by Sharon Sala
His thoughts drifted, scattering like seeds in the wind, when suddenly, something clicked in his subconscious. His eyes popped open and he rolled abruptly, ignoring the pain on his backside as he reached for the phone. His hands were shaking with excitement as he dialed the police department.
“Call City P.D., how can I help you?”
“Martha, this is Raymond! I need to speak to Wade immediately.”
“Sorry, Raymond, but he’s out of the office.”
“Then do whatever it is you do to contact him and tell him to get to my house right now! This is an emergency! I just remembered something about the people who kidnapped me!”
Martha gasped. “Yes, sir! I’ll radio him now.”
Raymond hung up, then leaned against the headboard of his bed, weak and shaking. He’d been so certain there was nothing to remember. Now he wondered what else might come as time passed.
Less than five minutes later, he heard a car stop abruptly in front of his house. With a groan, he dragged himself up from the side of the bed and hobbled to the door. He was turning the lock as Wade banged on the door.
“Raymond! This is Wade! Open up!”
He pulled the door wide, his gestures jerky with excitement.
“Come in, come in,” he said.
Judd moved in behind Wade, surprised by the change in the man’s demeanor. Earlier, Shuler had been nothing short of hateful, and now he was almost ebullient in his greeting.
“What’s up?” Wade asked. “Martha said it was an emergency.”
Raymond waved them toward the living room.
“Sit, sit,” he ordered. “I have news regarding my captors.”
Judd stopped and turned, his eyes narrowing. “Has someone contacted you?”
Shuler frowned. “No. Why would they contact me now when they’ve already let me go?”
“I don’t know,” Judd said softly. “You tell me.”
Shuler frowned. Again, this man seemed to be insinuating things about him he didn’t appreciate.
“What I will tell you,” Raymond said, “is that I remembered something that happened while I was being held captive.”
“Like what?” Wade asked.
“A pager! I heard the sound of a pager going off, and when they moved past me, I smelled oranges.”
Wade’s expression fell. “Is that all?” he asked.
Shuler glared. “What do you mean, is that all? Isn’t that enough to get you started in a positive direction?”
Wade sighed. “Look, Raymond, as you said earlier, you’ve had a rough week. But you’ve got to be serious for a minute. Do you know how many people in this town carry pagers? Besides half the kids in high school, the vet does, the mayor does, all of the city employees carry them. I think both pharmacists carry them, and for that matter, I have one, too, and I damn sure didn’t snatch you.”
Shuler dropped onto the couch with a thud, only afterward remembering his sore backside, but by that time it was too late to ward off the pain.
“Damn!” he moaned, then leaned over on his good hip and put his head in his hands. “What about the scent of oranges?” he muttered.
“Maybe your captor is a fruit freak.”
He looked up, his expression filled with disgust. “That isn’t funny.”
Wade’s lips twitched. “Sorry, Raymond, but what else can I say? It’s not against the law to eat oranges, and I’d hate to have to sort through the people who’ve bought oranges at the supermarket over the past few weeks, trying to find a kidnapper.”
“It might not even be oranges you smelled, but just the scent of orange, instead,” Judd said. “You know…like lemon-scented furniture polish, coconut-scented tanning lotion, peppermint-scented toothpaste—you get the picture.”
“Get out!” Shuler muttered, dragging himself to his feet.
“Now, Raymond, there’s no need getting mad at us,” Wade said. “Look on the positive side of this. If you remembered this much, there could be even more. Maybe some of it will be more helpful.”
“Just get out!” Shuler said. “No one is taking this seriously. Everyone is laughing at me because I’ve got a sore on my ass. They weren’t scared half out of their minds, thinking they were going to die. They didn’t think they’d never see their family again.”
Judd’s sympathy for the man overrode his earlier disgust as he put a hand on Raymond’s shoulder.
“Look, Mr. Shuler, I know this has been tough on you. Have you considered counseling? It might help to talk to a—”
“Oh, sure, that’s just what I need,” Raymond drawled. “Do you know how many people would withdraw their money from my bank if they thought their president was seeing a shrink?”
“I think you’re exaggerating,” Judd said. “And I don’t think you’re giving your friends the benefit of the doubt.”
“I don’t have any friends!” Raymond shouted.
“Now, Raymond. You know better than that,” Wade said. “Why, there were dozens of people who came to see you after you got home from the hospital.”
“They were snooping, that’s all, just snooping,” he cried. “They aren’t really my friends. If they were, they wouldn’t be making jokes about what happened to me.”
Judd glanced at Wade and shrugged. “If what you say is so, Mr. Shuler, then have you ever asked yourself why?”
Shuler blanched. “Why what?”
“Why do you believe you have no friends? Have you treated that many people unfairly? Have you cheated someone enough to make them seek retribution?”
Shuler leaned forward, then buried his face in his hands, his earlier outburst forgotten.
“I don’t know,” he moaned. “I honestly don’t know.” When he looked up, his expression was haggard. “The entire time I was tied up, I kept trying to think who hated me enough to do that, but a face wouldn’t come. Sure, I’ve been tough on some of the bank’s customers, but I have to. It’s my job to protect the interests of the depositors.”
