At that moment, Judd turned, and Charlie found herself caught in his stare. A long, silent moment passed, and all she could think was,

Lord, don’t do this to me again.

Then Judd was laughing between mouthfuls of marshmallows that her daughter was poking into his mouth. Every bite he took, he growled and nipped at her baby fingers, which seemed to the little girl to be the height of hilarity.

When he pulled her toddler out of her car seat and into his arms, Charlie’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel. The image of a big strong man carrying her tiny child was too touching to be ignored. At that moment, she would have liked nothing better than to sit there and cry. But letting go of her emotions was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

God, please take away this feeling, she prayed silently. I don’t want to want that man….

Dear Reader,

I was so pleased to learn that A Place To Call Home was being reissued. The story depicts a life that so many children live these days. When a child is born, and held and loved, a bond is formed that only death can break. When Judd Hanna loses his mother at a young age and is left with a father who wishes Judd had never been born, his life becomes a spiral into fear and abuse. That’s when having one parent can sometimes be worse than having none at all. These kinds of children grow up with a wall between them and the rest of the world. The wall is security against ever loving, or falling in love. It’s their only protection from ever being hurt again.

But when Judd Hanna meets Charlotte Franklin and her adorable little girl, Rachel, his walls come tumbling down.

I hope that when you have finished reading this book you are able to give thanks for having wonderful families of your own. But if you do not, and if your life is somewhat like Judd Hanna’s, don’t give up. There’s always hope that you, too, will find a place you can call home.

A Place to Call Home
Sharon Sala

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SHARON SALA

With fifty-two books in print, award-winning author Sharon Sala, who also writes as Dinah McCall, still has to remind herself from time to time that this isn’t a dream.

She learned to read at the age of four, and has had her nose in a book ever since. Her introduction to romance came at an early age through the stories of Zane Grey, Grace Livingston Hill and Emily Loring.

First published in 1991, she’s now a four-time RITA® Award finalist, winner of the Janet Dailey Award, three-time Career Achievement winner from Romantic Times magazine, four-time winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award and five-time winner of the Colorado Romance Writers’ Award of Excellence, as well as numerous other industry awards.

Her books are regularly on bestseller lists, such as The New York Times, USA TODAY, Publishers Weekly, Waldenbooks mass market and many others.

She claims that, for her, learning to read was a matter of evolution, but learning to write and then being published was a revolution. It changed her life, her world and her fate.

I dedicate this book to all of my readers who have vanquished the monsters that slept under their beds.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

“Goddamn it, Hanna, you aren’t listening to me.”

Detective Judd Hanna of the Tulsa Police Department gave his captain a look that would have quelled a lesser man. Roger Shaw threw up his hands in defeat.

“And don’t give me one of those ‘spare me’ looks, either. This is serious.”

Judd let his gaze shift from his captain’s face to a spot just over his shoulder, and then the window beyond. There was a window washer halfway up the building across the street. Judd wondered absently why a man would choose such a dangerous occupation.

Shaw saw Judd’s focus shift. He turned, following Judd’s gaze, saw the man on the scaffolding across the street, and then strode to the windows and deftly dropped the shades. When he turned, Judd was heading for the door.

“I’m not through with you,” Shaw snapped. “Get back here now, and that’s an order.”

Judd sighed. Short of mutiny, which he was considering, disobeying an out-and-out order was beyond him. He turned, wishing that this feeling of helplessness would just go away. He felt aimless…almost out of control. And of all things, Judd Hanna had to be in control. It was the only way he could function.

“What…sir?”

Shaw took a deep breath and then popped a mint in his mouth to keep from cursing again. He’d lost his temper more in the last ten minutes than he had all month. God only knew what his blood pressure was doing right now. He shuddered and pushed the thought from his mind.

“Look, Hanna. I’m serious. This is Vice. We do things here as a team. You can’t keep playing cowboy every time we go out on a raid. Use your radio. Call for backup. Depend on your partner. That’s why he’s there.”

Judd’s eyes narrowed. “My partner is dead,” he said shortly.

Shaw shoved an angry hand through what was left of his thinning hair. Even though Judd had been assigned a new partner over a month ago, he had yet to acknowledge his presence.

“I know it was rough losing Myers the way we did. We all liked Dan. But life goes on. David Sanger is your partner now, and you will, by God, treat him as such.”

Judd didn’t blink and wouldn’t answer. None of them knew the guilt Judd carried. Three days away from retirement, Dan Myers had taken a bullet meant for Judd. Instead of a retirement party, they’d attended Dan’s funeral. Judd hadn’t slept the night through since.

Shaw glared at the implacable expression on Hanna’s face. Never in his life had he wanted to shake anyone as badly as he did right now. And yet looking at him, Shaw knew that was the last thing a sane man would do. At three inches over six feet, and with an attitude that wouldn’t quit, Judd Hanna was a man you didn’t want to piss off. Shaw sighed, then tried a different approach.

“Hanna, you know as well as I do that the rules are in place for everyone’s safety. Not just yours. I don’t want to attend another funeral, namely yours.”

Judd muttered something that, to Shaw, sounded suspiciously like, who the hell cares.

“That does it!” Shaw snapped. “Turn in your badge and your service revolver. I’m placing you on medical leave until you get your head screwed on straight.”

Finally, Shaw had Judd’s attention. “You can’t!” Judd argued. “We’re too close to finding Dan’s killer.”

Shaw pointed a finger in Judd’s face. “That’s what I mean,” he shouted. “Dan Myers’s case belongs to Homicide. We’re Vice.”

Judd swallowed as panic started to intercede. He couldn’t let go just like that. Why couldn’t Shaw understand?

“Look, Captain, Dan was my partner. He took a bullet meant for—”

Shaw shook his head. “You heard me. As of this minute, you’re on leave…with pay, of course. You will report to Dr. Wilson at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and every morning thereafter until he pronounces you fit for duty again.”

The department shrink? Judd’s nostrils flared.

“Like hell.”

Shaw leaned across his desk, glaring into Hanna’s face.

“Hell it may be,” he snapped. “But you don’t come back until Wilson says it’s okay.”

Judd straightened. Just the notion of letting go of the devils he lived with was impossible to consider. He tossed his shield on the desk, then laid his revolver down beside it. Without saying a word, he headed for the door.

“Hanna—”

He stopped but didn’t turn around, leaving Shaw to say what must be said to the back of his head.

“Nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Judd slammed the door behind him. It was all the comment he was capable of making.

Shaw grabbed the phone and punched in a series of numbers, frowning as he waited for an answer.

“Dr. Wilson…it’s me, Shaw. I’ve just put Judd Hanna on medical leave. He’s due in your office at nine in the morning. Yes, he’s borderline now. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I want it stopped before I lose him, too.”

He hung up, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It hadn’t been easy being tough on Hanna. He liked the man, even admired him. And losing a partner of fifteen years would have been difficult for anyone. At least now things were on the right track.

But for Judd, everything was off balance. For the first time since he took the oath of office, he had nowhere to go but his apartment. He hesitated on the street outside the station house, then headed for the bar down the street. His apartment wasn’t home. It was just where he slept, and it was far too early to go to bed.

The bar was cool and fairly quiet. The afternoon crowd had yet to arrive. Judd slid onto a stool and combed his fingers through his hair in frustration. How in hell had his life gotten so mixed up?

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

“Bourbon,” Judd muttered.

The bartender slid a bowl of pretzels his way and then went to pour the drink. Judd pushed the bowl aside. He didn’t need to eat. He needed to forget.

“Here you go, buddy,” the bartender said.

Judd grabbed the shot glass and lifted it to his lips, and as he did, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror over the bar. But something happened between recognition and focus. Instead of seeing the man that he was, he saw the boy that he’d been. His belly knotted and his heart suddenly ached as he let himself remember.

The pink slip in Joe Hanna’s back pocket rode his conscience like a hot poker. Overwhelmed at being fired from another dead-end job, he’d spent the last four hours, and what was left of his money, drowning his sorrows at the local bar. The only thing he had left was a constant, burning rage at the disappointments life had dealt him, and the burden of a ten-year old son he had never wanted.

As he started up the walk to his house, it occurred to him that the house was dark. He squinted against the glare of streetlights and cursed. That damned kid. If he wasn’t home from school, he would tan his hide.

It never occurred to Joe that more than seven hours had passed since his son, Judd, would have come home from school, or that he’d come home to a house with no food. Joe felt no guilt for his lack of concern. He kept a roof over their heads, which was more than his daddy had done for him.

