by Becky McGraw
Bowman’s eyes sparked with interest, he pursed his lips while he dragged his eyes to the ceiling, evidently considering Zack’s words. The corner of his lips kicked up and his eyes swung back to Zack. “You sure you’re a cowboy?” Randall asked with a dry laugh, as he leaned forward again to put his elbows back on the desk. “You make a very good point. I’ll talk to the detective to see if he can get Jack’s case records, but I have to warn you, it could take a little while since they’re juvenile records.”
“All we’ve got is time,” Zack replied, standing, before he reached his hand back to help her to her feet.
“He also may not agree to contact them,” Randall continued, his voice losing some confidence, his face thoughtful. “It’s not his job to go out in search of victims, but since he’s a friend, he may do it. No guarantees though.”
Heather’s knees buckled, but Zack shored her back up with his arm around her shoulders. “If he says no—we’ll just have to think of something else,” he said firmly, as he reached across the desk to shake the attorney’s hand. “See if you can make it work though, and find out fast, because I don’t want her worrying.” Zack glanced back at Heather and her heart squeezed.
His words, this new plan, didn’t make her feel any better, worry less than she had five minutes ago. Like Randall said, there were no guarantees and this seemed to be a hope and a prayer kind of thing. All Heather had done for the week they’d been in this godforsaken town was worry, and all Zack had done was comfort her. He had to be exhausted from it, and she needed to hide her fear better to stop him from worrying.
“Try to talk to her mother again too,” Zack said, his hand tightening on her shoulder. “She knows what happened, even though she says she doesn’t. Since they’re not married anymore, can she still not be forced to testify?”
“She was married to him when it happened. Unless you can convince her to voluntarily testify, I doubt it. And a hostile witness is the last thing we need, anyway.” His eyes slid to Heather. “She has enough going against her.”
Zack blew out a frustrated breath. “I guess the fact that she was in a mental institution for two years won’t help either.”
“Nope. I’d let that dog sleep,” Randall agreed immediately. “I’ll use her mental records to show the conditions in the home, if I can get them and they’ll allow it, but that’s doubtful.”
“We’ll just have to hope we can find the other girls he’s abused then. They have to exist, because a zebra like him doesn’t change his stripes. That’s why those predator lists are so long.”
“That’s our best bet, I think,” Randall agreed.
With a nod, Zack turned her toward the door, ushered her out, then turned back. “Call us when you hear something.”
“Will do,” Randall said, reaching for his phone.
Zack led her through the lobby, out the front door of the office and down the steps. At the bottom he stopped, his arm slid from her shoulders and he tipped up her chin. “Stop it,” he grated, his eyes boring into hers.
“Stop what?” she asked, her lower lip trembling. So much for hiding her fear, she thought, biting her lip to stop the shaking.
“Being a pussy quitter,” he shot back. “If I gave up that easily when I got on a bull, I’d have been on my ass in the dirt in three seconds. Just hang on, baby, we have five seconds left. Plenty of time to spur that bastard to the buzzer and win.”
Well Heather felt for sure she was going to get gored in the ass by this bull before the ride was over. But Zack wasn’t going to let her quit, until that horn was firmly embedded. Randall had suggested talking to the prosecutor about a plea, which would reduce her charges and get her less time, but Zack said hell no. He was forcing her to finish this. To go after Jack, even when her high-priced attorney told her it was probably useless. More than once. Zack Taylor refused to quit on her, or let her quit. The only person in her life who ever had.
Her heart swelled in her chest so big, it felt like it stopped beating, as she looked into his determined blue eyes. “I love y—” A shot of adrenaline woke her up when Zack’s eyes widened and Heather realized what she’d almost said. Good God—she was an idiot. Dragging her eyes from his, she turned toward the rental car, and stepped off the curb. “Y—your determination.”
“You need to find yours too, sweet thing,” he said in a strange tone, as he followed her to the car. Once he was behind the wheel, Zack put the keys in the ignition, but stopped to look at her for a very, very long minute. Heather didn’t look at him, she kept her eyes out the window, and breathed again when he finally cranked the car.
