“What is it?” she asked as West pocketed his phone.
He told her and Cady’s knees went weak. Her stunned reaction must have showed on her face, because West took her elbow and guided her to a seat at the kitchen table.
Cady rested her head in her hands. “How very sad for this man, but that stunt he pulled with Livvy was inexcusable. Now, we’ll never know who hired him, and I’m going to stay on the suspect list.”
“Never say never. We’ll expose this culprit one way or another.”
She lowered her hands and glared at West. “But every step forward seems to end with a step backward. We still don’t know how the intruder got into the house to attack me.”
“Answering that question remains first and foremost on our list. But now, after this setback, we need more than ever to understand if something from your past has bearing on today’s danger.”
“I know.” Cady stared at the wood grain of the tabletop. “I can’t stand the thought of you or any of Griff’s buddies knowing my background.”
“Whatever it is, you can rest assured that none of us will blame you or look down on you.”
“We’ll see.” She sniffed. “Do you suppose we could get out of the house, maybe just take a walk around the neighborhood while I talk? I need the fresh air.”
West pursed his lips, then nodded his head. “Our nemesis attacked you in the park yesterday because he knew where we were going to be. Now, his listening ear has gone deaf so a short walk may do us both good.”
Cady let out a long breath. “Thank you. Brennan is here if Livvy should happen to wake up.” She squared her shoulders. “I refuse to hide in my house when it’s clearly not a haven as long as this creep can get in at will.”
“I’ll let Bren know we’re going out for a bit.”
He left the room, but all too soon for Cady he reappeared in the kitchen doorway with his light jacket over his arm. “Let’s take that walk now.”
As if moving through thick sludge, Cady rose and headed for the back door. In the mudroom, she grabbed a zip-up sweatshirt and shrugged it on.
“Let’s slip out this way.” She stepped onto the back stoop, and crisp autumn air filled her nostrils with a reminder that winter lurked around the corner. Would she still be alive to see the first snowfall?
West joined her, closing the door behind him.
She turned in his direction. “I don’t care to talk to anyone else but you right now, and frankly, I’m not all that excited about talking to you either, considering the proposed topic. No offense.”
“None taken.”
He stood quietly beside her, not pushing or urging anything from her. How she appreciated this man!
Cady surveyed her spacious fenced-in backyard. A utility shed stood in the far right-hand corner. Several mature trees, turning color with the season, waved their branches at her. In the middle of the yard, a faint depression outlined where her water or sewer line must be installed. One of her upcoming projects would be to install a swing set and playground equipment in the backyard.
“This will be a great play area for Baby-bug when she gets a little older.” West’s mellow voice echoed her own thoughts.
She offered him a small smile. “Our minds often work alike. I was thinking exactly that. It’s a wonder I’m even capable of contemplating plans for the future when my life is in danger.”
“Your spirit is nothing if not resilient.” He took her hand firmly in his and led her down the steps.
Cady yielded to his guidance and walked quietly across the lawn to the gate that led into the back alley. West released her hand to open the gate and the loss of the warm, welcome touch sent a pang through her. If her heart had healed from the loss of Griffon, it would be in serious danger of capture by this man. She thrust the unsettling thought away as they stepped onto the gravel of the alley road. They fell into step beside each other.
She hauled in a deep breath. “Can’t put this off any longer, then. The whole sordid thing starts back a long way, so be prepared to exercise patience as I get it all out into the open. I’m not sure I’ll want to discuss it any more after this.”
“No reason to do so if it has no connection with what’s going on now.”
“I don’t see how my family history could possibly be a contributing factor.”
“As an objective third party, I might be able to judge that better than you.”
“Maybe so.” Cady released a hard-edged laugh. “My earliest memories, believe it or not, are happy. My parents adored each other—or seemed to—and they doted on me. Then, when I was five, my dad lost his job and my mom got pregnant with my sister, Tracy, at the same time.”
“You have a sister?” West slowed his pace and lifted his eyebrows at Cady.
“Had a sister.”
“Ah.” West stepped up the pace again as they crossed a paved road and entered the alley in the next block. His head kept slowly swiveling as he continually cased the area. “Go on,” he prompted.
“That’s when my parents’ arguments started, and my dad began drinking daily. Then Tracy was born, and my mom started popping pills and sleeping every spare moment. With adult insight, I understand that she was experiencing postpartum depression. Probably the pills were prescription, at first, but the drug usage never stopped once it got started. Nor did my dad’s drinking or the escalating arguments aggravated by mind-altering substances.”
Cady hauled in a deep, fortifying breath. West’s silent, solid presence at her side fed courage to her.
“Eventually,” she continued, “it wasn’t only pills Mom was taking. I’d find syringes around the house. I was too young to really know what the needles were all about, but I remember feeling this horrible sense of shame and dread. When I would find one, I would hide it, hoping my mom would be able to quit whatever she was doing if I could keep the syringes away from her. That was nonsense, of course—she just obtained more, along with the drugs—but that’s how my child’s mind worked.”
