“If I can knock you down, you have to talk to your brothers.”

Eli raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You can’t knock me down. I’m much stronger than you. And I’m not fighting a woman.”

Caroline put the boxing gloves on. “Are you chicken, Eli?”

He stood. “I’m not fighting you.”

“Didn’t Pa settle all your fights and disagreements this way? Put the gloves on.”

He shoved his hands into the gloves and held them up. She danced in and out, taking jabs at his stomach, but he didn’t move or respond. This was going to be so easy. She moved close to him, her body touching his.

Glancing up into his stubborn blue eyes, she placed her right foot between his feet, then she wrapped her arms around his waist. Eli tensed. Caroline raised her right foot, turned it, and hooked his left leg and jerked. His leg slid out from under him and he was on his butt in a split second.

He burst into laughter. “That was a trick,” he said, taking off his gloves. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“But a deal is a deal—and you’re a man of your word, right?”

Dear Reader,

This book is about a Texas Ranger, Elijah Coltrane. Eli first appeared in A Baby by Christmas (Harlequin Superromance #1167) as a stubborn, hardworking man with a troubled past. He grew up knowing who his father was, but the man denied his existence. He has dealt with this rejection all his life—he feels like the forgotten one, the forgotten son of Joe McCain.

As an adult, Eli finds it hard to accept love, and the love he discovers with Caroline is no exception. He was a very hard character for me to write, but I learned a lot from him. I couldn’t wipe away Eli’s pain with the tap of my computer keys. He had to grow and learn, and it took a persistent green-eyed blonde to make him realize that maybe someone could love him.

So come along and find out if Eli can find his happily ever after.

Warmly,

Linda Warren

P.S. I love hearing from readers. You can e-mail me at lw1508@aol.com or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my Web site at www.lindawarren.net. I will always answer your letters.

Forgotten Son
Linda Warren

MILLS & BOON

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While writing this book, I had the good fortune to speak with a real Texas Ranger, Sergeant Frank Malinak, and I’d like to thank him for answering my many questions with incredible patience and understanding. Any errors in this book are strictly mine, and all characters are fictional.

I asked Frank what he’d like people to know about the Rangers, and the following is his response:

“Much has been written about the Texas Rangers of the past, but probably less is known about the modern Ranger. Today’s Texas Ranger is a criminal investigator called upon to assist local, state and federal law enforcement agencies with an array of cases. With the growing population of this state and the increasing complexity of criminal enterprises, Texas Rangers are called upon now with as much necessity and urgency as in bygone eras. The modern Ranger stands ready to protect the citizens of the United States against common street criminals, organized crime, public corruption, identity theft, computer crimes and domestic and foreign terrorism. In short, Texas Rangers have the training, equipment and skills to fight crime in today’s sophisticated society. It has been said, ‘As long as there is a Texas there will be Texas Rangers.’”

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CAROLINE WHITTEN RUSHED into her apartment with the devil on her heels. She couldn’t be late—mustn’t be late. Not today. How could she forget the layout? She knew it was because she had the jitters at the prospect of meeting her father, U.S. Congressman Stephen Whitten, for lunch. The thought made her angry.

And made her feel guilty. A daughter’s guilt.

Her latest photo layout was on the kitchen counter. She quickly grabbed it and counted to ten to calm herself. At two o’clock, she had an appointment with the writer and an editor for the article on Texas wildflowers. The shots she’d taken in the Texas Hill Country where the flowers grew in abundance were great. At least she thought they were.

She groaned. Now the impending lunch had her questioning her capability as a photographer. Caroline blocked the negative thoughts. She was a damn good photographer and the shots were awesome.

How she wished her parents felt the same way she did about her career choice. But the lunch was sure to be another foray into how Stephen Whitten thought she was wasting her life—and her talent.

Caroline had a law degree, like her father, but she’d done nothing with it. Instead, she’d followed her first love, photography, and she made a good living. She just didn’t understand why her father couldn’t be happy for her.

At least her sister, Grace, would be there to take some of the pressure off Caroline. Grace was a lawyer and worked in their father’s law firm, as he had planned. She was the good daughter, while Caroline was…

Would the guilt ever leave her?

She swung around and her inner skirmish stopped, replaced by a frisson of fear. Two men stood in her doorway, two men with long hair and full beards and brown robes. She’d seen them before…when she’d taken photos of the wildflowers. They belonged to a cult hidden away in the hills, and she’d accidentally trespassed close to the high fence that surrounded their property. She’d been afraid of them then and was afraid of them now.

“What do you want?” she asked as authoritatively as she could.

“You have been chosen,” one man answered.

“Excuse me?”

“You have found favor with the prophet.”

That’s what they called their leader. Caroline had met him briefly while she’d tried to explain why she was there. He’d looked at her in a way that made her skin crawl, and she’d been glad to get away. What were his men doing here? How did they know where she lived? And what did they want?

“If you don’t leave, I’ll call…”

Her words trailed off as one man grabbed her and the other clamped a foul-smelling cloth over her face. She lashed out with her arms and legs, then everything went black.

CAROLINE WOKE UP in darkness. Total darkness. Fear ran along her skin and spread through her body like a virus. It was chilling. Debilitating.

All-encompassing.

Take deep breaths. Take deep breaths, she kept repeating to herself. After a moment, her fear eased and she realized she was on a mattress. She felt its softness, then her hands touched dirt. Cold dirt.

The makeshift bed was on the ground. Getting to her feet, she groped around her with hands outstretched. She was in a small room with wooden walls, she discovered. There was nothing in the space but the mattress…and her. Oh, God. Where was she?

Nausea churned in her stomach and she could feel a scream rising in her throat. Then one of the walls opened and she blinked, the stream of light dazzling after the total darkness. When her eyes had adjusted, Caroline saw a woman with blondish-gray hair pulled back in a knot standing in the opening. She wore a tan, monklike robe and held a pitcher in her hand.

“I brought you water,” she said.

