
“This isn’t fair,” he said.
“What isn’t?”
“You know all about me and I know nothing about you.”
“There’s not much to know,” she said.
“Married?”
“No.”
“Attached?”
“Mr. Tripper, really. The details of my life aren’t pertinent.”
“And yet, you aren’t getting enough sleep,” he said with a smile, to let her know he was on her side.
“It’s not like I’m teaching Driver’s Ed,” she said.
He laughed at that. “Okay, Ms. Bishop, I’ll mind my own business.”
Her smile held a note of wistfulness, almost as though she wished he’d push her harder. Mixed signals from this woman, that was for sure. Signals he wouldn’t mind getting to understand. Call it professional curiosity.
Sure.
She added, “Please, call me Faith.”
“Faith,” he repeated. It was a good name for her. “I’m Luke Tripper, but everyone calls me Trip. Now, tell me more about Noelle.”
She opened a folder with Noelle’s name on it and started handing him papers. He examined all the drawings and the handwriting samples of the child’s ABCs and listened to how bright Noelle was and how they wanted to test her and maybe put her in an accelerated program. During all this, he wondered what his sister would have done, what she would have wanted. This kind of thought played in his head on a daily basis, as he transitioned from glorified nanny to daddy. He was it. He was all these kids had. The only question was—would he be enough?
He came back into the moment when she dropped her voice. Colin had fallen asleep and she held him close, as though by second nature.
“My own mother died when I was about six, so I can identify with Noelle,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done without my dad and my big brother, Zac. Anyway, I know pretty well what Noelle is going through.” She met his eyes. “So, if there’s anything I can do to make it easier for her, I would love to help. In or out of school, whenever. This is the first time I’ve lived outside of Westerly, away from my family, you know, so I have plenty of free time….” Her voice petered out and she shook her head again. “Listen to me go on and on.”
“It’s a very kind offer,” he said—and meant it. “Right now, though—”
He stopped when his cell phone rang. He had it out of his pocket and had checked the ID number before he realized he should have just let it ring. Years of always being on call had formed habits he was finding hard to break. Smiling apologetically at Faith, he said, “It’s my house. I think I’d better take it. I’m sorry—”
“Go ahead,” she urged.
“Trip here,” he said, and listened as Mrs. Murphy, his housekeeper, identified herself.
“Everything okay? This isn’t a good time—”
“No, everything’s not okay, and that’s a fact. Here I am at the house alone and you off with the wee ones,” the older woman said and proceeded to elaborate, her Irish brogue growing more pronounced the more agitated she became. He felt his own blood pressure rise as she spoke. A minute or two later, he clicked off the phone with the assurance he would take care of things.
Faith was staring at him, and the serious set of her very attractive mouth announced his own tension hadn’t been lost on her. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I’m not sure.”
Her fingers brushed her scarred cheek and disappeared into her hair as she said, “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that you look so concerned.”
“You’re not prying, Faith. That was my housekeeper. She got home from her dentist appointment to find the police out at the ranch. They told her they discovered our babysitter’s car abandoned by a minimart, with the keys in the ignition.”
“That sounds odd, doesn’t it?”
“Yes and no. Gina’s car is one busted fan belt away from the junkyard. She often parks on inclines, in case the engine won’t start. She says she hopes someone will steal it so she can collect the insurance.”
“Which doesn’t explain why you look the way you do.”
“No,” he said. It was one thing to leave your keys in the ignition out at the ranch, another on a city street. Face it, his gut was telling him something was wrong and obviously the police felt the same way.
How long would it take Neil Roberts to get to Shay, Washington? Less than a day. He’d had the time, maybe, though not knowing more of the details made assessing things like time difficult. But even if Roberts had gotten here, how or why would he connect Gina Cooke with Luke Tripper?
“I have to go,” he said, getting to his feet. “I need to talk to the police.” He pulled his hat on his head, grabbed his jacket, then looked down at the still-seated Faith, who had both arms wrapped around his slumbering nephew. Pausing, he took a deep breath. “Damn, I actually forgot about the kids for a moment.”
“Leave them with me,” she said, picking up a pen and quickly scribbling a number on a paper. “This is my cell. Call me when you get done doing whatever you have to do. I’ll take care of Noelle and Colin.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Murphy to come get them.”
“In this weather? Just leave Colin’s car seat in the front office.”
“You don’t know what you’re in for with that car seat,” he warned her. He dug a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. “The second number reaches my cell phone. Call me if you need me. Meanwhile, tell me where you live and I’ll come get them in, say, an hour?”
“Well, actually, I have a few things I need to do. Just call my cell and we’ll meet. The kids won’t be in the way, don’t worry.”
Something was odd here, but he had the overriding feeling time was of the essence for Gina, so he let it go. “Thank you.” Before he left the room, he turned. Faith had gotten to her feet, the slumbering baby draped across her shoulder. She stood silhouetted against the gray skies visible through the windows at her back, her golden hair reflecting the indoor light. She looked at him expectantly, and all he could do was stare.
He had the oddest feeling about her.
“Is there something else?” she asked.
He shook his head and left.
Chapter Two
Half an hour later, Faith found out what she was getting into with Colin’s car seat. The sedan seemed to reverberate with the baby’s outraged protest.
“Noelle, honey, could you give Colin a toy or a cracker or something?” Faith asked, voice raised to be heard.
Noelle, strapped into the back next to her brother, said, “It won’t work, Ms. Bishop. Nothing works in the car.”
“I thought babies liked to go for rides,” Faith said, thinking of her nieces who always seemed to quiet down once the engine started.
“Not Colin,” Noelle yelled with what sounded like a hint of pride.
The weather hadn’t changed, except that the skies were darker than ever. Faith tried to think of somewhere besides her apartment where she could take small children and could think of nothing. Shay didn’t have a mall or an indoor playground, and she hadn’t had a chance to make any friends outside the school.
“Where are we going?” Noelle asked, her voice smaller now, unsure, barely audible over her brother’s tirade.