She needed to be more careful not to let those words even load in her brain, much less escape out of her mouth. That was going to be the toughest thing she did in the next few weeks. Because she knew now, without a doubt, she was absolutely head-over-heels in love for the first time in her life, with a man who wasn’t only out of her league, he played in an entirely different ballpark. One where the Cleavers were in the stands watching him play, not Morticia and Gomez Adams.
Two very long days later, Heather and Zack sat at a small café on the outskirts of Tulsa having a greasy breakfast that she only pushed around in her plate with her fork pretending to eat, because she knew Zack would give her hell. His phone rang where it sat beside the salt shaker, and the bite of toast she’d taken lodged in her throat. Zack held her eyes, as he picked it up and answered. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes,” he said hanging up the phone. He picked up his fork and shoveled up a bite. “Eat up, angel—Randall wants to talk to us about the list.”
The list. Her last chance.
Heather’s stomach rolled, as she watched Zack quickly finish his breakfast, swallow down the last of his coffee. Thank goodness he didn’t notice she hadn’t finished hers when he scraped back his chair to stand. He threw a couple of bills on the table, helped her out of her chair, and she followed behind him on leaden legs. That lead settled in her chest during the ride to Randall Bowman’s office. It got heavier when Randall’s secretary led them into his office.
He was on the phone, so Heather collapsed in a chair in front of his desk, and Zack took the one beside her. Randall finally hung up, then blew out a breath. “Harry agreed to make the calls off-duty, unofficially to talk to those girls. It’s about two hundred calls he’s got to make, and I cashed in every favor I have with him for the next hundred years or so to get it done.”
“Thank you,” Zack said, sitting up straighter.
“I don’t want your thanks, but Harry needs your help. That list is too much for one person to weed through, and although it’s totally against protocol, definitely pushing the envelope of the law, he is giving you half to help him call. He doesn’t want Jack Thomas to catch wind he’s investigating him, that’s internal affairs job, and Harry would get his ass in a crack. He’s putting his career on the line here to help me, so don’t let anyone know what you’re doing.”
His secretary came into the office with a thick stack of papers in a manila folder. She didn’t say anything, just laid it on the desk and pushed it across to Randall. He scratched something hurriedly on his notepad, tore it off and shoved it inside.
“Harry wants Heather to make the calls and she’s to identify herself as Detective Munson’s assistant, Mary,” Randall said, and sickness rolled in Heather’s gut. Making those calls, hearing another girl tell her that Jack had abused them, would probably be the final straw to her sanity. “If you get any inkling you have something, call him. The number is inside the folder.”
“Mary it is then,” Zack said as he stood, took the folder and tucked it under his arm. He reached his hand down to her. “Alright, Sybil, we have one more name to add to your list of personalities. Let’s go, we have work to do, angel.”
Heather shot him a glare, as she took his hand. She had seen that movie about the woman with twenty or so split personalities, and had a mother just as crazy. By all rights, living with Linda Morgan, then Thomas for fifteen years shoul
d have made her just as crazy as Sybil. But she wasn’t—she was as sane as Zack Taylor was and was tired of his little jokes.
“Don’t ever say that again,” she hissed under her breath, as he stopped at the elevator. Zack looked down at her, and frowned. “I am not crazy, have never had a less than sane moment in my life. I know exactly who I am—Haley Morgan. I only became Heather Morrison to survive something no kid should have to face, to get away from parents who should’ve never had a kid in the first place. But that’s not something you would understand, because you were lucky enough to be raised by two sane parents!”
