by Alice Sharpe
“You could change it.”
“When Mrs. Murphy suggested we move Colin closer to her room so she could tend him during the night, I bunked down in his old nursery. It suits me fine.”
“Is your suitcase still packed?”
He ignored her teasing. “Mrs. Murphy said if you’d take her what you need washed, she’ll run a load and have it ready in the morning.” He gestured at a gown and robe lying across the chair. They must have belonged to his sister. “It looks like she set out a few things for you.”
She sat on the edge of the mattress. He couldn’t stop looking at her. When her hand flew to her cheek and then to her hair, he gathered his perusal made her nervous. He sat down next to her. “Do you mind if I ask how you got the scars?”
She looked shocked, he supposed at the bluntness of his question, but he let it stand without qualification. “I was attacked last year,” she finally said.
“A knife?”
“No. A man tried to kill me by aiming his car at me and stepping on the gas pedal. The cuts came from shattered glass.”
Coming from the life he’d led, where he’d heard a thousand worse things and seen the results of even more, he knew this shouldn’t rattle him. But it did. “Did you know him?” he asked.
Her answer was a moment coming. “Not really. I’d met him. But I hadn’t known his true identity. He didn’t hurt me because he hated me or anything. He hurt me to get to my best friend, to frighten her.” Bitterness flickered in her eyes. “My brother is a sheriff up in Westerly. He says it was an impersonal crime.”
“No crime is impersonal, not if you’re the victim,” he said, gently grazing a finger down the scar that ran across her cheek.
She shuddered.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Casting him an upward glance from beneath her lashes she said, “No one ever touches them. They’re ugly.”
“There isn’t one ugly thing about you,” he said, surprised at how much he meant it. “Anyway, they’re hardly noticeable.” He took a chance and planted a kiss on top of the smallest scar, and again she winced.
“Is that why you limp, too?”
“Yes. I’m mostly recovered, though.”
“The car chase tonight must have scared the daylights out of you.”
“The thought I might be responsible for getting the children hurt was the worst part.”
“Managing your regrets is even trickier,” he said.
“Are you thinking of Noelle and Colin?”
“Yes,” he said quickly.
She tilted her head as she stared at him. “No, you aren’t.”
“Faith—”
“Admit it. You’re talking about the bus, aren’t you? You’re thinking about the woman you couldn’t get out in time.”
“So, now you’re a mind reader?” he joked, but she’d nailed him, and he could tell by the wise glint in her eyes that she knew it.
“You got everyone else out,” she said softly. “From what I heard, many of them would have died if you hadn’t been the first on the scene.”
He’d told himself this a dozen times. To her, he said, “True.”
“You don’t sound very sure.”
He met her gaze and decided to try a few words of raw honesty, see how they felt. “Turning away from that one woman as she begged for help is something I’ll never forget. I may have helped save some of the others who might not have made it on their own, but I let her down.”
“That’s being pretty hard on yourself.”
He didn’t respond. So much for the truth setting a man free.
“Was she young, old…?”
“Middle-aged, I guess. She had kids, I think, lived over near the pass. She was a large woman, pinned tight. When the explosions started…” He stopped talking and shook his head. “I don’t usually talk like this. What happened, happened.”
“And you should be tough enough to cope, right?”
“Right.”
“If it were just that easy,” she mused.
They sat there a moment, wrapped in their own thoughts, closer for having shared and yet a little awkward, too. He finally said, “I’ll give you a lift tomorrow morning.”
“That would be nice.” She licked her lips, probably because they were dry, but the action of her tongue slipping across her mouth immediately captured his attention. His last few affairs had been with women just as beautiful as Faith, just as charming, maybe a touch more worldly. No one since moving—there hadn’t been time. He’d had a ranch to reacquaint himself with and two children to attend. Not to mention the staff, the ranch hands, the house personnel…the babysitter. Pieces of lives interrupted and left to him to sort out.
He still didn’t have time for any kind of a deep relationship but these things didn’t always come on schedule, like a plane or a bus. Faith was here now…She was lovely. He might be pretty good at controlling his impulses, but his imagination had a mind of its own.
“You’re off somewhere,” she murmured.
He picked up her hand from where it rested on the quilt. “What is it about you, Faith Bishop?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, but he thought she did.
“In a perfect world, I’d go lock that door and make love to you,” he said.
“Would I have a say in it?” she asked wryly.
“Absolutely.”
“Well, then, in a perfect world, I’d race you to the door to see who got there first to turn the lock.”
She instantly looked surprised by her own words. Before she could take them back, he touched her lips with his own. Her momentary hesitation was gone in a blink. Holding the sides of her head, her hair like silk beneath his fingers, he gently kissed every part of her face he could reach.
She returned the favor, her warm, wet mouth touching his ears and chin and brow, awakening every corpuscle in his body, with a heavy concentration down in his loins. The thrum of her heart beat beneath the pads of his thumbs as he caressed her neck. He wanted to peel her out of her clothes, as she grew softer and warmer with each passing second.
She twisted away from him. Her breathing sounded labored as she rested her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s not a perfect world,” she murmured.