“I don’t know,” Faith mumbled. And then, because there really wasn’t another choice, she added, “My place.”
After a few moments, Colin’s cries grew a little less raucous, and as Faith negotiated the wet streets, she thought back to her meeting with Luke Tripper.
As she’d confessed to him, she’d heard about him first from the teacher she replaced, and then around the school. The bus story had intrigued her from the moment she heard it, maybe because she’d brushed against evil last spring, barely surviving a malicious attack. To hear about a man who ran back and forth to an overturned bus risking his life to save others reassured her in some odd way that people were still good. The look in his eyes when he admitted he hadn’t saved everyone had touched her deeply.
So she’d wondered what he would be like—and had built a mental image of a hero: strong, fearless, able to leap tall buildings. Luke Tripper looked as though he was all those things.
He was as tall as her brother, Zac, but not as lanky, more muscular, broad-shouldered, body trim and fit, thick, dark hair cut short. And those eyes. Smoldering, yes, but also focused and intense. She’d found herself struggling not to tell him her deepest, darkest secrets.
Add to that a sophisticated air at odds with boots and jeans and a hat that looked as though it had been around the block a time or two. That inconsistency was due, no doubt, to the fact he’d only been a rancher for four or five months. Before that he’d been an FBI agent, rumored to have done covert work. The veneer left over from that career no doubt explained her desire to confide in him. Only her pledge to herself that she would solve her own problems kept her mouth shut.
Besides, Trip had enough troubles of his own.
Faith fought against a stab of pure, unadulterated self-pity. Sure, she missed Puget Sound, old friends and family, but she was in debt up to her eyeballs with medical bills and Shay was the only place she could find a decent job.
There was another reason for her decision to move, too, and it had to do with her father and brother. Last May, Zac had married Olivia, Faith’s best friend, and had adopted her four little girls. He was sheriff in Westerly, his life was busy and full, and he was happier than Faith had ever seen him.
Meanwhile, after twenty years of being a widower, her father had discovered love right in his own backyard with Olivia’s mother, Juliet Hart. The two were getting married in Hawaii over the holidays. Faith had told them she was too busy with her new job to travel to explain why she wouldn’t be at the ceremony. She hadn’t wanted to admit the truth: she couldn’t afford the trip. She hadn’t confided in either her father or her brother that her insurance hadn’t begun to cover expenses.
The point was, both the men in her life had moved on, and yet she knew their happiness was affected by her own sense of detachment, and it killed her. She was tired of pretending everything was okay and was determined to solve her own problems.
Where did that leave the little ache in her gut when she thought about Luke Tripper? In her gut, she supposed, buried and secret where it belonged.
Faith’s apartment was actually the basement of a two-story house in the worst corner of the worst part of Shay. The price for paying off her mountainous medical bills was living in a terrible neighborhood with a landlady named Ruby Lee who gave Faith the heebie-jeebies.
As she drove around the house to reach her private entrance in the back, some of her tension dissipated. The main garage was closed and the house looked dark. Hallelujah, it appeared Ruby wasn’t home. Faith parked under the lean-to attached to the garage.
“This is where you live?” Noelle asked as Faith helped her unbuckle her seat belt and collect her backpack. Noelle looked a lot like her uncle. Same dark brown hair, only on Noelle it was long and braided. Same deep brown eyes.
Faith took Colin out of his seat. The baby grabbed her around the neck and immediately stopped fussing, rubbing his damp eyes with a plump fist. Poor little guy looked tired.
“This is where I live,” Faith said as the rain pounded the fiberglass roof of the lean-to. Holding tightly to Colin and the diaper bag Trip had left in the school office, she took Noelle’s hand. “Let’s run between the raindrops to the front porch, okay?”
They dashed the ten feet to the feeble overhang covering the door. Faith struggled to keep up with Noelle, her left leg protesting a bit at the unevenness of the ground.
Juggling baby and belongings, Faith dug for her keys. She found they were unnecessary, as the door pushed open when she touched the knob. Had she forgotten to lock up when she left that morning?
No way. She couldn’t take the children into a compromised house. For a second she stood there, unsure what to do.
As she raced through her options, the porch light went on and the door opened wide.
Faith gasped as Noelle shrank back against her legs. A man of about twenty stood facing them. Dressed in black denim jeans and a torn black sweatshirt with a metallic lightning bolt bisecting the front, muscles bulged in his arms, jet black hair flopped over his forehead. He held a hammer in one hand.
“David,” Faith said, catching her breath and laying her free hand on Noelle’s damp shoulder. “You scared me.”
“I came to fix the cabinet you told Ma was bothering you.” His gaze slid to Faith’s hips and stayed there.
“Did your mother let you into my place?”
“I have my own key.”
“Your own key? Who gave you a key?” she demanded.
“I’m helping Ma. I’m taking care of things around here from now on. I’m taking care of you.”
Like hell you are, Faith thought. “Are you finished with the cabinet?”
“Almost.” He turned and walked back into the heavily shadowed room, disappearing into the kitchen alcove.
“Let’s get out of the rain,” Faith said, shepherding Noelle inside, turning on lights, trying to dispel some of the gloom. The basement, which she’d rented furnished, looked even worse with bright lights. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration, and Faith could only imagine how cheerless it struck a five-year-old. The child stayed right against her legs as a few banging noises came from the kitchen.
“It’s done,” David said, appearing in the opening between Faith’s very modest living room and the kitchen. “You want to check it?”
“No. I’m sure it’s fine.”
David looked at Noelle again, then at Colin. “Ma said no kids.”
“I’m just watching them—they don’t live here.”
“Oh.”
“Well, thanks. But next time, please make an appointment.”
He lifted one lip, revealing a pointed incisor.
