by Alice Sharpe
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.”
“He has a key?”
“What’s hers, she says, is his.”
“And he was in there without your permission?”
“Yes, and that’s not so bad—I mean, he was doing repairs. It’s the way he acted, all pushy and entitled. Anyway, that’s why I was driving your niece and nephew back here. I had to get away.”
“What did he say that made you think he was the one who tried to run you off the road?”
Faith thought back to the confrontation with David and his mother and didn’t know how to phrase her misgivings. Time and the subsequent car chase had dulled the impressions of the brief meeting. Maybe she’d just been supersensitive to his remarks because she’d been with Noelle and Colin and felt responsible for them.
“You’re second-guessing yourself,” he said, taking one of her hands into his. She stared at their joined hands, hers small and pale, his large with the ruddiness of a man who worked outdoors. Did he have the slightest idea what thoughts his touch engendered or of the way he affected her? Was there really something hovering between them or was it all in her head?
“First impressions were bad, I take it,” he prompted.
“Yes. But maybe it was me.”
“Why do you say that?”
How did she admit she lived in a dump and that it had seemed twice as bad when she saw the dark, cheerless rooms through Noelle’s eyes? She shook her head, casually withdrawing her hand and shoving it in a pocket. “The point is, I have no proof it was David. It’s a gut feeling. I mean, no one would want to hurt your niece and nephew and I don’t have any enemies, especially not in Shay. David thought I rebuked him.”
“Did you?”
“Absolutely.”
They both turned their heads as a car drove up outside, light from its headlamps sweeping the doorway.
“That has to be Sheriff Torrence,” he said, straightening up.
“Wait. When we first got to the ranch, I got the impression you thought you knew who did this.”
“Yeah, well, I had a gut reaction, too, just like you did,” he replied.
“Who were you thinking of?”
He put a finger against her lips, his touch unexpected. He dropped his hand almost at once, leaving a tingling sensation behind. “Faith,” he said softly, drawing her name out as though tasting it.
She whispered, “Yes?”
His dark eyes absorbed her, but she could tell he was backing away from saying whatever had propelled him to murmur her name. Thank goodness. She turned, but he caught her arm and she turned again to face him.
“Do you feel it, too?” he asked, his voice very soft, his dark eyes darker than ever, drawing her in.
Shaking inside, she said, “Feel what? No. I don’t feel anything—”
In the next instant, he lowered his head. She knew what was coming. She told herself to back away. She told herself to turn her head.
But she felt powerless to do anything but stay in the moment.
His lips landed on hers with a fiery sputter of lust that shot through her body like a firecracker. In another instant, he’d lifted her from her feet and she’d grasped his muscular arms. His mouth opened, his tongue explored hers, and she reveled in the sensations he evoked. Passion shot sparks through her body, her pulse pounded in her veins, fear and cold vanished.
A car door slammed out in the yard. There were voices.
They broke apart, staring at each other until Trip set her down on her feet again. She couldn’t take her eyes from his face, she could barely believe what had just happened.
“Let’s go,” he said. She sidled past him, happy to escape back into the blowing snowflakes, the black night suddenly less terrifying than her own heart.
SHERIFF BOB TORRENCE was a sturdy man who stood a good foot shorter than Trip. He took off his cap when he entered the house, his shaved head all but reflecting the colored Christmas lights strung across the arch leading into the living area.
“Let me take your coat,” Trip said. Torrence shrugged off the wool jacket with the embroidered emblem on the chest. The sheriff’s shoulders were massive, stuffed into a dark brown shirt tucked into jeans. Boots with two-inch heels helped compensate for his short stature. He appeared to have the same coiled energy as Trip.
George Plum joined them in Trip’s study, a room filled with business equipment, computers and books. Framed pictures of grazing pastures and snowcapped mountains lined the walls and model train engines in glass cases occupied every spare shelf. A large gun cabinet in one corner held a small arsenal, while a cabinet in another corner held a collection of what appeared to be salt and pepper shakers and oriental fans.
The room didn’t fit Trip, at least Faith didn’t think it did. For that matter, nothing in the house fit Trip. The kitchen was frilly, the living room done in floral prints, the wallpaper heavy on garlands. She caught a glimpse of a family portrait on a shelf. A big blond man held a younger Noelle, a pregnant woman who looked a lot like Trip at his side. Obviously, the photo was of Trip’s sister and her husband, and this house was still theirs in every way that counted but one—they were dead.
