To Protect His Own

But Hallie remained impassive as she opened the door and slid out. Alex placed his hand on her shoulder as they walked toward the diner’s entrance just as two teenage boys came out, laughing and shoving each other. Alex’s heart raced as he took in the boys’ baggy clothes, earrings and tattoos. He readied himself for the slightest sign of a threat.

One of the boys bumped into him and turned to flash, not a gun, but a smile. “Excuse me.” Then they were gone, and Alex let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

Sweat beaded his upper lip and his pulse pounded at his temples. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. But they were already here, inside the restaurant. His hand still on Hallie’s shoulder, Alex made his way toward an empty booth. About to sit, he noticed Hallie staring at something. No, not something…someone. He followed her gaze to a corner table where three women sat—one of them in a wheelchair—and his breath hitched as he stared into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes set in a face that could’ve easily graced the cover of any fashion magazine.

Young, probably barely in her twenties, her hair fell, thick and dark, just past her shoulders. He caught her scowling at him and quickly averted his eyes. But not Hallie. She was still flat-out staring at the woman.

Alex started to reprimand her, but then how could he scold his daughter for doing something he’d been equally guilty of? Embarrassed, he leaned to whisper in Hallie’s ear.

“It’s not polite to stare.” He slid into the booth.

She glanced at him, and for a moment he was afraid she’d retreat even deeper into her shell. The one she wore like a wary turtle, protecting itself from danger. “She looks like Caitlin Kramer,” Hallie said, sitting opposite him. “You know…Colorado’s Olympic hopeful.”

Alex stared at his little girl. This was the longest string of words she’d uttered in a long time. Thanking God and the hoards of horse magazines he’d subscribed to for her—even if she hadn’t read them lately—Alex smiled. “Does she?”

Hallie nodded. Then she slumped back against the seat as the waitress came to bring them ice water and menus. But she kept her eyes on the woman in the corner.

Alex stole another glance toward the table. The young dark-haired woman didn’t seem to be hungry, picking at her lunch. The other two looked so much like her, he guessed they must be relatives. Perhaps her older sister and her mother. Or an aunt?

“Hallie, don’t stare,” Alex quietly repeated, as much to reprimand himself as anything else.

“It is Caitlin Kramer. What happened to her?”

Keeping his voice low, Alex pretended grave interest in his water glass. “Let’s don’t speculate,” he said. “It’s rude, and besides, that’s probably not her, honey.” He vaguely remembered Hallie rambling on and on about a grand prix jumping horse and the woman who rode him. But he also recalled she’d been enthralled with the professional barrel racers she read about in her horse magazines, and the high-dollar horses they rode. For months all Hallie had talked about was getting a horse and competing at the Denver National Western Stock Show. Not a practical wish when they lived in the city.

But he planned to give his daughter everything she wanted now that they lived in Deer Creek. If he could have a wish of his own granted, he’d ask for only one thing. To turn the clock back four months and get Hallie out of town before she’d witnessed the drive-by shooting that had taken her cousin Melissa’s young life.

The waitress brought their orders, and Alex poured ketchup onto his plate, then dunked a fry in it. Hallie continued to steal glances at the nearby table.

“Maybe you ought to go over there and ask her if she’s Caitlin Kramer,” Alex said. But even as the suggestion left his lips, he knew it wasn’t a good idea. The woman in the wheelchair seemed uncomfortable in her surroundings…any fool could see that.

“Nah.” Hallie wrinkled her nose and turned her full attention to her meal, munching fries, wolfing down her huge cheeseburger.

Where did she put it all?

“You want to hit a movie after this? I saw a theatre in town.”

She shook her head.

Alex’s meal turned sour in his stomach. Hallie was all he had. His wife had walked out on them for another man when his daughter was only three. He’d been the only constant in her life since Julie left. He hated that his little girl’s innocence had been tainted by a senseless act of violence. Hated even more that he’d once designed video games that portrayed similar acts. Shoot-’em-up blood and gore. Kill more bad guys, make more points. The more realistic the graphics, the more his games were in demand, which allowed him to provide well for Hallie.

But one bullet had changed his outlook on the business.

He finished his lunch and placed his crumpled napkin on his plate. “Ready to go, Hal?”

“Gotta pee.” She headed for the bathroom.

Alex took out his wallet and laid a five-dollar tip near his plate, then tucked a twenty into his hand along with their order ticket. He stood and slipped the wallet back into his jeans, using the opportunity to glance at the corner table. The woman in the wheelchair didn’t look at him, but the other two did.