He stumbled as he started up the steps, falling forward and then catching himself on his hands and knees just before his face hit the porch. A sharp pain pierced the palm of his right hand. He got up swearing and staggered into the house, turning on the lights, room by room.

“Boy! Where the hell are you?”

No one answered. Joe cursed again as he stumbled to the kitchen sink. He looked down at his hand. It was bleeding. He wiped it on the front of his shirt, then reached for the cabinet. The second shelf down from the top was where he kept his liquor. He needed a drink, but there was nothing there.

He slammed the door shut with a bang. “Goddamn it, Judd Hanna! You answer me, boy! What did you do with my whiskey?”

Again, the rooms echoed from the sound of Joe’s voice. Rage grew. His belly burned and his head was swimming. In a minute, he was going to lie down, but not before he got his hands on that damned kid.

Joe started through the rooms, shouting Judd’s name. Doors slammed. A lamp tumbled to the floor and shattered into pieces, and still no sign of the boy. He was furious. The shame of being fired, coupled with the frustrations of his life in general, had boiled into a rage. He staggered back into the kitchen, swaying where he stood and staring around the house in disbelief.

It took a while for him to realize that the door leading down to the basement was slightly ajar. A cold smile broke the anger on his face. Seconds later, he stood at the landing, shouting Judd’s name into the darkness below.

The basement walls were damp with condensation, the odors a choking blend of dust and mold. Something scurried in the darkness beneath ten-year-old Judd Hanna’s feet and he stifled a gasp. Yet the fear of the unknown was far less sinister to him than the man standing at the landing of the stairs.

“Judd…Judd, boy, I know you’re down there. Answer me, damn it.”

Judd held his breath, afraid to swallow for fear he’d be heard.

When his father started down the steps, every muscle in Judd’s body went tense.

No, no, no…God, don’t let him find me.

“Answer me, you sorry little bastard. I know you’re down there,” Joe growled.

Judd squeezed his eyes shut and shrank a little farther against the wall. If he couldn’t see his father, then his father couldn’t see him. It was a game he’d played in his mind for more years than he cared to count. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

“What did you do with my whiskey, boy? Answer me, you hear? Don’t make me come down there and get you.”

Judd gritted his teeth, struggling against the need to cry. It had been years since he’d given his father the satisfaction of knowing he could be hurt.

Joe cursed beneath his breath and reached for the light switch. But nothing happened. He cursed even louder, unaware that Judd had taken the bulb out in hopes he wouldn’t be found. But to Judd’s dismay, his father started down the steps, fumbling his way through the dark and cursing with every breath.

Judd slid silently to the floor and doubled over on himself, trying to become invisible. His eyes were closed, his breathing almost nonexistent.

“I know you’re here,” Joe whispered.

Judd’s heart was pounding and the bitter taste of fear was in his mouth.

Please God, if you’re out there…take me away. Take me away.

“You can’t hide from me. Come out now and take your punishment like a man.”

Bile rose in the back of Judd’s throat. Please, God, please. Not again. Not again. Don’t let him—

“Gotcha!” Joe said.

When the hand closed around the back of Judd’s neck, he knew it was over. He did not go willingly. Fighting against the pain of his father’s grasp, he struggled to pull free. If he could get to the stairs, he could get away. He would be safe after that. His father was bound to pass out soon. He always passed out. Those were the only times Judd ever knew peace.

Joe backhanded his son, wincing when one of Judd’s teeth accidentally cut the back of his knuckle.

“Don’t you bite me, you little bastard,” Joe snarled.

Judd’s mouth was already swelling as he tried to break free of his father’s grasp.

“I didn’t mean to, Daddy, I swear.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Joe snapped, and backhanded him again. “Why didn’t you answer me when I called you? And what the hell did you do with my whiskey?”

Reeling from the force of the blows, Judd couldn’t think, let alone answer. All he could do was duck and hold up his hands, trying to dodge his father’s fists.

It was futile.

Joe was too far gone in his rage to think about what he was doing. In his mind, he was striking out at the man who had fired him and the bartender who’d refused him a last drink. He saw the woman who had laughed at him as he stumbled out of the bar, and himself in a cycle of self-destruction with no way out.

He hated what he saw.

It was the painful jolt of flesh against flesh that finally sank through his senses. Slowly, he became aware that the skin on his hand was stinging. He paused, his arm raised above his head, and looked at the boy who was his son. The child’s face was covered in blood. Joe shuddered, his stomach suddenly roiling as the adrenaline rush started to crash. He needed to lie down.

“Now, then,” he muttered as he staggered back against the wall. “Let that be a lesson to you.”

He expected Judd to run. When he didn’t move, Joe shrugged, then turned, grabbing at the stair rail to steady himself. From the faint light spilling out from the stairwell above, he could see that Judd hadn’t moved. In fact, the boy’s silent demeanor was starting to get to him.

“It’s your own fault,” he mumbled.

Judd’s only response was a slow, careful breath. He would die before he let Joe Hanna know that he hurt.

Joe watched a thick drop of blood gathering at the corner of Judd’s nose. He began to get nervous. Tomorrow was a school day. If Judd went to school in this condition, someone might decide to butt into their business. And at this point in Joe’s life, he had too much to lose to let that happen.

Joe’s wife was dead, worn out by the years of living with the man who had been her husband. And while her death had left him with the burden of raising their son all alone, there had been a benefit to the loss that Joe hadn’t expected. Until Judd reached the age of eighteen, he received a monthly social security check on his mother’s behalf. And, as Judd’s legal guardian, the check came to Joe. It kept a roof over their heads and beer in his belly.

Yet even in the state he was in, Joe had sense enough to realize that if he lost custody of his son, he would lose access to the money. He couldn’t let that happen. So, instead of apologizing to his son, he angrily pointed a finger in Judd’s face.

“Don’t think you’re gonna go running to those damned teachers you’re so fond of and tattle on me,” Joe snarled. “They won’t help you. You know why? ’Cause you’re white trash, boy, and people don’t give a damn about white trash.”

Judd’s hands curled into fists. A red haze was spreading between himself and his father, and he couldn’t think past the heat in his belly. The urge to hit was overwhelming. The urge to wipe that look off his father’s face forever was even stronger.

Joe snorted. The kid was a loser. He wouldn’t even speak up for himself.

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed now.”

Then he started up the stairs. Halfway up, Judd’s voice came out of the silence.

“Daddy.”

Joe turned, blinking owlishly into the darkness below. Judd was only a vague outline in the shadows.

“What?”

“When you go to bed…say your prayers.”

Joe frowned. “What the hell did you say that for?”

“When you sleep, I will kill you.”

Joe’s lips slackened. The statement was so ludicrous he couldn’t think of what to say. But when Judd stepped into the light spilling down from the kitchen above, Joe took an instinctive step back. The hate on his son’s face was too real.

He tried to laugh. Judd was just a kid. A ten-year-old kid. But the laughter wouldn’t come. Suddenly, he found himself stumbling up the steps and into the light of the kitchen, his heart pounding, his belly lurching. He swayed where he stood, aware that he was only moments from passing out.

When you sleep, I will kill you.

The words still echoed in his head. Suddenly the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs sent him into a panic. Within seconds, he was staggering down the porch steps and running through the bushes of their backyard.

A cat scrambled out of a garbage can, hissing and spitting as Joe stumbled into the alley. The commotion set the neighbor’s dog to barking. Joe’s blood ran cold. If Judd wanted to, he could find him by the noise trail alone.

Joe paused and looked back. Something moved in the shadows. His heart skipped a beat. He turned and ran and never looked back, passing out some time later beneath some trees in the city park.

When he woke the next morning, his only concern was that he’d outrun his fate. Days after, when the Kentucky authorities came and took Judd away, Joe couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but relief.

And Judd Hanna didn’t care that his father was out of his life. In his mind, he’d been alone for years. His last refuge had been God, and that night under the stairs, even God had deserted him.

A loud sound outside the bar startled Judd’s reverie. He blinked several times as his thoughts refocused. Once more, he found himself staring at the man in the mirror, and at the glass of whiskey only inches away from his lips. He shuddered. Damn. He wasn’t far from the man he’d learned to hate.

At that moment, something inside of him snapped. He set the drink down without tasting it, tossed some money on the bar, and headed for the street. His captain had been right. He was taking chances with his life, only he didn’t know why, but one fact remained that he couldn’t ignore. If he wanted to live, it had to stop now.