After concise but very thorough introductions, Faith was asked to tell her story yet again. No new details came to mind as she spoke
.
“Did you get a look at the license plate?” the sheriff asked.
“I tried, but it was dark.”
“The light by the plate must have burned out or been smashed somewhere along the way, maybe when he crashed into Faith’s car,” Trip said.
The sheriff nodded, peering once again at Faith. “Did you notice the color of the plate?”
“I got the impression it was light colored, but that’s all.”
“Washington, Oregon and California all have white plates,” Trip said. “Plus there are vanity plates available in a rainbow of colors.”
“And the truck?” the sheriff persisted. “What color was it?”
“Navy or black, I think. Dark. It may have been a van. Not one of the sleek models. A utility type, you know, higher off the ground, like a truck. And older.”
“Could you tell if there was more than one person in the vehicle?” Trip asked.
“Not really. Again, just an impression, but I didn’t see a passenger.”
“Did the lights come out of nowhere?” Trip again.
“No, I think the vehicle was back there for a while, waiting, maybe, for me to get off the main highway. I can’t be sure.”
The sheriff re-took control of his meeting by clearing his throat. “I’ll have your car towed into the station and give it a once-over. Maybe we’ll get lucky with a paint sample. Do you have any idea who could have been behind the wheel?”
He fixed her with his light gray eyes. She was about to shy away from mentioning David, until she realized she’d already told Trip about him. It was too late now to have second thoughts about the wisdom of incurring David’s wrath, but there wasn’t a doubt in Faith’s mind he would be livid when he found out he’d been fingered as a suspect.
“The only person I know who seems annoyed with me is my landlady’s son, David Lee. I got the impression he’s moved back in with his mother.”
“There’s something else you should know,” Trip said as he moved around to the printer at the back of his desk. He picked up a stack of papers and handed one to George and the sheriff before moving over to Faith. His hand brushed hers as he gave her a copy, and she looked up to meet his gaze, once again jolted by his touch, no matter how casual.
His lips twitched when he looked at her, a hint of what had passed between them minutes before lingering in his glance. Warmth spread through her as she watched him return to the desk, but it dissipated in a flash when she looked down at what he’d handed her.
A man. Craggy face, large nose. Short black hair, small black eyes, tall and lanky. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, wrists cuffed in back, a squad of faceless lawmen surrounding him as they all walked along what appeared to be a corridor.
With a single glance, she knew this man was a world apart from the David Lees of the world. David was a bully, a creep, but the man in the photo personified evil. He had a mad glint in his hard eyes, an aura of superiority in the set of his shoulders.
“Who is he?” Faith asked, and she heard her voice crack.
“His name is Neil Roberts. I received word he escaped yesterday during a prison transfer, killing one man in the process. Roberts killed four women he abducted from their homes or cars. The last time, he got himself a partner. It took me a year, but in the end we got him right before he was set to strike again.”
“But why you?”
“I was the one who figured out who he was. I’m the one who caught him before he killed his last victim.”
“Then you take this seriously?” Sheriff Torrence asked. “I mean, that he might come after you?”
“Absolutely. My old boss called to warn me. He’s not a man given to histrionics. We never caught the man Roberts teamed with—he got away. If Roberts somehow meets up with his old pal, well…”
“Where was this Roberts when he escaped?” George Plum asked.
“California. So, yes, he’s had time to get here, but it seems unlikely he would have had time to identify and target someone close to me.” He addressed Sheriff Torrence. “I don’t know if Chief Novak alerted your office, but our babysitter went missing today.”
“And you think the car chase, the escape and the missing babysitter are linked?”
“Not necessarily,” Trip said. “But that’s why I asked George to join us.” He flipped a finger at the print in his hand and added, “George, I want this picture shown to everyone who works here in any capacity. Tell them all to keep an eye out, but not to approach him if they see him.” He turned back to the sheriff. “We’ll take extra precautions until I hear Roberts has been apprehended.”
“I’ll show the picture to my staff,” Sheriff Torrence said. “And what’s this about the babysitter? Who is she? The same little gal who worked here before the fire?”
“Yes, my sister hired her a month or two before she died. Her name is Gina Cooke. She didn’t show up for work today and her car was found abandoned in town.” Trip exhaled sharply. “Chief Novak thinks she’s gone off with a boyfriend named Peter Saks. I’ll feel better when they track her down, but I have to admit I have no proof anything is related.”
