Hope’s lips parted with surprise. She’d told Faith about Sam’s memory problems and his emotional breakdown after he’d mistaken her for Melissa. But she hadn’t been able to put two and two together. For an intelligent, intuitive woman, Hope really sucked at analyzing her own relationships.
“We were talking about Javier, not Sam,” her sister said. “Are you planning to stay in contact with him?”
“No. I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were.”
“Just ‘flighty’ and ‘free-spirited’?”
Hope flinched at her tone. “Faith...”
“Not all of us want to be perfect ladies.”
“I’m not perfect,” Hope sputtered, holding a hand to her chest.
“You’re not a wild slut, either.”
“Yes, I am! I practically begged Sam to fuck me.”
Faith exploded with laughter. She didn’t know what was funnier: the fact that Hope considered this behavior forward, or her frank language in public. “You’ve come a long way, sis. Pun intended.”
“I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to date someone so...”
“Risky?”
“I was going to say unbalanced.”
“Safe choices aren’t challenging, Hope. He might be good for you.”
She looked away, pensive. Faith knew her sister well enough to guess that she was twisting her hands in her lap. Hope wanted to play caregiver and counselor to Faith, even though her experiences over the past two days had been just as traumatic, if not more so. She’d come to L.A. to run from trouble—and Sam.
They finished their drinks and the hearty appetizer. Neither felt like ordering an entrée. The waiter returned to ask if they wanted a refill, courtesy of two men at the bar. Faith didn’t even glance over there. Hope shook her head.
“We’re taken,” Faith said, declining the offer.
They left the restaurant, arm in arm. The feminist art exhibit Faith wanted to see was only a few blocks away. She relished the pinch of her stilettos on the way there, finding comfort in the familiar sensation.
“I was date-raped in college,” she said.
Hope, whose wedge heels were much easier to navigate, stumbled nevertheless. “What?”
“I was raped. Freshman year.”
Hope’s eyes darkened with pain. They were like twins. When Faith hurt, Hope felt it. “You never told me that.”
Faith swallowed, continuing their stroll. “I never told anyone. I think I blocked it out, even from myself.”
“What happened?”
“I was drunk at a frat party. The guy’s name was Brett. I’d actually been dating him for several weeks, and we’d had consensual sex before. That night, I was mad at him for flirting with another girl. I decided to get revenge by teasing him and leaving him unsatisfied. He got mad and...threw me down.”
“Did he hit you?”
“No. I was too wasted to fight. But he knew I didn’t want it. He apologized after.”
Hope stopped to give her a hug. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I didn’t even break up with him right away.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head, sighing. “The next time he took me to his room, I felt sick. I couldn’t be alone with him anymore. He promised to be gentle, but I didn’t want him kissing me or touching me again. I told him it was over.”
“Oh, Faith. I’m so sorry.”
“I know it wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Hope said, her nostrils flaring with rage. “What happened to him? Where is he?”
Great White Hope. She probably wanted to arrest him. “He got in a car accident a few years later. Drunk driving.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yes.”
Hope relaxed a little, her anger shifting back into concern.
Faith wasn’t sure why she’d started this conversation. Nick’s attack had brought back latent memories of Brett. “I thought I could just go on as if it never happened. I didn’t want the experience to drag me down. I vowed to keep flirting with men and having fun. Maybe I went too far in my quest to be carefree.”
“This is my fault,” Hope said. “I should have known.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own issues, I could have guessed that you were hurting.”
“I wasn’t hurting. I was partying.”
“As a coping mechanism.”
Faith waved a hand in the air, dismissive.
“I always thought you were living it up because you didn’t want to be like me. All work and no play.”
“That might have been part of it,” Faith admitted. “You weren’t the only one who felt sad, you know. She was my niece. You’re my sister. I was grieving, too. It was hard for me to watch you suffer.”
Hope glanced away, blinking tears from her eyes.
Faith knew it was time to confront Hope about the past. They had to deal with this now, not keep it buried, like a shameful secret.
“Do you want to go to the gallery?” Hope asked.
Although they’d arrived at the exhibit, Faith steered her sister back home. “I have something else to show you.”
* * *
HOPE CHECKED THE locks on the windows and the dead bolt on the door in Faith’s apartment.
Nothing had been tampered with. The space was free of intruders.
“Is it all clear, Ranger Banning?”
She frowned at her sister’s tone. Faith never took anything seriously. She’d acted more subdued since the kidnapping, but she seemed determined to get back to her regular routine. Hope worried that her sister would be careless with her personal safety. Who would watch over Faith after Hope went back to the Sierras?
She couldn’t believe Faith had never told her about the date rape. No wonder the recent attack had traumatized her. Hope was enraged at the thought of anyone hurting her sister. She’d go to the ends of the earth to protect Faith.
Their conversation about Sam had unsettled her further. He knew she was in L.A., and he kept trying to call her. She was afraid to answer. She could forgive his bad behavior and overlook his “brain damage.” The real obstacle was her fear of falling in love with him. One nudge, and she’d topple over the edge.
Faith brought a shoe box out of her bedroom. It looked worn at the corners, as if she’d been keeping it a long time. She sat down on the herringbone couch in the living room, holding the box in her lap.
