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She applied slight pressure to Sierra’s hand, hoping she’d wake up, and to her relief Sierra’s eyelids fluttered once before they drifted shut again. And Annabelle took heart. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, remembering summer nights together when they’d stayed up late and giggled, played tricks on each other...until her parents had abruptly put an end to Sierra’s annual visits. “We’ll straighten everything out. You’ll see. I won’t let you down again.” As she’d done when she’d meekly accepted her parents’ command not to mention Sierra again and on the phone not long ago. There would be time later for Annabelle’s full apology. Time to ask about Emmie’s father.
* * *
“YOU SAID YOU had something for me.” Finn cradled his cell phone against his shoulder and tried to stifle his growing resentment at his former partner, who was on the line from Chicago. Finn envisioned Cooper in the squad room, the top button of his uniform shirt undone, one hand running through his surfer-boy hair.
“I’m only human, Donovan. I’ve spent most of my free time since you left town hunting that gang...and, sorry,” he said in the sarcastic tone that Finn knew well, “but every one of them has dropped off the face of the earth.”
“Not likely,” Finn muttered. None of this was Cooper’s responsibility, but Finn still hoped he would help bring Finn’s most personal case to a close. “When you called, you said you had an update so I thought—”
“Didn’t mean to mislead you. But, frankly, there’s not much more I can do here. I guess that’s the heads-up—the something—I had to give you.”
Finn refused to be deterred. “The gang’ll resurface. We only need to wait.”
“Listen, my friend. If I kept taking those little side trips to follow a lead from my snitches—all of whom have now dried up—I’d be looking at disciplinary action.” He added, “That should resonate with you.”
Finn came from a family of cops, and in Chicago he and Cooper Ransom had always toed the line. As a kid Finn had learned that from his uncle Patrick. The opposite of Finn’s father in temperament, with gentle good humor and lots of one-on-one time while his dad was all about The Job, Pat had guided Finn off the dangerous path he’d walked in his teens onto the straight and narrow again—until years later when that Chicago gang known as The Brothers struck close to home. Because of them, especially Eduardo Sanchez, Finn no longer had a wife he loved, a son he adored. A family.
Justice for them had become his chief concern—his obsession.
“I wasn’t fired,” Finn said. “I quit.”
“In the nick of time.” Cooper blew out a breath. “If you’d gone any further in your private quest to send those thugs to prison for the rest of their lives, the department would have taken your badge, your uniform, your gun—and hustled you straight into Internal Affairs. Then where would you be?”
Finn’s mouth hardened. “Free to pursue the gang—full time.”
This was an old argument, begun the day Finn had lost everything. He heard the metallic clang of a desk drawer being slammed shut, and it reminded him of the no-go drawer in his bedroom. Of Sanchez. Cooper’s voice lowered. “If I hadn’t talked you out of turning into some vigilante, you’d be in jail.”
Or lying dead on the South Side pavement. Finn would have traded his life then for one shot at the gang’s leader. He still would but he wasn’t there. Now he just tried to get through each day without his thoughts of the tragedy overwhelming him to the point where he couldn’t do his job here. “So, instead, I took your advice—and you promised to find them for me.”
He could almost see Cooper shaking his head, his gray eyes somber. “I wish I knew what else to do. I hate to disappoint you, Finn—but maybe you need to focus now on being sheriff of Stewart County.”
Finn heard a wistful note in his voice. Cooper had grown up near Farrier, a few miles from Barren, on a cattle ranch. He was the cowboy Finn was not and had no aspirations to be. Finn didn’t like horses, and he’d never been around cows. But when cattle prices had plunged years ago while Cooper was in his teens, his family had been forced to sell out. He claimed he was still trying to adjust to life in the city, but for whatever reason he’d never come back home. He’d sent Finn here instead.
“Being sheriff is a lot less dangerous than Chicago PD. I write a few parking tickets, stop a speeder here and there...oh, and there was a break-in last week at the hardware store. Somebody stole a few bags of pet food.”
He could sense Cooper’s smile. “Not the Foxworth kid again?”
Finn nodded, almost dislodging the phone from between his neck and shoulder. “He’s my chief suspect. Think I’ll go easy on him, though. His mom’s been having a rough time since her husband died. Money’s tight and Joey loves his dog more than he likes to obey the law. But he’s a good boy. Community service seems the right ‘sentence.’”