Caroline’s eyes focused on the shadowy yellow light. The woman was older, and all Caroline had to do was overpower her and run. But run where?

Caroline stepped forward. “Why have you brought me here?”

“You have been chosen to be the prophet’s next wife. It is a great honor. You will be the seventh wife, the one to bear the messiah.”

“What? I think that’s already been done.”

“Blasphemy,” the woman shouted.

This was Caroline’s chance and she made a dive for the opening. The woman grabbed her around the neck and flung her back on the mattress as if she were a rag doll.

Gasping for breath, she said, “You can’t keep me here.”

“You will get no water or food. Then you’ll learn to be submissive.”

“Never,” Caroline screamed. “Tell your prophet he has chosen the wrong woman. I will never be his wife.”

“You’ll change your mind,” the woman muttered. In an instant she was gone.

And so was the light.

Caroline jumped up and beat on the wall and screamed until her throat was sore. Then she sank down to the dirt. “Please, somebody. Please help me.”

Please.

ELIJAH COLTRANE, Texas Ranger, found the oldest clothes in his closet and slipped them on—worn jeans with holes in both knees and a long-sleeved cotton shirt that had paint stains from when he and Tuck had painted the old house where they’d grown up. Then he found a pair of tennis shoes that had seen better days.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Dark hair curled at his collar, not too long and not too short, just right for the mission ahead of him. His blue eyes looked back at him with veiled excitement and he could feel the energy pumping through his body.

Today would be the start of an undercover operation to nail polygamist and murderer Amos Buford, alias the prophet. This time Buford would not slip through the cracks of the system. Eli would see to that.

A knock brought him out of his reverie. Eli opened the door and Jeremiah Tucker walked in. Tuck was also a Texas Ranger, and Eli’s foster brother and best friend.

Tuck handed him some letters. “I picked up your mail because it was bulging out of your mailbox. Don’t you ever bring it in?”

“Whenever I think about it.”

Tuck thumbed through the letters. “There are three from Jake McCain.”

“Throw them in the trash.”

Tuck shook his head. “What’s the matter with you? Why can’t you talk to him? He’s your half brother.”

“Let it go.” There was a warning in every word.

Tuck was never good at heeding warnings. “I don’t understand what you have against Jake and your other half brothers. They seem like nice people.”

Eli couldn’t explain it to himself, never mind to Tuck. There was just something in him that wouldn’t accept these men as his blood relations. The McCain brothers, especially Jake, had made several attempts to establish a connection. But Eli had spent the first thirteen years of his life being called a bastard, because Joe McCain had denied being his father. Eli wouldn’t acknowledge the name now, no matter how hard his half brothers tried to make him. He realized he had a stubborn streak, but he’d rather keep his life separate from them. That was how he wanted it.

When Eli didn’t speak, Tuck asked, “Do you mind if I open them?”

“Suit yourself.”

Tuck’s forefinger ripped through a flap and a photo fluttered to the floor. He picked it up. It was a picture of a little boy and girl. “Look, Eli,” he said. “It’s of Ben, Jake’s son, who we rescued from Rusty Fobbs. And Ben’s sister. Let’s see.” He glanced at the back. “Her name is Katie and she’s two years old and a beauty.” Tuck held out the snapshot to Eli, but he turned away.

It was Ben’s kidnapping, about three years ago, that had brought Eli back into the McCains’ world. He wished the family would understand that he’d only been doing his job, and would stop trying to make his role in the rescue personal.

“Put it on the coffee table,” he mumbled.

“You’re going to have to let go of the past at some point,” Tuck told him, gingerly setting down the mail with the photo of Ben and Katie on top.

“I have other things on my mind at the moment.”

“Caroline Witten’s kidnapping?”

Eli rubbed his day-old beard. “Yep. I’ve waited a long time to get Amos Buford.”

“Have you told the FBI the whole story?”

Eli sent him a look that would have made other men back off. “They asked for my help because I’d investigated Buford before. I told them everything they wanted to know, even the fact that he killed someone I cared about.”

“Eli…”

“What? You think I can’t do this?”

“Hell, Eli. I’ve known you most of my life and there ain’t nothing you can’t do. I don’t think you’re even afraid of the devil.”

“Buford is the devil.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Don’t make this about Ginny.”

When Tuck said her name, Eli turned away and picked up his gun and badge, trying not to think, trying not to remember. But his control weakened and the image of her limp dead body, thrown into a ditch on a Texas country road, flashed through his mind like summer lightning, quick and sharp. He felt the pain for a moment, then it was gone.

But other memories lingered. Jess and Amalie Tucker were Eli and Tuck’s foster parents, good people who took in kids that were in trouble and needed guidance. Tuck had been left with them when he was a baby, Eli at thirteen. It was Eli’s mother, Vera who’d taken him to her uncle Jess, and ex-Texas Ranger. Even though Eli had several encounters with the law, it didn’t take Jess long to adjust Eli’s attitude.

Eli grew up not knowing what a real home or love was about. Vera was a waitress in a bar and worked nights and slept during the day. She’d had assistance from the state for Eli’s day care, but at night he’d been shuffled from neighbor to neighbor or anyone who’d keep him. When he was four, Vera had started taking Eli to work with her and he’d slept in a back room. The smells of cigarettes and booze had filled his lungs, and stale smoke had clung to his clothes. He’d hated those smells. He still did.

But at twelve and thirteen Eli was guzzling down beer like an adult, doing anything to rebel, to get his mother’s attention. He knew she cared about him, but he also knew, even at a young age, that his mother had made some bad choices.

When Eli was a little older his uncle Jess told him a bit more about Vera’s life. Her mother, Adell, was Jess’s sister. She’d married an abusive man who beat her and Vera. In an obvious attempt to escape her home life Vera had dropped out of school at sixteen and married a boy two years older. He’d turned out to be as abusive as her father.

