Daughter of Texas

by Terri Reed

  “Yes, it’s wrong,” Trevor remarked as he joined them just inside the doorway of the study. Tall and lanky with blond hair graying at the temples, his blue eyes were hard as ice. “The captain should’ve kept us in the loop. He was too much of a one-man show.”

  Ben fisted his hands and slowly turned to face Trevor. “Do not ever besmirch the captain again.”

  Trevor held up his hands, palms facing out. “Hey, I’m just telling it like it is. Pike was a good captain, but he kept too much too close to the vest. We’re a team, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” Ben rolled the tension from his shoulders as he tried not to see the truth in Trevor’s words. Greg had kept information from the team on occasion.

  One incident in particular came to mind. There had been a string of jewelry store heists across the state. Somehow, Greg had had a lead on one of the thieves. He’d staked out the guy’s house. Alone.

  He’d captured the man and then called in the bust. A stash of jewels had been found on the premises and the thief turned on his cohorts.

  The situation had ended well. But it could have gone terribly wrong. Greg had gone against protocol, risking his life and the investigation. His defense was that he’d worked alone to minimize the chances the guy would get spooked and flee.

  This time, Greg’s holding back had cost him his life.

  “I want a thorough search of the house,” Ben said, loud enough for them all to hear. “There has to be some clue as to why Greg was killed.”

  “On it,” Anderson said and moved away.

  Ben didn’t have to give further instruction. The team knew what to do.

  Ben ignored Trevor’s sharp glance. Though they shared the rank of lieutenant, Trevor had transferred over from Company A last year, so he was fairly new to the team. He hadn’t been with the company nearly as long as Ben and, therefore, hadn’t earned the respect and loyalty needed to lead the team. Having a short temper hadn’t won him any points, either. Ben wondered if the man was as tightly wound with his wife and daughters as he was with his comrades.

  Ben had met Trevor’s wife, Sarah Donovan, once, at the Christmas party last year. A quiet, pretty lady who had seemed to prefer to stay in the background than have attention centered on her. Ben had liked her. The verdict was still out on Trevor.

  Several hours later, their search of the house hadn’t revealed anything. Still no closer to knowing what was going on, Ben left the crime scene techs to finish up at the Pike home and secured an SAPD officer to stand watch near the barn.

  Ben headed to the hospital. Hopefully, their mysterious victim had awoken and could shed some light on the night’s events. He drove through the quiet streets of San Antonio, noting that on this late September night there was little traffic and the hospital parking lot was nearly empty.

  After stopping by the administration desk where he was given directions, Ben made his way to the fourth floor. Daniel and Marvel stood guard in front of the closed door of their victim’s room.

  “Hey, Ben,” Daniel greeted him.

  “Has he awakened?” Ben asked.

  Daniel’s eyes looked troubled. “No. Doc says the guy’s in a coma. He can’t predict when or if he’ll come out of it.”

  Not the news Ben wanted to hear. Disappointment fed his anger. “I’ll contact SAPD and get around-the-clock guards on this guy. Until then, you two okay to stay?”

  Marvel nodded. “I don’t have anyone waiting at home for me, so yeah, I can stay.”

  “No hot dates tonight?” Daniel teased.

  Marvel grinned, even white teeth flashing against his chocolate skin. “Nope. Free agent these days. But I do have my eye on a little filly I met in the park.”

  Marvel was a real ladies’ man, but so far no woman had captured the marathon runner’s heart. “How about you, Daniel? You good to stay the night?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Whatever it takes.”

  Ben nodded, knowing he could always count on the Ranger. Daniel came from wealth but chose to live a life dedicated to serving justice. A life that sometimes came with a price. For Daniel, that had been the loss of his marriage and estrangement from his son.

  “When the uniforms show, you’re free to leave. We’ll convene in the morning at the office.” Ben pressed his lips together as a wave of sorrow hit. He wouldn’t be seeing Greg tomorrow. Not ever again.

  Daniel put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “We’ll find the guy who did this.”