He ran his fingers down a strand of her golden hair and whispered, “I noticed.”
“Trip, I can’t do this with you.”
“Is there someone else?” he asked huskily.
She looked up at him. “No.”
“Then explain it to me. If you’re scared of Neil Roberts—”
“It’s not Neil Roberts. It’s me. I can’t explain it all, but I guess the bottom line is I don’t want anyone worrying about me.”
“It’s too late for that,” he whispered.
“Don’t say that.”
“I can’t help caring for you, Faith.”
For a second she was utterly silent, and then she murmured, “Don’t you understand? Your caring for me is a burden I don’t need or want.”
Her words hung suspended between them. He pulled back a little, not surprised to find her eyes glistening.
“I guess you can’t be any more frank than that,” he said, looking down at her. He didn’t recall getting to his feet, but there he was, standing.
“Trip—”
“I’m curious, though. Why did you say you’d race me to the door?”
“Just because you want something doesn’t mean you should take it.”
“Not even when it’s offered?”
“Not even then. I’m sorry.”
He tried out a devil-may-care smile. “It’s okay. No damage done. I need to go take care of those invoices anyway.” He sighed. “Listen, I’m on the other side of Noelle’s room if you need anything. Mrs. Murphy and Colin are at the end of the hall, although I suspect Mrs. Murphy is still downstairs.”
She walked to the door with him, he suspected so she could lock it behind him. His desire to pull her into his arms and kiss away wh
atever was holding her back was so strong he had to think about placing one foot in front of the other. At the door he paused, about to say good night, when she rushed past him into the hall, obviously listening for something. He went into instant alert mode and reached for his gun, but he wasn’t wearing one.
For one blinding second, his mind flashed back to the pictures of the women Roberts had abducted and subsequently killed. Images of the woman he’d saved just hours before her death, the suffering they’d all endured. He saw their wounds, felt their despair.
Not again!
“I think it’s Noelle,” she said, and before he could stop her, she stepped next door and pushed open the child’s door. He was right behind her, reaching for her, ready to shield her from harm whether she liked it or not.
The room was softly lit by a night-light and except for the child in one of the twin beds, it was empty, the window closed, peaceful. His heart had been about to burst right out of his chest, but it thudded and skidded to a stop now, falling like a burned-out engine after a rocket launch.
Meanwhile, Faith had pulled a chair to the side of Noelle’s bed and perched on the edge.
“What is it, honey?” Faith asked.
He saw the gleaming white of Noelle’s eyes as she sniffed. “Buster,” she whispered forlornly.
“Buster?”
“Gina said she’d bring him to me. Why didn’t she come back?”
Faith looked up at Trip. He shook his head—but then he recalled Noelle had asked about Buster right before dinner. “Who is Buster?” he asked, leaning over Noelle, his hand propped on the back of the chair in which Faith sat.
“He’s my polar bear,” Noelle said, sniffing back tears.
“Are you sure Gina has him?” He looked at the other bed. It was stacked with stuffed animals.
“Yes—”
“How big is he?”
Noelle’s hands came out from under the covers. She held her fingers together, making a circle the size of a softball.
“Why did Gina take him?” he asked.
“I tore his ear,” Noelle mumbled into her blankets. “Gina said she’d take him home and sew him back together so his stuffing wouldn’t come out.”
“Buster is special to you,” Faith said gently.
“Mommy gave him to me. Before.”
No need to ask before what. Before the fire, before Trip came, before everything changed forever.
“What does he look like?” Trip asked, ready to tear into the pile of stuffed animals in case Noelle was mistaken.
“He has a purple ruffle and big black eyes.”
Trip didn’t touch the pile. His mind flashed back to Gina’s car and a white-and-purple something stuck between the seat and the back.
“Did Gina know Buster was special to you?” Trip asked.
Noelle nodded.
“Okay, I tell you what. I know just where Buster is, but it’s too late to get him tonight. How about you go to sleep and I’ll find him for you tomorrow? Can you sleep one more night without him?”
“Okay,” she said with a quiver in her voice.
As Faith soothed his niece, Trip grew silent in thought. Would Gina have left something that precious to Noelle in an abandoned car? There was no way to tell for sure, but his instincts said she wouldn’t.
It didn’t matter what Chief Novak thought, or Gina’s mother, either. He was more certain than ever: someone had intercepted Gina.
Chapter Six
George Plum shattered the peace of the morning by storming into the kitchen, swearing and slapping his hat against his leg.
“There’ll be none of that,” Mrs. Murphy said, pointing a big chef’s knife at him. She’d been slicing fruit for the children who sat at the table, oblivious to George’s profane bluster.
George apologized, properly cowed. He plopped down across from Trip. “Duke Perry didn’t show up for work and he isn’t answering his phone.”
“What about Hal and Paul?”
“I offered them five percent. They seem content enough, at least for now, but we need Duke. The tractor is dead in the water and the cows down in the east pasture need feed.” He grimaced. “We’re supposed to get a foot of snow next week, hell, we were out there this morning, breaking ice on the water troughs. I’m going into town to Duke’s place to see if he fell off the wagon and is sleeping one off.”
