by Terri Reed
Corinna walked into the hospital room, acutely aware of Ben’s hand on the small of her back, the warmth reassuring. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He towered over her five-foot-four frame. Compassion and determination etched lines in his attractive face. He was handsome, she’d give him that. Dressed in pressed cotton slacks, a pale green dress shirt and sporting a fancy tie, he radiated strength.
Just as her father had. And look what good all his strength had gotten him. Dead.
With a shudder she marched forward. They had five minutes, the doctor had grudgingly stated. She had a feeling that Ben’s powers of persuasion had something to do with the doctor’s acquiescence.
In the bed, hooked up to tubes and monitors, lay the man she’d found wounded in her father’s study. He looked much different now—cleaned-up, pale and at the mercy of the doctors. Empathy formed a tight knot deep inside of her. “Do you know who he is?”
“No. We’ve been unable to ID him so far. I’m still waiting for the facial recognition software database to come up with a name.”
She moved to the side of the bed. Careful of the IV attached to the back of his hand, she closed her fingers over the man’s and leaned close. “My name is Corinna Pike. I’m the woman who found you last night.”
Anticipation gripped her chest. “You were in my house with my father, Ranger Greg Pike. Someone shot you. Can you please wake up and tell us who did this to you? Who shot you? Who shot my father? I need to know who killed my father.” She waited, peering at him for some sign that he’d heard her.
Nothing. His face remained unresponsive.
Ben shifted closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off. Desperation clawed at her. Her throat burned and tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped on to the blanket covering the injured man. “Please. I beg of you. Wake up!”
Still nothing. Disappointment gathered steam. She put her other hand on his shoulder and gave a sharp shake. “Wake up.”
“Corinna,” Ben said in a gentle reprimand.
She released the unresponsive John Doe and stepped back, her clenched fists tight at her sides.
“We need to give him time to heal,” he said.
“But what if he never regains consciousness? He’s the only one who knows what happened.”
She turned to face Ben. There was little doubt that whoever had killed her father had done so because he was a Texas Ranger. They were men and women who faced danger daily, while their loved ones waited in the wings and worried. Then grieved.
She would never live that life again. Not when she knew God wouldn’t answer her prayers for protection. As long as she’d thought God was watching over her father, she had refused to let the deadly reality of his job paralyze her.
Now…fear wanted to devour and destroy.
But it had an accomplice: the unknown.
Ben touched her arm. “I’m going to catch your father’s murderer with or without this man’s help. And I’m not going to let you get hurt, either.”
Resolve to do all she could to help catch her father’s killer sprouted roots in her soul and spread shoots of anger through her, spearing her fears.
Somehow, someway, they’d find the person responsible.
Ben led her away from the unconscious man. “Come on, let’s go where we can sit and talk.” Outside the room, Ben said to the officers standing guard, “Thank you, gentlemen. Let me know immediately if there’s any change.”
Corinna allowed Ben to guide her through the hospital corridors. Ben pushed open a door and led her through a dimly lit room to a larger area. The high ceiling, wooden bench pews and sunlight filtering in through intricately carved stained glass windows brought Corinna to awareness. Ben had brought her to the hospital chapel.
Everything inside her rebelled.
She halted on the threshold to the sanctuary. “No. No, I can’t be here.”
He captured her hand. “Sit with me. Pray with me.”
Shaking her head, she backed away, but he held her tethered to him. “I can’t.”
“Corinna, let God comfort you.”
“No!” She yanked her hand free and moved back into the vestibule. “I don’t want anything to do with God. Not now. I prayed every day of my life for Him to protect my father, but He allowed this to happen.” She wiped furiously at the tears streaming down her face. “Why? Why did He allow this to happen?”
Pain flickered in Ben’s deep brown eyes. “Corinna, God didn’t do this. A human did. A man…” He paused as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Or a woman killed your father and shot that guy laying in a coma. And lest you forget, whoever it was took a crack at you, too.”
“I know God didn’t physically kill my father, but He could have protected him. My father believed, he had a deep faith. Why didn’t God save him?”
“Your father was saved. You have to believe he’s in heaven now.”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” she said, frustrated that he didn’t understand the sense of be trayal burning inside of her. “I don’t understand why God didn’t protect Dad here on Earth.”
Ben sighed, his expression full of sorrow. “I don’t have an answer for you. But I do know that God is good and there is evil in this world.” His expression implored her to understand. “Evil did this, not God.”
A deep aching pain pressed on her lungs until she thought she’d choke. She had to get out of the chapel, away from Ben and his well-meaning words that didn’t answer her questions about God or offer any relief from the pain of being set adrift from all the certainties in her life. “I’ve got to go. I can’t….”
Ben’s expression stilled, frozen in mute wretchedness. He reached out to stop her, but she hurried from the chapel and through the hospital until she was outside in the late morning sun. She knew Ben wasn’t far behind.
She gasped for breath. She couldn’t seem to draw in air. Ben’s words echoed inside her head. Evil did this, not God.
But God could have stopped it, her mind screamed.