“What is that?” Hope asked, taking the seat next to her.
“I was surprised you’d told Sam about the baby,” she said, keeping her fingers closed around the lid. “You don’t even talk to me about it.”
“You already know.”
“I know what happened. Not how you feel.”
Hope didn’t discuss the experience because it was too painful. She’d assumed her sister understood that. It was the same reason Faith had kept quiet about the date rape. But if she could open up, so could Hope. “I feel bad.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t keep her.”
“Is that so wrong?”
“Yes, Faith. I brought a child into the world that I couldn’t take care of. It’s a pretty big deal to me.”
“I know it’s a big deal. What I’m saying is that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Hope agreed, in theory. She shouldn’t feel ashamed, but she did. The unplanned pregnancy and subsequent adoption represented her lowest point, her darkest secret. “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“No. You can stop beating yourself up about it. You can give yourself some credit for making a mature decision.”
She knew she had a problem letting go. She’d always felt that she deserved the guilt and melancholy. It was her way of acknowledging her mistakes. Forgetting all that—or forgiving herself—seemed dismissive. What Hope wanted most in life was a second chance at motherhood, but she didn’t consider herself worthy. She’d lost the ri
ght to be a parent. It wasn’t fair to have another baby, after giving up her firstborn.
“What’s in the box?” she asked.
Faith smoothed her palms over the surface, seeming nervous. “You don’t have to look, if you don’t want to.”
“What is it?”
“Yearly photos.”
Hope was stunned. “From who?”
“The adoptive parents.”
“You talk to them?”
“No. I go through the adoption agent.”
The agreement Hope had signed was open on the side of the adoptive parents. They could contact her, through the intermediary, for medical information or anything else they needed. Hope hadn’t wanted the same option for herself. She’d chosen not to attempt any communication. It seemed easier for everyone.
“Mom went to the office to get the photos the first few years. When they offered email, I became the recipient.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it would be too hard for you. I know you didn’t want to give her up.”
Tears flooded Hope’s eyes, overflowing and spilling down her cheeks. She resented Faith for confronting her with this. Why now, when she was vulnerable? She already felt needy and scared. She couldn’t handle another emotional roller coaster.
“Would you like to see the photos?”
Hope nodded, wiping the tears from her face. Curiosity trumped her trepidation. She’d always wondered what her daughter looked like.
Faith opened the box and drew out a stack of photos, tied with a lacy ribbon. “I’ll start with the first birthday.”
Hope accepted the stack of about ten photos. Her mother had taken some snapshots at the hospital, so Hope had seen pictures of the baby as a newborn. She’d been squalling and wrinkly, with a tiny little tuft of hair.
The first photo made Hope sob out loud. Her daughter looked so different at six months! She was lying on her back in a crib, wearing a frilly outfit, holding a baby rattle. She was adorable and bright-eyed. The wall beside the crib was painted with butterflies. Everything in the room appeared comfortable and high quality.
Hope couldn’t have afforded such finery.
She studied each of the first-year pictures in detail, memorizing the images. The last one featured a party dress and a birthday cake. On the back, there was an inscription: Grace, Age 1. “Her name is Grace?”
Faith grabbed a tissue to blot her eyes. “They thought...it was fitting.”
She was touched by the gesture from the adoptive parents. It connected Grace to her birth family, and made Hope feel valued.
The next stack of photos showed a vibrant toddler. Her hair was already a riot of curls. “Oh my God,” Hope said. “She looks just like you.”
Faith laughed, shaking her head. “She looks like you.”
One of the photos included the adoptive parents. They were a fit couple in their late thirties, both smiling. Their devotion to Grace was evident. Hope could see that her daughter had been placed in a loving home. These people had given Grace the best of everything. In addition to feeling relieved and grateful, she was wildly jealous.
Hope examined the years of her daughter’s life, tears sliding down her face. There were photos of Grace running through the grass on chubby legs, blowing bubbles. Jumping into a sparkling swimming pool, taking a trip to the zoo, making a snowman. Her first day of school, her first bicycle, her first lost tooth.
The most recent photos made Hope’s heart ache. Grace was so beautiful. She had mischievous brown eyes, like Faith. Something about her smile reminded Hope of Paul. They hadn’t spoken since he’d signed away his rights.
She gazed at the last picture for a long time, wondering what her voice sounded like. How it would feel to hug her.
“She knows she’s adopted,” Faith said. “They’ve been open about it.”
Hope’s pulse kicked up. “Does she ask about me?”
“I don’t know.”
She gave the photo back, her mind reeling. What if Grace thought Hope didn’t want her? What if her daughter hated her?
For the first time, Hope reconsidered the terms of the agreement she’d signed. She didn’t want to interfere with Grace’s life, but she’d like to let her know she cared. That she hadn’t made the decision lightly.
Faith closed the box. “She can request your information when she turns eighteen, but her parents have considered letting her contact you sooner.”
“Really?”
“Would you be interested?”
Hope didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes!”
Faith smiled, grabbing another tissue. “I think they’re going to wait until she’s twelve or thirteen to give her the option.”