After several trips to the hospital, a counselor got her out of that relationship, and Vera started a new life in Waco, Texas. She didn’t have any job skills, but with the help of several state agencies she’d started working at a day care. The pay was minimal and she could barely live on it. Then she’d met a friend whose brother owned several bars, and she got a job as a waitress.

There she met Joe McCain.

And the abusive cycle went on.

Jess and Amalie—or Ma and Pa, as Eli called them—gave him everything that was missing in his life, and he grew up wanting to be a Texas Ranger, as did Tuck. They both knew they owed everything to Ma and Pa. The couple had adopted Tuck as a baby, and he carried the Tucker name. They’d wanted to adopt Eli, too, but Vera wouldn’t sign the papers. It didn’t matter. Jess and Amalie were his parents in every way that counted, as they were to so many children.

Ginny had been one of them.

The memory of her once again slipped past Eli’s iron control.

She’d come to the Tucker’s when Eli and Tuck were already gone from home. Eli had been accepted as a Texas Ranger and Tuck was working as a trooper for the Department of Public Safety.

Amos Buford had kidnapped Ginny on her way to work. Amos and his followers often begged for money on street corners, and Ginny had stopped and given a donation. One look at her blond beauty and Amos had decided she’d be his next wife—though he already had three.

According to Ginny, Buford had kept her in a dark room for two days with no food. He’d broken her spirit and tried to brainwash her, and when Ginny thought she’d lose her mind, she’d participated in the marriage ceremony.

It was another month before she was able to escape, but by then she was close to a nervous breakdown. She made it to a highway Tuck was patrolling. After she’d told her story to the police, Tuck had taken her to Ma and Pa to heal. Ginny had no family and didn’t have the strength to face her friends.

When Eli first met her, she’d stared at the floor and wouldn’t look at him. Something about her attracted him immediately—as if her tortured soul was reaching out to him. He found himself going home to see her every chance he got, and eventually they started talking and laughing and sharing. Soon they were in love—something Eli had thought would never happen to him.

The police were never able to build a case against Buford because he and his followers denied ever seeing Ginny. And she had no proof of what they’d done to her. It was her word against theirs. Eli had investigated the case in his spare time, but hadn’t found enough evidence to arrest Buford.

Ginny started to heal mentally, and planned on returning to work. They talked about marriage. Eli had never been so happy in his life.

Then he got the phone call… Pa told him Ginny was gone, and that he feared something bad had happened. Eli began an extensive search, and when he found her body, his world came crashing down. He knew Buford had located her and killed her.

Again, Eli couldn’t prove it. But now… “I’ve waited a long time for Buford to make a mistake, and taking a congressman’s daughter is about as big a one as you can get.”

“Still…” Tuck rubbed his hands together as he sat on Eli’s sofa.

Eli watched him and knew exactly what was on his mind. “You’re afraid I’ll kill him.”

Tuck kept looking at his hands. “Something like that.”

“I might want to, but I won’t. I’d have to live with the knowledge that I’d dishonored the memory of the man who loved me more and taught me more than anyone in this world. I live by Pa’s code of honor and I would never kill a man in cold blood. I’m going to get Buford and it’ll all be legal. So stop worrying.” He handed Tuck his gun and badge. “Keep these for me.”

A tap at the door forestalled further conversation.

“That’s the FBI,” Eli said, and went to let them in. Agents Bill Caufield and Tom Mercer shook hands with Eli and Tuck.

“Are you ready?” Bill asked Eli.

“Yeah. Nothing but a couple of dollars and change in my pocket. No ID.”

“Great,” Tom replied. “We appreciate your help—the sheriff said you’re the best. You know all about Buford and you’re familiar with the area.”

“Yeah,” Eli said, refusing to look at Tuck.

“Congressman Whitten and his wife are beside themselves. We spent a full day checking out Buford’s compound and we found no trace of Caroline Whitten.”

“Did you check for secret rooms?”

“Yes. We heard that’s a trademark of Buford’s, but we didn’t find one.” Agent Caufield unfolded a map on the kitchen table. “There are five other men who live there with Buford. Buford now has six wives. Of course, he doesn’t call them his wives to us. They’re ‘women in his family.’ The other men have at least two or three women each, and we’ve counted forty-eight kids. That’s the sad part—it’s a regular commune and we can’t prove a thing. The police have arrested Buford several times on polygamy charges, but he only has one marriage on record and the other women won’t testify against him. So far there’s not a law prohibiting a man from living with several women. But there’s a law against kidnapping. We might have him this time.”

“Why do you think he took Caroline Whitten?” Eli asked.

“She had a lunch date with her parents but didn’t show, and she missed a meeting with an editor. She’s a photographer and does work for a lot of Texas magazines. She never misses an appointment. Congressman Whitten knew something was wrong and called her fiancé, who said the last time he talked to her she had plans to meet her parents.”

“So how does Buford come into this?”

“It took awhile to piece everything together. There was no forced entry, doesn’t look as if anything was taken out of the apartment. Then a neighbor said she saw two bearded men in robes outside the building. Her fiancé, Colin Burke, told us that Ms. Whitten had an encounter with Buford and his followers when she was photographing wildflowers for a magazine spread. He said that they wore long robes and had full beards, and Ms. Whitten had been afraid of them.”

“That’s all you have?”

“That’s it. This is the third day and the only thing left to do is to try and infiltrate the group.”

“Maybe she’s not there.” Tuck spoke for the first time.

Agent Caufield shrugged. “It’s the only lead we have. We checked with all her friends. No one has seen her. We’re getting pressure on this and we have to find her.”

“What’s the plan?” Eli asked.

Tom tapped the map with his forefinger. “This is how the compound is laid out. There are six makeshift houses that have two bedrooms in each—one for the man and his women and the other for his children. That’s what we’re assuming. Then there’s a large eating room and kitchen with a wood burning stove. All the buildings are in a circle. In the center is where they meet and pray, and there’s a big area for a campfire. Everything is very primitive—no running water, no electricity. There’s a spring on the property they use for water.”