“And you’ll pay for the dog food.”
Finn didn’t answer that. “I like my job here,” he told Cooper instead. “There’s no gang activity in Barren or the other towns in my jurisdiction. So thanks for that tip about the election.” The old Stewart County sheriff had been running unopposed, giving Finn the opportunity he’d needed at the time to get out of Chicago and save his sanity.
Cooper said, “My mother’s distant cousin. Eighty-two, and his wife was worried about him. Competition in the last election nudged him to give up his badge and move to Florida, just what he needed.”
Finn owed Cooper for that and maybe he hadn’t seemed grateful enough. Hoping to mend the breach between them while they talked more shop, he filled Cooper in on his one real active case, Sierra Hartwell’s accident and the outstanding warrant in St. Louis.
“Have you run a background check on her?” Cooper asked.
“In the works,” he said. “Unfortunately, her closest relative and I don’t agree that this isn’t about some parking ticket.” He paused. “Her cousin is Annabelle Foster.”
Cooper’s desk chair creaked. Finn had his partner’s full attention now. Cooper said, “I knew Annabelle. Used to drop in at the diner now and then with my folks. She was always there helping out—not that her parents ever seemed to appreciate that. I’m surprised to hear about her objections. Annabelle never said boo to anyone.”
“Well, she did with me.” There must be some mistake. The moment when Finn had teased her about doughnuts hadn’t lasted long. Too bad his heightened awareness of her did. The sunlight on her hair, the way she’d approved of his adopting Sarge, her concern for Sierra...he almost didn’t hear what Cooper said.
“Wait a minute. Sierra Hartwell? If I remember right, she and Annabelle were close then. I only met Sierra once or twice, and she could be, well, difficult, but I never heard of her getting into any real trouble. Keep me informed, okay?”
“Sure,” Finn said. “Something will turn up about her and with The Brothers.”
As he ended the call, he missed his partner even more than he had before Cooper phoned. He shoved his cell back in his pocket. At least their less-than-conclusive talk had given him some feedback on Sierra Hartwell, if not taken his mind off Annabelle Foster.
He almost missed Chicago as long as he didn’t let himself think about what had happened...
And the black depths of his own loss. Or Eduardo Sanchez.
* * *
FROM THE SECOND Finn’s car rounded the last corner onto his street in a tree-lined Chicago neighborhood near the station, his nerves had been shooting sparks through his arms and legs. Beside him, his wife Caroline kept glancing at him, as if she sensed his unease. “What, Finn?” she finally asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Feeling jumpy, that’s all.”
“You’ve been like this since you and Cooper raided The Brothers’ headquarters.”
Finn didn’t think the term brother suited. It didn’t sound nearly dangerous enough—as if they were actually harmless. Their low-slung, abandoned warehouse ten minutes from his home was nothing more than broken windows, doors hanging by their hinges and trash everywhere. The place smelled of rotting garbage, and shattered liquor bottles littered the dirt yard. Inside, a few sagging couches, a half dozen wooden straight chairs and a scarred table made up the decor. A single match would have torched the area quicker than the time it had taken him and Cooper to surround the building, bust in and wrestle four gang members into handcuffs. Another two had left in ambulances for the hospital. And The Brothers had vowed revenge.
Finn wasn’t sleeping well, even on his off-shift days.
“You really think they mean to harm you?” Caro asked.
Finn was sure of it. He couldn’t ditch the feeling he was being watched. He’d taken to carrying an extra handgun plus his service pistol and the backup gun that, like most cops, he kept in an ankle holster. But he wasn’t really worried about himself.
“I wish you and Alex would do as I asked. Go to your mother’s for a while. I’d rest easier,” he said, though he wasn’t sure of that and he’d miss her as if a part of him had broken away.
“I can’t stay with Mother,” Caro said, flicking her dark red hair from her face with that uniquely feminine gesture that had drawn him to her the day they met. In the back, three-year-old Alex sat in his car seat, his eyes—the exact match of Caro’s gray green—glued to his mother’s cell phone screen and his latest favorite, a video game with farm animals that squawked and mooed until Finn’s last nerve shredded. “It’s almost Christmas,” Caro went on. “Remember all that shopping we did today? Or were you not there, Finn?”