  Ben wished he had the same confidence echoing in Daniel’s voice. He cleared his throat, forcing back his emotions. “Yeah. Call if anything develops.”

  The sound of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum disturbed the quiet hallway. Ben turned to see a white-coated man in his mid-thirties approaching.

  “Doctor Vargas,” Daniel said below his breath.

  Ben stepped forward. The doctor came to a stop.

  “Gentlemen, I see you’re still here,” the doctor said in a thick Spanish accent.

  Ben stuck out his hand. “Ranger Fritz.”

  “Doctor Ramon Vargas.” They shook hands.

  “We’ll be arranging an around-the-clock guard detail for the man in this room,” Ben said.

  The doctor’s dark eyebrows rose. “I thought he was a victim, not a criminal.”

  “We don’t know what he is at this point. And until he wakes up, we’re sticking close.” Ben glanced at the door. “I’d like to see him.”

  “I’m sure you’re aware he’s unconscious,” the doctor stated with a slight rebuff in his tone.

  “I understand,” Ben said, his voice mild, but he held the man’s gaze, making it clear he’d have his way.

  Doctor Vargas inclined his head. “Of course. Always willing to cooperate with the authorities.”

  Something in the doctor’s voice snagged Ben’s attention. But the congenial expression on the man’s face belied any antagonism. Shrugging it off as trauma from the night’s events, Ben entered the hospital room.

  The man lying on the bed was a Caucasian male, with shaggy black hair, pale skin. He looked to be about five foot ten in height with an average build. There was a slight scar under his left eye. No tattoos on his arms, which rested on the blanket covering his body. IVs and monitors were hooked up to the guy. He looked like he was peacefully sleeping.

  Somewhere Ben had heard that people in comas could hear what was going on around them. Maybe he’d wake up if Ben talked to him. It was worth a shot.

  Because at the moment, this man was the key to finding Corinna’s father’s murderer.

  Ben moved to stand next to the bed and leaned in close. “I don’t know if you can hear me or not. My name’s Ben Fritz. I’m with the Texas Rangers. You should wake up now and tell us what happened.”

  Ben waited. The man didn’t stir. Disappointment spiraled through him. Maybe it was too soon.

  “I told you he was unconscious,” Doctor Vargas said from the foot of the bed.

  “So you did. Any idea when he’ll wake up?”

  The doctor gave him a droll look. “I’m not a psychic, Ranger Fritz. When his mind and body are ready to heal, they will.”

  Ben nodded. “I pray it’s sooner rather than later.”

  The doctor inclined his head and left the room. Ben followed him out.

  “Keep me posted,” he said to Daniel and Marvel before leaving the hospital.

  Fifteen minutes later Ben arrived at his apartment complex outside downtown San Antonio in the northern suburb of Hollywood Park. His one-bedroom apartment was on the second floor in the back overlooking the pool and hot tub. On cool evenings like this it was quiet, but in the summers, when the children were out of school, the noise level rose to deafening decibels. Ben didn’t mind.

  He rather liked the sound of kids having fun as they played in the curved swimming pool and visited in the common area. Happy noises that stirred hope of one day having a family, a wife and children of his own. His dismal upbringing—orphaned by the drug trade at five and then bouncing
around foster homes—could have squashed that dream, not to mention his occupation…but the hope of a family of his own still thrived.

  Tonight, only the gurgle of the hot tub floated on the cool air as he made his way up the stairs. He entered his dark apartment and went to his bedroom to sit on the edge of the double bed. His numbed feelings slowly gave way to the grief and anguish of finding his captain murdered. Ben slipped from the bed to land on his knees.

  Welling grief, sorrow and anger expanded in his chest until he thought he might explode. Silent sobs wracked his body. His heart throbbed with pain.

  “I don’t understand, Lord. Why did this happen?”

  Silence met his cry.

  Ben dropped his face into his hands and wept for the man who had been the closest thing to a real, loving father that Ben had ever known. Greg had taken the time to teach Ben not only about law enforcement, specifically being a Ranger, but had taught him how to be a man. To be kind and fair yet never back down from the principles that they lived by. Greg had included Ben in his and Corinna’s family circle, small as it was.