The door opened behind Faith. She and both children swiveled to look at the newcomer. Ruby Lee bustled into the room, closing the door behind her, sandwiching Faith, Colin and Noelle between herself and her son. She wore a black rain coat and silver rain boots, a silver rain hat riddled with holes, tied under her chin. Her makeup looked as though it been applied with a trowel. If today ran true to form, within six hours she’d be drunk, pounding on Faith’s door, makeup sliding down her cheeks.
“You fix the cabinet?” Ruby asked.
David’s reply sounded sullen. “Yeah.”
“Then go check the bathroom door.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Faith said quickly.
“You told me it wouldn’t lock,” Ruby said, narrowing her eyes.
“It doesn’t, but right now I have guests—”
“Now or never,” David said, stepping closer to Faith, his overmuscled body radiating a primal heat that made Faith want to gasp for air. She retreated toward Ruby. He added, “No time like the present, right?”
“I said no kids,” Ruby said, staring at Colin. For the first time, Faith realized Colin’s tiny fingers had clutched her coat collar so tight it strained against her throat, half choking her. Could the baby sense the tension?
“Will you please both leave?” Faith asked.
“There’s work to be done. David is here now,” Ruby insisted, her eyes slightly unfocused, as though she’d started drinking early today.
“Then we’ll leave,” Faith said.
“You don’t gotta go,” David said, lifting the hammer, flexing his muscles. “Come show me what you want done. Ma can watch the babies while I…service you.”
“I’m not watching no kids,” Ruby said.
Faith’s mouth had gone dry at the innuendo in David’s voice. She looked at Ruby again, hoping her landlady would intercede; but that was dumb, help wasn’t coming from that quarter. She repeated, “If you won’t go, we will. But before we do, let me make myself clear. I don’t like people having keys to my home, not even you, David. It undermines my feeling of safety.”
“This ain’t your place, it’s mine,” Ruby reminded her. “And what’s mine is David’s.”
David advanced again, his gaze challenging. “Maybe you want me to come back later tonight after you dump the kids. Maybe you want a little one-on-one.”
It was all Faith could do not to punch him. She gritted her teeth and said, “Absolutely not.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You too good for me, is that it, Miss Bishop?”
At that particular moment, Faith didn’t know what to do about this situation, but she did know she wasn’t going to subject either child to another moment of it. Without answering David, she reached around Ruby and opened the front door. Noelle practically bolted, running back to the car heedless of the rain or the puddles.
Even Colin’s enraged screams as Faith backed down the driveway were a better alternative than one more moment in that basement hellhole. She glanced back once to see David standing in her open door, holding the hammer in one hand, tapping it into the open palm of the other, his belligerent gaze tracking her retreat.
THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME since Trip had returned to Shay that he’d had cause to go to the police station. The accident he’d been involved with earlier in the year had been handled by the highway patrol, while the fire that claimed the life of his sister and her husband had been investigated by the sheriff’s department, since the ranch wasn’t within the Shay city limits.
He’d heard rumors the department wasn’t run very well and, as he stepped up to the counter and found himself eye-to-eye with a kid wearing a slipshod uniform and reading a comic book, his expectations fell even further.
“I want to talk to whoever is in charge of the Gina Cooke investigation,” Trip said.
The kid looked blank. “Gina who?”
“Is there a detective here, maybe? Your boss?”
Now the boy looked more comfortable. “You want to talk to the Chief?”
“Sure.”
The boy nodded, turned around and hollered, “Chief Novak? Someone here to see you.”
“Thomas Novak?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
At that moment, a ticked-off-looking man about Trip’s age strode into the front area from the back. He wore a tight green uniform, buttons straining down the front. Heavy black frames perched ponderously on the bridge of his nose. Glaring at the teenager, he said, “Damn it, Lenny, how many times have I told you come get me, don’t shout?” He looked up from the cowering Lenny, met Trip’s eyes and rocked back on his heels. “I’ll be.”
“It’s been a long time,” Trip said. “You’re �Chief’?”
“That’s right. I heard you were back out at the ranch. Sorry about your sister and her husband. Hell of a thing.”
“Thank you,” Trip said. If Lenny hadn’t called Novak by name, Trip was pretty sure he would never have merged the skinny kid from their high school days with the corpulent man standing in front of him. “We need to talk.”
“You here about Gina Cooke?”
“That’s right. I have some information you might want—”
“See that, Lenny,” Novak interrupted, as he took off his glasses and began polishing the lenses with a tissue he plucked from a box on the counter. “Mr. Tripper here is a FBI big shot but he’s going to take the time to help us out. Isn’t that nice?”
Lenny slid Trip a glance.
“Gina is my babysitter,” Trip said. “And I’m no longer with the Bureau.”
“I know that.”
“You went out to my place when you found her car—”
“I was just following procedures. The hunt is over.”
“You found here? Where?”
“We haven’t found her, but we figured out what happened. She ran off with that boyfriend of hers.”
“Peter Saks?”
“Yeah.”
“My housekeeper said you found Gina’s car abandoned.”
Novak folded his glasses into his shirt pocket and leaned on the counter, resting his weight on his forearms. “Her car was found outside the Quik Mart on Apple Street. She apparently stopped there every day to buy a cup of coffee before heading out to your place. What got a pedestrian to call in was she’d left the window open and the rain was pouring in. Then there were the keys in the ignition.”
“A bad habit of hers,” Trip said.
“That’s what I hear. We sent someone out to your place to see if she showed up for work and someone else to talk to the girl’s boyfriend and her mother. The mother said Gina always leaves her keys in the ignition and that she and the boyfriend had a fight. The boyfriend wasn’t at home, neighbors said he packed up this morning and told them he was going on vacation.” He shrugged. “That Quik Mart is right on the way to the interstate. We figure Saks ran across her, maybe even waited for her to show up there if he knew it was her habit to stop. Maybe he talked her into a little make-up trip. It looks like she decided to go with him. End of story.”
Novak straightened and looked at Trip as though daring him to challenge these conclusions.
“And Gina’s mother is comfortable with this supposition?” Trip asked after a long moment of debating whether to share his suspicions about Neil Roberts with the chief.
