Wings Of The Dawn

by Tracie Peterson

  “Don’t give up on love,” CJ said, looking up at her husband with such an expression of contentment that Cheryl felt like running away. “It’ll come at you when you least expect it.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Brad said, laughing. “Maybe you should develop a good case of claustrophobia.”

  Cheryl had to smile. “Those bathroom doors in your hotel still sticking?”

  They all laughed, and Cheryl felt the acceptance that she so longed for. Maybe her healing was finally beginning. Maybe CJ and Erik had been right. Maybe harboring bitterness and anger kept a body from healing.

  “Look, I’m going to have to get back,” Erik said, glancing at his watch. “I have to be to work quite early.”

  “Well, don’t worry about a thing,” CJ assured him. “Cheryl will be fine here, and she can stay as long as she wants to.”

  “Good. I’ll rest easy knowing she won’t have any more encounters with the DEA. I intend to talk to Curt first chance I get.”

  He got up, and without thinking, Cheryl followed him to the door. With CJ and Brad awaiting her in the other room, she felt compelled to express her thanks once again. “Erik, I just want you to know that I appreciate what you did for me tonight. I don’t know when any of this will be over, but I appreciate your friendship, in spite of what I might have said in the beginning.”

  Erik’s impish smile returned, and without warning, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Well, maybe someday you’ll be ready for something more than friendship.”

  At that he turned and left. She touched her hand to her cheek and stared after him in stunned silence. He knew all her secrets. He knew about Grant, and the baby, and her father, and still he suggested the possibility of something more than a friendship.

  Cheryl closed the door as soon as Erik fired up the truck. She leaned against the wall and marveled that anyone could know the truth about her and still care. God cared, too, Erik had told her. Dared she believe it, too, might be true?

  Later, that night, Cheryl lay awake in CJ’s guest room. She thought a lot about how CJ and Brad had welcomed her with open arms. They love me, she thought, and instantly she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was true. CJ cared for her. After all they’d come through together. After the desertions and reunions and conflicts and resolutions, CJ still cared for and loved Cheryl as much or more than she had when they were children.

  “It’s me,” Cheryl whispered to herself. “I’m the one who rejected her love. I’m the one who put Erik at arm’s length.” She thought of Erik and his parting words. Cheryl knew from experience exactly what he’d meant by those words. She might be naïve when it came to giving her heart to the wrong man, but she knew the possibilities of what Erik had in mind.

  Maybe someday you’ll be ready for something more than friendship. His words hung in the air as though he’d just spoken them.

  Cheryl thought of the past and what she’d done and how far she’d strayed from what she knew to be right. “I’ve disappointed so many people,” she said sadly. “But most of all, I’ve disappointed myself. I’ve been stupid and very foolish. Now I have a chance to make it all right, and what do I do? I run away. I leave Curt needing vital information—information which I have. I put everyone’s life in danger, and I selfishly cower behind the protection of the only friend I’ve ever really known.”

  The silence of the night weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t deny the truth anymore. She needed to go home and retrieve the papers for Curt. She needed to swallow her pride, admit her mistakes, and go on from there. Grant is dead. Dad is dead. And no amount of mourning would bring them back, nor would it make them into the people she had believed them to be.

  Rolling onto her side, Cheryl began to formulate a plan. Her future depended on coming to terms with the past. And her past could only be concluded when she turned over all the evidence of her father’s in-volvement with the drug ring.

  fourteen

  Erik knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until he’d spoken to Curt about Cheryl’s encounter with the DEA, and yet he had his obligation to the hospital. All through the day, how-ever, he barely kept his mind on work, and it wasn’t until he’d nearly thrown out the wrong specimens that his supervisor pulled him aside.

  “You got a problem, Erik?”

  “Look, Joe, I’m sorry. I’ve got some family troubles, and I guess my mind is just a wee bit preoccupied.”

