Forever After

by Catherine Anderson

  “Heef!” she squeaked. “It’s you!”

  Heath realized then that she’d heard him enter the bathroom behind her mother and believed he was one of the other men. A searing sensation washed over his eyes as he cupped a hand over her head and jostled her against his chest to get a better hold. One of her bony little knees jabbed a sore spot on his abdomen.

  “Of course, it’s me, sweetcakes. Goliath wouldn’t let anyone else get this close to you.”

  She hugged his neck so tightly that Heath could scarcely breathe. “I thought they made you go asleep!” she cried. “The gun banged, and I thought they made you go asleep!”

  Imagining how terrified she must have been when she heard the gunshots, Heath gathered her even closer. No child her age should have to go through something like that. “No, honey, no. I’m fine. All of us are fine.”

  Rubbing Sammy’s back, Heath glanced over at Meredith. She still sat on her heels with her hands clamped over her mouth. In the moonlight, her eyes looked like glistening splotches of black water.

  “I think your mommy needs a hug, Sammy,” Heath whispered.

  The child gave his neck another fierce squeeze before turning to reach for her mother. With a broken sob, Meredith caught Sammy in her arms and began rocking back and forth. “Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank God. It’s going to be okay now, punkin. It’s going to be okay.”

  Heath wasn’t certain whom Meredith was trying to reassure, the child or herself.

  Goliath whined and reared up onto the edge of the tub to nudge Sammy’s back. The little girl twisted at the waist to hug the dog’s neck again. The Rottweiler bathed her face, whining and growling, almost as if he were speaking to her.

  “You came, G’liath. I knew you would.” The child rained kisses over the dog’s nose. “I called and called, and you heard me, huh? I knew you’d come. I knew it. And you bringed Heef to help save us!”

  Meredith laughed, the sound shaky and tearful. Releasing her daughter, who was still clinging to the dog, she said, “I heard you calling him.”

  “I did!” Sammy said with an emphatic nod. “I called him real loud. And he heard me, Mommy!”

  A shivery sensation raised goose bumps on Heath’s skin. Had the dog heard her? The possibility defied rational explanation, and yet there was a part of Heath that believed it had happened just that way. The strangest part was that Sammy seemed to take the telepathic communication for granted, as if Goliath’s “hearing” her were the most natural thing in the world.

  Watching the dog and child interact, Heath decided maybe it was. There was surely no sweeter or purer devotion than this. Just love, in all its simplicity, with no barriers or complications.

  Still watching her daughter and Goliath, Meredith pushed to her feet, one arm hugging her waist. Heath rose beside her. When she turned toward him, her face was so pale it glowed like iridescent porcelain in the moonlight. She met his gaze evenly, hers dark with uncertainty.

  “Well,” she said shakily.

  There was a wealth of meaning behind that one word—a question with no easy answers. No matter how they circled it, she was wanted on criminal charges.

  He had backup on the way. At any moment, his deputies would arrive. He should be arresting her right now—reading her her rights, slapping cuffs on her wrists.

  “Meredith,” he said huskily, “talk to me. What the hell’s happening here?”

  Heath wasn’t sure what he expected. For her to start crying again, maybe? To give him an explanation, surely. There was a dead man in her bedroom, for Christ’s sake.

  She moved to the toilet and sat down as if her legs were about to give out. In a voice shaky with fear, she whispered, “He won’t stop with sending only two men. More could be coming, even now, and they won’t give up until I’m dead.”

  He’d already determined that this had been no random B and E, that those men had come here with a specific aim that was somehow connected to Meredith. But murder? “Did you say dead?”

  She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “That’s why they came,” she said, pitching her voice so low that Heath had trouble making out the words. “To kill me. They were going to inject me with a sedative, make me go to sleep. Then they were going to douse the pilot light on the furnace and turn on the gas. It was supposed to look like an accident.” She kept her gaze fixed on the wall, not looking up at him. “If you don’t believe me, the syringe is in there on the floor someplace. And the letter they made me write is in Delgado’s—the encyclopedia salesman’s—jacket.”