Not waiting for Ben to catch up, she ran for her car and drove to the dance studio, the only place where she could retreat, where she could be free of the tormenting question. But somehow she doubted she’d ever be able to erase the look of heartbreak she’d seen on Ben’s face when she’d turned away from his offer of comfort.
And it tore at her heart.
Ben followed closely behind Corinna’s car all the way to the studio to make sure she arrived safely. He didn’t understand her reluctance to allow God to offer her comfort. It made no sense. Ben knew that Greg and Corinna were committed to their faith. Greg had shown Ben the true meaning and power of believing in God. To know Corinna was questioning her faith hurt Ben deeply. One more way Ben would be letting Greg down if Corinna lost her faith.
He pulled his Jeep into a spot a few spaces down from Corinna’s car. He debated going into the dance studio after her. Would she rebuff or welcome his effort?
Deciding his promise to watch over her took precedence over their feelings, he went inside the small crowded lobby. A variety of dancers milled around. Some stretching. Others quietly talking.
Corinna stopped short, frowned and hurried to his side. “What now?”
“You should return to Gisella’s,” he stated, keeping his voice low so only she’d hear him. “We don’t know if you’re out of danger. That guy could come after you again.”
She glanced around and then waved him away from the congregating dancers. “I’m safe here. Look around you. No one is going to try something with so many witnesses.”
He looked around. She would be surrounded by people. But that didn’t mean she was safe. “How long?”
“I don’t know. A couple of hours and then I’m headed to Miriam’s for the rest of the day.”
“Miriam’s?”
“It’s a shelter for battered women and children. We’re having a benefit recital to raise money so the shelter can remodel their kitchen and purchase more beds.”
>
Ah. That Miriam’s. He hadn’t known she was involved so closely with a charity. Especially a faith-based ministry like Miriam’s. “What do you do there?”
“Most of my volunteer time is spent giving dance lessons to the children.”
Impressed, he said, “How long have you been helping out there?”
“Since before college.”
A long time. “Very admirable, Miss Pike.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Thanks. Look, I’ve got to go rehearse. You’re not going to stay here, are you?”
“What time are you going to the shelter?”
“I’m usually there from noon until four.” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Though I would like to visit Gabby today.”
“Are you sure you’re up for rehearsing? Considering.” He gestured toward her biceps where the white square bandage covered the evidence of the violence she’d suffered.
Her gaze slid to her arm. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, determination lit up the dark depths. “My father would be the first person to say I shouldn’t wallow. I can’t just do nothing. I’ll go crazy.”
He understood. He was itching to get out there and track down a murderer. “I’ll have SAPD send a cruiser to patrol the area and I’ll meet you at your car at noon.”
For a moment he thought she was going to argue with him, but then she sighed. “I’ll see you then.”
With a tip of his hat, he watched her hurry into one of the dance studios. Once outside, he pulled out his phone and made the necessary arrangements with the San Antonio Police Department, then returned to Ranger headquarters. He put Corinna at the back of his mind so he could concentrate on finding the person responsible for destroying the Pike family. Or at least he tried.
Corinna’s arm ached something fierce by the time she was finished rehearsing. After two strenuous sessions she wasn’t surprised. Because of the painful wound and the sorrow consuming her heart, she didn’t think she could manage not to cry in front of the children at Miriam’s.
She sent a silent plea for forgiveness upward, to her father, to God, she didn’t know which. She wasn’t strong enough not to wallow just a little more.
She arranged for another dancer to cover her classes at the shelter for the rest of the week. Though the shelter didn’t pay, teaching the children was such a joy. Watching them learn to fouetté, plié and jeté across the floor melted her heart. It was hard to let go, to ask for help, but she had to do what was best for the kids.
As she left the dance studio and all the offers of condolences behind, she also acknowledged Ben had been right. She should have stayed at Gisella’s for a few days before venturing out. Accepting the sympathy of others while trying to maintain her composure was exhausting.
Ben was waiting as promised by her compact car. Concern darkened his expression. “You look wiped out.”
It grated to agree with him. “Yeah, I am. I won’t be going back to the shelter this week.”
Approval lit his eyes. “That’s wise.”
His appreciation twisted her up inside. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or resented it. She turned away to open her car door. “Can you take me to see Gabby now?”
“Of course. Follow me.”
Keeping pace with Ben’s Jeep wasn’t hard. The man drove well under the speed limit. Was that for her benefit? Or was he always so cautious?
She followed him to an apartment complex. The well-kept grounds and pristine buildings were upscale. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. A few mothers with youngsters in strollers walked along a paved path rimming the property. Here and there were other signs of children, a Big Wheel on the porch of one apartment, a doll sitting on the steps of another. Clearly this was a family-oriented place. She peeked at Ben. Was he the settle-down type, not the swinging-bachelor type? Her palms began to sweat.
Ben led the way to his upstairs unit and he opened the door and motioned her inside. Curiosity propelled her forward. What kind of home did he keep? Was he a neatnik? Or would his place be the stereotypical bachelor pad? Somehow, she doubted it.
She found his apartment tidy, yet lived in. The leather couch showed signs of age in the distressed patches. A well-loved armchair looked invitingly comfortable. The beige carpet beneath the shocking-red area rug showed signs of being freshly vacuumed. The opposite wall was dominated by a plasma screen.