  “Just a wee bit,” Joe said with a laugh. “Look, why don’t you clear out of here?” He glanced at his watch. “There’s less than two hours left on the shift, and who knows what kind of damage you could do in that time?”

  “It’s okay, I’ll stay. I mean, I’m off tomorrow and the next day anyway.”

  “No, I insist. You’re making me a nervous wreck. Now go shower and get out of here.”

  Erik didn’t argue further. He knew he wouldn’t relax until he had some answers from Curt. It worried him that Cheryl would continue to be subjected to DEA strong-arm tactics, and if he had even the re-motest chance of protecting her from such a thing, Erik was ready to go to battle for her.

  He arrived at Curt and Christy’s around one-thirty in the afternoon, and to his pleasant surprise he found Curt’s car in the drive, while Christy’s was nowhere to be seen.

  With any luck at all, he’d have Curt to himself and not have to explain to his big sister what was going on. Ringing the bell, he was greeted by a stern-faced Curt.

  “We need to talk. It’s very important.” Erik paused before adding, “It’s about Cheryl.”

  “Okay,” Curt said, sounding rather hesitant.

  “Are we alone?” Erik questioned, glancing around as Curt led them to the kitchen.

  Curt threw his suit coat onto a chair in the hall before replying. “Yeah, matter of fact, I was just stopping in for lunch. You want something?”

  “No. I’d rather get this off my chest first.” Erik couldn’t help re-membering how angry he’d made Curt when he’d interfered with his investigation. Would he see this as yet another interference? What if Curt thought the DEA had handled things exactly right? Feeling a frustration born of anxiety, Erik blurted out the first thing on his mind. “I don’t like the way your people are treating Cheryl.”

  Curt had just opened the refrigerator and turned to stare blankly at Erik. “What are you talking about now?”

  “Look, I took Cheryl out to spend some time with CJ. She was so upset and spooked that she thought she’d seen someone at the kitchen window last night.”

  “And had she?”

  Erik shrugged. “I don’t know. I was going to go outside and check, but she didn’t seem to want me to leave her. At first she lied and told me it was her father’s birthday. Later, at CJ’s, she came clean and told me it was just everything getting to her, including the DEA’s rather ugly visit a few days ago.”

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Curt said and returned to the refrigerator to rummage around for his lunch. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me everything from the beginning? I’m just going to make a sandwich. You want one?”

  “No.” Erik tried to explain what he knew about Damon Brooks’s visit. It seemed an inadequate portrayal of what had taken place, but since he hadn’t been there to witness the situation himself, he tried to stick to the facts supplied him by CJ and Cheryl. Curt brought his sandwich and drink to the table and ate in silence as Erik continued.

  “So when CJ said that he’d threatened to break Cheryl’s arms if CJ called you at the DEA office, I figured enough was enough. You guys have no right to treat her like that. Her wrists are black and blue!”

  Curt stared back with a dumbfounded look on his face. “I didn’t know anything about this. When did you say this took place?”

  “I’m not sure. Several days ago,” Erik offered, trying to remember if CJ or Cheryl had indicated an exact date.

  “And the man’s name again?”

  “Damon Brooks. Do you know
him?”

  Curt shook his head. “I’ve never heard of him. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Look,” he glanced at his watch and got up, “I’m going to call in to the office and see what’s going on. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Erik sat back and waited for what seemed an eternity. He was naturally concerned about keeping Cheryl safe, but he was also quite unnaturally overwhelmed with the feelings he had that went far beyond concern for her safekeeping. When had he come to care so much about her? Had it been in the hospital when she’d lingered between life and death and Erik had wondered if Grant Burks would claim yet another life? Maybe he’d really fallen in love with her when she’d pleaded with him to take her away from Curt. It was impossible to say, but what counted was that Erik knew now, more than ever, that he had fallen in love with Cheryl Fairchild.

  Erik could hear Curt in the other room. His voice was lowered, but the anger came across nevertheless. He caught bits and pieces of the one-sided protest.