He walked the streets for hours, weighing his options. His rent was paid until the first of the year and his utility bills were deducted directly from his bank account. He had no one to answer to but himself, and no intentions of spilling his guts to a shrink. In Judd Hanna’s mind, that left him only one option, and he was going to take it before it was too late.

Captain Roger Shaw’s satisfaction in dealing with Hanna’s problem was short-lived. At nine-thirty the next morning, a call from the department shrink verified the fact that Judd Hanna was a no-show.

Furious, he called Judd’s apartment and got a disconnect message on the phone. He stared at the receiver in disbelief, then dialed again, certain that he’d made a mistake. Again, the prerecorded message came on, saying that the number he had dialed was no longer in service. By six o’clock that evening, it was obvious that Judd Hanna was gone.

Late August, Call City, Wyoming

Judd Hanna glanced at the map on the seat beside him and then shrugged his shoulders, trying to alleviate some of the tension in his neck. It was the driving. Driving always made him tense. He looked at his watch. It was almost five o’clock. Even though it was a few hours away from nightfall, an early night sounded good. Maybe tonight he would be able to sleep. Maybe tonight the dreams wouldn’t come. God, he hoped so. He was tired. So tired.

As he topped a steep hill, he saw movement in the pasture beyond and slowed down to look. It only took a moment for the unfolding scene to register. A little girl of no more than two years old was toddling through the grass. Beyond her, and more than one hundred yards away, was a young woman, running at full stride, with her mouth open in a scream he couldn’t hear. To their right, and converging between them and gaining speed with every lope, was a huge black bull. It was obvious to Judd that the baby was the intended target, and that the mother would never reach her in time.

Without thinking, he stomped the accelerator to the floor. Tires spun on pavement, leaving behind the scent of burning rubber. He bounced across the shallow ditch and then straight through the five-strand barbed wire fence, leaving a tangle of mangled wire and broken fence posts behind him as he went. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he focused on the dwindling space between the baby and the bull.

Today was laundry day. Two-year old Rachel Franklin loved the days that her mother, Charlotte, pulled all the clothes from the clothes hamper to separate for wash. Charlotte—Charlie to her family—loved her baby more than life, but there were days, like today, when she could have done without her help. She’d already separated the colored clothes twice, each time pulling her red T-shirt from the whites. Rachel did love that red T-shirt, but Charlie didn’t think her brother, Wade, would be too fond of pink underwear, especially since he was Call City’s chief of police.

“Rachel, give Mommy the shirt,” Charlie said.

Rachel picked the red T-shirt from the pile and gave it to Charlie. The smile on her face was so precious that Charlie dropped the clothes she was carrying and picked her daughter up instead, nuzzling her nose against the baby-soft skin beneath Rachel’s ear.

Rachel cackled and squealed with delight, then threw her arms around Charlie’s neck.

“My mommy,” Rachel said, and squeezed as tight as she could.

Charlie returned the hug. “My Rachel,” she said, her throat tight with emotion.

The child was her life. The only good thing to come from loving Pete Tucker, their neighbor’s son. He’d played loose with Charlie’s feelings, then skipped out on her when she was two months pregnant to chase his dreams on the rodeo circuit. A month before Rachel was born, he’d crawled on a bull that, in a matter of seconds, had put an end to Pete Tucker’s dreams.

Charlie had grieved, but only for the loss of Rachel’s father. Charlie’s love for Pete Tucker had died the day he left her to bear the burden of their affair all alone.

“Want down,” Rachel muttered.

Charlie sighed as she put her baby back on her feet. Her daughter’s independence was inevitable, but she couldn’t help the spear of regret. She tousled Rachel’s curls.

“You go play in your room, baby girl. Mommy is going to put these clothes in the washer. Get them all clean for Uncle Wade.”

“Unca Wade?”

“Yes, these are for Uncle Wade.”

Rachel toddled off, satisfied with her mother’s explanation. Next to her mother, Wade Franklin was her favorite person.

Charlie picked up the pile of clothes, careful not to include the red shirt, and headed for the utility room off the kitchen. A couple of minutes later it dawned on her that the house was entirely too quiet and she started back through the rooms in search of Rachel.

“Rachel, where are you?” Charlie called.

She got no answer.

“Rachel, answer Mommy, where are you?”

This time the silence hit hard. Trying not to panic, she retraced her steps, searching in all of Rachel’s nooks and crannies, certain she would find her in one of her favorite places.

It wasn’t until she’d made the second trip through the house that she noticed the screen door in the living room was slightly ajar. She dashed out on the porch, telling herself to stay calm.

“Rachel, where are you?”

The silence that came afterward was unnerving. She wasted another precious minute running around the house and calling Rachel’s name, certain she’d find her playing in the sandbox under the trees in the backyard. But she wasn’t there, either.

Now she was beginning to panic. It wasn’t until she turned around that she noticed Everett Tucker’s black bull was in their pasture again. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and her brother, Wade, had warned Everett more than once to fix his fence. She stood for a moment, staring at the bull’s curious stance. His head was up, his body almost motionless in the way animals are when they sense something trespassing on their territory. And then it hit her.

“Oh, God…oh, no,” Charlie moaned, and started to run, just as the bull began to charge.

She ran without focus, searching the pasture with a frantic gaze, all the while praying against hope that she was wrong. Then she saw Rachel, toddling through the grass with a handful of flowers. She bolted across the cattle guard, running as she’d never run before, and screaming aloud Rachel’s name.

She didn’t feel the heat of the sun upon her face. She didn’t even hear the sound of her own screams. All she could do was focus on Rachel’s curly head and remember how soft her baby’s curls were against her face, and how sweet they smelled after a shampoo.

The bull’s angry bellow shattered the air and Charlie screamed again, trying to divert his attention. It didn’t happen, and it occurred to her then that she would watch her daughter die. As fast as she was running, the bull was still gaining on Rachel, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Then out of nowhere, a black Jeep suddenly appeared in the pasture, flying across the ground at breakneck speed. Before she could absorb the implications, she stumbled and fell. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her face. Dirt was in her eyes, and her leg was afire with an unbearable pain. And yet as quickly as she fell, she was struggling to her feet and rubbing at her eyes, desperate to see. Had Rachel died while she was facedown in the dirt?

Through a blur of tears, she looked up to see the Jeep come to a sudden halt only a foot or so from where Rachel was standing. The door opened. She saw a man lean out and yank Rachel inside only seconds before bull and Jeep collided. The heavy thud of bending metal was like music to her ears. She dropped her head and took deep, calming breaths. Nothing mattered any longer. Rachel was safe.

Judd was numb. The rush of adrenaline that had gotten him this far was receding as swiftly as it had come, leaving him weak and shaken. The baby in his arms looked as startled as he’d been moments earlier when he’d seen the scene unfolding. The bull had already done a job on the passenger side of his Jeep and was now butting against the radiator as hard as he could. Judd sighed, watching the steam spewing up from under the hood. No telling what was busted, but it really didn’t matter. For now, the child was safe.

He began running his hands over the little girl’s body, desperate to assure himself that she had come to no harm. He’d yanked her pretty hard when he’d picked her up, but there hadn’t been time for gentle introductions. When he was satisfied that she was all right, he glanced at the bull, who had taken an angry stance a distance away.

So far, so good, Judd thought, and looked around for the woman he’d seen running earlier. Then he saw her on her knees a distance away. It was obvious from the expression on her face that she was in pain.

Beyond the Jeep, the bull began pawing the earth, sending showers of dust into the air. Every now and then, the air would shift from the force of an angry bellow.

Judd eyed the woman nervously. If the bull figured out she was there, she could very well be its next target. Saying a prayer that the Jeep would still move, he grabbed the little girl to keep her from falling, then put it in gear.

“Okay, baby, let’s go get your mother.”

The little girl stared at Judd with a solemn expression.

“Mommy,” she said, pointing with the flowers she still held.

“I see her, honey. And I have a suspicion she would like to see you, too.”

The Jeep moved forward amid a spewing mist of steam. He drove slowly, hoping the bull would stay his ground.

Charlie saw them coming, and her heart skipped a beat. The bull stilled, watching intently as the Jeep began to move. She started to get up, and then realized that motion—any motion—might set the bull off. She held her breath, almost afraid to blink. The fire in her ankle was spreading up her leg. When the Jeep stopped beside her, she tried to stand up, then dropped back to the ground from the pain.

A deep, gravelly voice suddenly rumbled close to her ear. “Easy there, lady, let me help.”