“How about the photo? Did you show it around?”
“Not yet.”
Not yet. George’s priority was feeding cows, not keeping killers at bay. Trip went back to the den and got a few copies, then went outside with George. They found Hal and Paul and a handful of other hands in the machine shop staring at the dead tractor, drinking coffee and stamping their feet against the cold.
Trip handed out the photos and the warnings, assigned one of the men to keep a close eye on the house for the day, then pulled aside the younger of the Avery brothers. After he had enlisted Paul’s aid, Trip went back inside to find Noelle waiting for him, her backpack slung over her thin shoulders. Faith stood at the counter downing coffee.
“Ready to go?”
Noelle finished her juice, then Faith buttoned her coat up to her chin and pulled on a knit cap she fished from her pocket. For the tenth time since seeing her that morning, he acknowledged wanting her like he’d never wanted anyone before.
Had it ever happened this fast before? Lust, sure. But this other thing, this desire just to be near a woman?
As Colin threw cereal all over the kitchen, Trip paused by Mrs. Murphy and lowered his voice. “Don’t let the baby out of your sight today. And please, if you don’t mind, stay inside.”
A shadow crossed the housekeeper’s face as she nodded at him.
Recalling how she’d shuddered after he’d shown her the picture of Neil Roberts, he had a feeling she’d barricade herself and Colin behind locked doors without complaint. “If Gina doesn’t show up today I’ll find someone else to watch Colin,” he added.
“Be off with you,” she scolded. “The wee one and I will get along nicely, just go catch that dreadful man.”
He felt like saluting.
Instead, he ushered Noelle and Faith out to the truck. Within a half hour, he was at the school, letting them both off near the office.
“Should I keep her here until I go home…” Faith’s voice petered out as she apparently realized that after school she’d be stuck. She quickly caught herself and said, “I can get a ride home from another teacher, but I don’t want to take Noelle to my place. Ever.”
“I’ll pick up Noelle. And don’t worry about getting home—I have business in town later and will give you a ride.”
“No, thanks,” she said, her warm exhalations making ghostly shapes around her face, blurring her features for a moment.
“Please, Faith. Maybe I’ll have found out something by then that you need to know. You can be as independent as you want tomorrow,” he added softly, resisting the urge to grab her shoulders and plant a kiss on her perfect lips.
He could see curiosity steal across her features, at least he assumed that’s what it was. She finally nodded, and then he watched as she and Noelle disappeared inside the brick building.
As soon as they were out of sight, he drove around the corner and pulled up behind a blue truck.
SHAY’S DINER AT THE EDGE of town was the unofficial meeting site for half the ranchers in the area. Since returning to Shay, Trip had taken to stopping by after delivering Noelle to school. It was not only a way to get reacquainted with small town life, but also to keep on top of things. Years of always knowing everything made knowing very little hard to swallow.
On this morning, his aim was a lot more important than a little friendly patter. He’d spied the sheriff’s car in the parking lot. He took off his hat as he entered the noisy building, nodding at Marnie, the waitress he’d known since grammar school. She’d never left Shay, had stayed and married right out of high school, and now had a son away at college.
B
ypassing the group he usually joined, he threaded his way to the back, where he saw Sheriff Torrence and another man at a table for four. He turned when he heard someone in a nearby booth hail him, and found himself looking at the kid from the gas station, Eddie something. No wonder he’d recognized the kid, everyone turned up at Shay’s Diner sooner or later. He nodded a greeting before taking a seat across from Sheriff Torrence.
“Trip, you know Fire Chief Tom Gallows, right?” Sheriff Torrence said.
Setting his Stetson on an empty chair, Trip shook Gallows’s hand. “Sure. You investigated the barn fire out at the Triple T last September.”
With his silver hair and David Niven mustache, Gallows looked more like an aging leading man than a fire chief. “That was a terrible business,” he said.
Trip nodded although the worst of it had been cleaned up and hauled away by the time he’d rearranged his life to come back to Shay. Even the construction of a new barn had been started in an attempt to sweep away the past.
Gallows took a sip of coffee as he added, “I kept thinking I’d find traces of foul play, though who would have wanted to hurt Susan and Sam Matthews? Pillars of the community. Real ranchers, those two. Had it in their blood. They were a great couple. Great parents.”
“Yes,” Trip said. Real ranchers. It was true. Much to their father’s chagrin, Susan had always been much more interested in ranching than Trip had. When she’d married Sam, his father had been ecstatic. “They were great,” he agreed, and meant it. He put thoughts of his sister and brother-in-law aside and directed a question at Torrence. “Did you talk to David Lee last night?”
“We couldn’t find him,” Torrence said. “His mother insisted he was off with friends, but she couldn’t name the friends. She also claims he doesn’t own a van or truck. Says he drives an old white Mercury that used to be hers.”
“What does she drive?”
“We thought of that. A yellow coupe.”
“Are you heading back there this morning?”
“Of course.”
“I want to go to the Lee house with you.”
“In what capacity?” the sheriff asked.
“Curious bystander.”