“I was there.” And looking over his shoulder the whole time they picked out presents for family members, friends and the kid whose name Alex had picked from a hat for his day care gift exchange. The back of his neck still prickling, he pulled into the driveway. “I’ll get Alex for you then unload the packages.”
“That’s my man,” she said, then teasing, “you too, Finn. I love you—and I can’t wait for you to see what Santa’s bringing you.”
“Love you too, babe.” Laughing, thinking I don’t need a gift. I have you, he got out of the car, bent to clear the rear doorframe then reached in to unbuckle his son, taking a moment to ruffle his hair—the same dark color as his own—imagining the glee Alex would feel when he saw his loot piled high under the Christmas tree. The big day was less than a week away. Alex was going to love the fancy trike they’d bought him.
Finn had everything he’d ever wanted in these two people and didn’t need anything else—other than a promotion that would allow them to buy a bigger house, have more children and get out of the city while he was still alive.
He set Alex down then started for the hatch to retrieve the first bags. Caro had outdone herself this holiday season; they’d be paying off the credit cards all next year, but as long as the generous giving made her happy— Wheels screeched around the nearest corner, speeding down his street to stop in a squeal of brakes at the curb. He’d half expected this but...he couldn’t move.
“Finn!” Caro yelled, already running toward Alex.
Whatever he might have said died unspoken in his throat. Two men in dark clothes jumped out of the other car, ski masks hiding their faces. One of them he recognized from his eyes. Eduardo Sanchez. Before Finn could shove Alex out of the way or reach for his guns, it was over.
His worst fears had come true...and he would never love like that again.
CHAPTER FOUR
AFTER THE NEXT morning’s breakfast rush ended at the diner, Annabelle went to visit Sierra again, though “visit” was a loose term. Annabelle grew more and more worried about her, and about her own upcoming trip to Denver. In two more days she would fly to Colorado. But Sierra didn’t seem to be making progress.
As much as she fretted about Emmie, she was also trying hard not to resent Sierra. Not an attractive quality, but Annabelle had essentially been forced to take over Sierra’s life, her responsibility to Emmie, and, selfish or not, that hurt.
In the meantime, Emmie was still with her. When Annabelle’s friend Olivia had come to take her to the park today, Emmie had thrown another tantrum worthy of the Incredible Hulk. I won’t, she’d screamed, refusing to put on her sneakers. I want sparkly sandals. Legs thrashing, she didn’t get off the floor until Olivia finally managed to calm her. Sierra’s little girl was handling her mother’s continued absence, and Annabelle’s ineptitude, in the only way she knew.
For now the only thing Annabelle could do was try to be patient, to be present, to keep caring for Emmie and whenever she could to sit by Sierra’s bed, to hold her hand and speak a few comforting words she hoped her cousin would hear. The last time she’d talked about Emmie’s on-again, off-again relationship with Cheerios and the way she fell asleep with her thumb in her mouth and how she asked every day for her mama. Today, praying this subject might rouse Sierra, Annabelle touched on their shared girlhood.
She didn’t mention the closet in her parents’ living room, being shut inside with only Sierra to heed her panicked cries, listening to Sierra’s whispers through the door. To hold her fear at bay, Annabelle had dreamed then, her eyes squeezed shut, of faraway places...a sandy shore, a big city with people everywhere so she wasn’t alone, a peaceful lake surrounded by white-capped mountains.
With Sierra now, she stayed close in memory to the good times they’d had.
“Remember the day you and I rode our bikes down to the creek?” She stroked the back of Sierra’s hand. The monitors beeped and whirred, and the flowers she’d brought smelled too sweet in the stuffy room. “When we left, my mom was already looking for us. She wanted our help at the diner, peeling potatoes and dicing carrots for her veal stew.” Annabelle gave a mock shudder. “Oh, we wanted to be anywhere else but there.” She still did. “You hated that steamy kitchen, too. The humidity ruined your hair, you said.” Annabelle brushed her other hand along Sierra’s tangled blond curls. “I couldn’t stand being there,” she said, “knowing I couldn’t leave until breakfast, lunch or dinner service was over. Remember, Sierra? I still feel that way. I felt so free playing hooky then.” And I’m going to again. Permanently this time.