“Says it makes perfect sense. Says her daughter was a pushover for Peter Saks.”
“Where did Saks go, exactly?”
“The neighbors don’t know. Camping, maybe.”
“In this weather? In December?”
“Maybe he went south. Hell, it’s a free country.”
Trip stared at Novak. “I can see where you’re coming from, but the fact Gina didn’t call bothers me. It’s not like her to just leave.”
“There you’re wrong,” Novak said. “Her mother said she ran off without a word a year or two ago.”
Trip hadn’t known that. “Gina told me Saks had a history of domestic violence.”
Chief Novak flipped his hand. “The boy’s a hothead, that’s all.” The big man heaved a sigh that put even greater pressure on his buttons and added, “Listen. I know you had a fancy career in the FBI. I bet it sucks to be out of the action. But this is my town, so why don’t you just go back to ranching?” Novak slapped his hands on the counter. Case closed.
Trip left before his temper got the better of him.
IT WAS GETTING DARK. The rain had let up, but the temperature had dropped, making the roads icy. Faith had taken the children to a big-box store where she changed Colin’s diaper and fed him some of the dry cereal and fruit she found in the diaper bag. She’d bought Noelle a banana, they’d returned to her car and now it seemed the baby had fallen asleep. By the hush in the backseat, Faith thought it likely Noelle had nodded off as well.
How had her life gotten to this point?
Six months before, she’d known who she was and what she wanted. It had been her friend, Olivia, who wanted out of Westerly, not Faith. And now she was driving two very small children around on a stormy night in a town she barely knew, while their uncle tried to find their babysitter. To add insult to injury, she couldn’t even take them somewhere decent, somewhere warm, somewhere safe because her landlady and her son made the Bates Hotel seem like a day spa.
“Ms. Bishop?” Noelle said. Guess she wasn’t asleep after all.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Can we go home?”
Home. “Well, I don’t want to run into those people again—”
“My home,” Noelle said. “Mrs. Murphy makes cookies sometimes.”
They were at the northeast edge of town. Faith knew Trip lived on a ranch with the children, she knew about where it was, as she’d passed a sign on one of her weekend drives. It was called the Triple T.
Dare she drive to his house? Would he think she was being pushy? Did it matter what he thought?
“What kind of cookies?” she asked as she headed out to the highway. At this point, any decision was better than no decision.
“Sometimes chocolate with peanuts, only Uncle Trip doesn’t like peanuts, so now she leaves them out.”
“I sure hope she made some today,” Faith said.
“Me, too.” It was quiet for a mile or two, and then Noelle spoke again, her voice ominous this time. “Uh-oh, Ms. Bishop.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Colin is waking up.”
IT WAS ALMOST DARK by the time Trip pulled up in front of the Quik Mart. Gina’s car was nowhere in sight. For a second, it crossed his mind she’d come back for it, or her mother had taken it or the cops had impounded it, and then he remembered the way Gina always parked on a hillside, facing down, when she came to the ranch, in case the engine wouldn’t start. There was a slope beyond the store. He topped the hill and looked down the road that bordered a ravine on one side and a few stores on the other side, and sure enough, there was Gina’s car, pointed downhill.
Gina’s car windows were up now and the doors were locked. The car itself looked like it always did, battered and old, the tattered front seat bare, except for a fluff of something very white and purple, just visible on the passenger side, stuffed between seat and seat back. Trip hitched his hands on his waist and looked up and down the street. A gas station on the corner, a flower shop and a shoe repair directly opposite. He checked his watch and decided he could spare a few more minutes.
The man in the shoe repair shop worked in the back and came to the front only when he heard the bell ring over the door. Trip asked him about the car across the street, but the repairman hadn’t even noticed the police, let alone a nineteen-year-old woman. He did say he’d seen the car there before.
The flower shop was better staffed. The three female employees, all in their thirties and all smiling up a storm, agreed they’d seen Gina’s car parked on the hillside before, but none of them had actually seen her, not today, anyway. Since Trip didn’t have a photo to show around, there wasn’t much else to be learned.
He went to the service station last. It was an independently owned station, with higher prices than could be found elsewhere, hence it appeared to do a neighborhood kind of business. There were no cars at the pumps, but there was a man in the garage, sitting on an overturned box, lights blazing around him. It looked as though he was in the process of dismantling an engine.
Trip stood there for a moment, watching. Late twenties, pudgy, somehow familiar, dressed in blue coveralls, extremely focused on his job. The mechanic was picking up little pieces and wiping them with a grease rag, dropping some into some kind of solvent, arranging others in a pattern of sorts.
The guy gave no indication he was aware of Trip. Mindful of the need for haste, Trip stepped into the light and said, “Sorry to bother you…”
At the sound of Trip’s voice, the attendant jumped up. Sandy hair, sparse mustache over full lips, blue eyes, a couple of grease smudges on his cheek. His overalls were too big for him. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you drive in.”
“I didn’t drive in, I walked. I don’t need gas, I just want to ask you a couple of questions.” As the mechanic perched back atop his box, Trip added, “You look like you know what you’re doing with that engine.”
“Been taking ’em apart since I was a little kid.”
“You look familiar,” Trip said. “You from around here?” Too late he realized he’d fallen into interrogation mode.
The kid didn’t seem to mind. “More or less,” he said.
Trip introduced himself and stepped closer, hand extended.
“Eddie Reed,” the guy replied, but raised grease-stained hands to explain why he didn’t return the shake. He added, “I know who you are, Mr. Tripper. I came to your place looking for work a few weeks ago.”
“I don’t—”
“Your foreman, that Mr. Plum guy, he said you just hired someone else.”
A big clock on the wall ticked away another ten seconds before Trip added, “I’m wondering about the car across the street. The green one that’s been parked there most of today.”
“What about it?”
“Did you see the young woman who left it there this morning?”