“Whoa, sweet thing,” he said gripping her shoulders. He dragged her to his chest, and hugged her tight, that hug she felt inside again, and her breath came out on a shudder. “I’m sorry, baby—I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just joking, but I won’t ever say that again,” he promised, dropping a kiss on her hair. “I would never purposely hurt you, and you’re right, that was insensitive.” Zack pushed her away, so he could look into her eyes, and his were remorseful, soft and concerned, making Heather feel badly for overreacting—again. She’d been doing that a lot lately, because her insides felt like a mound of fire ants had formed in her stomach. “After this is over, you can just be Haley again, reclaim what they stole from you. We’re going to make that happen, okay? This will be over soon.”
Zack was obviously very upset that she was upset. Why the hell had she even gotten so upset over something so stupid as that? Because you love him, and want his respect. “Let’s stick to Heather—just call me Heather,” she said, feeling a little stupid for making such a big deal out of this. “I’ve almost been that name longer than the one I was born with.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it—when this is over you can make that choice. Right now, we have some calls to make,” he said, guiding her into the elevator with his hand at her lower back.
On the way back to the hotel, Zack stopped to buy her a disposable cell phone. She assumed it was so people wouldn’t trace her number back to him, or be clued in she wasn’t Detective Munson’s assistant. Smart move on his part, but then not surprising.
Zack Taylor had turned out to be a very smart, extremely intuitive man. Very thoughtful too, and funny when he wasn’t joking about her background. Handsome didn’t begin to describe his square jaw, caring blue eyes and white blonde hair—not to mention his tall, tight body—he was sexy as hell. Mouth-wateringly sexy.
After he parked the car, he appeared at her door and smiled as he opened it to help her out. And gentlemanly, she added, as he led her toward the front door of the hotel, and inside.
“Smile, angel. It’s not going to be that bad,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.
“No, it could be worse,” she replied, with a huffed breath as they stopped at the elevator and he pushed the button. “If one of those girls tells me he did that to them too, I might look him up and kill him. Then I’d really be in a fix, wouldn’t I?” Her hollow laugh echoed through the empty lobby.
“No killing, sweet thing—we’re going to kill him in court. Send his ass to prison and let those inmates deal with him. Not only will he be a former cop in prison, he’ll be a convicted child molester. If he makes it through his sentence, I’d be surprised.”
Her eyes flew up to meet Zack’s. “You really think so?”
“I don’t know firsthand, but I’ve definitely heard stories and seen movies,” he replied, as he guided her into the elevator. “He better bring his Vaseline on that prison bus with him, or he’s going to be in a world of hurt.”
Heather laughed as she watched the numbers overhead and a mental picture formed. The lead in her chest softened, replaced by determination to find those girls, the determination Zack said she should have. Zack always knew what to say to make her feel better, she thought, as she circled her arms around his back and hugged him. “Thanks for always talking me off the ledge, cowboy,” she mumbled into his shirt.
He looked down at her, his eyes intense. “We’re on that ledge together, sweet thing. You’re not alone now.”
Not alone. Together. Those words, his arms around her, and that woodsy scent of his banished her fear. She inhaled deeply, stood taller and walked beside him with determined strides to the hotel room door. No matter what happened, the chance to love this man, the first man she’d ever let get close enough to love, made everything worthwhile. If she died tomorrow, she would thank God she’d been given the chance to know Zack Taylor, to love him, because that gift had allowed her to clear the darkness from her heart that had resided there so long, to know what it felt like to love someone, and have them care about her.
Three hours later, she’d made about twenty of the calls on the list of one-hundred-twenty names, and only talked to five girls and one mother. The rest she’d left messages asking for return calls. Of the ones she’d spoken to, the general consensus was Officer Jack Thomas was a rude butthead, but not one of them admitted to any inappropriate touching, or advances.
Finishing the task seemed like it was going to take forever, even with Zack reading the names and numbers to her. She heard him yawn, looked up, and he grinned at her as he sat the paper down on the bed to stretch his arms over his head. The look in his eyes as they dropped to her breasts caused a shiver.
“Time for a lunch break,” he announced, crawling over the bed to kneel in front of her and drop a slow, delicious kiss on her mouth. Heather’s fingers loosened, and the phone dropped to the bed, as she put her arms around his neck, opened her mouth and kissed him back. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more for lunch, she thought, sliding her fingers into his hair to hold him closer.