  “…should have been consulted…”

  “…my investigation…”

  Then Curt’s voice raised. “Look, do we have a Damon Brooks or not?”

  Silence followed, and Erik found himself growing more and more uncomfortable. The only real peace he had in this situation was knowing that Cheryl was safely with CJ and Brad. He didn’t like to think of her at the Fairchild house with no one around to protect her. Of course, she had a security system, but it wasn’t foolproof. If someone wanted to get to her, they’d have little difficulty in doing just that.

  He heard Curt slam down the receiver and stomp off down the hall. Erik got to his feet and came out into the hallway, just as Curt returned, strapping on his shoulder holster and gun.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The DEA has never employed a man named Damon Brooks’. They didn’t send anyone out to speak with Cheryl.” He eyed Erik quite seriously. “That means someone else wants the same information we are after. And the only other people who know that such a list exists and who would have any need for it—”

  “Are the drug traffickers!” Erik interjected.

  “Exactly.”

  “Tell me more about this Damon Brooks,” Curt demanded.

  “I don’t know anything more than I’ve already told you,” Erik answered honestly. “But CJ and Cheryl could tell you everything. Why don’t you call your sister?”

  Curt nodded and reached for the telephone. “I’ll do that.”

  He dialed the number, talking to Erik the whole time. “If it was one of the drug people, we need to put some round-the-clock protection on Cheryl.” He waved Erik’s reply into silence. “CJ, it’s Curt.”

  Pause. “I’m okay, but I need to talk to Cheryl.”

  Erik waited anxiously while Curt listened to CJ. “So how long ago was that?” Curt asked. “Okay. Did she say why?”

  What is she saying? Erik wondered.

  “Okay, CJ. I’ll reach her there.” Curt replaced the telephone receiver and turned to Erik. “She says that she took Cheryl home a couple of hours ago. It seems Cheryl had something important to do. Something that involved giving me a call.”

  “Do you suppose she found the information you had asked for?”

  “I think she’s probably always had it,” Curt replied. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I just wish I could have convinced her to give it to me a long time ago. We could have avoided a great many problems if she had.”

  “But maybe she doesn’t have it at all. Maybe she just wants to talk to you about the investigation and let you look around the house.”

  “There’s no way of knowing unless I ask her. I’m going to give her a call.” He picked up the receiver again. “Hopefully we can get to the bottom of this in short order and I can find out who Damon Brooks is.”

  Erik gave Curt Cheryl’s new unlisted number and waited anxiously as Curt punched in the number. After a long pause, Curt hung up.

  “No answer,” he said in frustration.

  “That’s strange,” Erik said. “She always leaves the machine on to pick up the calls.”

  “I’m going over there.” Curt grabbed his suit coat and put it on, hiding his holster and gun.

  “I’m going, too,” Erik said, giving Curt a fixed and determined stare. “And you aren’t going to stop me.”

  “Look, Erik—”

  “No, you look. I’ve come to care more about her—more than I should, perhaps—and I’m not going to bow out of this gracefully. She’s in trouble, and I want to be there for her. Maybe she has the information you need, maybe not, but either way, I intend to be there for her.”

  Curt considered his words before nodding. “Fair enough, but you do things my way.”

  “I owe you that much,” Erik replied, already heading for the front door.

  They made their way to the driveway, where Erik started to get into Curt’s car. “You follow me,” Curt said. “I think it’s better that way.”

  Erik did as he was told, even though he had little desire to be set off on his own. He feared that somehow Curt would keep him from following or that through some strange twist of fate, Ole Blue would fail him and he’d never make it to Cheryl’s house. But none of his fears came true. Blue started as smoothly as ever, and Curt drove at a steady pace in order to allow Erik to keep up with him.

  At Cheryl’s house, there was no response to Curt’s pounding knock, nor to his multiple rings of the doorbell. The entire place was as quiet as a cemetery, and Erik began to feel fear gnaw holes in his resolve.