Grace was eleven now, so a possible meeting was right around the corner.
“It’s her choice, you understand.”
“Of course,” Hope said. The idea of seeing her daughter, or just speaking to her, filled her with an inexpressible joy. If Grace didn’t want to take that step, Hope would respect her wishes. Either way, she felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her daughter was safe, healthy and adored. “I’m glad she’s happy.”
“She’d have been happy with you, too.”
Her throat closed up. “Do you think I made a mistake?”
“No. I think you made a sacrifice.” When Faith put her arms around her, Hope’s face crumpled with sorrow and she started to weep uncontrollably. “You did what was best for everyone but you.”
Hope wasn’t sure how long she cried. She felt as if eleven years’ worth of pain and regret came pouring out of her. Her sister had known, all this time, that she’d factored into Hope’s decision to give up the baby. “I thought it was what I wanted,” she said, sniffling. “I thought we’d have fun in college.”
“I had fun,” Faith said, petting her hair. “Even after Brett.”
“I wish I’d been there for you.”
“You’re here now.”
Hope lifted her head from Faith’s shoulder, where she’d left a smudge of eye makeup. “I’ve ruined your dress.”
“I can get it cleaned.”
“When did you turn into the mature, reasonable sister?”
She offered Hope a tissue. “Get ready for more of my sage advice.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I know I can’t see Javier again. He’s too dangerous. I’m sad, because I really liked him, but it’s not the end of the world.”
Hope blew her nose, nodding.
“I don’t want you to make another sacrifice for me. We didn’t party together in college, and we don’t have to be lonely singles together. If you think Sam is the right guy for you, stop running away from him. Let him catch you.”
Hope blinked her teary eyes. “You think he’s the right guy?”
“Maybe. He cares about you, fucks like a champ and tries to apologize for bad behavior. That last quality is pretty rare.”
“He needs therapy.”
“Everyone does.”
Hope rested her cheek on Faith’s shoulder again. She didn’t know what to do about Sam, but she appreciated her sister’s support. “I love you, Faithie.”
“I love you, too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
HOPE DROVE BACK to the Sierras on Sunday afternoon, her mind in turmoil.
Faith was staying with her friend and coworker Charlie. She’d promised not to go anywhere without the male hairdresser as her bodyguard. Hope was glad her sister had someone strong to protect her.
She hadn’t returned any of Sam’s calls over the weekend. Every time she glanced at his text messages, she felt overwhelmed. Her emotions were too complicated to sort through. She had a dozen other things to worry about.
According to Faith, Javier Del Norte’s boss had bribed members of local law enforcement. The product they smuggled was grown here. They picked it up at a landing strip in Long Pine.
Hope wondered if there were any rangers on Gonzales’s payroll. She’d not
ified the sheriff’s department about the radio communications with Faith’s kidnappers. Anyone with a similar device, or even a cell phone app, could eavesdrop on their channels, but only those within the network could respond. Either the computer system had been hacked or the smugglers had a programmed radio, provided by a staff member.
She hadn’t heard of anyone losing a radio lately. The head rangers of each region were responsible for the devices. If she wasn’t on administrative leave, she could make inquiries. She was supposed to be resting, not investigating.
Deputy Meeks’s failed attempt to retrieve the cargo also struck her as suspicious. His team should have been able to camp and reach the summit. Maybe he’d forgotten the equipment on purpose.
She didn’t know much about the young deputy. He was a war veteran, and a bit of a ladies’ man. He’d offered to buy her a drink the same night she’d gone home with Sam. Although Meeks wasn’t bad-looking, she’d declined. He was in his early twenties, on the too-young side, and he’d been sitting with someone she disliked at the bar. Who was it?
Her stomach dropped as she remembered: Bill Kruger.
That’s why she hadn’t stayed to chat with Meeks. She’d gone to the other side of the bar to avoid Kruger. A few minutes later, she met Sam.
And the rest was history.
Bill Kruger was a head ranger, so he had access to radios. He was also from Las Vegas. He’d moved to the Sierras after his younger sister, Kim, married Doug Dixon. He lived in a cabin that Doug owned. It was in a remote area on the outskirts of town. Next to a flat, empty field where a helicopter could land.
Not far from the place Faith had been found.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, slapping a hand over her forehead. This was the missing piece of information she’d been racking her brain for. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? Kruger was the mole. He had to be.
Another disturbing idea occurred to her. Kruger might have double-crossed the drug smugglers by stealing part of the stash. Had he left the boot print at Angel Wings?
She tightened her hands around the steering wheel, her heart racing. Maybe Meeks and Kruger were both dirty. There could be widespread corruption in park services and the sheriff’s department. What if Dixon was in on it?
Although Hope’s heart wanted to reject the notion on the basis of their past relationship, she forced herself to consider it. With his powerful connections and cool head, Doug had the means to pull the puppet strings. Meeks was a rookie deputy, Kruger a washed-up drunk. They weren’t criminal masterminds. And Doug wasn’t a poor manager, despite the chaos of the past few days. He’d never been distracted or incompetent before. It was possible that Doug had overlooked “mistakes” in the investigation to cover their tracks.
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