Charlie was starting to shake. “My baby—”

“She’s fine,” Judd said. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Charlie reacted instinctively, clutching at the collar of his shirt as he picked her up. She had a vague impression of a hard body, dark hair, and a muscle jerking at the side of his jaw as he set her into the driver’s side of the seat. Charlie winced as she slid over to the passenger side, grabbing at Rachel as she moved.

“Mommy,” Rachel said, and crawled into Charlie’s lap as if this was an everyday occurrence.

Charlie clung to her baby in desperation and buried her face in her neck. Seconds later, the door slammed and she knew that the man had climbed back inside. She needed to thank him. She needed to look in his eyes and see the man who had given her back her world, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the child in her arms.

Finally, she looked up. Rachel was smiling that sweet baby smile, unaware how close she’d come to getting them both killed.

Charlie stared at a smear of pollen on Rachel’s cheek, as well as a crushed petal stuck to the corner of her lip, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Rachel hadn’t just been picking the flowers; it looked as if she’d been eating them as well.

Tears welled, spilling down Charlie’s face as she wrapped her arms around Rachel, flowers and all, and rocked her where she sat.

“Mommy cwy?” Rachel asked, feeling the streaks on Charlie’s cheeks.

Charlie choked on a sob and buried her face in Rachel’s curls. “Yes, baby, Mommy’s crying. You scared me.”

“Fwowers, Mommy. Picked you fwowers.”

Charlie nodded and tried to smile, but it was impossible.

Judd saw her distress. The woman was in pain, both emotionally and physically. He looked toward the cluster of buildings just beyond the fence and put the Jeep in gear.

“Hang on, lady. I’m taking you home.”

Chapter 2

The farmhouse looked old, but well-cared-for. The single-story white building was a perfect square, with a deep wraparound porch framing the exterior walls. A brown brick chimney rose above the rooftop on the north side of the house. Judd suspected that on a cold winter day the smoke from that chimney would rise high above the grove of surrounding trees.

The woman beside him was still crying, although silently now. He couldn’t blame her. For a while there he’d felt like crying himself. As he crossed the cattle guard, the Jeep began to sputter. By the time he got to the house, it was barely moving, but it didn’t matter now. They were safe. He killed the engine, then glanced at the woman to his right. There was dirt on her face and blood on her knees, and her fingers were trembling as she brushed at the baby curls tumbling around the little girl’s face. In his line of work, he’d seen plenty of people in shock, and he wanted to get her inside before she started coming undone.

“Ma’am, if you’ll allow me, I’ll help get you inside, and then I’ll be needing to use your phone to call for a tow.”

Then, what the man had sacrificed to save them hit Charlie. She glanced up, and for the first time, she really looked at him. His eyes were blue—so blue they were almost transparent. His features were even, his jaw strong. There was just a hint of a crook to his nose, an indication of it once having been broken, and there was a small jagged scar on the right side of his jaw. And he was big, so very big. His shoulders spanned almost half the width of the seat. She remembered the feel of his hands closing around her waist and pulling her up to safety, and she shuddered.

“Please, call me Charlie.”

He smiled. “I knew a Charlie once, but he wasn’t as pretty as you.”

It was just the sort of silly remark Charlie needed to gather herself together. “It’s short for Charlotte…Charlotte Franklin.”

Judd extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, ‘short for Charlotte.’ My name is Judd Hanna.”

Charlie hesitated, but only briefly. His grasp was firm but gentle, and again, the ordinary gesture took another bite out of her unsettled nerves. She sighed, then pointed to the hood of his car and the smoke spewing out from beneath the hood.

“Mr. Hanna, I’m so sorry about what happened to your car.”

“Judd, please,” he said, and then looked at Rachel. “As for the damage, it was worth it. Now, let’s see about getting you two inside.”

He took Rachel out of Charlie’s arms and then carried her to the porch.

“Wait right here, honey. We’ve got to help Mommy, okay?”

“Help Mommy,” Rachel echoed, and then sat down on the steps, the wilting flowers still clutched in her hand.

Charlie scooted across the seat and then out from under the steering wheel, but when she tried to stand, her ankle gave way. Before she could argue, Judd picked her up and started up the steps. A little nervous that a total stranger had taken charge of her life, she began to fidget.

“Mr. Hanna, I—”

“Judd.”

She sighed. “Judd, this is embarrassing.”

He paused. “Lady, allow me the honor of helping one of the bravest people I ever saw.”

She flushed. “I don’t know what you—”

His voice grew quiet, and the look in his eyes hushed her words.

“You would have both died. You know that, don’t you?”

She glanced down at her daughter, who was pulling the petals from a flower, and her expression crumpled.

“Life wouldn’t have been worth living without her.”

Breath caught in the back of Judd’s throat. Logically, he accepted the fact that there were people who would willingly die for another, but Charlotte Franklin’s willingness to put herself in harm’s way for her child was the first example of that selfless dedication he’d ever seen. He supposed that his mother might once have loved him like that, but he didn’t remember it. He glanced back at Rachel, who was still sitting on the steps.

“Yeah. I can only imagine,” he said softly. Then he raised his voice a notch. “Come on, little girl, it’s time to go inside.”

To Charlie’s surprise, Rachel minded the stranger and followed them in. As soon as Judd put her down, Rachel crawled up in Charlie’s lap and laid her head on her mother’s breast.

“Is she okay?” Judd asked.

Charlie nodded. “Just a little confused, I think. She’ll be all right.” Then she pointed toward the phone. “There’s a phone book in the drawer underneath.”

Judd shook his head. “You come first. If you don’t mind me prowling a bit, I want to put some ice on your ankle.”

“The kitchen is that way,” Charlie said. “There are some plastic bags in the drawer beside the sink and there’s an ice maker in the top of the fridge.”

Judd headed for the kitchen, returning shortly with a bag full of ice wrapped in a towel. Charlie winced when he laid it on her ankle.

“Sorry,” Judd said. “Does your husband work nearby?”

The tone of Charlie’s voice never wavered. “I don’t have a husband.”

Judd glanced at Rachel, then at Charlie, then fussed with the bag of ice just for something to do.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. It’s just that you can’t be here by yourself. Is there anyone I can call for you?”

Charlie sighed. The man was getting the wrong impression, and while it really didn’t matter what he thought, she felt obligated to explain.

“I am not a widow. To the contrary, I have never been married. And yes, there is someone—my brother, Wade. If you don’t mind handing me the phone, I’ll give him a call.”

Judd turned, then stopped and stared. “There’s a police car coming down your driveway.”

A wave of emotion suddenly washed over Charlie. Wade was hardly ever home on time. Thank God this was one of those rare days. To her surprise, she felt tears threatening again.

She took a deep breath, trying to still the tremble in her voice. “That would be Wade. He’s the police chief in Call City.”

Judd stiffened, then made himself relax, accepting the irony of the situation. He’d driven halfway across the country to get away from law enforcement, and the first time he lingered long enough to exchange names, they were tied to the same damned branch of government.

A few moments later, the officer who’d been driving the car came through the door, his eyes wide with concern. Judd braced himself for the confrontation.

Wade had been looking forward to an easy evening until he’d seen the destruction to the pasture fence. His mood had taken a quick swing downward and was far from level when he came through the door. Seeing Charlie’s tears and the stranger standing next to her, his hand automatically slid to the butt of his gun.

“Charlie…honey…what the hell happened?”

“It’s okay,” Charlie said, and then started to cry in earnest.

Judd sighed. She’d been bordering on hysteria ever since he’d pulled her out of the dirt. It was inevitable that she would finally break down. What surprised him was the urge he had to comfort her.

Wade moved toward Charlie, but his attention was completely focused on the man standing next to her.

“Easy, buddy,” Judd said, “I’m the good guy here.” Then he offered his hand. “My name is Judd Hanna.”

Wade nodded, but reserved the right to the handshake until after he knew some more facts. Judd shrugged. He couldn’t really blame him.

“What the hell happened to the fence?” Wade said, looking straight at Judd. “Did it run into your car?”

Judd laughed out loud. Even Charlie managed to chuckle through tears. Rachel giggled, too, although the joke was over her head, and then she pointed out the door.

“Big bull.”

Wade frowned. “What bull, honey?”

Charlie choked on a sob. “Oh, Wade. Tucker’s bull…it was in our pasture again. I couldn’t find Rachel, and then I saw her…and the bull was charging…but I couldn’t outrun…if it hadn’t been for…he drove through the fence and…I fell and it was…oh, God, Wade, the bull would have killed her.”

She shuddered, then buried her face against the back of Rachel’s neck.