  He leaned down to meet her gaze. “Have I got this right? You’re telling me that those two men actually came here to kill you? No figure of speech. No exaggeration. As in six feet under, dead?”

  She glanced toward the bathtub, where Sammy and Goliath were still making over each other. “Keep your voice down,” she said softly. “I don’t want her upset.”

  “Upset? Two gunmen just broke into your house, and you don’t want her upset?” Heath straightened and shoved a hand through his hair. “Jesus. You tell me two men just tried to kill you, and you don’t expect me to raise my voice? I can’t believe this.”

  “Believe it. If Sammy hadn’t run away, I’d be dead,” she whispered. “They were delayed by having to chase her, and then you came.” Her shoulders lifted in a hopeless shrug. “He won’t stop. He’ll just send more men. He’ll never stop. For all I know, he could have sent more than just two this time. Knowing how he does things, probably.”

  “He? He, who?”

  “Glen.”

  Heath had no idea who the hell Glen was. Or why he wanted to kill Meredith. And until his backup arrived, he couldn’t take time to find out. Not if there was a chance more men might be out there somewhere, watching the house.

  He drew his weapon and left the bathroom to make a stealthy tour of the rooms, peering from each window to check the yard and adjoining fields for any sign of movement. Nothing.

  A few seconds later, he heard the kitchen floor creak. The hair stood up at the back of his neck. After all the work he’d done on this place, he knew every inch of that floor. Someone was walking in there. He crept back the way he’d come, his pulse slamming. The kitchen lay between him and the bathroom. If there was another intruder, Heath would have to get past him to reach Meredith and Sammy.

  Damn, it was dark. He crept through the blackness, his ears tuned to catch the slightest noise. He heard another creak, this one near the utility room door. He moved that way, ready to shoot first and ask questions later. Then, in the moonlight that came through the window over the sink, he saw a flash of white.

  “Merry?” he whispered.

  He heard a faint gasp. As she whirled to face him, she moved more fully into the moonlight. Heath relaxed and flicked his weapon back on safety. “For God’s sake, what are you trying to do, get shot?”

  She gave no reply, just stood there with one hand on the knob of the utility room door. Sammy and Goliath stood beside her.

  It was then that Heath realized they had been about to sneak out. Anger streaked through him. Measuring off the distance between them in three long strides, he clamped a hand over Meredith’s wrist. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

  Even in the shadows, he could see the appeal in her eyes. “Please?”

  Just that one word, whispered to him like a prayer. Please.

  Heath knew she had intended to run, that she was begging him to turn a blind eye and let her go. He tightened his grip on her wrist, acutely conscious of the fragile network of bones under his pressing fingers.

  The next instant, he heard cars skidding to a stop out front. A dizzying play of blue and red light danced over the walls.

  “My deputies,” he explained. “Before I came in, I radioed for backup.”

  “Oh,” she said faintly and let her eyes fall closed. “I see.”

  No, Heath thought, she didn’t see. He was the sheriff. He wasn’t allowed to have personal feelings, not if they interfered with his job
.

  His job. Never had it cost him quite so dearly to execute his duties. To do what he had to do, he found himself blocking out reality and performing by rote. Directing his deputies. Calling for an ambulance. And, finally, arresting the woman he had come to love. Reading her her rights. Drawing her arms behind her back and securing her wrists with handcuffs.

  The entire time, Sammy stood off to the side, softly crying, her huge blue eyes filled with accusation. With every word and every action, Heath knew he was destroying the trust he had worked so hard to establish between him and the child. And that was to say nothing of the damage he was doing to his relationship with Meredith.

  Heath drew the line when it came time for the prisoners to be taken into town. Under other circumstances, he would have stayed on at the scene, allowing someone else to provide transport. Not this time. He took Meredith in himself, flaunting regulations by putting her up front in the passenger seat instead of at the back behind wire mesh. He told himself it was because the seats in the storage section, where he usually hauled prisoners, were so uncomfortable. But the truth was, he couldn’t bring himself to subject her to any more humiliation.