  He’d enjoyed and looked forward to many holidays spent together at the Pike house. Memories flittered across Ben’s mind. Though they’d exchanged gifts every year, for Ben the best gift of all had been the time spent with the Pikes. Though he and Corinna hadn’t had much of a relationship—she’d always been cool and aloof—he’d still enjoyed seeing her joy at the gifts her father abundantly gave her.

  Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.

  Holidays wouldn’t be the same. He didn’t know if Corinna would want to spend them with him. He doubted so since it would just be the two of them now. They didn’t know each other well. She barely tolerated him as it was. A hollow feeling filled the pit of his stomach.

  He didn’t know how he was going to be able to keep his promise to Greg. He could only hope God would provide the way.

  His cell rang, the shrill sound startling in the quiet. Hoping the call was a break in the case, Ben scrambled to pluck the device from the top of the dresser.

  He pulled himself together and managed to answer without sounding like he’d been blubbering like a baby. “Fritz.”

  “Hi, it’s me, Corinna.” Her soft, feminine voice sounded a bit shaky.

  Concern flared. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m…coping. You?”

  He relaxed, letting the tension in his shoulders ease. “Coping is a good way to describe it.”

  “How is the other vic…victim?”

  His heart twisted to hear the catch in her voice. “He’s in a coma. I have guards posted outside his room.”

  “You really think the killer will come after him again?”

  “I do. I just pray he awakens soon and can tell us who we’re looking for.”

  “I hope that, too. This whole night seems so surreal.”

  Ben understood. He could only imagine how devastated she must be. Greg had always said Corinna was the ray of sunshine that made his world brighter even during the darkest cases. Ben’s chest squeezed. Who would Corinna bring sunshine to now?

  Forcing himself to speak past the tightness constricting his throat, he said, “If you need anything, Corinna, you can count on all of the Rangers. We are your family now.”

  A moment of silence filled the line. “Thank you. I’ll say good night now.”

  “Good night.”

  There’d been an undertone in her voice. Something different than he’d ever heard before. Anger? Hurt?

  He smacked his head. She’d just lost her father. Of course she was hurting. They both were.

  He vowed to do whatever it took to make the person responsible for their pain pay. Dearly.

  THREE

  Corinna stared at the bright blue numbers on the clock. 3:00 a.m. She couldn’t sleep. The nocturnal noises of the horses and other animals that made the barn their home kept her nerves stretched taut. Finally, she left the warmth of the pullout sofa and padded barefoot across the wood plank floor to the refrigerator hoping to find something inside to drink. She wasn’t really surprised to see the fridge empty. It had been a long time since anyone had stayed in the loft.

  Maybe the officer outside would be willing to go inside and retrieve some snacks for her.

  Slipping on her fuzzy blue slippers and feeling the weight of her “just in case” gun deep in the folds of one robe pocket and her cell phone in the other, she left the loft and made her way outside into the yard lit by the glow of a full moon. Gabby followed closely at her heels. Corinna didn’t see her guard. He must be positioned in a strategic place somewhere in the front of the house. She wished she’d thought to ask for his name so she could call out to him.

  At the sliding glass door to the dining room, she hesitated. Ben had made it clear the house was an active crime scene and she wasn’t to go back inside.

  But the crime had happened in the study, not the kitchen.

  And she had no intention of going anywhere near where her father had died.

  With resolve that she’d apologize later if need be, she entered the dining room, and Gabby darted past her into the dark house. Corinna hurried straight to the refrigerator. Since she was there, she decided to grab a bag of potato chips, her one junk food vice, as well as a carton of orange juice.

  A noise disturbed the quiet of the house. Corinna jerked, nearly dropping the bag of chips even as her mind reassured her the noise was just her cat, Gabby.

  Suddenly, she desperately wished she’d listened to Ben and gone to stay somewhere else.

  But her father raised her not to be a coward.

  She needed to stand on her own two feet.

  Which meant facing things that went bump in the night. Especially when it was just her cat getting into who knew what.

