Active Defense

by Lynette Eason

  “Joe’s working long hours these days,” Travis said.

  Heather caught the look his mother shot him, and he pressed his lips together while Sandra rolled her eyes.

  The two continued the conversation while Heather inhaled the scent of the baby and zoned to an inner place she didn’t often let herself go. But this was the picture of the perfect family. At least what she’d envisioned when she was a child who longed for a stable home life and a family who loved her. Really loved her.

  One memory stood out to her. At the age of nine, she’d arrived at one of her foster homes and had seen a pancake box in the pantry.

  “Can we have pancakes for breakfast?” she’d asked the foster mother who was folding clothes into stacks.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said no. Now go outside and play until I tell you to come in.”

  “But I don’t want to go outside. It’s hot.”

  “Go! Now!”

  Then one of the older girls had grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her outside. “Learn to be invisible,” she’d said. “Don’t ask for help. Don’t be a pest. If you’re too much trouble, they’ll send you to a group home or something—and those are awful.”

  Heather had taken those words to heart. And just about every other word the girl had uttered.

  Now those words of the past rose up to twist her heart into a lump of hurt. Sheer exhaustion was lowering her defenses. She passed Lisa to Sandra, cleared her throat, and grabbed hold of the emotions with a skill she’d learned in yet another foster home.

  With Lisa settled in the high chair, Heather took her seat, still grappling with stuffing her feelings back into the appropriate box.

  When she looked up from her plate, her eyes collided with Travis’s, who sat opposite her. His furrowed brow and direct gaze silently questioned if she was all right. Heather forced a smile and nodded.

  The door opened and a man in his midsixties stepped inside, slapping his Stetson against his thigh. “Snowing out there. Gonna be interesting come morning. Who’s up for sledding?”

  The cheers went up from the three older kids and Sandra shook her head. “It’s not going to snow enough to sled, Dad.”

  “Don’t be a party pooper, hon.” He winked at the kids. “There’s always hope.” He washed his hands, then settled in the chair next to Sandra while his eyes locked on Heather. “Hello. I’m Parker. Glad to have you join us.”

  Travis said he’d filled him in on the situation. She was glad about that. The lines next to his eyes suggested he liked to laugh. The firm jaw, straight shoulders, and direct gaze said he’d be a good one to have on your side.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it very much. I’m very sorry about Herman. Sounds like he’s a beloved member of the family.”

  “He is. We’re thankful God entrusted him to us.”

  Heather took the mashed potatoes from Martin and scooped some onto her plate. She looked around once more and a chill settled in her chest in spite of the cozy scene. What if whoever was after her found her here? Would that person hurt these precious people in his twisted desire to get to her? Could she take the chance? Tonight, she didn’t have a choice, but when morning came, she’d have to insist Travis take her to a hotel.

  Once again, she looked up to find his eyes on her and wished she could look into his mind and discern his thoughts.

  At the same time, she was glad he couldn’t read hers.

  Caden raked a hand down his five o’clock shadow. Agitated didn’t begin to describe the angst rolling inside of him.

  After an all-night search, they’d found absolutely nothing in Sam Powers’s physical files to indicate why he would be a part of Heather’s kidnapping. “Powers was a model citizen.” He reviewed the information again, hoping something would jump out at them. “Father of two, devoted husband, some debt, but nothing outrageous that required him to get his hands on some cash fast.”

  “You never know,” Zane said, biting into a protein bar. He chewed slowly. “He could owe a bookie or maybe he’s got another woman he’s supporting somewhere.”

  “True, but none of the money leads to that assumption.”

  “Maybe he’s good at hiding it. We’ve got his laptop. I have a feeling that’s going to be the key.”

  “I sure hope you’re right, because if he doesn’t wake up, we may never know.”

  “Nothing on his accomplice, I guess.”

  “Nope. Without any security footage from the gas station, we don’t even know if the man was there or not.”

  “Heather and the sketch artist did a good job—as good as can be expected when she said she didn’t get a very good look at the driver. The picture is circulating. Hopefully, someone will recognize the guy and call it in.”

  “When did you start thinking so positive?”

  Zane smirked. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

  “What’s her name?”

  His partner’s laughter rang out in the evening air. Then he slapped Caden on the shoulder. “Let’s get some coffee and a big bar of chocolate. I have a feeling it’s going to be another long night, and protein bars aren’t cutting it.”

  “Who are they giving the laptop to?”

  Zane frowned. “That new girl. Daria Nevsky. Annie finished training her a couple of months ago. Although, if you talk to Annie, she said she really wasn’t sure who was training whom by the end.”

  Caden nodded. “Good to know. Hopefully, she’s as ready as Annie thinks she is.”

  “If Annie says she’s ready, she’s ready.”

  “True. All right. Let’s grab that coffee and hurry up and wait.”

  “Don’t forget the chocolate.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  The minute Heather stepped into the kitchen the next morning, Travis knew that she was thinking of leaving. “No,” he said.

