by Debby Giusti
He looked at Lillie for help.
“Dawson would love some cake, Mother.” Lillie winked at him.
“How about you, dear? Surely you can eat a little piece. There’s ice cream too.”
“Just some cake, Mother. Half a slice.”
“Where’s your bag?” her father asked Dawson before he closed the door.
“In the car, sir. I’ll get it later.”
The house was comfortable and inviting, and Dawson instantly felt at ease with the McKinneys’ warm welcome. The women headed for the kitchen while Dawson stopped in the living room to admire the assortment of firearms displayed in an antique gun rack.
Hanging on the wall next to the weapons were framed awards, evidence that Lillie’s father was an accomplished marksman.
“That’s quite a collection of guns and awards, sir.”
“My daddy always said a man needs to be able to protect his land and his family.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who wants coffee?” Mrs. McKinney called from the kitchen.
“Be right there, Sarah.” Mr. McKinney pursed his lips as he turned his full attention to Dawson. “You’re not a stranger to guns.”
“No, sir.”
“What are you packing tonight?”
“A Glock, sir. I’m with the Criminal Investigation Division stationed at Fort Rickman.”
The older man nodded. “The Glock’s a good weapon.”
“Yes, sir.” Dawson pulled in a breath. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, sir. Mrs. McKinney needs to know as well.”
“Let’s have some cake. Then we can talk.” Without commenting further, Mr. McKinney headed for the kitchen.
Standing at the counter, Mrs. McKinney cut the cake and arranged the slices on four plates. “There’s a potluck lunch after church tomorrow. Everyone will enjoy meeting Dawson.”
The smell of fresh-perked coffee filled the kitchen.
Dawson tried to catch Lillie’s gaze. “I doubt I’ll be able to stay for church, ma’am.”
“Do you attend services in the city?”
“The city?” he asked.
“Freemont.” Lillie helped him out.
After taking the cake plates from her mother, Lillie placed them on the table. “Dawson lives at Fort Rickman, Mother. I’m sure he goes to church there.”
“How nice.” Mrs. McKinney smiled broadly.
He didn’t have the heart to tell the charming woman that his relationship with God was presently on hold.
“We’d love having you join us tomorrow, if you can spare the time.”
Dawson was outnumbered. He could confront armed criminals without flinching, but he had trouble worming his way out of attending church with the McKinneys.
As he bit into the cake and allowed the rich chocolate to melt in his mouth, he smiled at the warm family dynamic. Mrs. McKinney and her husband were committed to one another, and Lillie, whether she realized it or not, was the center of their world.
Bringing up a topic such as her biological mother’s murder seemed out of place at this moment. Lillie was right. He needed to bide his time.
After the dishes were washed and put away, Dawson knew he needed to broach the subject Lillie continued to ignore. He glanced at her over the top of his coffee cup.
She shrugged and then sighed. “Mother and Dad, there was an incident outside my house yesterday morning. A...a man was shot.”
“Oh, good Lord in heaven.” Mrs. McKinney patted her chest. Eyes wide, she plopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs and stared at Lillie. “Who was it, dear?”
“Granger Ford, Mama.”
Her father threw an angry glance at Dawson. “Isn’t he still in prison?”
Dawson cleared his throat. “The court reviewed his case, sir. DNA testing overturned the validity of the previous evidence. He was released from prison two weeks ago.”
“Who killed him?” Mr. McKinney’s gaze remained fixed on Dawson.
“We’re trying to track down those who were involved, sir.”
Dawson and Lillie quickly gave her parents an overview of what had happened. Neither of them mentioned the driver of the SUV who had run Lillie off the road. Nor did they discuss their day trip to Atlanta or that Granger Ford was Dawson’s father. Some things were better left unsaid.
“I felt Lillie shouldn’t stay alone in her house and suggested she come here for the weekend,” Dawson finally concluded.
Mrs. McKinney reached for Lillie’s hand. “I never liked you living by yourself.”
“Mama, it’s just for the weekend. Dawson feels a suspect may be in custody by Monday.”
Her father didn’t look optimistic, and her mother shook her head and tsked.
Dawson turned to Mr. McKinney. “The thing is, sir, I knew you would be able to keep Lillie safe. I feel even more confident after seeing your marksmanship awards and gun collection.”
Her father nodded, as if somewhat placated by Dawson’s acknowledgment of his ability. “If Granger didn’t kill Irene Beaumont, then who did?”
“I don’t know, sir. That’s what the Freemont police are trying to uncover.”
“But you’re working on the case?” her father asked.
“I’ve been assigned to protect your daughter. I was hoping you and I could work together over the weekend.”
Later when the McKinneys had gone to bed and Lillie was in her room, Dawson went outside to get the gym bag he carried in the car.
He glanced around the expansive front yard and surrounding fields and was stirred by a desire to work the earth. Mr. McKinney had turned off the floodlights, and the sky seemed alive with the glittering stars.
The door to the house opened, and Lillie stepped onto the porch. She waited until he had his bag in hand and then met him on the stairs.