“What does your gut tell you?” the sheriff asked, his voice low and quiet.
Trip looked at Faith, then back at the sheriff. “That something is going on. I just don’t know what.”
Well, Faith thought as the men discussed contingency precautions, so much for feeling safe at the ranch.
Safety was an illusion, who should know that better than she?
Okay, as much as she dreaded seeing David Lee, getting in the way of a cold-blooded killer sounded way worse. That meant she’d have to deal with David. Maybe she’d stop by the store on her way home and buy some kind of lock she could install on the inside of her apartment door. It wouldn’t keep anyone out when she wasn’t at home, but it would when she was asleep at night.
“Faith?”
She looked up to find Trip standing over her. The other men were walking out of the study. As tempted as she was to stay and investigate what had transpired out in the barn, she knew she should leave. Trip was the kind of guy to take responsibility hard. She knew the type well, her brother was of the same ilk. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up with another strong-willed man looking out after her. No, thanks. She was sick of being a victim. She hadn’t moved here for that. She had two good feet.
Use them to walk away. Use them to stand alone.
She broke eye contact and got up from the cozy chair. “I’d like to say goodbye to the children if they’re still awake, and then I’ll drive myself home—”
The words hadn’t left her lips before she remembered she didn’t have a car. She didn’t have a car! Insurance wouldn’t cover a replacement. What was she going to do while she waited for a settlement? The school was five miles from her apartment in a city with no bus system to speak of.
Why hadn’t this occurred to her until now? Had she blocked it out?
The sheriff ducked his head into the room. “Miss Bishop? May I take you somewhere? I don’t suggest you go back to your place tonight, not until we have a chance to talk to your landlady’s son. Maybe your parents or a friend.”
“You said you saw my car. Is it, well, drivable?”
He looked surprised she’d even ask such a crazy thing, and her heart fell. “That bad?” she mumbled.
“It’s totaled. I thought you knew. I couldn’t believe you and the kids walked away from it pretty much unscathed. That was some fancy driving, Miss Bishop.”
That was dumb luck, Faith thought.
“About that ride…”
“I don’t know anyone in Shay.”
“How about a motel?”
“No.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. The fact was, she couldn’t afford a motel. “No, thanks, I’ll be fine. But I would appreciate a ride back to my place.” Maybe she could nail the door shut tonight.
“She’ll stay here,” Trip said. He looked down at Faith and added, “If you want, of course. The
house is huge, you can sleep in the room next to Noelle’s. It’s up to you.”
She tossed a mental coin. Go back to the Lee house and take her chances with David. Stay here and take her chances with a serial killer.
Her gaze lingered on the locked gun cabinet, and then she looked up at the former FBI agent who looked down at her, confidence oozing out his pores, sex appeal trumping the confidence in spades.
Oh, man, she was as good as lost.
So, which was it to be? Fight off her attraction to Trip or her fear of David?
“Well?” Trip probed.
Faith’s gaze landed on the framed photo of the shattered family on the bookcase, and something shifted. This wasn’t just about her, this was also about Colin and Noelle. “If you’re sure it’s okay, I’ll stay for tonight,” she said tentatively. Maybe she’d have the opportunity to talk to Noelle and help her deal with what had been a frightening experience for both of them.
The sheriff had been staring at her, seeing who knew what. Now he said, “You know, Miss, this whole thing may have nothing whatsoever to do with your landlady’s son or some escaped felon. We’ve had trouble with kids out this way before, playing games until it gets out of control.” He shrugged. “Could be a bunch of them got liquored up and piled into a van, driving around until they found a lone car to terrorize. The fact that it was driven by a pretty girl would have been a bonus. When you went off the road, they might have gotten scared and taken off.”
Faith understood he was offering this as a less-disturbing possibility than the other two scenarios. Strangely enough, it kind of was. She flashed him a high-wattage smile. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it did happen that way.”
But she didn’t believe it for a moment.
Chapter Five
Thanks to the ever-efficient Mrs. Murphy, the children had been put to bed by the time Trip showed Faith to her room, which was the old master suite.
“It’s huge,” she said. “Why don’t you use it?”
“Too frilly,” he said as he looked around at velvet chairs and ruffled curtains.