  She paused at the threshold and raised a brow. The fact that she didn’t have to ask him what he was talking about spoke volumes. “I’m dangerous to them,” she said. “To your family. How can you want me here?”

  “I want you safe.”

  “I want that, too, believe me. I just want everyone else safe as well. Asher took a bullet because of me, and I can’t have anything else like that happen. Especially not with kids around.”

  “We’ve already covered the topic of Asher’s shooting and the fact that it’s not your fault. It’s the fault of whoever shot him. And Sandra and the kids are a good distance away.”

  “Except when they’re here.”

  “Well, we’ve got a foot of snow outside and more coming down, so I doubt anyone’s going anywhere anytime soon. Including whoever’s after you. We won’t assume that, of course. Every precaution will be taken, but I think we’re okay for the moment.” He paused. “Can I ask you a rather personal question?”

  Wariness entered her eyes, but she nodded.

  “Why do you find it so hard to accept help from people?”

  She blinked. Then grimaced. “Wow. That answer might take a while.”

  “I’ve got time.”

  “Don’t you have a business to run?” He simply looked at her and she sighed. “Fine.”

  “Wanna have a seat first?”

  “Not really. Then I can’t pace.”

  “So pace and talk.”

  Heather grabbed a cup of coffee in silence before turning to lean against the counter, hands wrapped around the mug. “I was in the foster system by the time I was ten. My parents were basically worthless, but I don’t know that I completely blame them for their issues. They were products of their environment. However, at some point, I think a person has to come to the decision that if they want things to get better, they have to do something about it. My parents never did that.” She sipped the steaming brew, and Travis was struck by the distance in her tone. Almost as though she was telling a friend’s story instead of her own.

  S
he walked to the refrigerator and turned to pace back to the counter, her hands still clasping the mug. “I can relate to Ryker so very well. My dad had a quick temper and a set of iron fists. If he didn’t like something my mom or I said, he let them fly. He finally beat my mom to death one night when he was drunk. I was six. He went to prison and did about three years for it before his lawyer found a loophole and he got out on my ninth birthday.”

  Travis had never heard her whole story, just that she’d grown up in the foster system. “Your father killed your mother.”

  “Yes. Broke her nose, and a fragment went to her brain, which caused her to have a stroke and die. At least that’s what I was told.” She glanced away, but not before Travis caught a glimmer of the pain she carried with her.

  “That’s awful,” he said. “I truly can’t imagine and I’m so sorry.”

  “I am too.”

  “And what kind of loophole lets a murderer go free?”

  “The kind where they finally realize he was never Mirandized.”

  “What! How is that even possible?”

  “It’s possible when you have a rookie who brought him in, was asked if he’d read him his rights, and not wanting to look like he messed up, lied and said he did.”

  “Oh, for the love of—”

  “I know.”

  “How’d they find out? Did your dad tell them?”

  “No, Dad later said he didn’t even think about it. He figured he was just too drunk to remember. The rookie let that fact eat away at him for three years until he finally came forward. Dad’s lawyer jumped all over it.”

  “Of course he did.”

  She rubbed her eyes and took a swig of her coffee. “Like I said, I was nine. I’d been staying with a family friend who’d taken me in. They were foster parents and had an opening, so moving in with them was like a new lease on life for me—and I never really considered myself ‘in the system’ until later. Anyway, my friend’s father was in the video game business and wound up being transferred to Germany.”

  “And they didn’t want to take you with them?”

  She shook her head. “Legally, they couldn’t. I was still a ward of the state and my father refused to give up custody rights. I do think Gabriella, my friend’s mother, wanted to take me, but simply couldn’t. I remember hearing her cry at night after that and heard her say she was going to miss me. Before they turned me back over to the system, she prayed with me and told me to do something with my life. That my parents didn’t define me. And to do whatever it took to stay away from my father.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, when I heard my dad was getting out of prison, I freaked. I’d had almost three years of living with a family that didn’t hit each other, I had known what it was like to have a mother and a sister who loved me and a dad who didn’t hit. I was terrified of going back with a father I’d only known violence from.”

  He couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked over and took the mug from her tight fingers. After placing the cup on the counter, he pulled her against him and rested his chin on her head. “I wish I could give you a do-over on the family thing.”

  A short chuckle rumbled from her throat. “I wish you could too.”

  “So, how did you wind up in the foster system—for real—if you went back with your father?”

  She drew in a deep breath and stepped back. He let her go. Reluctantly. But stayed next to her. “I survived almost a year with Roger before I learned that a classmate was in something of the same situation as I was. I heard she’d been taken from her home and placed in a different one, so I asked my teacher how that could be. And she explained it very simply. She said, ‘Children are to be protected, not hurt. When someone hurts a child, there’s an organization that steps in to remove the child from the home.’ Later that night, I put the landline phone in my room, and instead of being my invisible self, I mouthed off to my dad. He punched me in the eye and kicked me in the ribs a few times before I could get to my room, lock myself in, and call 911.”