He paused, then added, “Our only recourse is to get someone into the group and see what we can find. This is one of the days they beg on street corners. A police car will drop you off in front of them. They’re drawn to those needing a haven, anyone who’s down and out. At this time of year they’re looking for strong men to help work the fields. They earn income from the vegetables they sell. So your job will be to get in there and find out what you can. We need to know where they’re hiding her. Once you do that, we’ll take over. Just get the hell outta there.”

Bill laid a photo on the table. “That’s Caroline Whitten. Take a good look.”

Eli stared at the photo. Light blond hair, shoulder length, in disarray around a very pretty, almost ethereal face… Her eyes were green. Buford favored blond women.

Like Ginny.

The room was silent.

“Ready?” Agent Caufield asked.

“Yes,” Eli answered. He was ready to meet Amos Buford.

He’d waited ten years.

CAROLINE DIDN’T KNOW how long she’d been here. Hours, days, weeks—everything was the same. The woman, Ruth, brought bread and water twice a day. The first and second times Caroline wouldn’t eat or drink. The third time she wasn’t so choosy.

Darkness was total and she felt it creeping into her soul. She’d beaten on the walls until her hands were numb. She’d screamed until her throat was raw. But nothing penetrated the blackness. Nothing eased its grip.

The air was close and dank and the room reeked. At times Caroline had trouble breathing. She had to hold on. The police must be looking for her by now, but how would they know where to find her? Colin. She’d told Colin about the cult and how she was afraid of them. He would remember. He would help her.

Please, Colin, tell my father and the police what I told you.

Colin wasn’t the type of man to go charging in after the woman he loved. Suddenly she needed that—a strong man who didn’t care about anyone or anything but her.

She twisted the ring on her finger. Lately she’d been having second thoughts about her engagement, and she didn’t know why. She loved Colin. They had the same interests—he owned camera stores in Austin, Dallas, San Antonio and Houston. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know about cameras and photography. He helped her to improve her shots and they spent hours talking about angles and light.

But their intimate relationship wasn’t as satisfying, as it was comfortable. Caroline had given up on finding passion—red-hot passion. That didn’t last forever, anyway. But she loved Colin. And he was someone her father hadn’t picked for her. Was that his big attraction? God, no, this place was making her crazy.

A daughter’s guilt.

Earlier—how long ago?—that thought had made her nervous and angry. Now she saw it for what it was—meaningless pride. Her father wanted to bend her to his will, and she was determined to live her own life. In this black abyss, holding on to her pride seemed an insignificant, even petty, struggle.

She’d gladly trade her pride for the sight of daylight, for fresh air and time with her father. Time to say she was sorry and to…

She couldn’t breathe and she fought the suffocating feeling. Caroline was still in command of herself enough to know that the prophet was trying to brainwash her. Slowly, methodically, the darkness would eat away at her until—

Suddenly the wall opened and he stood there, the faint light like a yellow flame behind him. Caroline closed her eyes against the frightening scene. When she opened them again, Ruth was there with a white robe in her hands.

“I have brought your wedding robe,” the prophet said.

Ruth held it out to her. Caroline got to her feet and took it, then threw it on the dirt and spat on it.

“Blasphemy,” Ruth shouted, and grabbed the robe from the dirt.

“You have spirit,” the prophet said with a sinister smile.

“But that will be broken.”

“You can’t keep me here forever. The police will find me and you’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

“The FBI has already been here and they found nothing.”

“What?”

“If they come back, they won’t find you. At least not the person you used to be. You will be one of us by then and ready to fulfill the prophecy.”

“You’re evil,” Caroline declared between clenched teeth. “I’ll never be your wife. I’d rather die.”

His face hardened. “For your dishonor, you will be deprived of bread and water for a day. Then you’ll learn your place.”

“Never, never, never!” Caroline screamed as he disappeared through the wall and darkness engulfed her once again.

She sank onto the mattress, trying to still her trembling. Fear such as she’d never known before filled her. He was diabolical, out to kill her heart and her soul. Her body would survive, though.

To serve him.

No. No. No.

But the FBI had been here. They hadn’t found her. Oh God. Where was she that even the FBI couldn’t find her? In hell, she thought. And there was no way out of hell. She would die here in the darkness.

Or at least all that mattered would.

INFILTRATING THE CULT was easier than Eli had imagined. The police let him out of the cruiser with a few harsh words in front of Buford’s followers. They immediately came to his aid. He told them he was down on his luck and had nowhere to go. They said they’d let him work for food until he got his head straight, and he could listen to the word of the prophet, who would nourish his soul.

Eli was looking forward to that.

He climbed into the bed of an old pickup and they headed out of Austin to the hills. One man, Nathaniel, sat with him; two women were in the front with Samuel, the other man. No one spoke. They turned off a highway onto a dirt road. When they turned again, it was onto nothing more than a cow trail, and the ride was bumpy and dusty. This area was sparsely populated and there wasn’t a house in sight, just thick woods and brush.

Soon they stopped at a locked gate and Nathaniel got out to open it. Eli noticed the eight-foot-high barbed wire fence and the four-foot-high wire mesh that extended from the bottom up and enclosed the property. It wouldn’t be easy getting out of here.

They drove into an area that had been cleared and buildings stood in a circle, as Tom had said. Eli counted six shacks and a larger structure that had to be the kitchen and eating room. Women and children were working in vegetable fields beyond the compound. They all wore brown robes.

Chickens scratched in the dirt and goats wandered freely. Behind one shack was a rickety barn of sorts. The compound had a strange feel to it—as if it was out of step with time. And there was something else about it he couldn’t quite define.

As the truck pulled to a stop, the smell of smoke drifted to his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. This wasn’t cigarette smoke, though. What was it? He didn’t have time to ponder the question as two women, both pregnant, and several toddlers came to meet them. The women stared at the ground and didn’t speak. The children looked at him warily.

