by Alice Sharpe
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 plac
es 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 sta
y 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.”