“Ladies.” He flashed them a smile and tipped his hat, enjoying his new cowboy gear and the Western tradition it stood for. He’d wanted to fit in with the farmers and ranchers of Deer Creek by dressing the way he had when he was a boy growing up in the mountains.

The silver-haired woman gave him a polite nod, and the other dark-haired lady briefly returned his smile. Confound it. He wanted the young woman to look at him again. Wanted to see those gorgeous sapphire-blue eyes up close.

But she only toyed with the straw in her cup, looking down. Ignoring him.

With a sigh, Alex made his way toward the register near the restrooms to pay for lunch and wait for Hallie.

IN THE LADIES’ ROOM, Hallie closed herself into one of two stalls. She waited impatiently for the woman in the next one to hurry up and flush. A few moments later, the sound of water running in the sink reached her ears as the lady washed her hands for what seemed an eternity.

Come on, come on! Hallie stood quietly in the bathroom stall. Listening for the sound of the door. At last the dryer shut off, the door snicked open, then shut with a soft click.

Hallie closed her eyes and focused. She could do this. It was easy, once you learned how. Her friends in Aurora had shown her the way.

She raised her fingers to her mouth and felt her stomach begin to heave in a familiar wave of motion. Then she leaned over the toilet, purging herself of everything she’d just eaten.

But not just the food.

Of everything bad that lay like a thick, black poison inside of her.

CHAPTER TWO

“I DON’T THINK you’re ready for this, Caitlin.” Evelyn sounded worried, reluctant to let her go. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

Caitlin returned her mother’s firm stare. “I’m walking on my own now.” Pretty well. “I’m sick of being smothered. I need my space.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone. What if you fall?”

“I’ll get back up.” Caitlin folded her arms. “Mom, I’m twenty-three years old. When are you going to stop treating me like a child?” Until the accident, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d leaned on her parents, her grandmother and brother. A close family, albeit a rather nontraditional one, they’d never lived far from one another, and Caitlin had spent her entire life at the family’s horse ranch—Foxwood Farms.

“You’re the one who’s acting like a child,” Evelyn said, hands on her slender hips.

“Now, girls, let’s not argue.” Benton Kramer placed his hands gently on his daughter’s shoulders. “Honey, your mother is simply worried about you, and so am I.” Six foot two with a sturdy build and silver-streaked black hair, he had the same blue eyes as she did; the same blue eyes as Gran. The laugh lines around them that Caitlin loved so much now crinkled with concern. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, peach?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m sure.” Caitlin ran her hands up and down his arms affectionately, sickeningly aware of the fact that it took a conscious effort to move her left one. “It’s been almost seven months since the accident. And it’s not like I’ll be far away.” The small farmhouse she’d rented was three miles from the Kramers’ five-hundred-and-fifty acres. And the house on the neighboring property, which belonged to the Bagley family—longtime residents of Deer Creek—had sat empty, for sale for some time now, so Caitlin would have plenty of peace and quiet. Plenty of seclusion. Exactly what she wanted.

“Okay, then.” Benton lifted his hands in surrender. “Dillon and I will move your stuff in this weekend.” He ignored Evelyn’s continued protests.

Caitlin turned her back on her mother and, with the aid of her cane, headed slowly toward the sweeping staircase and her room.

By Friday afternoon, her things were gathered and she was ready to go.

“Is this it, Cate?” Dillon hefted a box of kitchen goods into his arms. At twenty-six, with coal-black hair and the Kramer blue eyes, he attracted his share of women out on the show circuit. He kept extremely busy, riding, training, showing—their father’s right hand in the running of Foxwood Farms. But he’d always made plenty of time for his little sister.

“That should do it.” Caitlin felt an exuberance she hadn’t known lately as they headed outside. The mid-September heat engulfed her as she headed for her new pickup truck. New to her, anyway.

Her father had offered to buy her a fully loaded, top-of-the-line, dually pickup straight off the showroom floor, but spending that much money on a pickup was foolish. She’d seen the candy-apple-red, ’79 Chevy parked at the local lot, owned by a reputable dealer. Something about the way the truck had obviously been lovingly cared for appealed to her.

Caitlin tossed her purse into the passenger seat. She couldn’t drive yet. Her ability to perceive distances correctly had been compromised by her head injury. As had her ability to judge the weight of an object. Her brain was left with no way to know how hard to flex her muscles. Without proper balance coordination, her brain initially couldn’t even communicate the simple act of moving a finger, and it had taken intense concentration and physical therapy to begin to overcome these obstacles.