“Come this way,” Samuel said, and Eli followed him to the largest of the primitive houses. Samuel tapped on the door.

“Come in, my child,” a male voice called.

They walked in to find a man sitting at a table with a Bible opened in front of him. Two men stood behind him. Eli knew this was Amos Buford, and his heart hammered with anticipation, but he was careful that nothing showed on his face.

“Master, I found a needy soul and brought him to you.”

Buford raised his head, and Eli was unprepared for the emotions that gripped him as he stared into those evil gray eyes.

Tuck was right. Eli wanted to kill him.

He wanted to put his hands around his throat and choke the life out of him…as Buford had done to Ginny. But he wouldn’t. Caroline Whitten’s life depended on his honor as a ranger, and he wouldn’t forget that.

“What is your name, my son?” Buford asked.

“Eli Carter,” he replied, using the fake name the FBI had given him.

“Are you in trouble with the law?”

“I’m separated from my wife, and when I went to the house to see my kids, she called the cops and had me arrested. In the separation agreement I’m suppose to be providing child support, but I lost my job and was unable to pay her any money.” That was the story the FBI had also given him. Buford hated women who tried to dominate a man.

“Women do not know their place in this world.”

Neither do you, you bastard.

“Tell me about it,” Eli murmured.

“All persecuted souls are welcome here. You will work for your food. There are fields to tend and goats to milk, but you can only stay if you follow the rules and the prophet’s word.”

“No problem.”

“This is Ezra and Peter.” Buford introduced the men.

“They’re in charge of guarding the compound…and me.” He let that sink in, then added, “They will search you for any hidden devices that might harm us. Do you object?”

Eli got the feeling it didn’t matter whether he did or not. “No. I have nothing to hide.”

Ezra, a big somber man, gave him a thorough once-over. He nodded to Buford.

“We have to be careful,” Buford said. “There are people out to hurt us.”

“I just need a place to stay.”

“Then you’re welcome here, brother. You will not speak to the women, though. They’re off-limits to you. Do you understand?”

“Sure. A woman is the last thing on my mind.”

“If you’re in need of female comfort, let me know and I will arrange something.”

Eli managed to suppress his shock. Did they share the women? It was too sickening to think about.

“You will have a trial period, then you’ll be asked to join us in our beliefs or to leave.”

“I understand and thank you.”

The words tasted like sawdust in his mouth.

“We don’t have extra sleeping quarters, but there are some heavy quilts you can use to sleep under the stars, or if the weather is bad, you can sleep in the eating area.”

“Thanks,” Eli said again.

“Brother Michael and his sons are cutting wood. Brother Samuel will take you to help them.”

“Sure,” Eli replied, and they left. Outside he wanted to suck fresh air into his lungs, but he resisted and followed Samuel through the woods to the chopping site.

Eli kept searching for something out of place, something to indicate that Caroline Whitten was here. The place had an eerie quiet about it. The grass and trees were green and the air was fresh and invigorating, but he didn’t hear any birds or other sounds in the woods. It wasn’t an eerie quiet, he decided. It was a deathlike quiet.

They reached the site. A big dead tree had been felled and Michael and his sons, Daniel and David, were cutting it up with handsaws. Two mules hitched to a wagon waited nearby. Eli was introduced and Samuel left.

Eli helped load the cut wood until his arms ached and he was soaking with sweat. Finally the last piece of wood was on the wagon and they headed to the compound. Michael drove the mules and Eli walked behind with the boys. They had to be around fourteen and fifteen and were already sprouting beards.

“That’s a lot of wood,” Eli commented, trying to get information. “Does it last very long?”

“Not too long,” the older one, David, said. “We use it to cook.”

“And we need it for the wedding,” Daniel added.

“A wedding?”

“It’s going to be a big one. The prophet’s taking his seventh wife. It’s very important ’cause—”

“Daniel!” David exclaimed in a reprimanding tone.

The youth hung his head as he realized he’d misspoken.

“Hey, no problem,” Eli assured them. “The prophet helped me out when I needed it and I’d love to be at his wedding to show my support and appreciation. I don’t know much about your faith but I’m willing to learn.”

“My brother doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” David said, and the boys ran toward the compound.

Eli stopped. Daniel knew what he was talking about. Caroline Whitten was marked as wife number seven. She was here. But where?

Caroline, where are you?

CHAPTER TWO

ELI KEPT HIS EYES AND EARS open, but he didn’t detect any evidence of Caroline. Supper was in the eating area and the men ate at a crudely made table. The meal was vegetable soup, bread and goat’s milk. After the women waited on the men, they sat on the floor and ate with the children. He noticed that most of the women were blond and young, probably in their late teens or early twenties. Two appeared to be in their thirties, and an older woman, maybe forty, with grayish-blond hair, seemed to be in charge.

One woman caught his eye. She had dark hair and eyes and looked out of place among the blondes. He wondered how she fitted in here. The other women made her do most of the kitchen work, and they shouted orders at her as if she were a servant.

After supper, the men had a meeting, and Eli was introduced to them more fully. It was clear that Samuel was Amos’s right-hand man. Ezra and Peter took care of security, along with four Dobermans. Nathaniel and Michael were in charge of maintenance of the compound, which meant they supplied firewood, tended to the vegetable fields and the goats and chickens. Amos informed Eli that he’d be working with Michael, then he was dismissed with another warning to stay away from the women.

He looked around, but since it was dark he couldn’t see much. He listened at the door to Buford’s house, then gave up when he couldn’t make out any of the muffled voices. But they were making plans—plans for a wedding. He hurried away before the men came out.

Later the group met around the campfire and the dark-haired woman brought out an ornate chair for Buford. Everyone sat on the ground and Amos began to preach. He spoke of hell, damnation, sinners and salvation. It was hard for Eli to listen, but he stoically kept a rein on his emotions.

Afterward, the men hugged Buford and the women and children bowed at his feet. This was even harder to watch—how these women had been subdued into servitude, yet praised his name the whole time.