All the color faded from Wade Franklin’s face. He looked at Judd, and this time, he was the one who offered his hand.

“Mister, I suppose we’ll sort out the details later, but if I’m understanding the situation here, you just saved their lives, and if that’s so, then there aren’t enough words to thank you.”

Judd shrugged, a little embarrassed at being the sudden focus of attention. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

Too overcome to speak, Wade impulsively hugged him. Judd was still reeling from the impact of being royally thumped on the back when Wade let him go and shifted his focus to Charlie.

He squatted down beside her and lifted the ice from her foot. “I think you need to see a doctor,” he said, then took out his handkerchief and wiped at the tears and dirt on her face as if she was a child.

Charlie caught his hand. “No, it’s just a sprain. I’ll be fine.”

Judd’s heart twisted again. The closeness between brother and sister only served as a reminder of what was missing in his life.

“About that phone call,” Judd said. “If you’d recommend a towing service and a motel, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Wade rocked back on his heels. “There aren’t any motels in Call City, and the only tow truck is out on a call. I know because I sent him.”

Then he glanced at Charlie. She nodded. They had no options but to offer their home to the man. After all he’d done, it was the least they could do.

“Charlie and I would consider it an honor to put you up for the night.”

Judd shook his head. “That’s not necessary. I’ve slept in my car plenty of times. It won’t hurt me to do it again.”

“No,” Charlie said. “You’ll stay in the house, with us.”

He took a deep breath and looked down. Even with the dirt on her face, Charlotte Franklin was a good-looking woman, but it was the expression in her eyes that swayed him. She needed to make reparation. Whether he wanted to or not, he felt obligated to accept her hospitality.

“Then I thank you,” he said. “And just to make sure you folks don’t feel the need to sleep with a gun under your pillow, would it make you feel better to know I’m a cop?”

Wade’s smile was one of relief as he stood abruptly. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“Probably because I’m AWOL from my precinct,” Judd said. “And, before you assume the worst, I’m not in trouble, I just got fed up.”

Wade’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “Yeah, that can happen.”

Judd handed Wade a card with the phone number on it.

“Call the Tulsa, Oklahoma, P.D. Ask for Captain Roger Shaw. He’ll vouch for my honesty, if not my sanity.”

Charlie flinched, then held her baby closer, suddenly unsure of having this stranger in their house all night. Judd caught the look.

“Ma’am.”

She looked up.

“I swear to you that the only person I’m capable of hurting is myself.”

Charlie stared intently. She had no reason to trust his word, other than the fact that he’d saved their lives. It would have to be enough. Finally, she nodded and managed a smile.

“Then that’s that,” Wade said. “And before you call a mechanic, I need to use the phone. I’ve got to talk to a man about a bull.”

Wade stalked to the phone and punched in some numbers before taking the portable with him as he strode out to the porch.

Charlie combed a shaky hand through her hair as Rachel wiggled to be put down. Through the open doorway, bits and pieces of Wade Franklin’s conversation could be heard.

“Don’t give a good damn about why…nearly killed…going to be hamburger if you don’t get the son of a…”

Charlie looked at Judd and then sighed. “Wade has a bad temper.”

Judd shrugged. “I don’t blame him. If it had been me, I would have probably shot the son of a bitch and worried about the complications later.”

Startled by his matter-of-fact tone, Charlie could think of nothing to say. When Judd turned away, she found herself watching his every move.

“Potty,” Rachel suddenly announced.

Charlie groaned. With her bad ankle, she’d never make it to the bathroom with Rachel in time.

“Wade! Come quick.”

Her call brought her brother running.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Rachel needs to go to the bathroom.”

Wade laughed and tossed the cell phone on the cushion beside Charlie as he picked up his little niece.

“Come on, shortcake, let’s hurry.”

Rachel giggled. “Hurry, hurry,” she repeated.

Charlie rolled her eyes and then glanced at Judd. He was grinning.

“Potty training,” she explained. “There’s never much time between her and disaster.”

His grin widened.

“As soon as Wade comes back, he’ll show you where you can sleep. After I wash some of this dirt off myself, I’ll see to fixing supper.”

“No, ma’am,” Judd said. “We’ll cook. You just sit there and look pretty. It’ll make us all feel better.”

Charlie blushed. Moments later, Wade was back. He helped her to her feet and then down the hall to the bathroom, leaving Rachel and Judd alone.

Judd squatted until he was eye to eye with the little girl, and then reached out and pulled a flower petal from the side of her face.

“These any good?” he asked, and licked it.

She giggled and ducked her head.

As she smiled, the knot in Judd’s belly shifted slightly. Maybe this detour wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

Within the hour, Judd realized how unimportant haste was in Call City. It would be morning before the mechanic would come get his car. Even if he’d been willing to pay the extra money to have it hauled in tonight, it would solve nothing. The garage wouldn’t be open until 7:00 a.m., so there was no need to hurry just to have it parked.

Resigned to his fate, he’d taken his suitcase out of the Jeep and headed for the room he’d been given. It was small but clean, and the furniture was sturdy. The fact that he’d have to share a bathroom with a baby and two other people seemed a small price to pay for the comfort of a home-cooked meal and a place to wash some clothes.

A short while later, Judd saw a pickup truck coming down the driveway and pulling a trailer. The owner of the runaway bull, he assumed. He watched from the window as Wade met the man in the drive. Again, harsh words were traded, and while he was debating with himself about getting involved before someone threw the first punch, he overheard something that stunned him. The man called Tucker wasn’t only the owner of the bull, he was Rachel Franklin’s grandfather, as well. What made no sense was that he was so belligerent about the fact.

“He’s not a happy man,” Charlie said, pointing toward the man in the truck.

Startled, Judd turned. “Who, Wade?”

“No, Everett Tucker.”

Judd turned away, a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, but he supposed it was the cop in him, always wanting to know the why of everything.

“I didn’t intend to pry,” he said.

Charlie shrugged. “It’s no secret in these parts that Everett doesn’t like us.” Then she turned and looked at Rachel, who was playing on the floor in front of the television. “He especially doesn’t like Rachel.”

“But why?” Judd asked.

“Because she’s all there is left of his only son, Pete, and I guess it hurts him too much to look at her.”

“I’m sorry,” Judd said. “Again, I seem to be stepping on ghosts.”

Charlie glanced at him and managed a smile. “No. All my ghosts are laid, Mr. Hanna. It wasn’t in me to grieve for Pete’s death when he’d already walked out on me for getting pregnant.”

Judd paled. “Look, I know I keep saying this, but I’m sorry. And for what it’s worth, the man must have been a purebred fool.”

Charlie sighed. “Pretty much.”

Uncomfortable with the emotions tumbling around in his head, Judd stared at her for a moment, then strode out the door.

The sun was hanging low in the west before Judd came back in the house. He’d helped Wade mend the fence, but did little more than watch as the livestock were fed. Country life was something foreign to his world.

After washing up, Wade had handed him a bowl of potatoes and a paring knife and then headed for the door with a platter of steaks. Now he stood at the sink peeling potatoes while Wade tended to the meat cooking on the grill outside. Judd watched as Rachel ran from the swing set to her uncle and back again, talking nonstop without care if anyone answered. He paused with a potato in one hand and the paring knife in the other, imagining himself in such a family tableau. Then reality surfaced and he returned to the potatoes, removing the peelings in angry chunks. It was obvious as hell that he couldn’t take care of himself, let alone a wife and kids, so why want something he couldn’t have?

In the midst of his anger, it dawned on him he was no longer alone. He pivoted. Charlotte Franklin was standing in the doorway, using the facing for a crutch. He dropped the knife and potato and bolted toward her, wiping his hands on his jeans as he went.

“You shouldn’t be on that foot. Let me help you to a chair.”

Grateful for his strength, Charlie started to lean on him, when Judd slid an arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her off her feet.

“This is getting embarrassing,” she muttered.

Judd grinned, trying to put her at ease. “Now, Charlie, you wouldn’t deny a man such a golden opportunity. It isn’t every day I get the excuse to hold a pretty woman.”

“Not even your wife?”

Judd found himself caught in her gaze. For a long moment, neither moved—neither spoke. Damp tendrils of her freshly washed hair brushed the backs of his hands. Her eyes were wide and questioning, her expression tense, as if she were holding her breath for an answer she didn’t want to hear. Then he shook off the thought. This was crazy. She was a stranger.

“Not married,” he said, and then added, “No significant other, either. Being a cop isn’t conducive to permanent relationships.”

“You can put me down now,” she said.