“I don’t come to work till two o’clock,” Eddie said. “What does she look like?”
“Oh, around twenty, long red hair, tall. Pretty girl.”
“She special to you?”
Trip ignored the question. “Did you see anyone matching her description?”
“No, sorry. I saw the cops nosing around, that’s all. Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. Probably not.”
This earned Trip a long glance, until Eddie, apparently losing interest, went back to his task with a nimble-fingered finesse Trip envied. How did a man get that comfortable with engines? At his father’s knee? Trip thought of his own father, the man who had started the Triple T Ranch, the man who could fix anything, the man Trip had given up emulating two decades before.
“Thanks anyway,” Trip said.
“Sure. Hey, I hope it works out.”
“You hope what works out?”
“The girl. I hope you find her.”
“Yeah,” Trip said. “Thanks.”
Walking out of the garage, Trip dug from his pocket the paper on which Faith had written her number. Standing in the light shining through the gas station window, he flipped open his cell phone right as it rang.
“Trip here.”
“This is Faith—”
“I was just going to call you.”
“Listen to me,” she pleaded. Her voice sounded anxious and in the background, he heard Colin screaming.
“What—”
“I’m on the road to your house with your kids. Someone is following really close behind me, so close his lights blind me and I’ve tried to get away from him, but he speeds up when I do.”
“Where are you exactly?” he yelled as he ran to his truck. None of this made any sense. Why was she driving the kids out to the ranch?
“I don’t know where I am, not exactly, but there are hardly any cars out here. I passed something called Tyrone Gardens a few minutes ago.”
“I’m coming,” he said, estimating time in his head. “Don’t stop, whatever you do, and don’t speed up if you can help it. I’ll call ahead to the ranch. I know where you are…I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” she said, almost drowned out by a high-pitched scream that had to be Noelle. His gut tightened as she whispered, “Oh, please hurry.”
Chapter Three
Noelle screamed again, “It’s closer!”
“Noelle, sit down! Make sure your seat belt is tight.”
Colin suddenly grew very quiet. While it was a tremendous relief, it was also a concern. Faith dare not turn to make sure the child was okay. “Check Colin, Noelle. Is he all right?”
“I—I think he’s scared,” Noelle managed.
“Hold his hand, okay?”
“Okay,” Noelle said, and Faith could hear the tears in her voice.
In the next instant, the lights inside grew even brighter, Faith’s car seemed to pause and the abandoned road seemed to hum.
A premonition gripped Faith. He was going to ram her. She knew it. “Noelle, hang on—”
The words had barely left her lips when the impact came. Her car lurched forward, the tires spinning as she hit the verge on the side of the road. Trying to drown out the unsettling sounds of the children shrieking, Faith fought the wheel as the tires drifted over icy weeds until they ran up against a berm, sending the car bouncing back toward the road. The truck had dropped back a few feet, but Faith knew what would happen next, she knew it would advance again.
“Talk to me, Noelle. Are you and Colin still okay?”
“I think so,” Noelle sputtered.
“Keep your head down, sing to Colin, we’re almost home.”
The cat-and-mouse game had started after she turned off the main highway. According to the sign, she had five miles to endure before they reached the ranch. Time was passing in a frenzy. She wasn’t even sure how long ago she’d called Trip, just that she’d tossed her purse back to Noelle and directed the little girl to find the flashlight and her uncle’s card buried in the front pocket.
Considering how afraid Noelle had to be, Faith thought it pretty amazing she could so calmly read the right set of numbers to her, so she could punch them into the phone. Now the tiny beam of the pocket flashlight flickered on and off as Noelle apparently used it to check on Colin.
But even if Trip showed up right now, what could he do…how could he stop this?
Who was back there? It had to be a madman, and the only madman she knew was David Lee. Had he followed her, had he waited while she and the kids went into the store, then tracked her again, hanging back in traffic and biding his time until she turned onto a desolate stretch of highway?
Why would he do something like this? She was almost positive the pursuing vehicle was a truck, as the headlights were higher off the ground than her own. Did David drive a truck? She didn’t know. She’d never actually seen him come and go from his mother’s place. He must park on the street.
The lights were once again coming closer. She instinctively pressed down on the accelerator pedal. She heard Trip’s voice warning her not to speed up, but the thought of being bumped again terrified her. The lights swerved off to the lane beside her and for one glorious moment, she thought her pursuer was giving up, that maybe he was getting ahead of her so he could speed away.
She could see now: it was a truck, a dark truck, though she couldn’t see the driver. It pulled up parallel to her and she eased up on the gas, falling back, willing him to keep on going. It looked like it was working, when suddenly the truck swerved into her car, hitting the front bumper.
She held on to the wheel and yelled at the children to cover their heads, or at least that was her intention, but words were lost in the screams that bounced around the interior of the car. Her vehicle flew off the road and straight up a steep bank until it breasted the top and became airborne. It landed a second later with a crash, spinning until it came to a clattering halt.
TRIP TURNED HIS LIGHTS on high beam. As he raced out of town, he’d called the ranch foreman, George Plum, and the two men had agreed to drive toward one another until they either found Faith and her pursuer or met on the road.
Trip saw the approaching headlights a half-mile away. As it was a straight stretch of highway, he could see there was no one behind him, so he slowed down. George Plum pulled his ranch truck up beside him and the two men rolled down their windows.
“Anything?” Trip said, his breath condensing.
George shook his graying head. The seriousness of the situation was manifested by the fact that George, for once, wasn’t puffing on a pipe. “You didn’t see nothing, either?”
“No. She described a chase of some kind, but it’s obviously over. Did you run across anyone else between here and the ranch?”
George shook his head. “Not a thing. But if you know the area, there are any number of little roads to use to get back to Highway 67 before you get to the ranch.”
“Yeah. Okay, I’ll head to the ranch, keeping an eye out in case he ran her off the road. You go toward the Tyrone Gardens exit. We’ll meet back at the Triple T.”