West squeezed her arm. “Sounds like your child’s mind was pretty sharp, actually. You were doing your best to protect your mother. It’s a sad thing when a youngster is put into that position, and an all-too-common occurrence. What about your sister, Tracy? How did your mom do in caring for an infant?”
Cady gave him a tight-lipped look and shook her head. “By the time I was six years old, I was her de facto parent.”
“Weren’t you in school by then?”
“Sure, but we only lived a couple blocks from the school, and I’d race home every day, often to find Tracy in a dirty diaper and barely fed.”
“What about your dad? Didn’t he care that his children were being neglected?”
Cady shrugged. “I don’t know if he knew, much less cared. He’d found another job by then. Construction. But he rarely came home after work. He went out drinking with the boys and might manage to stagger into the house well after Tracy and I were in bed. Then the arguments would start up. For some reason, Tracy would sleep through them. Probably the sound was normal to her and didn’t rouse her. But I would lie awake, listening, with my head under the covers.” A shiver coursed through her as her gaze focused on her feet slowly scissoring one step after the other.
A soft growl came from West. “I’m sorry you had to live through all that.”
Cady’s head jerked up. “The point is that I’m alive, and my sister isn’t.”
“How did that happen?” West’s tone was tender.
“Fast-forward about a decade. I’m a teenager, and Tracy is ten. We’ve been through the wringer, over and over again, with my mom overdosing, going to the hospital and then being sent through inpatient treatment, only to return home and, soon after that, to the needle. My dad would promise to sober up if the courts would let him keep custody of his daughters, and he’d do well for a short while, but it would never last.”
>
Cady shuddered and heaved a long sigh, ugly images crowding her head. “Soon after the final time Tracy and I were nearly removed from parental custody, my dad was taking my sister to the doctor for an ear infection when they were involved in a car accident. Turns out my dad was still a closet drinker. By this time, he could imbibe a lot and not show many external signs. His blood alcohol level was off the charts, the accident was his fault, my sister was killed, and two of the four people in the car he hit also died.”
“Whoa!” West shook his head like a dog would shake off water. “That’s a whole lot of blows for a young girl to absorb.”
“It would be plenty even if that were the end of the story. My dad went to prison, of course, where he is to this day. I never go see him, only partly because he won’t allow me on his visitor list. He’s basically disowned me because I testified against him about his drinking habits during his trial.”
“Ouch! That must have been hard.”
“More than you know.”
“What about your mother? Do you see her?”
Cady shook her head. “During the whole messy trial, my mom overdosed once more. She survived but she was never the same. She’ll be in an institution for the rest of her life.”
“And you went into the foster care system,” West said.
“Yes, but only for a couple of years. My foster family was truly very nice. I’m not sure I was always nice to them with all the mess going on in my head, but growing up has made me appreciate them. I stay in touch with a card and letter at Christmastime.”
West made a humming sound. “I hate to ask, but are you sure your dad is still in prison? Sounds like he has a grudge against you.”
“Very sure. I check online every month. My last check was the day before the intruder attacked me in my bedroom, and my father was exactly where he should be. So, no, he’s not out and about executing mayhem.”
West pursed his lips and let out a huff. “Then, you’re right. I don’t see how any of this past history has bearing on the attempts on your life. Do you go see your mother?”
She bowed her head. “Since we were living in New Jersey at the time all this occurred, she was court-committed to the Twin Oaks Care Center in Phillipsburg. The state has legal custody of her as a vulnerable, indigent adult. My rights are limited, but I’m allowed visitation and to receive updates by telephone. I went to see her a couple of times, more out of duty than anything, but she didn’t acknowledge my presence. I have no idea if she knew who I was. She responded more to her caregivers than she did to me. I call regularly to see how she’s doing, but I haven’t been back to see her since I married Griff.” Her head lifted, and her gaze sought his. “Is it terrible of me that I never wanted to introduce him to my mother?”
West clucked his tongue. “Understandable. After hearing the story, I admire you even more as a strong and resilient person.”
“You do?” Cady blinked up at him.
They stopped walking and faced each other.
“I do,” West said, voice rumbly as if his throat were tight.
In response, Cady’s throat constricted. “That’s not the reaction I expected,” she rasped.
“Why not? You’re amazing to come through all that horror as a responsible adult with a healthy moral compass. Did your faith in God help you with that?”
“Yes...and no. My foster parents introduced me to Jesus and the Bible, but not much of it stuck until I met Griff. You know what a strong faith he had. But now Griff is gone, and I’m not sure where I stand with God anymore.”
“He’s right here with you.” West’s palm cupped her cheek. “And I’m here, too.”
Cady’s mouth went dry. What might it be like to feel those strong, broad lips on hers? What was the matter with her that she was considering this idea?
She whirled abruptly away, and a bee buzzed past her ear, accompanied by the blast of a firecracker. Cady lurched and gasped. West’s body rammed into hers as he swept them behind a nearby garage and pressed her against the wall.
“What on earth?” she burst out, heart slamming against her ribs.
“We’re being shot at,” he snarled, as he yanked his gun from his holster.