  En route to the department, he wanted nothing more than to talk with her. To his way of thinking, he damned well deserved an explanation for all of this. But Sammy was in the backseat with Goliath, able to hear every word that was said. Discussing any part of this mess in front of her didn’t strike him as a wise idea. Meredith seemed of like mind, for she uttered not a word during the whole trip.

  Once at the department, Heath turned Sammy over into the care of Deputy Helen Bowyer. The mother of four, Helen had a wonderful way with kids, and Heath trusted her to make this ordeal as easy for Sammy as possible.

  Tugging uselessly against the restraints on her wrists, Meredith blanched when Helen came to take her child away. She turned an imploring gaze on Heath. “Please,” she whispered so Sammy wouldn’t overhear. “She’ll get so upset.”

  The way Heath saw it, Meredith should have thought about how her daughter might react to this separation before she broke the law. “She’ll be fine.”

  As gently as possible, he grasped Meredith’s arm and forced her into a walk. Even then, she hung back, craning her neck to keep her daughter in sight.

  “She’ll be all right, Meredith. For right now, Goliath’s with her.”

  Once inside his office, Heath locked the door and drew the blinds so they had some privacy. After depositing Meredith on the chair in front of his desk, he stepped around to face her. Folding his arms, he locked gazes with her, giving no quarter.

  “I think it’s time you start talking. Sammy can’t hear you now. No excuses.”

  Meredith gulped, the sound making a hollow plunk at the base of her throat. She was so nervous that she wasn’t sure she could talk, even if she could figure out what to say. At the best of times, Heath Masters was a lot of man to contend with, well over six feet tall, every inch of him roped with muscle. And right now, there was no mistaking that he was coldly furious.

  He stood with his booted feet set apart, his arms folded over his broad chest, his body so rigid that in places his khaki shirt was stretched tight over bunched tendons. The stormy expression on his face, coupled with the stare of his relentless blue-gray eyes, made her mouth go dry.

  “What, exactly, do you want to know?” she asked, stalling for time. She had no idea how to begin. The story sounded crazy, even to her. He would probably never believe it.

  A muscle began to tick along his jaw. “Goddammit, Meredith, don’t play games with me. I want to know it all, from start to finish.”

  He grabbed a straight-backed chair and dragged it over to her. When he sat down, he was so close, he would have been nose to nose with her if he hadn’t been so tall. He corrected that problem by leaning forward and bracing his arms on his knees, the position thrusting his face so close to hers that she jerked away. Unfortunately, the back of her chair only allowed her to retreat a scant few inches.

  “Start talking.”

  She tried to moisten her lips with a tongue that felt like parchment. “I, um…I’m not playing games. Honestly. I just don’t know where to start.”

  He narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced she was being up front with him. With her wrists handcuffed behind her back, she felt vulnerable in a way that brought back memories she’d tried hard to forget, and suddenly she found it difficult to breathe.

  After regarding her relentlessly for a moment, he reached up, jerked off her wig, and tossed it on his desk, his firm mouth thinned into a sneer. Then, with a harsh glint in his eyes, he hooked a fingertip under the strap of her bra, tracing its length to the cup where he tested the thickness of the padding. Meredith did stop breathing then, her heart pounding at the base of her throat.

  The dread that Heath saw in Meredith’s eyes stopped him cold and forced him to take stock of what he was doing. He glanced down and stared at his hand, feeling as if it belonged to someone else. His fingers were plunged inside the cup of her bra, his knuckles pressed intimately against soft flesh, the only barrier between his skin and hers the well-worn cotton of her shirt. Christ. She was in restraints, her arms angled sharply behind her back. He shouldn’t even be touching her.

  He jerked his hand away. Rubbed his face. Rocked back in his chair. When he had regrouped and felt in control, he leaned forward again to brace his arms on his knees.