Judd blinked, a bit startled by the abrupt change in their conversation, and then continued his trek across the floor, gently lowering her into a chair.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded. As he started back toward the sink, she spoke.

“Mr. Hanna…”

He sighed, then turned. Obviously she wasn’t going to call him Judd until she was ready.

“Yes?”

“It isn’t the job, it’s the man inside the uniform that controls his own life.”

Reeling from the brutal truth in her words, he was still struggling for an answer when Wade came inside.

“Steaks are done,” he announced, carrying the platter before him as if he were bearing pure gold.

“The potatoes aren’t,” Judd said, and headed for the sink.

Charlie stared at the stiff set to Judd’s shoulders, and ignored her brother’s curious gaze. Obviously, her comments had touched a nerve.

“No matter. These will keep,” Wade said. “I’ve got to fish Rachel out of the sandbox, anyway.” He set the plate down on the table near Charlie’s elbow and headed back out the door.

The evening meal came and went, but long after Judd had gone to bed that night, Charlotte Franklin’s words still rang in his ears. It isn’t the job, it’s the man inside the uniform that controls his own life.

If that was true, then no wonder he thought he was going crazy. That night he dreamed of his partner, Dan Myers—laughing one minute, then the next, drowning in his own blood from the bullet that had exploded inside his chest.

Judd was in the country, so awakening to the crow of a rooster didn’t surprise him. But he wasn’t expecting to feel soft baby breath on the side of his face. One heartbeat he was drifting toward consciousness and the next second he was wide-awake and staring into a pair of round brown eyes. Before he could move, Rachel Franklin stuck her finger up his nose.

“Nose,” she said.

He laughed. It wasn’t the soft, easy chuckle that his buddies in the department would have recognized. In fact, if he’d heard a replay of it, he wouldn’t have recognized himself. It was a deep, from-the-belly laugh that echoed within the silence of the house. The little girl giggled and ducked her head behind the blanket wadded up in one arm, then peeked out at him again.

He reached down and picked her up, sitting her on the side of the bed. Soft baby curls straggled down in her eyes, and she was missing a sock. But she smelled sweet and the smile she gave him was even sweeter.

“So, you’re an early bird, are you, punkin?”

“Bird,” Rachel said, and pointed out the window.

Judd’s grin widened. She wasn’t just pretty. She was smart, too. It shouldn’t have mattered, but the knowledge pleased him.

“Yeah, that’s right. Birds live in trees.”

She wiggled her bottom a little closer to the warmth of his leg beneath his covers, and pulled her blanket up under her chin just as Charlie came hobbling into the room.

Her hair wasn’t in much better shape than her daughter’s, but that was where the similarities ended. Devoid of all makeup and with eyes still heavy with sleep, she had the look of a woman who’d spent the night in a loving man’s arms. He had a moment of insanity wondering what it would be like to make love to her, and then tossed it aside.

“I am so sorry,” Charlie said as she made a grab for Rachel. “She’s just started getting out of her baby bed by herself.”

Judd grinned. “If you could bottle her action, she’d make alarm clocks passé.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but what did she do?” Charlie asked.

Judd grinned. “Let’s just say that, if it wasn’t before, I’m pretty sure my left nostril is clean.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord.”

Judd started to laugh again. “It wasn’t so bad. It’s better than the barrel of a .45, any day.”

Charlie grimaced. “You cops have a weird sense of humor. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll leave you to your sleep.”

Judd stretched and yawned. “Never was much good at sleeping in,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll make some coffee.”

Charlie’s pulse gave a leap as the sheet slipped down toward his belly. It was all she could do to answer.

“Uh…yes…I mean, no, I don’t mind. Make yourself at home. Wade is in the shower but he’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Judd glanced down at her ankle as she moved toward the door. It was still swollen and starting to bruise. Without thinking, he started to get up and help her, then remembered he had nothing on. He waited until they were gone, then got up and dressed, keeping it casual. He put on his last pair of clean jeans and a slightly wrinkled T-shirt bearing the logo of the Tulsa P.D.

As he headed for the kitchen, he could hear Charlotte’s voice, soft and coaxing as she helped her daughter dress, as well as the occasional rumble of Wade Franklin’s voice. From what he could hear, the police chief was already on the phone, dealing with the business of the day. Just for a moment, he regretted the fact that he wasn’t getting ready for the job, then reminded himself that it was because of the damned job that he was here. Somehow, he was going to have to find a way to forgive himself for not dying along with Dan Myers.

A couple of minutes later, he was digging through the cabinets for the coffee when Wade walked into the kitchen. He turned.

“I asked Charlie if it would be okay to make coffee,” he said.

Wade shrugged, obviously preoccupied. “Have at it,” he muttered.

Judd filled the carafe with water then measured out the coffee, all the while keeping an eye on Wade. Once the coffee was on and brewing, he turned.

“Got trouble?” he asked.

Wade nodded. “Probably.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Wade reached for a bottle of painkillers. “Bad knee,” he said, and downed a couple without water.

Judd waited. If the man wanted to talk, he would do so when he was ready. Then Wade looked up, and Judd felt himself under sudden scrutiny.

“I talked to your captain,” Wade said.

Judd grinned wryly. “What did he say?”

“That he was glad to know the son of a bitch was still alive and to tell him to get his ass back to Tulsa.”

Judd shrugged. “He loves me. What can I say?”

Wade almost grinned, but there was more on his mind than Judd’s defection.

“He also said you’re a hell of a detective, which brings me to my question.”

Suddenly, Judd sensed he wasn’t going to like what was coming.

“Looks like I’ve got myself a problem in Call City,” Wade said, then poured them each a cup of coffee before continuing. “A man named Raymond Shuler, who is president of the local bank, is missing. His wife said he went to a meeting last night and never came home. My deputy found his car, still parked at the town hall where the meeting was held, but Shuler is nowhere to be found.”

Judd frowned. “This ever happened before?”

Wade shook his head. “That’s just it. Shuler isn’t the type to pull any stunts. It’s obvious something has happened.”

“Like robbery, or maybe another woman?”

Wade shrugged. “Could be any number of things. I’ll find out more when I get to the office.”

“What’s that have to do with me?” Judd asked.

Wade paused. Judd could see the hesitation on his face.

“It’s just that my deputy, Hershel Brown, is getting married tomorrow and leaving on his honeymoon. He won’t be back for at least two weeks, maybe more. I can hardly ask the kid to postpone his wedding because of this, and I’m damned sure not going to tell him he can’t go on his honeymoon, but I’m going to be real shorthanded until he gets back.”

Judd stiffened. “How many other deputies do you have?”

Wade grinned. “None, and since you’re going to be stuck here until your Jeep is fixed, I thought you might consider helping me out with this case. I could probably work a small consultation fee into the budget, although it wouldn’t be much.”

Judd sighed. This wasn’t what he’d planned to do, but like the man said, what other options did he have?

Then Wade added the kicker. “And, since you’ll be staying on here until your vehicle is up and running…”

“Okay,” Judd said. “But no fee is necessary. Technically, I’m still employed in Oklahoma.”

Wade grinned. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate this.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Judd said.

Wade shrugged off the warning, but before he could comment, someone honked outside.

Wade refilled his coffee cup and then motioned with his chin. “That will be Tooter Beel.”

“Tooter?”

Wade grinned. “Don’t ask.” Then he added, “He’ll tow your car to the garage in town, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to talk to the mechanic.”

Judd frowned. This meant another day’s delay added on to the rest. Then he sighed. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“Why tomorrow?” he asked.

“Because today is Monday and Harold doesn’t open the shop on Mondays.”

Judd knew he shouldn’t ask, but the question came out, anyway.

“And why doesn’t he open on Mondays?”

Wade’s grin widened. “Because he’s usually sleeping off a weekend drunk. Even if he came in and unlocked the shop, you wouldn’t want him working on anything. He’s real mean until the liquor wears off.”

“So, all that’s going to happen today is my Jeep gets parked in town?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Fine. Then I’ll stay here and help Charlie.”

Wade looked nervous. This wasn’t what he had in mind.

“Uh, I don’t think…”

“Is there anyone…maybe a neighbor, or a friend, who can come stay with her?” Judd asked.

Wade frowned. “No.”

“Maybe you were planning to stay here and help her?” Judd asked.

“Not with Shuler missing. In fact, I should already be at the office,” Wade said.

“So, what’s-his-name can tow my car and I’ll stay here and help. Maybe by tomorrow the swelling in her foot will be down.”

The horn sounded again. Wade was out of excuses. He set his coffee cup down and headed for the door.

“Fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll tell Tooter to hook ’er up and pull it into town. You can talk to Harold tomorrow about repairs.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Judd said, and wondered why he’d been so bent on baby-sitting a woman and a kid. It wasn’t like him. In fact, it wasn’t like him at all.

Chapter 3

Judd couldn’t remember ever wanting to touch a woman as much as he wanted to touch Charlotte. Her skin, an even golden tan, was glistening with a faint sheen of perspiration as she crawled around on her knees, weeding the flower garden in front of the house. She wore her hair in a thick rope of braid, and the warm chestnut color glowed from the heat of the sun. The braid hung over her shoulder as she worked, and each time she straightened to rest her back, it would bounce against the thrust of one breast. Her shorts were old and frayed at the hems, the denim fabric faded by countless washings, and the logo on her T-shirt was completely illegible. He kept staring at the slender curve of her neck and the high, delicate instep of her small bare feet, and telling himself to focus on something else. He didn’t listen.

Beyond the sandstone walk, the baby played, carrying a small bucket of dirt from one pile to another, then scooping it up and doing it all over again. Overhead, a lone turkey buzzard circled high in the sky, looking for something to eat. Judd glanced up, past the buzzard to the jet trail far above, and thought of the faceless people in that plane. They didn’t know it, but at this very moment, they were flying over heaven.

“Judd, would you hand me that small rake, please?”

He grabbed at the rake with a guilty conscience. Could she tell he’d been thinking about her? Would it show on his face?

“Thanks,” she said, and began pulling it through the dirt, loosening the soil around the roots of some bushes.

“I would have been happy to do that for you,” Judd said.

Charlie paused, giving him more than a casual glance. His shoulders were straining at the shirt he was wearing, and from where she was sitting, the muscles in his legs weren’t too shabby, either. She wondered if he was a fitness freak, and then discarded the thought. It shouldn’t matter to her what he was.

“Do you know the difference between marigolds and weeds?” she asked.

He hesitated and then grinned. “No.”

“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll do it myself.”

Judd laughed. “You don’t trust men much, do you?”

She never looked up. “I haven’t had much reason.”

Judd’s smile faded. He glanced at Rachel, watching the way her baby curls bounced as she toddled from place to place, and he thought of the fool who’d denied her.

“No, I guess you haven’t at that,” he said softly, watching as Rachel came toward them, still carrying her shovel but leaving her little bucket behind.

“Mommy, I sirsty.”

“Just a minute, sweetie,” Charlie said. “Let Mommy get up and I’ll get you a drink.”

Judd put his hand on her shoulder. “I would be happy to take her for you.”

Charlie hesitated, then smiled. “Thanks, but I’d better do it. She probably needs to go to the bathroom, too.”

Judd started to argue, then thought better of it. He couldn’t blame her. If it was his daughter, he wouldn’t want a strange man taking her to the bathroom, either.

He nodded, then slid his hands beneath her armpits and pulled Charlie to her feet. For a second, they were face-to-face, gazes locked.

Then something happened.

Charlie would think later that it was a recognition of souls, while Judd would not remember the thought in his mind, only the yearning to kiss her.

He moved.

She lifted her face and held her breath.

“Mommy…”

Rachel’s plea yanked them back to reality, a vivid reminder that they were not alone. Desperate to put something between them, Judd picked the child up, then slid his free arm around Charlie’s waist and helped her into the house. Oddly enough, she leaned on his strength without fuss, taking his help as it was meant to be given. When they were inside, he set Rachel down in the hall outside the bathroom door. Charlie moved past him without comment. Judd watched the door closing between them while thinking he should have gone into town with Wade, after all. Staying alone in this house with Charlotte Franklin hadn’t been a good idea. He already admired her. He didn’t want to like her—at least, not so much that it would matter when it was time to leave.

Raymond Shuler came to in the dark and thought at first he’d gone blind. Then he felt the blindfold on his eyes and fought an urge to throw up. A whimper of protest came up his throat, but never got past the gag in his mouth. The ropes around his wrists and ankles were rough and binding, but those were the least of his worries. He’d been kidnapped. He was going to die.

Time passed. His mind was clearing as he recognized a current of air moving across his skin. A few seconds later it hit him. My God, he was naked!

Fear sliced through him, leaving him sick to his stomach as he struggled to pull free. The smell of dust was thick in the air and his throat felt dry, his lips cracked and burning.

Something rattled—then rattled again. At the sound of footsteps, he stilled. Was this it? Was this the moment he was going to die? He thought of his wife, of his family, of the debts that he owed and the secrets he’d kept and wondered how the world could go on without him. A low whimper slid up his throat, hanging just behind the gag stuffed in his mouth.

Hands yanked him roughly, rolling him from his back to his belly. He started to cry, mutely begging for a mercy that never came. Suddenly, something hot was thrust against his hip and the scent of burning flesh was in the air. Shocked by the unexpected stab of piercing pain, he arched up off the floor and then blessedly passed out before it was over. He never knew when the syringe full of antibiotic went into his arm, or when the sound of footsteps receded. It would be another day before he awoke, and by that time, the deed—and the damage—had been done.

“So, what do you know about the missing banker that you didn’t know this morning?” Judd asked as he cleared the table from the supper they’d just had.

Oblivious to the seriousness of the conversation going on around her, Rachel crawled up on her uncle Wade’s lap and began unbuttoning his shirt—a new and favorite pastime.

Wade looked down at his niece and grinned as her tiny fingers worked the buttons out of the holes.

“Not much,” he said. “Only that it looks like a real abduction, but there’s been no demand for ransom.”

“Does he have money?” Judd asked.

Charlie snorted lightly. “He’s got plenty of ours,” she muttered.

Wade patted Charlie on the hand, then looked at Judd. “Sometimes it’s hard to meet the mortgage payments and Shuler isn’t exactly a ‘good old boy’ when it comes to extensions.” Then he answered Judd’s question. “Yeah, he’s got money. Inherited it from his old man.”

Judd frowned. “Maybe you’re not the only people who don’t like the way he does business. Would you say he has enemies?”

Charlie’s snort was a little more pronounced. “It would be easier to count his friends. There’re fewer of them.”

Judd grinned at her. Damned if he didn’t like her spunk. “That bad, is he?”

She grimaced, then looked at Wade and sighed. “Am I being dramatic again?”

“Yes, honey, but that’s part of why I love you.”

She grinned. “And the other part is?”

He looked down at the imp in his lap. His chest was bare clear down to his belt. When she started twisting the hair on his chest around her little fingers and pulling, he yelped, then handed her to Charlie.

“I suppose that would be Miss Rachel here, although I must be a masochist for thinking it. Every night I suffer the tortures of the damned with those tiny fingers.” He looked at Judd and grinned. “With Rachel, who needs a razor?”

“Or a handkerchief,” Judd added.

Charlie thought of the way Judd had been awakened this morning and started to laugh.

“What did I miss?” Wade asked.

“While you were in the shower this morning, Judd had a rather rude awakening.”

Wade started to grin. “Not the finger-up-the-nose trick?”

Judd chuckled. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “But it was the exploratory twist before she pulled it out that got my full attention.”

Wade chuckled as Charlie squeezed Rachel close in her arms, burying her nose against the little girl’s neck.

“You’re such a mess, baby girl. What is Mama going to do with you?”

Judd leaned over and patted the tousle of curls on Rachel’s head. They felt like loops of silk against his palm.

“Just love her,” he said softly. “These days, the age of innocence is far too short.”

Wade’s smile slipped. “Amen to that,” he said, and then out of curiosity, decided to change the subject. “So, you know how my day went. What did you two do?”

“Not much,” Charlie said, and began fussing with the ties on Rachel’s tennis shoe.

“She did a little gardening,” Judd added, and stacked the rest of the plates in the sink.

The stilted tones of their voices set Wade on alert. For a moment he sat, staring at them in disbelief. Charlie was tying Rachel’s laces in knots and Judd began splashing water far too forcefully for the small stack of dishes that had to be washed. Concern crept into his thoughts. Despite the fact that the man was a cop and had saved Rachel’s life, he was still a stranger. Had he done something to Charlie while he was gone?

The chair squeaked across the linoleum as he suddenly stood.

“That’s the biggest bunch of nothing I ever heard and I’ve heard a lot. What went on out here that no one wants to discuss?”

Charlie stood, meeting her brother’s angry gaze. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Wade, do you honestly think that if Judd had been less than a gentleman, he would be standing in my kitchen in one piece? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Judd was almost as angry, but at himself for getting into this position.