Their getaway had been Sierra’s idea. “We shouldn’t have gone, I guess. Remember the storms we’d had all summer, day after day until the creek came over its banks? The current was so dangerous. That lazy stream became a raging torrent. I can’t believe how foolish we were to try to cross to the other side just because you said you’d seen a doe and her fawn there. We almost drowned.”
No response. Or had she seen a tiny movement of Sierra’s lips? A twitch of her eyelids, which Annabelle had glimpsed before?
A moment later, to her relief Sierra did open her eyes and squeezed Annabelle’s hand, the movement so faint she wondered if she’d imagined that, too. “You heard me!” Annabelle’s voice turned husky. “Hey there, you. Welcome back, Sierra. It’s Belle, honey.” Sierra is awake!
Her cousin licked her dry lips. “Water,” she croaked. Sierra had been on a ventilator for the first few days. Her throat must be sore.
Annabelle rang for the nurse then filled a glass from the iced carafe on the bedside table. She lifted it to Sierra’s lips and let her sip, water dribbling down her chin. With a tissue Annabelle dabbed the moisture away.
“I’m here, Sierra. You were always there for me,” she said. “When my parents got angry with me for not setting the tables sooner or because I’d forgotten to pick up the fish for dinner at the market, you defended me.” And when they’d pushed her into the punishment closet that day for playing hooky.
“I stuck up for you because...you didn’t...for yourself.”
The top of her bed was in its raised position, propping her body more upright than the last time Annabelle came, which she took as another good sign. Sierra’s bruises had changed color from purple to yellow to, now, a ghastly green. She didn’t look good but... “I’ve buzzed for the nurse. She’ll want to see that you’re awake and so will your doctors.”
Sierra shook her head, obviously troubled. “Emmie,” she murmured, tears brimming. “My baby? Where is she?”
“Oh, sweetie. She’s fine.” Of course Sierra’s first thought would be of her small daughter. “She’s at my house—or rather, with one of my friends right now. If you feel better, I’ll ask if Emmie can come to see you tomorrow. I’m so sorry I told you not to visit when you called me, Sierra. I wish you hadn’t hung up before—”
Sierra pulled her hand free. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does,” Annabelle said. “You mentioned some ‘loose ends’ then. Did you mean with me? I don’t blame you for being unhappy.” She took a sharp breath. “And whatever happened in St. Louis—”
Sierra’s brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”
Annabelle swallowed. “The sheriff says there’s a warrant in Missouri for your arrest—” She stopped again, not wanting to say anything to worsen their already broken relationship.
“He’s lying!” Sierra’s weak voice strained with emotion. Her eyes met Annabelle’s, a fierce look that made her heart trip all the more because it seemed to sap the last of her strength. “Worry about Emmie, not some warrant. Are you taking good care of her? Really?”
Annabelle’s mouth set. The past few days of trying to manage a temperamental three-year-old hadn’t been easy for her. “You didn’t have to ask. Of course I am.”
Sierra obviously didn’t believe her, and maybe she shouldn’t. Annabelle had rejected her when she phoned. In their teens, when her parents ended their friendship, she had blindly accepted their order not to bring up Sierra again—except that she had phoned her a few times when they weren’t around. Now her attempts to help, even with Emmie, were being called into question. By the time Annabelle left the room, she felt drained. She wished they’d refrained from fighting, especially when one of them had just been in a coma.
In the hallway, fretting about Sierra’s reaction, she fidgeted for half an hour until Sawyer McCord, her friend Olivia’s fiancé and Sierra’s doctor, appeared to give her an update on Sierra’s condition which was now guarded but more hopeful. Then, disappointed in herself, she headed out to the parking lot.
And that was when she remembered that she hadn’t asked Sierra about Emmie’s father.
* * *
FINN OPENED THE back hatch on his car and Sarge jumped out onto the pavement, tail wagging. In the distance Finn’s apartment building, a modest two-story complex that backed up onto some woods with a little stream where Sarge liked to splash, was lit by the setting sun. Before the dog bounded off to do his business, he suddenly growled and Finn caught his collar. “Stay.”
Sarge sat on his haunches. His ears had pricked and Finn saw why.
His cop instincts went on red alert. Tall, solidly built, and with a thatch of dark hair, wearing jeans and a hooded black sweatshirt, Derek Moran strolled across the lawn between the parking lot and the building.