“I told you my mother would want to feed you.”
“They’re good people, Lillie.” He placed his gear on the top step.
She nodded. “I know they are. They gave me a life, and I’ll always be grateful.”
“But?” He heard the hesitation in her voice.
“I always worry they’ll be taken away from me. Just as my mother was.”
“Which is why you didn’t want to come here.”
“And why I didn’t want them to know what had happened. I keep thinking if I don’t talk about something, it might not be true.” She tapped her foot against the bottom porch railing. “As I mentioned, growing up I thought my mother had abandoned me. That’s tough on a kid. Then when her body was found—”
She looked into the night and shrugged. “Somehow I couldn’t get past all those years of thinking she had left me. I closed her out of my life, and I never let her back in.”
He reached for her hand and ran his fingers through hers. “You’ve got to forgive yourself. You were young and had gone through a terrible experience.”
“I thought if I had been a better daughter or if I hadn’t been afraid of storms, my mother would have loved me. Every time another storm hit, I was overcome with fright and thought my actions continued to keep her away. Before long, I convinced myself that I didn’t want her back in my life.”
He glanced up at the house. “Did you tell them how you felt?”
She shook her head. “I kept everything boxed up inside me. They had done so much. I couldn’t let them know how I really felt.”
“You could talk to them now.”
She shook her head. “It’s my problem. I’ll deal with it.”
“You don’t have to always be so strong.” He stepped closer to her and touched her hair, which was what he had wanted to do since yesterday morning.
Her eyes searched his, and her lips opened ever so slightly. The earth stood sti
ll for one long moment. He drank in her beauty and longed to pull her into his arms.
Almost without thinking, he reached for her. She shifted closer, and then, as if both of them had been waiting for this moment, he lowered his lips to hers.
Her mouth was soft and warm and welcoming, and every fiber of his being wanted to keep kissing her forever. Although his eyes were closed, he was sure fireworks illuminated the night sky. He could almost see bursts of color as his heart exploded in his chest. All he could think of was holding her tight for the rest of his life.
She pulled back too quickly. He wanted to kiss her again, but seeing her brow crease and the downturn of her mouth, he dropped his hands to his sides. Instantly, he felt a sense of detachment and a stab of confusion as she stepped back and wrapped her hands around her arms.
“I need to go back inside.”
He nodded. She was probably upset that he had kissed her. Without further explanation, she climbed the steps and entered the house.
Dawson didn’t follow her. He couldn’t. He needed time in the cold night air to steady his pounding heart. His leg throbbed, which he hadn’t noticed when Lillie was in his arms.
A car drove along the road. Dawson watched it slowly disappear into the distance. Lillie would be safe here, especially with Mr. McKinney’s desire to protect his family.
What he had always wanted most in life was a loving home where he could be accepted. Tonight he’d had a taste of how good that life could be, but this was Lillie’s home, not his.
When he stepped back into the house, he found her father waiting for him. “Lillie went to bed.”
Dawson knew there was more the man wanted to say. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. McKinney pointed to the kitchen. “I put on a pot of decaf. We need to talk.”
Dawson followed Mr. McKinney into the kitchen. He was back to being the special agent. Lillie was a witness to a murder who needed to be protected, even though he wanted her to be so much more in his life. Right now, the investigation took precedence, and Lillie’s safety was his paramount concern. Her father probably felt the same way.
But what about Dawson?
Whenever he was with Lillie, he knew he had to guard his heart. She could be his downfall.
* * *
Lillie got up early and followed the smell of eggs and bacon to the kitchen. Her father sat at the table, reading the Sunday paper and sipping from a steaming mug of coffee.
Her mother stood at the stove. “Can I fix you breakfast, darlin’?”
Lillie headed for the coffeepot. “Maybe when Dawson gets up.”
“He’s been outside for a couple hours.” Her father’s voice came from behind his paper. “Said he wanted to see the place. I took him down to the barn and the livestock pen. Filled him in on how a farm this size operates.”
Lillie walked to the window and stared into the backyard, where Dawson was spreading hay for the livestock. “You put him to work?”
“Men like to stay busy, Lillie. Being outside in the fresh air is good for him. Besides, he wanted to help.”
“He certainly is a nice young man,” her mother said. The upturn in her tone told Lillie about the plans the older woman was already making.
“We’re friends, Mother, which I told you over the phone when I called last night.”
“Of course, dear. Your father and I are best friends.”
Lillie smiled, knowing some battles couldn’t be won.
Glancing out the window again, she watched Dawson add feed to the troughs. Then he stamped his feet on the frosty earth and brushed off his hands. “Looks like he’s coming inside for breakfast.”
“Grab a mug from the cupboard, Lillie, and pour him a fresh cup of coffee.”
The back door opened, blowing in a gust of cold morning air as Dawson stepped inside, rosy cheeked and eyes twinkling as he looked at her. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
His lazy voice and ruddy complexion, made even more pronounced by the brisk winter air, stirred something deep inside her. Watch yourself, a voice warned as a delicious tingle rolled over her body.