  “Everything about you is a lie,” he whispered. “One great big lie, from start to finish. Why don’t you start with that? Has there been any honesty at all between us, Meredith? On your part, I don’t think so. I found you on the computer tonight. I know everything, your real name, that you blatantly disregarded a court order and left New York, that you’re wanted for kidnapping. I’d like some kind of explanation. I think I deserve at least that much.”

  When she didn’t speak, he sighed.

  “Start with—what was his name?—Ben? Who the hell is he, and why would he send those men to kill you?”

  She just sat there, staring at him, her platinum-streaked honey-colored hair forming a shimmering tangle around her face, which was still as pale as wax. Dimly, Heath wondered why in the hell she had chosen to wear a wig instead of dying her hair. Probably, he decided, because she’d had no idea how long she might be able to stay in Wynema Falls.

  As if it mattered? He was losing it. Really losing it. He’d just shoved his hand inside her bra, for Christ’s sake. And now his thoughts were racing, none of them making sense. He’d always prided himself on being level-headed, on keeping his emotions in check. Not so tonight. He wanted to shake her, and judging by her pallor, she knew it.

  She fixed her gaze on the floor, her posture rigid. No tears. More importantly, no explanations. Just an awful, brittle self-control, as if she were barely managing to ward off hysteria. Her resolute silence frustrated him.

  “Meredith, for God’s sake, talk to me. How can you expect me to help you, if all you do is lie to me? Has it gotten to be second nature for you, or something? Lie, lie, lie? I have to know what the hell is going on.”

  With a suddenness that startled him, she looked up, her eyes blazing. “I lied to you, yes! No honesty, from the very beginning. Just one lie right after another. If you want to condemn me for that, go right ahead. I did what I had to do to protect my daughter. Nothing more, nothing less! As far as I’m concerned, Sheriff Masters, you can take your sanctimonious attitude and go straight to hell!”

  This, from the lady who wouldn’t say “shit” if she had a mouthful? Heath was so startled by her outburst that he blinked. Nothing changed. She was still glaring at him with a fierceness that was totally uncharacteristic, her small chin thrust forward, her cheekbones flagged with angry color.

  “As for my being wanted for kidnapping? I hate to tell you this, but your precious judicial system isn’t always fair! And neither is life. Do you think I asked for any of this? That I made choices, hoping that one day I’d be sitting here, about to be put i
n prison? I’m going to lose my child, damn you!” She gestured toward the door with a swing of her head. “She’s out there, right this minute, scared to death! Not just because she’s been separated from me, as you seem bent on believing, but because she knows what’s in store for her if we can’t get out of here!”

  Her voice broke at the last, and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip. The pain he saw etched into every line of her face was no lie. He would have bet his life on that.

  “Then talk to me. Let me try to help you. If you don’t tell me everything, Meredith, how can I do anything, except my job?”

  Her shoulders shook. For a moment he thought she was sobbing. Then he realized she was laughing. “Help me?” she finally said. “You just don’t get it, do you? Those men who broke into my house weren’t your dime store variety burglars. They were professionals. Thugs, for want of a better word. They do stuff like this for a living.”

  “Thugs,” he repeated. “And they work for this guy, Ben?”

  “Glen! Glen Calendri, my esteemed ex-father-in-law. He’s an international union official. He has criminal connections.”

  Heath couldn’t believe he had heard her right. “Criminal connections.”

  “Organized crime, for want of a better word.”

  For a moment, all Heath could do was stare at her. “Meredith, the term ‘organized crime’ is generally used only in reference to widespread and very sophisticated crime rings.”

  “I realize that.”

  “Then don’t use the term loosely.”

  She looked up, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I’m not. That’s why you can’t help me. No one can.”

  Heath saw that she was serious. He raked a hand through his hair. “Organized crime,” he repeated. “Your father-in-law?”

  “Yes,” she said faintly.

  “How in the hell did you get tied up with people like that?”

  “I did an incredibly stupid thing.”

  “What?”

  “I got married.”

  “Married? Millions of women get married.”

  She let her head fall forward, her hair forming a curtain that hid her face. “I guess you could say I have lousy taste in men.”