Most people, including Annabelle Foster, liked Finn’s dog, but Sarge picked his friends wisely and Finn considered him to be a good judge of character. He had to agree with the dog.
Every time he and Moran met, Finn tried to suppress the surge of anger that washed through him. But the reminder was always there. Derek didn’t belong to a gang like The Brothers in Chicago who had wreaked such havoc on Finn’s life, but he had a habit of finding trouble, and a cocky attitude. Like Eduardo Sanchez.
“Moran,” he called out, keeping a tight grip on Sarge’s collar. He didn’t need animal control coming after the dog for biting, not that he could fault him for snarling at Derek. The dog’s potty break, though, would have to wait.
With a hard expression in his pale blue eyes, Derek stopped. “’Evening, Sheriff.” He gestured at Sarge. “That your K-9 department?”
“All the help I need,” Finn said. Sarge kept grumbling deep in his throat. “Thought you were working nights at the 7-Eleven these days.” What are you doing here?
“After I helped myself to a few Cokes and a burrito, management and I didn’t see eye to eye.” Derek shrugged. “No big deal. I figure they owed me something more than the lousy few bucks an hour I was getting to stand behind the counter and card every kid who wanted to buy a six-pack. Noblesse oblige, I guess you could say.”
“Fancy words,” Finn said. The right word was theft and he figured Derek had sold to those minors, perhaps for an extra fee. “So you got fired.” He stroked Sarge’s head until the dog quieted. “You’re unemployed again?”
Derek shook his head. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Sheriff. Folks tend to do that with me but they’re wrong and so are you.” His chest puffed out. “Got me a new daytime job. Salary, full benefits, even a place to sleep.”
The hackles rose on Finn’s neck. “Where?” But he could guess.
“Wilson Cattle,” Derek said, confirming Finn’s suspicion.
His heart sank. “What’s the job?”
“Ranch hand. Could become foreman one day—if I play my cards right. Dusty Malone isn’t getting any younger. I plan to take his place.”
Finn couldn’t believe his friend Grey, who owned the cattle Derek stole, and with his recent marriage was Derek’s new brother-in-law, had hired him. Maybe he’d done it to ease his conscience. Years ago, Grey was wrongly accused of killing Derek’s older brother. According to local legend, that tragedy had ruined Derek’s young life. Finn could understand that, but was Grey actually willing to risk the future of his ranch? What if Derek decided to steal more cattle from him? That case, which Finn had handled months ago, was still pending after numerous delays and a continuance from the judge, but Finn didn’t believe for a minute that Derek would use this opportunity to make something of himself. By his age, Eduardo Sanchez already had a rap sheet a mile long, and at twenty-five Derek was running out of time to keep messing up.
“Let me give you some advice.” He pointed a finger at Derek’s chest, making Sarge growl again. “Keep your nose clean this time.”
Derek snorted. “Whoa, I’m not afraid of you, Finn. I heard about you chasing the bad guys in Chicago until you almost lost your job. If you couldn’t find the people who offed your wife and kid—”
Finn’s hand loosened on Sarge’s collar. How did Derek know that? Freed from constraint, the dog lunged at Derek then backed off short of reaching him, as if he knew he would get himself in trouble if he attacked, and Finn with him. Sarge returned to sit at Finn’s feet, his throaty rumble breaking the silence. “Don’t ever mention my family again,” Finn said, his voice shaking.
“I don’t have to. Think you can do a better job here in Barren?”
Finn refused to take the bait. Moran was likely angling for a fight that would only bring disciplinary action down on his own head. He turned away. “Good luck at Wilson Cattle.” He took two steps toward the building then stopped. With his back to Derek, never a good choice, he said, “Tonight’s your lucky night. I’m not even going to ask why you’re on this property or what you’re doing miles from that ranch.”
“Last time I checked, I didn’t need your permission. I’ve got a date,” Derek said with a sudden grin in his voice, surprising Finn. There weren’t many women in town who would go out with Derek, a ladies’ man in his own mind. And certainly not many who’d bring him into their home.
Finn let that go. For now. He had no probable cause to detain him.
“I’ll be watching,” was all he said.
Derek’s laughter followed him up the steps and into the building. The back of his neck hot, Finn climbed the steps to the second floor with Sarge. Finn would have to take him out again for that potty break, but he needed to collect himself first.