“You got it,” George said, and rolling up his window, he drove off.
Trip flipped his headlights back to high beam and started searching the side of the road up ahead as he drove slowly along the highway. He found a spot with what looked like fresh tire marks on the grassy edge and got out to check it with a flashlight. Nothing there, so he got back in the truck, fighting a sinking feeling that wouldn’t go away.
The tracks were new. How new he couldn’t tell, but new enough it was possible they were made by Faith’s car, and they brought home the reality of her situation. The icy night, the slick road, the frightened children, the panic.
What was going on? Could this be the work of Neil Roberts? The timing seemed too tight to finger Roberts. The man was brighter than your average serial killer, but he wasn’t psychic. So how could he have connected Faith to Trip, unless he’d been trailing Trip, seen Trip depart the school alone, then stayed around to see Faith leave with the children. How had he put it all together?
It seemed a long shot. But, oh, God, if that man got his hands on the kids or Faith…
He found another spot in the frozen mud, with deep tracks that looked pretty fresh. His gut told him this was it. He took a moment to unlock the shotgun from the back window and load it. He labored up an incline, slipping and sliding with each step. The ground was torn, mud oozing like dark blood from a fresh wound. Upon reaching the top, he shined his flashlight in an arc and found himself staring at a gray sedan about thirty yards away. The passenger side of the car was pressed up against three or four pines and a pile of rocks.
He slid down the incline and ran across the ground to the car, reaching it before he’d so much as taken a breath, his heartbeat thundering in his head. If Noelle had been on the passenger side in the backseat she’d be crushed against the trees.
The sharp sound of a baby crying reached his ears as he yanked on the front door. Locked. He yelled and banged, his usual calm in a crisis fleeing in the face of the fact that these children were his responsibility—
He shined the light in the window. Faith Bishop, Noelle and Colin all looked back at him, eyes wide, mouths open, their combined screams penetrating the glass. And then a tiny beam of light hit him on the face. The front door lock popped open and they tumbled out all at once, as though glued together. With tears running down each of their faces, they all looked as though they’d faced a firing squad and the guns had misfired.
He gathered them into his arms, crushing Colin against his chest, his gun arm wrapped around Faith’s back, Noelle pressed against his legs.
“Are you okay? Are you all okay?” he asked, straining to shine the flashlight, looking for cuts and bruises.
“We’re just so glad to see you,” Faith gasped. “I didn’t know if I should chance taking them out of the car. My tank was almost empty and I didn’t smell gasoline, but—”
“You did fine,” he interrupted. “You’re all okay, it’s a miracle.”
“I think my cell phone hit Colin in the forehead and Noelle says her arm hurts.”
He leaned down and shone the light in Noelle’s eyes. She blinked and turned away. As he stood back up and reached for Colin, the little girl flung herself at Faith who lifted her from the ground and hugged her. The beam from the tiny flashlight still clutched in Noelle’s hand pointed heavenward as their breath misted around their heads.
Colin’s bump looked superficial in the wavering light of the flashlight, and there was nothing weak about his grip on Trip’s jacket. The baby nuzzled Trip’s neck, his nose like a little ice cube against Trip’s warmer skin.
“Retrieve what you need from your car,” he told Faith as she set Noelle on the ground. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Before he comes back,” Faith said, her voice trembling.
“He’s not coming back, not tonight.”
“But—”
“Trust me,” Trip said, jaw tightening.
No, a coward like this man would not return to finish the job, especially not when he saw Trip’s truck. Whoever did this had to know he’d run his victim’s car off the road. If he’d been intent on murder, he would have come after it, not driven away.
And that didn’t sound like Neil Roberts.
FAITH SHARED THE FRONT SEAT with both children. Colin was very quiet, his body heavy and limp. Noelle’s head drooped against Faith’s arm.
Faith, on the other hand, was so wired she almost shook. She strained against her seat belt to peer ahead into the night and glance in the rearview mirror attached to the passenger door, ready to jump out of her skin if she caught sight of approaching lights from either direction.
Beside her, Trip called someone named George and told him everyone was safe, to come back to the ranch. Safe? She didn’t feel safe, not even enclosed in the big, warm truck, not even with Trip less than a foot away. She doubted she’d ever feel safe again.
She was so wound up in the lingering effects of the terrifying last hour or so that she jumped as the truck rattled over a cattle guard and under a huge wooden arc announcing the Triple T Ranch. Looking out into the dark fields, she said, “Where are all the cows?”
“Most are down in the winter pastures,” Trip replied.
As he spoke the headlights illuminated a pair of giant fir trees looming like sentinels on either side of the road. Trip drove past them into a large paved area flanked by a sprawling ranch-style house ablaze with lights. An equally well-lit barn and the dark shapes of a half-dozen other buildings loomed in the distance.
Trip hadn’t yet shut down the engine when the door of the house sprang open and a handful of people rushed outside.
“I take it they know about the car chase,” Faith said.
“Looks like it,” Trip said as a heavyset woman with graying red hair opened the passenger door. Bypassing Faith, she crooned assurances to Colin in a lilting Irish brogue as she lifted him from Faith’s arms. An older man asked Noelle if she was all right as he liberated her from the seat belt. Holding the children in protective embraces, they moved off with the others, voices raised as they reentered the house, leaving Trip and Faith alone in the sudden hush.
Trip slammed the truck door and came around to her side. “You’re awfully quiet, Faith. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“Just shaky,” she said.
His fingers were warm and strong as they grasped her hand and gently pulled her from the truck. She landed in front of him. She found his closeness both reassuring and frightening; that much raw male energy was unsettling, but in a totally different way than David Lee’s proximity.
“Thank you,” he said as he released her hand.
Blinking her eyes, she looked up him. “Thank you for what? For almost getting your niece and nephew killed?”
“No, for keeping your head and driving so well no one was seriously injured. In my book, that deserves a thank you.”
“If I hadn’t exposed them to David Lee, they wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place.”