His laugh filtered into her mouth as he pulled back. “Real lunch, but I’d definitely be on board with dessert later,” he drawled, his eyes glittering as he dropped a leg off the bed to stand. “What do you want from the café? Your usual?”
She had a usual? “Um, a burger would be good.”
“Not the Ruben?” he asked, his eyebrow up.
Heather thought back, and realized that is what she’d ordered for the last few days. That he noticed, remembered, made her heart squeeze. “The Rueben would be good too.”
“Extra kraut, easy on the dressing?” he asked, surprising her more. Then he winked. “I’ll have them cut the crust off the bread, and cut it in half to save you the trouble.”
Heather was speechless, and Zack laughed as he put on his boots and hat, then walked to the door. “Come lock this door. I’ll be gone at least thirty minutes, probably longer since it’s noon, but the food at that diner is definitely worth it.” She eased off the bed to walk over to the door. Zack tipped his hat back, dropped one more kiss on her mouth, then walked out. She only heard him walk away after she flipped the upper safety bar on the door.
Leaning against the door, she covered her sob with her hand. Lord have mercy, how in the world was she ever going to let him go? Her life before she met him, really knew him, now seemed so far away. That life had been so out-of-control, she was on edge every minute of every day, watching her back every minute. Going back to living like that was a damned terrifying thought. A knock on the door had her spinning around. Thinking Zack had changed his mind and come back for dessert first, she turned the knob and pulled it open. The upper latch caught, and it was a good thing, because the person outside the door put his shoulder into it with a grunt.
A scream froze in her throat, as Heather stumbled back when the door rattled violently. Leaning to the right her eyes slid up the door crack, past a black scarf, until they met the flat, black and very angry eyes of Jack Thomas.
“Open the goddamn door, bitch!” he growled, breathing hard as he rammed the door again and it rattled. “I just got a call from a friend who told me you’re snooping where you don’t belong to try to press charges against me?!?” He rattled the door once more, harder.
Heather’s heart pounded in her ears, and fear paralyzed her as her legs hit the nightstand where the phone was. H
er hand knocked the receiver off the base it was shaking so badly, her whole body was shaking, but she somehow managed to pick up the receiver and put it to her ear.
“You better think again, skank!” he shouted gruffly through the door crack, as his long, thick fingers appeared there to grip the inside of the door. “If you don’t back off you’re going to be in a world of hurt—I know people who can make sure you stop.”
After three shaky tries, Heather managed to press the zero on the phone, held the receiver in a death grip to her ear as she heard it ring six times. The clerk finally answered, and she croaked, “I need security to room four-seventy now! Someone is trying to break in.” Heather said it loudly to make sure Jack heard, and knew he had when his hand slid from the door crack.
“Think again, bitch—think or you’ll die!” he growled, before the door slacked to bounce on the frame. She heard a loud punch to a metal door down the hall, which meant he was taking the stairs. “Are you still there ma’am?” the frantic clerk asked, breathing hard as he came back on the line. “Security is on the way up and I’ve called the police…stay on the phone with me.”
“He took the stairwell, I think,” she informed weakly, around the bile in her throat.
Zack please come back, she prayed, with tears gathering in her eyes. I need you. Because right now I want to run as far away as I can go. I don’t want you to lose your ranch, or leave you, but I have to get away from Jack Thomas. And there are more just like him on the way, his buddies.
I know people who can make sure you stop.
Heather’s blood ran cold, and tears clouded her vision. “I’m so sorry, cowboy,” she whispered, grabbing her cell phone and the file folder off the end of the bed, as she stumbled toward the door. She’d take the elevator, walk right out the front door, because she knew Jack would never do that. He stuck to the shadows to terrorize his victims so he didn’t get caught. He wasn’t going to catch her though, because Heather knew where the shadows were the darkest.