The men retired to their huts with their wives and children. Eli watched the dark-haired woman. She didn’t follow any of the men. Instead, she went to the kitchen area. His curiosity grew, but he didn’t want to cause any dissention that would get him kicked out of here—not until he knew where they were keeping Caroline.

Nathaniel brought him two old quilts, and Eli lay under the stars. The Dobermans guarded the compound and Ezra was out walking them around the fence. This was Eli’s opportunity to inspect the area.

He’d noticed the rickety barn earlier and now saw a corral for the mules. The chickens had gone to roost for the night and the goats were lying around the barn. He was careful not to disturb them.

From the light of the moon, Eli saw a wooden door on the ground not far from the back of Buford’s house. He crept forward to check it out. The door opened easily, but creaked loudly in the process. Waiting to make sure no one had heard, he investigated.

He followed steps down into a dark hole—a cellar of some kind. With his hands outstretched he felt walls of dirt braced with plywood. There were shelves filled with jars.

It was a vegetable cellar—the type used in olden days to store jars so they wouldn’t freeze in the winter and would stay cool in the summer. There was enough food here to last a year. And the cellar provided shelter from tornadoes and bad weather.

Eli wasn’t sure how the ceiling was supported, but it had to be braced with something. He kept searching with his hands, but all he felt was wood, jars and dirt. The FBI had already checked out the room. Had they missed something? He could see nothing in the darkness, and decided to return in daylight.

Climbing the steps, Eli closed the door carefully, making as little noise as possible. A makeshift shed was used for storing feed for the animals, and he made his way there.

He saw no trace of Caroline.

Eli hurried back to his pallet before Ezra returned, feeling his frustration mounting. He fell into a fitful sleep.

The cult’s morning ritual was much the same as the previous night’s. Everyone was up at five and the women served breakfast after Buford gave the blessing. The prophet preached again, then everyone went to work except Buford. He asked to see Eli in his quarters.

Eli followed him to the same room as yesterday. Peter waited outside at the door, with Ezra, who was tending to the dogs.

“Have a seat, my brother,” Amos said, sitting at a small table holding papers, books and a worn Bible. This furniture was not rough or crude. It had probably been brought in specially for Buford and his needs.

Eli did as instructed, wondering what this was about.

Amos folded his hands over the Bible. “You have been with us for a day and night. How do you like it here?”

“Very peaceful and quiet.”

And disturbing.

“Yes. We live close to God and the earth. But we have to build high fences to keep the bigots and naysayers out.”

And the law.

“You can have a home here, my brother, if you so choose.”

Eli rubbed his hands together, wanting to give the right answer. “I’m out of a job, my family doesn’t want anything to do with me and I’m one step away from jail. At this point, any refuge is welcome.”

“Just be aware your choice will be final.” The words held a warning. “Once you are accepted into our faith and its teachings, you will always belong and there will be no going back to your old way of life.”

And when people leave, you murder them.

“We will feed you, give you a home and nourish you mentally and spiritually. In return you will devote your life to me and my teachings.”

There it was. Buford thought he was God—accountable to no one but himself.

“What do you say, Elijah?” Buford asked. “That’s what you will be called here. We use only biblical names.”

“I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I’m still trying to get my bearings.” Eli chose his words with care.

“What better way than to start a new life, a new beginning?”

Eli hesitated, not wanting to seem too eager.

Buford leaned back. “I have a daughter turning fifteen in a month. If you join our faith, she will become your wife.”

Eli stared into his gray eyes and saw that Buford was absolutely serious. He felt sick.

“I already have a wife.”

“You will leave your old world behind and everything and everyone in it. I am the law here.”

“I see.”

“In our faith girls are promised for marriage when they turn fifteen, then they start to bear children to fulfill the promises in the Bible—to go forth and multiply and to serve their husband and to spread the word of the prophet.”

“Is it legal to marry a fifteen-year-old?”

Eli was stalling for time, to consider his responses.

“My brother, you have a lot to learn.” Buford gave a slight smile. “I told you there is no law here except mine. We are not bound by society or its absurd rules.”

Eli clenched his hands together. “I’m not questioning your judgment, sir, but I’m having a hard time with age fifteen. How about the dark-haired woman? She seems older.” He knew he could jeopardize the whole mission, but he felt this was a way to get information.

Buford’s face darkened. “Jezebel is sojourning with us. She is not a member of our faith—and never question anything I tell you. That is the first thing you learn here.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I’m just learning.”

He had to force the words out.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Since you’re new, I will be patient with you, Elijah. Let me explain something about our faith. Only pure-blood women are accepted as wives.”

Eli frowned. “Pure-blood.”

“Yes. Jezebel has dark eyes and hair and her bloodline is tainted by someone with a darker skin. That is not accepted in our faith.”

“I have dark hair.” It was the only thing Eli could say. He was learning Buford was more of a bigot than he’d ever imagined.

“But you have blue eyes, denoting your bloodline.”

“I see.” But he didn’t. All he saw was an evil man controlling a handful of people with his insane ideas.

There must have been something in his voice that Buford picked up on because he added, “Don’t worry about Jezebel, my brother. We found her wandering the streets in search of food, and we took her in and gave her a place to stay. We are not heartless. But Jezebel has no memory. She doesn’t even know her name, so we gave her one. She is happy being a servant to the wives and she asks for nothing else. When she is ready, she will leave and I will let her.”

Eli’s mind went into overdrive with this piece of information. He found comfort in knowing that the FBI would soon raid the compound. He would make sure they knew about Jezebel. Hopefully, they could help her—if Buford hadn’t totally brainwashed her into submission.

“What is your decision, my brother?” Buford’s gaze held his.

“Yes. I’d like to stay here.”

He swallowed back everything else he was feeling.

“Good. Good.” Buford nodded, stroking his beard.