* * *
The shot had come from somewhere behind them. West peered around the corner of the garage back along their route. No one was in sight, but a car engine revved and a dark blue sedan shot past the end of the alley with a screech of tires. Probably the shooter’s vehicle carrying him or her way from the site of the attack. After that loud gunshot, the perp wouldn’t want to stick around long enough for the cops—or his Triple Threat team—to respond. Cady wasn’t wrong when she sensed being watched if the attacker’s vehicle was lurking in the area so often that he or she was nearby to catch them in the open the one time they went out for a stroll. The current attack had an impromptu feel to it—an assault of opportunity.
A shout from the alley across the road, near Cady’s house, captured his attention. Darius’s compact, powerhouse figure darted into view through her backyard gate. At this distance, West couldn’t make out the gun in his hand, but his crouched, hands-together posture betrayed that he had one at the ready.
West put out his hand and waved toward his partner. Darius scurried toward them in full hypervigilant mode, head swiveling this way and that. The man soon arrived at their position.
“Any sign of threat?” West asked.
“None.”
“Of course.” West grunted. “I think I saw the shooter getting away in a dark blue sedan. The angle was wrong to catch sight of a license plate.”
Darius snorted. “Figures! This creep is getting on my last nerve.”
“My last nerve is already frazzled.” Cady stepped out from behind West.
She was pale and her lower lip trembled as she hugged herself. West’s heart broke for her. They had to put a stop to these attempts on her life, which meant they had to catch the attacker. It would help immeasurably if they could figure out why Cady was a target. The why would surely lead to the who.
“Let’s get you back to the house.” West gripped her arm and drew her along as they retraced their steps with Darius, their hovering bodyguard, on full alert.
They stepped into Cady’s house, and West stopped in the kitchen and looked at her. “Do you want us to pack you and Baby-bug up and take you to a hotel until we have all this sorted out?”
Her head went high, chin thrust forward. “I will not be driven from my home.” She pronounced each word like it had an exclamation mark after it. “Why would the attacker be deterred by changing my location?”
“It might take the person a while to find you again,” West said.
“Or not,” she added. “Could you protect me better in a hotel environment?”
“Not really,” West conceded.
“And more civilians could be exposed to danger,” Darius added.
“Then it’s decided.” Cady’s gaze flicked to Darius and back to West. “We stay right here and defend my life and home.”
“Your home!” West rubbing his chin. “Could this house give someone a reason to want you dead? It’s worth a lot of money.”
Cady opened her mouth and then shut it again with a snap. She slowly shook her head. “I don’t see how killing me would help anyone acquire the house. The property is entailed for four generations to the next living relative.”
“In other words, it can’t be sold outside the family unless there is no heir.”
“Yes. My great-aunt drew up this fancy entail with the help of her wily lawyer.”
“Reginald Platte?” West asked.
“The one and only. The bequest skipped over my mother because of her condition and left the home to me, specifically, and my offspring after me. If I were gone before Olivia comes of age, the property would go into trust until then. Another option will be allowed
only if the family line ends.”
“What’s the other option?”
“It will go to the county historical society to be used as a museum.”
Darius scowled. “Maybe some schemer in the historical society is determined to snag this place for public posterity.”
West rolled his eyes at his partner. “I’ll take that thought as tongue-in-cheek.”
“For sure.” Darius chuckled. “Cady alone seems to be the target. Eliminating her and leaving Olivia wouldn’t get them any closer to historical society possession.”
West grinned. “Keep that brain in gear, buddy. I—” He halted his sentence with a hiss of indrawn breath and turned toward Cady. “You said your great-aunt’s will skipped over your mother. That means the inheritance is coming through your mother’s side, not your father’s. Would your mom know anything about this house—like maybe about a hidden means of gaining access?”
Cady shrugged. “Sure, she grew up here, along with her single mother and her mother’s sister—my great-aunt. But my mom’s mind is gone. How would she remember anything about this place when she doesn’t recognize me, her own daughter?”
“I don’t know, but we can’t ignore the possibility, even if it’s a slim one. We need to talk to your mother as soon as possible.” He checked his watch. “It’s late in the day now, and we’ll have to deal with the police again about this latest attack. But we head out for New Jersey first thing in the morning.”
Cady’s face took on a greenish tint. “Lord—” her gaze flew upward “—You wouldn’t make me go there again, would You?”
West couldn’t feel any lower about what he had proposed, but this visit had to be made. He knew it in his bones.
SEVEN
The next morning, Cady shot a sidelong glance at West’s strong profile where he sat behind the wheel of the Blazer as they whizzed down the freeway toward her mother’s institution in New Jersey. This new day had dawned bright and cheery. Too bad her mood couldn’t match. How did soldiers like her husband, West and his buddies handle being shot at as a potential daily fact of life in combat situations? She’d hardly slept last night for nightmares of bee-bullets buzzing past her ears, alternating with nightmares about being smothered. They hadn’t been able to give the cops much to go on about the shooting incident when they arrived last evening to investigate. Finding the bullet that had almost clipped her in the alley would be nearly as impossible as zeroing in on a suspect from West’s description of the dark blue sedan.
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