He grew very still, intimidating in his utter silence, until he finally said, “Who the hell is David Lee?”
“My landlady’s son.”
“He’s the one who did this? You saw his face or recognized his vehicle?”
“No, I didn’t see anyone’s face, and the vehicle was just a dark truck, maybe even a van. But it must have been David. Who else would it be?”
Trip shook his head, and though she couldn’t see his expression clearly as the light was now at his back, she could feel the intensity of his concentration. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. A chill snaked up her spine.
“Does this have to do with your babysitter? Did you talk to the police? Has anyone heard from her?”
“You’re cold,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”
Although she knew it wasn’t the cold that was making her shiver, she kept quiet. Leaving the dark behind, she made her way to the porch, where welcoming lights shining through the windows and the muted voices of the people inside reminded her there were still places people called home. Maybe not for her, but at least for the children and for Trip, and that thought brought a dollop of comfort. Maybe for an hour or so she could share their homecoming, she could pretend it included her, too.
She could be safe.
And then she would have to return to her basement apartment where David Lee had a key.
TRIP NEVER ENTERED THE ranch house without experiencing a half-dozen simultaneous emotions, all of which were unwelcome tonight. The place held way too much baggage.
What he needed was a few minutes to think, but that wasn’t going to happen right away. As Mrs. Murphy made a fuss over Faith, he paused by the big oak hall tree located in the foyer, where he hung his jacket on a hook and caught a glance at himself in the old mirror. He looked pissed. Well, hell, he was pissed. He tried a smile. That just made him look worse.
He dug out his cell phone and called the sheriff’s department, using the number he’d programmed into the phone several months earlier. The sheriff took down the location of Faith’s wrecked car and said to give him a while. Then he called his former boss at the FBI and left a message asking the SAC to include local law enforcement in updates about Neil Roberts.
He took off his gun and holster next and, opening the closet to his right, worked the safe combination and deposited the firearm inside. The safe was one of the very few things he’d brought with him from his old life to his new one. He detoured into the office, spent a few minutes on the Internet, then shuffled through the stack of invoices George had left for him to take care of, while the printer spewed out a dozen images of Neil Roberts. After that, he went looking for Faith and the kids, almost positive where he’d find them.
Mrs. Murphy, his housekeeper, had herded everyone into the big ranch-style kitchen. He was greeted by the smell of beef stew bubbling in a huge cast-iron pot atop the stove and the warmth of a flickering fire in the grate. This was his favorite room in the house, the room that always seemed to wrap its arms around you on a cold night.
Faith sat on a wooden chair with Colin in her lap, while Mrs. Murphy examined the baby head to toe, clucking and fussing as she did so. The little boy had a yellowish knot on his forehead the size of a quarter and wore only a diaper.
Mrs. Murphy looked up from her task and zeroed in on Trip. “Did you find out anything about G-I-N-A?”
Trip shook his head, willing himself not to glance at Noelle.
“Tell me the truth now, was this accident connected to her disappearance?” Mrs. Murphy persisted.
“I can’t see how…I just don’t know,” Trip said. He turned to Noelle then. She sat on a chair by the fire, her solemn gaze taking in everything and everyone as usual. It was hard to believe she was the same screaming, crying child as an hour before, the same little girl who had wrapped her arms around his leg and held on for dear life. It was the first time she’d spontaneously responded to him. He was just sorry it had taken being scared to death to bring her around.
He went to his niece and gently tilted her head back while looking into her eyes. He could find no sign of a concussion.
“What’s wrong, Uncle Trip?” Noelle whispered as he rotated one of her small arms and then the other, looking for a sign that something hurt. When she winced, he pushed up the sleeve of her pink T-shirt to find a bruise on her forearm. He pressed it and she flinched a little, but not much.
“What do you mean?”
“Why did Mrs. Murphy spell Gina’s name? Where is Gina? Why didn’t she come to play with me and Colin?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “She may have gone off on a little camping trip.”
Her voice grew very soft as she said, “Did she bring Buster back first?”
Buster? He shook his head as Mrs. Murphy grumbled, “Camping? In this weather?”
“Chief Novak thinks she went south with her boyfriend,” Trip said, releasing Noelle’s arm and turning to his housekeeper.
“Chief Novak, the imbecile,” Mrs. Murphy snorted, dismissing the man.
“I don’t think Gina liked Peter anymore,” Noelle said.
Mrs. Murphy shot Noelle a frown. “Has that girl been babbling on about improper things?”
“No,” Noelle said.
Trip doubted Noelle had the slightest idea what “improper things” meant. Nevertheless, his niece’s lips slipped in and out of a shy smile. Sometimes the little girl looked so much like her mother that Trip had to glance away to catch his breath. When he did so this time, he found Faith looking away from him as though embarrassed to have been caught watching.
“Nothing wrong with you a good dinner and a hot bath won’t cure,” he told Noelle. “That and one of Mrs. Murphy’s world-famous chocolate cookies,” he added, wondering why Faith and Noelle grinned at each other.
“The wee one is fine, too,” the housekeeper announced. Faith began dressing the baby again as Mrs. Murphy turned her attention to putting food on the table. The housekeeper eventually attempted to settle Colin in his high chair, but the baby had a stranglehold on Faith’s blouse and wasn’t letting go anytime soon. Mrs. Murphy wisely backed off.
Dinner was a tense affair. As usual, George Plum joined them, but instead of going over ranch business, everyone ate in stiff silence, because discussing the things they wanted to talk about—the chase, Gina’s absence—didn’t seem like a good idea in front of Noelle.
There were damn few details to consider, Trip realized as he chewed on a piece of crusty bread he dipped into his stew. Everything was so vague. There was nothing he could pin down, nothing he was sure about except that Gina was missing and Faith had been chased. Period.
He turned to Faith and found her staring at the big black window behind the sink, as though afraid it was about to shatter and let in a thousand demons. He had to know more about David Lee. And he wanted to know what had made her abandon their original plan and drive out to the ranch.