  She left her goodies on the kitchen counter and stepped toward the dark hall. “Gabby?”

  A scraping sound came from behind the yellow-taped off, closed door of her father’s study. How had the cat found her way in there? Blood pounded in her ears. The last time she’d opened these doors, she’d been shot and then she’d found her father dead on the floor.

  Refusing to allow the memories to paralyze her, she rushed out of the house the way she’d come in and hurried toward the patio doors. She skidded to a halt. The doors stood wide open. Corinna swallowed back her rising fear as she took out her cell and called Ben.

  A man dressed in all black stepped out of the study onto the patio. Corinna screamed, hoping to alert the officer out front, and jammed her free hand into her pocket. The intruder turned toward her, his face awash in the moonlight. When he started toward her, she wrestled her weapon free, took aim and fired.

  The shrill ring of a phone jolted Ben to consciousness from a troubled sleep. He still had difficulty coming to grips with the reality that Greg was gone. The ringing continued.

  He jerked upright, his eyes quickly adjusting to his shadowy bedroom. The noise emanated from his lit-up cell on top of his dresser where he’d left it before climbing exhausted into bed. A quick glance at the red numbers on his bedside clock revealed the time, three-thirty in the morning.

  That got his blood pumping. He flung the covers aside and reached the dresser in two long strides. He palmed the phone and checked the caller ID.

  The call was coming from Corinna’s phone.

  His heart slammed against his ribs. He pressed the talk button. “Corinna?”

  “Come quick,” she said in a shaky voice. “I need you. Hey!”

  The line went dead.

  “Corinna!” he shouted into the silence.

  She was in danger! Something had happened.

  Pulse-pounding dread filled his veins. All sorts of horrible scenarios played across the screen in his mind. Was she hurt? Had Greg’s killer returned after all? Ben should have listened to his instincts.

  With fear coiling low in his belly, he sent out a text alert to the Rangers at lightning speed, then quickly changed from his drawstring sleep shorts into jea
ns and a T-shirt. Grabbing socks, tennis shoes and his sidearm, he ran from the apartment with his keys dangling from his fist.

  He drove barefoot, taking the curves and running the traffic lights across town to the Pike ranch, the whole while mentally thrashing himself for having acquiesced to Corinna’s insistence she stay at her house.

  Guilt, ugly and feral, reared up to poke at his conscience. His actions may have put Corinna in harm’s way. He’d never forgive himself if she were hurt again.

  He pulled his Jeep to a halt next to Corinna’s compact car and jumped out. Sharp bits of gravel dug into his bare feet but he ignored the pain. Lights lit up the house. He rushed to the front door and banged his fist against the wood. “Corinna!”

  From his right, Corinna came tearing around the corner of the house, her dark hair flying loose around her shoulders, like a midnight cloud. She came to a skidding halt, her bare feet sliding slightly on the slick, dew-damp grass. Her eyes were wild and her body trembled violently beneath the plush softness of her pale blue robe.

  She wasn’t dead. Relief nearly brought him to his knees. He vaulted off the porch and ran to her, drawing her close. She felt so brittle in his arms. His chest tightened with emotions he didn’t want to take the time to examine.

  “What happened?” he asked. He eased her back to look at her. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, her long brunette hair cascading over her shoulders in waves. “No. I’m fine. A man broke in and searched my father’s office. What could he be looking for?”

  His stomach dropped. She was still in danger. “I don’t know. Did you see him?”

  She stepped out of his embrace. “I caught a glimpse of him as he ran out the patio doors. I shot at him but missed. The bullet zoomed past and hit the wall. I chased after him but…” She shrugged with self-deprecation. “He wasn’t encumbered with fuzzy slippers. Even barefoot, I couldn’t catch him. He climbed the pasture fence and took off. I was afraid to shoot at him again because of the horses.”

  Not sure he heard correctly, he asked, “You shot at him? Then chased after him. What did you shoot with?”

  “My gun, of course.” From the folds of her robe she produced a 3-inch barreled, .45 caliber Micro Compact pistol.