“Ready for some coffee?” she asked, trying to come back down to earth.
He held up his hands. “Let me wash up first.”
Placing the filled mug on the table, Lillie took the plate her mother had fixed for Dawson and set it next to the coffee, along with silverware and a cloth napkin.
“How about you, dear?” her mother asked.
“I’ll just have some fruit.” Lillie reached for a banana and pear and placed them on a small plate.
Before she could get back to the table, Dawson had returned to the kitchen, filling the air with the clean scent of soap and the outdoors.
A girl could get used to that combination, she thought as she dropped into the chair he held.
His good manners weren’t lost on her father, who always held the door for her mother. He stared at Dawson over the top of the paper and pursed his lips in approval before Dawson found his seat.
Lillie bowed her head as she silently gave thanks, noting Dawson followed her lead and hesitated before he picked up his fork.
“Delicious, Mrs. McKinney,” he said after swallowing a rather hefty portion of eggs and grits.
“You worked up an appetite helping Walter.”
“I enjoy working with my hands.”
Once again, her father eyed Lillie over the paper. “There’s an article in the Community Doings section about that new museum at Fort Rickman. The article said Karl Nelson’s company won the bid.”
“Nelson Construction has done a lot for the people in this town,” her mother added as she joined them at the table with her own plate. “Although he’s nothing like his father. Burl was a kind and patient man.”
Her father folded the paper and raised his brow. “Burl had to have patience to stay with that wife of his.”
Mrs. McKinney jabbed her husband’s arm. “Now, Walter, no reason to repeat stories. At least Karl takes after his daddy.”
“The community is invited to the opening ceremony,” Lillie said. “I could get you special seats. You’d enjoy the speeches. The Fort Rickman Army Band will play.”
“Why, dear, it sounds lovely, but your father and I rarely get to town. You spend the day with Dawson.”
“I’ll be working the event,” he said.
Mrs. McKinney’s eyes widened. “You’re not expecting anything dangerous to happen, are you, Dawson?”
“No, ma’am. Just normal security issues.” He glanced at Lillie for encouragement.
She smiled, feeling her cheeks warm and knowing the direction of the conversation needed to change. “Dawson’s from Cotton Grove, Mama.”
“A Georgia boy.” Mrs. McKinney couldn’t hide the pleasure in her voice. “How nice. Won’t you have some banana bread?”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Dawson took two large slices before asking, “You folks ever know a local guy named Billy Everett? He attended Freemont High. Red hair. He’s got a scar on his cheek.”
Mrs. McKinney placed her fork on her plate. “Of course I remember Billy. His family was poor. He was the baby.”
“Not the brightest kid around,” her father added.
“Billy dropped out of school,” Mrs. McKinney continued. “I heard he got into trouble with drugs and did some time in prison.” Mrs. McKinney shook her head. “Such a shame.”
“Prison does terrible things to a man.” Mr. McKinney reached for his coffee and took a long swig of the hot brew. “I don’t believe in rehabilitation. Doing time just makes a bad man even worse.”
Lillie had never heard her father be so vindictive. “Some folks find God in prison,” she said, hoping to turn the conversation in a more positive direction.
“I’m just glad we never had anyone in our f
amily who ended up behind bars. It’d be a black mark for sure.”
He folded the paper. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for church.”
Lillie looked at Dawson and the set of his jaw as he dropped the remainder of the banana bread onto his plate and pushed away from the table.
“Breakfast was delicious, Mrs. McKinney. I need to get back to Fort Rickman.”
“Won’t you join us for church?”
“Not today, ma’am.”
“I’ll get my things,” Lillie said.
He looked at her, his gaze steady. “You stay here. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”
“Dinner’s at six,” Mrs. McKinney said.
“Ma’am, you don’t need me underfoot.”
“Nonsense. I’m frying chicken. Easy enough to put another plate on the table. We’ll expect you at six o’clock.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Lillie followed him to the door, wishing she could say something to soothe the rough moment that had to have hurt Dawson. “My father wasn’t thinking.”
“He said what he believes, Lillie. And he’s right. Most cons return to a life of crime shortly after getting out of prison.”
“Your dad was exonerated of any wrongdoing, Dawson.”
“He was in prison for fifteen years. Things happen to a man behind bars.”
Lillie reached for his hand. “On the phone, Granger told me he had made his peace with the Lord.”
“Yeah? Too bad he never made peace with his son.”
“He tried, Dawson.”
“Maybe, but by then it was too late.”
TWELVE
When Dawson arrived back at his BOQ, he was still stewing about Mr. McKinney’s comment concerning ex-cons. Lillie’s dad had no idea Dawson’s father had been incarcerated, and although his comment troubled Dawson, her father had the right to his own opinion on such matters. Besides, Dawson knew the statistics fell in line with what the older man had mentioned.
Law-enforcement personnel were well aware that more than four in ten offenders returned to prison within three years of being released. Recidivism was a national problem and one with no easy solution.