  Curt went to one of the living-room windows and stared through the tiny opening where the drapes didn’t quite meet. “It’s too dark to see inside,” he told Erik and went back to the door. He tried to force it open, but to no avail.

  “I’ll go around back,” Erik offered.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Together they made their way around the side of the house, checking along the way for the footprints Erik had wondered about. “If there was someone here,” he suggested, “he would have made tracks right over there.” He pointed beneath the kitchen windows, and Curt made his way over to check the grass.

  “It looks pretty trampled,” Curt said, kneeling down. “I’d say there was something more substantial than ghostly images out here last night.”

  Erik shuddered. “Glad I took her to CJ’s.”

  Curt nodded and got back up. “I just wish she’d stayed there.” He went to the back door and tried it, but it, too, was locked. He tried to look through the door’s curtained window, but again he was thwarted. “I don’t suppose she gave you a key?” he asked Erik.

  “No, we aren’t exactly that close. Not yet.”

  Curt raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead he studied the back door. Then, without a word of warning, he took up a small yard statuette and bashed in the back door window.

  The sound of glass breaking made Erik’s blood run cold. It haunted him in a way that he couldn’t explain. He watched as Curt reached a hand inside and unlocked the door, and still he couldn’t explain his apprehension. What if they were too late? What if the person who had watched Cheryl last night had returned?

  Curt pulled his gun, and Erik felt his mouth go dry.

  “What is it? Did you hear something?”

  “No, it’s what I’m not hearing that makes me wary.”

  Erik frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “There ought to be all kinds of alarms going off,” Curt replied, cautiously moving into the house. “Ben had this place wired to the max. Someone has obviously disabled the system.”

  Erik followed his brother-in-law into the house. Immediately, he could see that the place had been torn apart. Dishes and pans had been pulled from the cupboards, and cans of food and box mixes were strewn about the floor.

  “I’ll wager the rest of the house looks the same,” Curt said, moving toward the kitchen door. “Why don’t you stay here?”

  “Not on your life
,” Erik replied. “She might need me.”

  Curt nodded and motioned him back. “Then stay down and far enough behind me so that I can maneuver.”

  They moved out into the hallway and found the house ransacked just as Curt had figured. Nothing had been left untouched. The cushions of the couch and chairs had been cut apart. Even the drapery linings had been cut away from the drapes. Erik felt a tightness in his chest and throat. Where was Cheryl when all of this was going on? Where was she now? Would they find her upstairs, dead?

  As if reading Erik’s mind, Curt spoke. “She might have found this mess when CJ dropped her off. Maybe she hightailed it out of here and went back to CJ’s.”

  They moved together up the stairs. Erik felt the tension mount. He’d like to believe that Cheryl was safe with Curt’s sister, but it didn’t seem likely. He felt bad. Very, very bad. His stomach hurt, and his breathing came so rapidly that he was certain he’d soon be hyperventilating. Forcing himself to breathe more slowly, he let his gaze travel over the ravages of the intruder’s attack. In the bedrooms, the mattresses had been cut up and searched, while the drawers and closets had been emptied and clothes had been left precariously around the room.

  “They were very thorough,” Curt commented, and after searching all of the upstairs rooms, he holstered his gun and turned to Erik. “My guess, however, is that Cheryl had whatever they wanted hidden away. Apparently they never found it, and my guess is that Cheryl interrupted their search.”

  Curt went to the telephone, then shook his head and motioned Erik to follow him. He went outside the same way they’d entered, then went to his car to use his cellular phone.

  “CJ, it’s Curt again. Look, did Cheryl come back to your place?” Pause. “No, she’s not at her house. I’m here with Erik, and the place has been torn apart.”

  Erik waited helplessly as Curt calmed his sister. “Look, we’ll find her, but if she shows up there, make sure she stays put and gives me a call. Okay?” He pressed the disconnect button and instantly redialed. He looked at Erik while waiting for the call to go through. “I’m bringing in help. This one’s bigger than we can handle alone.”