“Gabby,” she called out as the bookcase next to the television drew her attention. She made kissing noises that usually enticed the cat to see what was going on.
Ben’s books were a mixture of contemporary fiction titles alongside worn-leather classics. But it was the framed photos on the shelves that captured her interest. A photo of her father and Ben on a fishing trip. Another of a hunting excursion. Photos of various Christmases and Thanksgivings at her house. She was in several photos alongside her father. Her family was his family. Her throat tightened. There would never be another photo opportunity with her father again.
Her gaze snagged on an item sitting prominently on the top shelf. A medium-sized globe made of wood and polished brass. A gift she’d given to Ben a few years ago. Her father had insisted they give a present to Ben as well as to each other every year. Usually she’d let her father buy Ben’s gift since she had no idea what Ben would want or need and really had no interest in finding out.
But this particular year, her father had been tied up with work and had asked her to pick the gift. She’d seen the globe in a little boutique on the Riverwalk. For some reason, she’d felt compelled to buy it. She could still remember the smile on Ben’s face when he opened the box. And could remember the way that smile had made her feel proud that she’d found something he liked. It had been at odds with her feelings for Ben. Did he know she’d chosen it just for him?
“Here she is,” Ben said, drawing her attention. The tabby ambled over and wound around her legs.
Bending down, she scooped up the cat. “Hi, baby.”
The cat purred in response.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Ben asked heading toward the kitchen.
“I don’t want to keep you from…” the words finding my father’s killer stuck in her throat. “Your job.”
She put Gabby down and followed him. Even Ben’s kitchen was orderly. No breakfast dishes in the sink, no crumbs on the counter. The chrome appliances shone as if recently wiped down.
“You’re not.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and held it up.
Taking the bottle, she noticed another framed photo on the kitchen wall. This one was from her college graduation party. She and Ben flanked her father. Corinna had been upset when her father insisted Ben be in the photo. This was her big day, she hadn’t wanted to share it with Ben. But now looking at the picture, she’d give anything to go back to her grad night. She’d endure anyone and anything to have her father back.
“We should talk about your father’s funeral.”
His words slammed into her stomach as solidly as a fist. She didn’t want to think about a funeral. Didn’t want to think about saying goodbye. But she knew it had to be done.
She nodded and numbly walked into the living room. She sat on the couch. He took a seat in the armchair. “Did your father have a will?”
“He did. I’m sure our family lawyer, Marsden Boyle, will have a copy.”
“Do you know what your father’s wishes were for his burial?”
She swallowed the bile rising to burn her throat. “No. That wasn’t something we talked about.”
Ben nodded. “Most people don’t. I believe your dad has a plot next to your mother.”
“Yes, you’re right.” As did she. A shudder ran over her limbs. “I’m sure he’d want his pastor to do the service. Would you mind contacting him?”
“Not at all.” Ben contemplated her a moment. “I can talk with the funeral home as well and take care of everything for you if you’d prefer.”
She looked away to blink back tears. “I would,
thank you.”
Meow.
Gabby hopped onto the couch beside Corinna. Thankful for her cat, Corinna gathered her in her arms and buried her face in the soft fur.
“Corinna, if this is too painful, we can talk more about it later,” Ben said.
Lifting her head, she said, “I just can’t believe he’s really gone.”
Ben moved to sit beside her. He slid an arm around her and pulled her to his chest. “You’ll get through this. We’ll all get through this.”
She wanted to believe Ben. But she feared her world was cracking into a million jagged pieces and if she weren’t careful, she’d shatter too.
SIX
“Is he always so…” Corinna looked for the right word. She wasn’t sure how to describe Ben. “Protective? Compulsively neat? Efficient?”
Gisella laughed. “You’ve known him longer than I have, don’t you know?”
“Not really.” Corinna reached for the popcorn bowl. They were sitting on the couch in Gisella’s living room watching a chick flick, but Corinna’s mind wasn’t on the movie. She was thinking about Ben. About how solicitous he’d been from the beginning of this nightmare. About how protective and accommodating he was. She knew he was hurting just as badly as she was but he didn’t show it.
She supposed the axiom that men compartmentalize their emotions had to be true. At least in Ben’s case.
“What do you mean, not really?” Gisella asked, her dark eyes alight with curiosity.
Corinna picked at the popcorn, crumbling the fluffy kernels between her fingers and letting the crumbs fall to the napkin in her lap. “I’ve known him a long time but I don’t really know him. What’s he like at work?”
“Protective, compulsively neat, efficient,” Gisella replied with a grin.
Corinna threw a piece of popcorn at her. “That’s helpful.”
Gisella sobered and paused the movie. “Really, Ben’s a good guy. Your father thought highly of him. All the Rangers do.”
Corinna knew just how highly her father had thought of Ben. He’d been the golden boy. The one whom her father preferred. Bitter anger churned in her gut. She tried to ignore it. Ben had been so solicitous and caring the past few days as they all coped with the loss of her father. “It must be hard on the company to be without a captain.”