“Look, you two. Just give me a ride into town and I’ll be out of your lives for good.”

Panic hit Charlie hard as she turned toward him, and in that moment, she accepted the fact that she didn’t want him to go. But before she could speak, Wade shrugged and grinned.

“Sorry I jumped to conclusions. I guess it’s my suspicious nature. I’ve been a cop too long.” Then he added. “Besides, you can’t go. You promised to help me with the Shuler case.”

Judd nodded without comment. The way he figured, the less said, the better. Technically, Charlie was right. Nothing had happened. But they both knew it could have, and that was where the guilt began.

Morning of the next day dawned gray and overcast. Charlie slipped out of bed, gingerly testing her weight on her ankle. It was markedly better, which was, to her, a relief. Having Judd Hanna for a houseguest was difficult enough when Wade was around to play buffer, but being alone with him had been worse. There was something about him that she couldn’t let go. At first, she thought it was gratitude for the fact that he’d saved their lives. But that theory hadn’t lasted past the first time she’d thought about kissing him. She’d been grateful to a lot of people in her lifetime, but she hadn’t once wanted to kiss them the way she’d wanted to kiss Judd Hanna.

All night she’d struggled with her conscience. Sometime around morning, she had decided that she didn’t want to be thinking of a man. The last time she’d let her guard down with one, she’d wound up with a baby and no husband. That wasn’t happening to her again.

She dressed quietly, hoping to get into the kitchen and start breakfast before Rachel woke up. Considering the weather, she opted for a pair of blue jeans rather than shorts, and tucked her T-shirt into the waistband before giving herself a last look in the mirror. Her hair was neatly braided, her clothes were old but clean. She’d even managed to get an old sandal onto her swollen foot without too much discomfort. But as she exited her bedroom, she kept feeling as if she was leaving something undone. And then Judd walked out of his room and for a startled moment, they were alone in the hallway.

Judd started to speak, when Charlie put a finger to her lips and shushed him before leading him into the kitchen.

“Rachel,” she explained, pointing back down the hall. “She’s a light sleeper.”

He nodded, but his thoughts were on the uneven row of tiny curls already popping out from her neat hairdo and feathering across her forehead.

Charlie reached for the coffeepot and began filling it with water. He was making her nervous.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The silence between them was noticeable.

“How’s your foot?” Judd finally asked.

She turned, a fake smile on her face. “Better, thanks.”

Now the lull in the conversation was uncomfortable.

Finally, they both turned to speak at once, then laughed uncomfortably.

“You first,” Charlie said.

Judd shook his head. “No, ma’am. Ladies first.”

She set a skillet on the stove, then took a bowl of eggs from the refrigerator.

“Scrambled okay with you?”

He grinned wryly. “It pretty much fits the description of my brain, so I guess that sounds about right.”

Charlie stopped. This wasn’t the first time he’d made light of his exodus from his job. She suspected he wasn’t really as carefree about it as he claimed.

She set the eggs down. “Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged. “Have at it.”

“What happened to you?”

His smile faded. “Hell if I know,” he said, and turned away.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “It’s really none of my business.”

Judd sighed and made himself face her again. “My partner died on the eve of his retirement. He took a bullet meant for me and I can’t get the memory of his wife’s face out of my head.”

“Oh, Judd…”

He grimaced. “That’s exactly what she said when I told her Dan was dead.”

“Being a cop is a dangerous occupation,” she said. “He knew the risks. So did his wife.”

Judd digested her answer. Logically, he knew she was right, but logic and emotions rarely went hand in hand.

“Charlotte?”

Charlie looked up. Rarely did anyone call her by her full name, but hearing the syllables roll softly out of Judd’s mouth gave her shivers.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

She hesitated, then managed a smile and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

“Did you love Rachel’s father?”

Her smile twisted bitterly. “Once, when I was still naive enough to believe people meant what they said.”

Judd flinched. He understood her anger, but was surprised by the answering chord he felt within himself. He knew firsthand the pain of abandonment and lies. Impulsively, he touched the side of her face.

“I’m sorry.”

Charlie froze, telling herself to ignore the warmth of his palm against her cheek and the tenderness in his voice.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said shortly, and turned away before she made a fool of herself.

Judd sighed. He felt sad, frustrated, even though he understood her unwillingness to compromise. She’d done it once and look what had happened.

And then the sound of little footsteps pattering down the hall broke the mood. Moments later, Rachel came into the kitchen, her blanket bunched under her arm like a sack and her thumb in her mouth. Her curls were in tangles and, once again, she was missing a sock. She was so endearing, he reached down and picked her up. Without thinking, he nuzzled his nose against the side of her neck, inhaling the sweet baby scent, and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning, punkin. What’s that you have in your mouth?”

Then he teased at her thumb, tugging gently without intending to remove it from her mouth. The unexpected game brought a giggle out of Rachel that warmed Judd’s heart.

Charlie was mesmerized by what she was seeing. The trust her daughter had just given to Judd was surprising, as was the lump in Charlie’s throat. All she could think was, so this was what their lives would have been like if Pete Tucker had been a different man. Rachel would have had a father and she would have had a—

She inhaled sharply and reached for the eggs, angrily breaking them one by one into a bowl. Stop it, she warned herself. Stop it right now. Fantasizing was one thing, but letting it go too far could be dangerous.

Wade came in on Rachel’s heels, and soon the kitchen was full of noise and laughter and Rachel begging for something to eat. And in the midst of it all, Judd sat, quietly watching and absorbing the love that bound them. Wade left soon afterward in his patrol car, leaving Judd to ride into town later with Charlie. The day was already full of things to be done. Charlie had shopping to do. Rachel had a checkup at the doctor’s. Wade had a missing man to find, and Judd needed to see a man about fixing his Jeep. Ordinary things on an ordinary day. But why, Judd wondered, if it was so ordinary, did he feel as if he was on the brink of discovery?

Waves of pain rolled across Raymond Shuler’s leg and up the muscles in his back. He’d lost track of time. Living behind the blindfold and gag was disorienting. Day turned to night, then back to day again. Every time he began to come to, someone poked a needle in his butt and sent him back to La La Land, which was fine with him. Lack of consciousness made his situation more bearable. He knew little more than he had when he’d first been taken, other than the fact that he was still naked, and whatever they’d done to his hip was probably infected. The heat from the wound permeated his entire body, often racking him with fever and chills. The mattress on which he was lying belly-down smelled like chicken feathers and dust. If he hadn’t been so sick, he would have been starving. Except for water, not a morsel of sustenance had passed his lips since this nightmare began. Every now and then when lucidity came, he would try to figure out who could have possibly done this to him.

In his business, he made enemies, but it went with the territory of being a banker. However, as hard as he had tried, he couldn’t think of one single man he’d pissed off who had enough guts to carry this through. So where did that leave him? Tied up and hurting in some godforsaken place, that’s where. All he could do was pray that, one way or another, it would soon be over.

Judd exited the body shop, satisfied that his vehicle was in good hands. Now all he had to do was exhibit some patience. It would take a week, maybe longer, for the parts to come in, and then time after that for Harold to repair the damage. Ordinarily, such a delay would have been frustrating, but for some reason, he felt as if he’d been given a reprieve. At least he had a valid excuse for staying on in Call City, instead of passing through as he’d planned.

He glanced up at the sky, gauging the building cloud bank against a possible threat of rain, and then looked around for Charlie’s car. When he’d seen her last, she’d been going into the doctor’s office with Rachel. Sure enough, the car was still in the parking lot. He paused, debating with himself about checking in on her first or going on to the police station. Truth be told, his curiosity over the missing banker was starting to grow. But he thought of Charlie, trying to cope with a wiggly baby and a sore ankle, and opted for the doctor’s office first.

The street was nearly deserted. A couple of cars were parked two blocks down on his left and there was another in the parking lot beside Charlie’s car. An old red hound ambled out of an alley and started across the street, sniffing along the pavement as it went. Several blocks away, a hulking figure of a man was coming up the street toward him, pulling a child’s red wagon as he went. Every now and then he would stop and dig through the trash cans at the edge of the curbs, obviously searching for recyclable cans.

Judd grinned to himself. This was a far cry from the big-city atmosphere of Tulsa. He stood for a while, watching the fervor with which the man searched. It was only after he’d come a bit closer that Judd realized the man was quite young, and obviously slow, both in mind and body. The childlike expressions that crossed the man’s face were quite touching, and his heart went out to the man-child who would never grow up.

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