George finally spoke up. “Hal Avery is threatening to quit.”
Trip put down his fork. “He’s got a background in agriculture. We need him.”
“I know. Plus, if he goes, so will his brother, Paul.”
“Paul. Tall guy, red hair, good with pneumonia and scours?” Trip asked.
“Yep. The boy knows his way around animals.”
“Well, we need him, too. What does Hal want?”
“More money,” George replied.
“Give it to him.”
“If we give him a raise, then Paul will want one and then Duke and all the rest.”
Trip sighed. It didn’t matter that running a ranch had never been his idea of a dream job, he was in charge now, like it or not. “Is Duke still off the sauce?”
“Dry as a puddle in late August, far as I can tell. He’s a damn good mechanic.”
“Then if everyone is willing to settle for a modest increase, go for it,” Trip said.
“How much?”
“Modest,” Trip snapped. He took a deep breath and added, “You figure it out, okay?”
George patted his pocket, apparently feeling for the reassuring outline of his pipe, and grumbled, “Okay, yeah, sure. You get around to writing the checks for those invoices yet?”
“Later,” Trip grumbled as he pushed his plate away. Thinking of Neil Roberts, he added, “George, I want you around when we talk with the sheriff.”
“Yeah, okay. Listen, how about the auction on Saturday? They’ve got a Hereford bull listed. We could use new breeding stock. Do you want me to go, or do you want to do it?”
“You do it,” Trip said. Turning to the housekeeper he added, “Mrs. Murphy, your dinner was delicious as usual.”
She fluttered a little as she picked up his plate.
“You want I should take care of Buttercup tonight?” George asked.
“The sheriff isn’t due for awhile, I’ll do it myself,” Trip said. He got up and went to the back door. As he pulled on a coat and his hat, he looked at Faith. It was clear she’d given up trying to eat and was now just trying to stay ahead of the mess Colin was making as he banged his spoon against her plate. “Miss Bishop, would you mind coming with me out to the horse barn so we can talk a little before the sheriff gets here?”
Her gaze darted to the window, but she stood abruptly. “Of course I’ll come.”
She handed Colin to Mrs. Murphy, then leaned down and whispered something in Noelle’s ear that brought a smile to the little girl’s lips.
Trip tossed her a heavy work coat off a hook by the back door and she shrugged it on. It swamped her, but she gamely zipped it to her chin. The expression on her face as she preceded him through the door was that of a woman facing something she was terrified of.
Chapter Four
Faith glanced up at an overhead fixture to find snowflakes swirling through the stream of light. They melted the second they hit the ground. She bundled the large coat closer to her body, glad she’d worn boots to work that morning. Was it really possible only twelve hours had passed since she’d dressed for work?
The wind blew nearby branches against an outbuilding. A loose chain clattered against a metal post. She glanced around the well-lit yard but found little solace in the shadows creeping in from the vast pastures surrounding the house.
When she’d been attacked before, it had come out of nowhere with no provocation. She didn’t even remember the impact of the speeding car and when she’d learned the identity of her assailant it had meant little to her. She hadn’t experienced the same degree of fear she’d experienced tonight.
“Faith?”
She’d stopped walking—she was standing in the middle of the yard and Trip was almost to the horse barn. She trotted to his side, embarrassed by her lapse. He must think she was a nutcase.
“It looks like you’re building something over there,” she told him, pointing at some new construction she’d noticed near one of the outbuildings. She kind of hoped Trip might assume she’d been studying it.
“They started rebuilding the barn that burned down a few months ago, and then thought better of it,” Trip explained. “In the spring, we’ll tear down what’s there and plant the area.”
He was talking about the fire that had killed his sister and her husband. “It was so close to the house,” she said. “Where were Noelle and Colin?”
“With my brother-in-law’s family. You must be freezing, come on.”
The welcome shelter of the barn seemed to wrap her in its arms and she relaxed a little. “Who is Buttercup?”
“My sister’s horse.” At the sound of his voice, a gold horse with a buff-colored forelock and mane tossed her head over the half-open door of her stall and whinnied.
“Is she your horse now?”
He smiled as he looked down at Faith. He had a good face and a good smile. A great mouth. Hard not to speculate what that mouth would feel like against hers. Warmth spread inside at the thought of finding out.
A long pause was broken as he said, “How would it look for a manly guy like me to ride around on a cute little palomino named Buttercup?”
“Pretty silly,” she said softly.
“Exactly.” When his hand slid along the horse’s lovely neck, her own flesh quivered. Buttercup sniffed the brim of his hat as he added, “I’ll teach Noelle to ride her in the spring.”
Faith touched the horse’s velvety nose and was treated to an warm exhalation of breath that caught her off guard. She looked up at Trip again and found him studying her, and tensed as the silence between them stretched like a quivering thread.
He finally walked across the passage and entered an unoccupied stall, returning a second later with a cut of hay and a can filled with grain. He opened the gate and moved inside, the horse following him like a huge yellow puppy, deep rumbles of anticipation in her throat as Trip slid the hay into the rack and deposited the grain in a wall-mounted feeder.
A second later, he was fastening the gate behind him, his gaze once again on Faith. Her hand moved to her cheek, and then her hair, as she glanced down at the hay-strewn dirt floor.
“Aren’t there other horses, like for the cowhands?” she asked.
“They’re in a different horse barn down nearer to the ranch house. This barn houses the family’s animals, more like pets.” He touched Faith’s hand and added, “It’s getting late—we have to talk.”
At his touch, a quiver of recognition jumped through her skin. “Okay.”
He leaned against the nearest wall, crossing his arms. “Tell me about David Lee.”
Faith rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes for a second. The jolt of the crash hadn’t caused any specific injuries, but as time went on she felt increasingly stiff and sore. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about David Lee. “He’s my landlady’s son,” she finally said. “I went home today to find that his dear old mom gave him a key of his very own. He was inside my place, doing repairs.”
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