“Bless you, my brother. My head wife, Ruth, will tell our daughter, and in a month I will marry the two of you. First, you will go through a trial of learning our faith and rules. After a week, we will have another conversation, and if I am satisfied with your sincerity, I will baptize you and give you a robe. You will denounce the evils of society and from then on you will be one of us. In the meantime you will not speak to my daughter or go near her.”

Why the hell would I want to?

“Yes, sir.”

“You will find many rewards here, Elijah. After you are baptized, we will build a house for your family.”

“My family?”

“Yes. We’ve needed new men for a long time. Ezra has a daughter turning fifteen in six months and she will also become your wife.”

Good God.

“You are a strong man and you will help to make our faith stronger.”

Like hell.

“Today you will continue to help chop the wood. We are preparing for a big celebration in our faith and you will get to witness it firsthand.”

“A celebration?”

“Yes. I will be taking my seventh wife in a few days. I’m in a state of fasting from pleasures of the flesh. I have twelve daughters and six sons. My seventh wife will bear my seventh son who will be the messiah of our faith and lead my people. This came to me in a prophecy and now it will be fulfilled.”

Never, you bastard.

Eli stood and held out his hand. “Congratulations, sir.” He was getting close, gaining his trust. This was good.

Buford stood in turn and shook his hand. “You will now call me master.”

The word stuck in Eli’s throat like a wad of chewing gum, and with supreme effort he swallowed his revulsion. “Yes, master.”

“Good, Elijah.” Buford nodded in approval. “I could tell when I met you that you belonged with us. You will be a great asset to our group.”

“Thank you…master.” He fought his distaste of the word. “What can I do to help with your wedding?”

“Just do whatever is asked of you.”

The wedding was soon, so Caroline had to be close. He’d wait and watch and be a model pupil in the faith. Because Buford was going down.

Of that Eli was certain.

CAROLINE KNEW she was losing her mind. Slowly, little by little, the darkness was devouring her sanity. Her spirit was weak and her strength was waning. But she would never marry that man. She would die in this black abyss first.

Sitting cross-legged on the mattress, she leaned against the wall. Words from a hymn ran through her head. Amazing grace how sweet the sound… Over and over the song comforted, consoled and tormented her. When I’ve been there ten thousand years… How long had she been here?

Was this how it felt to go insane, to lose one’s mind, lose touch with reality? Think about Colin, your sister, your parents, she told herself. But the hymn played louder.

Amazing grace…

Someone help me. Please.

THE DAY WENT THE SAME AS the one before for Eli. He chopped, loaded and carried wood until every muscle in his body ached. Being in the woods away from the compound meant he couldn’t see what Buford was doing. And he had to know. Was he with Caroline?

With the wagon loaded, they headed for camp. Eli helped Daniel and David unload the wood by the kitchen. He noticed Ruth go into the vegetable cellar. She was carrying a pitcher and something wrapped in cloth. He kept waiting for her to come out, but she didn’t. He wondered what she was doing in there so long. Michael called for his help and he turned to him.

But he kept an eye on the cellar.

Soon Ruth came out with the pitcher and cloth and went into the kitchen. She was taking food and water to someone. Someone in the cellar.

Caroline.

There was nothing Eli could do now. He had to wait.

Later, at supper, Eli watched the others carefully. Buford was the only one allowed to speak—everyone was silent until he spoke to them. Even the children were quiet. The women seemed nervous, hurrying in and out of the room, serving the men vegetable soup and bread.

Buford called the men outside for a meeting, and as Eli rose, Jezebel reached for his bowl and whispered quietly, “If you want more vegetables, they’re in the cellar. But the shelves are empty.”

It happened so quickly Eli wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. He knew better than to approach her, however—that could be detrimental for both of them. Buford and his men went to his house, and Eli stood outside, wondering what the woman had meant.

He bided his time, waiting for everyone to go to bed. Tonight Peter took the dogs to guard the fences from unwelcome intruders. Apparently, Ezra and Peter took turns with the nightly chore.

Eli stared up at the stars, wishing for a shower and a shave and a steak. He’d had about all the soup he could handle. Most of all he wished he could find Caroline Whitten. After a while he rolled over and glanced around. The camp was shrouded in darkness. He rose to his feet and made his way to the vegetable cellar. The moon was his only light, so he stepped carefully and quietly.

He drew back with a start as he rounded Buford’s house. Three people stood at the back door—Buford, Ruth and Samuel.

“She’s resisting and she’s singing hymns. I think she’s going insane like the other one.” That was Ruth.

The other one.

“When I was in town today, I saw it was still in the papers and on the news. The congressman is offering a big reward for her safe return.” Samuel’s voice was low, but Eli heard it.

There was a long pause as if they were waiting for Amos’s reply. “Kill her. She’s become a liability and unfit to bear the messiah.”

“Yes, master,” Samuel replied.

“Do it later tonight and we’ll dispose of her body like the others. Then we’ll begin another search for my seventh wife.”

“Yes, master,” Samuel replied again.

Like the others.

How many women beside Ginny had that bastard killed? Eli pressed up against the house as Samuel strolled by. Buford and Ruth went inside. Time was running out. Eli could get past Peter and the dogs to alert the FBI, but that would take too much time. Caroline didn’t have a lot of time left, and he still didn’t know her exact location. He suspected she was in the cellar and he had to get her out—now.

Her life depended on it.

He slipped through the night to the cellar. Gingerly he opened the door, careful to keep it from creaking, then went down the steps into a pitch-black hole. He felt around with his hands and all he encountered was shelf after shelf of jars, the same as before.

The shelves are empty.

Eli remembered Jezebel’s message and began to push on the shelves. They were sturdy and strong and nothing happened. Dammit. Dammit. What the hell was the woman trying to tell him?

The shelves are empty.

But the shelves were full.

He quickly searched again, then found it—an empty shelf near the bottom. He pushed and pulled, but nothing happened. What the hell did the woman mean?

Taking a deep breath, he tried to concentrate. Think. Think. Think.