  Travis’s heart thundered in his chest. “You don’t have to tell me any more. It’s okay.”

  “I’m almost done. You might as well hear the rest of it.”

  He wasn’t sure he could handle the rest of it. He wanted to go back to the prison and give Roger Maddox a taste of his own medicine. “All right.”

  “Anyway, the police arrived shockingly fast.”

  “You were a child in danger.”

  “Over the phone, they could hear him pounding on my door and screaming he was going to kill me. However, when they got there, my dad was passed out cold. He’d given up on me after about thirty seconds of his rant and sacked out on the couch, not realizing I’d called the police and was still on the phone with the dispatcher when they arrived.” Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “I managed to come out of my room and open the door for them while my father continued to snore on the couch. One of the officers was a woman and she asked me what happened. I told her my father tried to kill me, then I blacked out. When I came to, my father was in jail and a nice lady from social services was sitting next to my hospital bed.”

  “And he went to prison?”

  “He did. And I went into the system. Again, I suppose. It was one of the best and worst days of my life.”

  “You haven’t addressed why you find it so hard to accept help from people who care about you.”

  She grimaced. “Right. I think it’s because at my second foster home, two months after the first one, there was an older foster teen also in the home. She intervened during a moment with the foster mother and took me aside. Said she was going to give me some advice.”

  “Oh boy.”

  Heather nodded. “She basically told me that if I wanted to survive, I needed to be invisible, don’t be a bother, don’t call attention to myself, et cetera. She also said that anyone who offers to help you has an agenda. Never accept help from anyone unless you know what’s expected in return. Long story short, I took that lesson to heart to survive, starting in that home and every home that came after it. I have to say, it served me well in the years that followed.”

  “Except when it comes to friends and people who care about you and want to help you—with no agenda.”

  She offered him a sad smile. “Yes, except for that. But I’m working on it.”

  He pulled her back into his arms once more and let her story wash over him. He lost track of how long they stood there. It could have been ten minutes or two, but he didn’t figure he’d get tired of holding her for a long time.

  “Good morning, young people.” His mother breezed into the kitchen, heading for the refrigerator.

  Travis loosened his embrace and Heather stepped back. Slowly, he thought. Maybe even a tad reluctantly? “Morning, Mom.”

  Her eyes twinkled a little more than usual, and he knew she was envisioning more grandchildren. For some reason that didn’t bother him nearly as much as he might have expected.

  Heather refused to be embarrassed at being caught in Travis’s light embrace. The truth was, she liked being in his arms. The fact that she was able to admit it to herself without having a complete breakdown was impressive. She’d never really pictured herself married and with children simply because if she allowed that longing to surface, she’d have to deal with all the emotions that came with it.

  “Heather?” Travis was looking at her with a raised brow.

  She blinked and realized his mother had said something. “I’m sorry. I think I’m still asleep. What did you say?”

  Travis’s mother chuckled. “I asked how you slept.”

  “Oh.” She laughed. “Really well, thank you.” She couldn’t believe it when her eyes had popped open and she’d discovered she’d slept for nine hours without moving. “I guess deep down I knew I was safe and could rest.”

  “Of course you’re safe,” his mother said. “We had all kinds of security out there all night long. I slept like I haven’t slept in ages just knowing people were watching over this
house.”

  “Mom . . .” Travis gave his head a slight shake.

  “Too much?”

  “Just a little.”

  “Sorry.” She turned serious. “Sandra called this morning. Herman took a turn for the worse and she can’t get him out of the barn.”

  “Oh no. I was afraid of that. She’s going to have to put him down.”

  “She knows and had already been making plans to do so.” She gave a small sigh, then forced a smile. “What’s on your agenda for today?”

  “Keeping an eye on things. I’ve got a couple of potential clients I need to touch base with. And”—he turned to Heather—“Caden texted just before you walked in the kitchen.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “Mr. Powers is awake. Sort of.”

  “I see. Sort of?”

  “He’s in and out of it, but the doctors seem to think he’ll be able to answer some questions before too long.”

  Heather refilled her mug and turned back to study him. “I want to go.”

  He nodded. “I figured you would.”

  “You’re not going to try and talk me out of it?”

  “Would it make a difference?”

  Heather tilted her head. Would it? “It might.”

  Debra was busy in the background cracking eggs, pretending like she wasn’t listening. Heather felt quite sure she was processing every word.

  “Then I don’t think you should go.”

  “Because you’re absolutely sure that I’m safe here.”

  “No one followed us. No one knows where you are or has any way to find you. I think you should let Caden and the others do their jobs and lay low. At least until they finish questioning Mr. Powers.”

  He was right. She didn’t like it, but he was right. What good would it do for her to go over to the hospital when all she might accomplish would be to draw the kidnapper’s attention once again? And endanger those trying to protect her. “All right. I’ll stay here.”

  He blinked. Then stared. “You will?”

  She let out a low laugh. “I’m not completely unreasonable. I’ve even been known to use good judgment upon occasion.”