Judd glanced at Wade, silently asking permission to continue his interrogation. Wade nodded.
Judd slid onto the couch beside Shuler, waiting until he was calm enough to listen.
“Mr. Shuler, I’m going to ask you a personal question, and I want you to think very hard about it and then tell me the truth, no matter what.”
Raymond sighed and then nodded.
“Do you really want these people caught?”
Raymond jerked, then looked up, stunned by the question. Not because he was insulted, but because he’d asked himself the very same question more than once. He glanced away, studying the pattern on the carpet as he tried to find a way to answer without making himself look guilty. Finally, he folded his hands in his lap and met Judd’s gaze.
“Honestly…I don’t know.” Then he added, lest he be misunderstood, “It’s not that I liked what they did, but they did let me go. I am home.” He hesitated, then continued. “I don’t know if you can understand this or not, but I have the strangest feeling that if I ever find out, my life will never be the same.”
Judd put a hand on Raymond’s shoulder. “That’s just it, Mr. Shuler. Maybe you have yet to accept it, but your life has already changed.”
Raymond’s shoulders slumped. “What do you want me to do?”
“Tell us the truth,” Judd said.
“But I did,” he argued.
“Then why do I keep getting the feeling that there’s something in your past that might pertain to this incident—something that maybe no one knows?”
Shuler blanched. Hanna was beginning to frighten him. It was as if the man saw past all of his defenses to the weak, scared creature beneath.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.
Judd sighed. “As the saying goes, It’s your funeral.” Then he stood. “I’m through here, Wade. Unless you have something else you wanted to ask Mr. Shuler, I think our business is done.”
“Nope,” Wade said. “Don’t get up, Raymond. We’ll
let ourselves out.”
“Be sure and lock the door,” Raymond said, hating the panic in his voice.
Judd paused and looked back. “One more question, Mr. Shuler.”
Raymond flinched. “Yes?”
“This is a small town. You’ve lived here all your life. Before you were abducted…did you always lock your front door?”
Raymond’s mouth went slack. Silently, he shook his head no.
“Like I said…your life has already changed. What if next time, they take your wife instead of you? Are you going to be willing to forget it then?”
Raymond’s heart skipped a beat, and when the sound of the lock suddenly sounded in the silence they’d left behind, he covered his face and burst into tears.
* * *
The house still smelled of fried chicken, although they’d already eaten and cleaned up the kitchen more than two hours ago. Wade was down at the barn, checking on a cow that was due to give birth, and Charlie was taking a load of towels out of the dryer. Judd was lying on the living room carpet on his stomach while Rachel climbed on and off of him, as if he were a playground toy. Fresh from her bath and dragging her blanket, she smelled like toothpaste and powder, but her little elbows and knees were beginning to take their toll. He grunted as she walked up the middle of his back and then sat down across his backside as if it were a saddle. When her heels dug into his sides, he pretended to buck.
She giggled, then stretched out along the length of his back and pulled her blanket up over them both.
Judd stilled, listening to her baby mutterings, waiting for her to make the next move. But she didn’t. He didn’t know when he realized that she’d gone to sleep, but once he had, it would have taken an army to make him move. He felt humbled by the little girl’s trust, and wished that her mother was as easy to reach.
He heard her sigh, then felt her fisting a part of his shirt, subconsciously anchoring herself to his back. Judd smiled. He was tired, but it was a good tired. Charlie was bound to come back into the living room pretty soon. All he had to do was wait until she came looking for Rachel.
The steady hum of the air conditioner was hypnotizing. He took a slow breath, careful not to disturb Rachel’s rest, and then closed his eyes.
* * *
Charlie put the last of the towels on the shelf in the linen closet, then shut the door. Only after she peeked into Rachel’s room did she realize that the little imp had crawled out of her bed again. She turned, intending to call Rachel’s name, when the silence of the house overwhelmed her. She glanced toward the windows. It was already dark. Rachel was afraid of the dark, so she wouldn’t have gone outside. And then she reminded herself, when it came to Rachel, there was always a first time for everything.
She started through the house, checking room by room, telling herself she was making a big deal out of nothing. More than likely, the little imp had snuck back into the pantry for more ‘mallows. But then she entered the living room and froze, unable to believe her eyes.
Judd was on the floor asleep, his cheek pillowed by his hands, while Rachel lay asleep on his back, her precious blanket covering them both.
“Sweet Lord,” she whispered, and reached for the wall behind her for support. Then she moved slowly, dropping into a nearby chair, unable to take her eyes from their faces. Judd looked more vulnerable, even younger, in his sleep. There was a slight frown right between his eyebrows, and Charlie wanted to kneel down beside him and smooth it away. Rachel’s mouth suddenly pursed and then made sucking noises. When Rachel put her thumb in her mouth, Charlie sighed. If thumb-sucking would make her life easier, she might consider it herself. She leaned back in the recliner, careful not to make any noise, then sat without moving, watching them as they slept.
Some time later, Wade came in the back door and went straight to the sink to wash up. It wasn’t until he was reaching for a towel to dry off that the unnatural quiet of the house suddenly dawned.
Frowning, he tossed the towel on the cabinet and stalked through the house, only to come to an abrupt halt as he reached the living room. He didn’t know what struck him first. The image of Judd and Rachel, both asleep on the floor, or the look on Charlotte’s face as she sat watching them sleep. He took a deep breath as a knot formed in his belly. If he wasn’t mistaken, his sister was in love, and with a man they knew precious little about.
Chapter 9
The loss of warmth on Judd’s back was the first inclination he had that the baby was gone. Blinking sleepily, he raised his head and saw Wade carrying Rachel out of the room. He groaned, then rolled over and stretched. It wasn’t until he started to sit up that he realized he wasn’t alone in the room. Charlotte was sitting in the chair by the window. His pulse skipped a beat. How long had she been sitting there?
“Charlie…”
“You are a dangerous man, Judd Hanna.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
Her chin was quivering, and there was a brightness to her eyes that looked suspiciously like tears.
“My daughter has fallen for you, I think. It makes me worry how she’ll react when you leave us.”
If he stood up, he was afraid she would bolt and run, so he turned to face her instead.
“What about her mother?” he asked softly. “Is she going to care, too, or is she going to be glad to see the back of my head?”
Charlie stood abruptly. “This isn’t a game. Playing with people’s feelings isn’t funny, Judd.”
He got to his feet and walked toward her, stopping only inches from where she stood.
“You don’t see me laughing, do you?”
Charlie tilted her head, staring intently into his eyes, trying to interpret what was going on behind that dark, secretive gaze. Finally, she shook her head and then sighed.
“I don’t know what I see, but I know, as sure as my own name, that you’re going to make both of us cry.”
Judd winced. The thought was obscene. He shook his head and then cupped the side of her cheek with his hand.
“No, honey, I wouldn’t do that to you—to either of you.”
“Oh, but you will—the day you pack up and leave.”
Angry with herself for giving away so much of her feelings, Charlie ducked her head as she stood, then started to leave when Judd grabbed her arm.
“Wait,” he pleaded.
She paused.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said softly. “I’ve never mattered to anyone before in my life.”
At that moment, Charlie saw past the man to the little boy he’d been, waiting in the dark for his father to beat him. She knew what she felt, but telling him the truth would be giving him even more ammunition with which to break her heart. And yet lying to him now, at his most vulnerable, was impossible.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “Just know that your absence will leave a very painful hole in our lives.”
Then she walked away, leaving him to digest what she’d said.
Only Judd’s mind wasn’t processing anything past the fact that when he left, Charlotte Franklin would cry. Something inside of him started to give way—something old, and scarred, something ugly that he’d kept hidden. He took a deep, shaky breath and headed for the porch. At the least, he needed some air.
A few minutes later, he found himself at the far end of the corrals and looking back toward the house. At first, all he could see was the dim outline of the rooftop and the faint glow of lights showing through the kitchen and bedroom curtains. Then one by one, the lights in the house went out, leaving it in total darkness. He shoved his hands in his pockets, letting the vast emptiness of the land envelop him.
Off to his right was the pasture where Tucker’s bull had trespassed. It seemed like a lifetime ago since the incident, and yet barely a week had passed. Seven days ago he’d been running away from everything he’d known, rather than face the truth about himself. Now here he was, faced with a truth older than time, and he felt himself withdrawing even further. Ho
w could he let himself love Charlotte Franklin when he didn’t know how to love himself?
His shoulders slumped as he turned back toward the house, and as he did, he saw something that stopped him cold. There was a light in the living room window, burning bright against the night. It took him a moment to accept what it meant, and when he finally did, he felt a lump forming at the back of his throat. What was it Wade had said about that lamp? Something about the lady of the house always leaving it burning until all those she loved had come home?
Wade Franklin was in bed, so that left only one other man for whom that light burned. He swiped a hand across his eyes, angry for the sudden shift of tears.
“Oh, God, Charlotte, don’t love me like this.”
But she wasn’t there to argue, and he had nothing left to say to himself. A few minutes later, he entered the house, pausing to lock the front door behind him. He started toward his room and then paused and went back, turning out the light that she’d left burning for him. Later, as he was drifting off to sleep, the image of that lamp in the window moved across his mind, lingering long enough to give his heart ease. And he slept.
* * *
Just after midnight, the phone beside Wade’s bed started to ring. Trained to wake up at a moment’s notice, he answered before he even opened his eyes.
“This is Franklin,” he mumbled.
“Wade, this is Della.”
The voice of the night dispatcher at the police department was enough to drag him the rest of the way awake. He sat up.
“What’s up?”
“Sorry to wake you, but I think you need to come in. There’s a federal marshall here wanting to use our jail for the night, and with Hershel on his honeymoon, we don’t have a jailer on duty.”
“Tell him to hang tight. I’ll be right there,” Wade said, then hung up and reached for his pants.
A couple of minutes later he exited his room, carrying his boots. His service revolver was on a shelf in the hallway. As he stopped to retrieve it, he heard a door open behind him. He looked back. It was Judd.