Ruth was a short woman and Eli was six feet two. So it stood to reason that if Ruth came to feed Caroline, she had to be able to open the secret door, and the latch or mechanism would be lower than where Eli was reaching. He stooped lower, pushing and tugging until he wanted to scream with frustration.

With both hands on the empty shelf, he squatted on the dirt floor and ran his hands along the bottom, testing every nook and cranny. As his fingers touched the left corner, the shelf moved easily.

Air gushed into his lungs. He’d found it. Thank God. He hurriedly squeezed through the opening, hoping Caroline was inside.

“‘Amazing grace how sweet the sound,’” a woman’s voice sang.

“Caroline Whitten?” he asked.

The singing stopped, but she didn’t say anything.

“Caroline Whitten?”

Still no response.

“I’m Elijah Coltrane, a Texas Ranger. Please answer me.”

“Go away. Leave me alone and stop torturing me. ‘Amazing grace…’”

“Caroline.” He had to get her attention. “I’m working with the FBI. We’ve been searching for you.”

“You’re not real. The FBI has been here and they didn’t find me. Now they will never find me. I will die in this darkness because I will never marry him. Never. ‘Amazing grace how sweet the sound.’”

“I am real and I’m trying to get you out of here. Do you understand me?”

Something in his voice must have reached her because she stopped singing once more. It was so dark, though, he couldn’t see a thing.

“Where are you?” she asked. “Let me touch you, then I’ll know you’re real.”

“Here,” he said, and walked into her.

Her hands trembled against him as they traveled over his body, then touched his growing beard.

She jerked back. “You’re one of them.”

“No. I’m not.” He tried to calm her. “Feel my beard. It’s short. I’ve been searching two days for you.”

She didn’t move, but murmured, “How long have I been here? ‘When I’ve been here ten thousand—’”

“Stop it,” he said in a stern voice, knowing she was close to a mental breakdown.

Her voice fluttered to a halt.

“You’ve been missing for four days, Caroline. Touch me again and you’ll see that I’m real.”

His request was met with total silence. “Caroline, touch me,” he repeated, trying to gain her trust. It worked. She ran her hand over his face.

Eli caught his breath as she touched his skin, and he knew his emotions were highly charged. That was the only explanation.

“I’ve been growing my beard to infiltrate the group to see if you were here. I’m not one of them.”

“You’re real. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. You’re real.” Her arms went around his waist and she gripped him tightly.

He held her for a moment with her head tucked below his chin. “We have to go. We don’t have much time. Can you handle a long walk?”

She drew back. “I’ll do anything to get out of here.”

“When we leave, be quiet, very quiet. Don’t make a sound. We have to run for the fence and freedom. The FBI will be waiting, but we have to make it past Buford and his clan.”

“Okay.”

“Do exactly what I tell you.”

“Okay.”

“Caroline, do you understand me?” Eli asked, not sure if she was comprehending him or not. “Say something beside okay.”

“Yes. I understand you. You’re a Texas Ranger and you’re taking me out of here. And we have to be quiet.”

“Good.” Gripping her hand, he led her from the room. He closed the shelf, then helped her up the steps and outside.

Caroline stared at the sky. “Oh my. Oh my. The stars, the moon. I thought I’d never see them again.”

Eli gave her a second to adjust. “Let’s go,” he said, and they slipped into the woods.

They didn’t get far before Caroline faltered and fell to the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she muttered, gasping for breath.

Eli saw how weak she was and realized this wasn’t going to be easy. “Are you okay?”

She looked toward the sky again. “Yes. As long as I can see all that light, I’m fine.”

Eli doubted that. He lifted her to her feet and they diligently pushed on. He had studied the compound and the people thoroughly and knew exactly where Peter was on his rounds with the dogs. He went in the opposite direction.

Caroline fell again and Eli again helped her to her feet, then they trudged on toward the fence.

Caroline stumbled once more, but this time she didn’t get up. Darkness surrounded them and Eli couldn’t be sure that she was aware she was out of the room. Or if she was functioning rationally. She seemed lifeless and spent, but he would not give up on her. He’d get her out of here.

He picked her up and carried her, while she whimpered in protest. He kept walking through the bushes.

Freedom wasn’t far away.

Eli kept his mind and sight on that one thing—freedom. His arms ached, as did the muscles in his back, but he didn’t stop. He hadn’t saved Ginny, but he was determined to save Caroline Whitten.

The farther they went into the woods, the thicker the darkness became, impeding their progress. Eli moved through the brushy areas on pure instinct. Branches scraped their skin and tugged at their hair, but he didn’t pause. He stepped into a hole and almost went down, but managed to stay upright with Caroline in his arms.

Just when the journey seemed endless, Eli saw the silver fence glistening in the moonlight. He stopped beside a fallen log and sank down, loosening his hold on Caroline, who eased to his side.

“You okay?” he asked, taking a deep breath.

“Yes.”

“The fence is about fifty feet in front of us. It’s eight feet high and made of barbed wire and mesh. You have to climb over it. Do you think you can?”

“I’ll try.”

Eli shook his head. “No. You have to do better than that. Ahead is freedom and behind is Amos Buford. If you don’t make it across, he’ll kill both of us.”

She trembled. “I’m so weak and my head’s fuzzy.”

“I know, and I’ll help you all I can, but you have to help yourself. You have to make it over the fence. When you reach the other side, run as fast as you can. Don’t look back and don’t wait for me.”

She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded, but Eli wasn’t so sure she did. It didn’t matter. He’d literally carry her across if he had to.

“Rest for a bit, then we have to go,” he said.

“What did you say your name was?”

He was taken aback for a moment, but pleased. She was asking questions. That meant her mind was functioning.

“Elijah Coltrane, but everyone calls me Eli.”

“Thank you, Eli, for getting me out of that room.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, loving the way she said his name, soft and low with a husky undertone.

“I lost part of myself back there—my pride, my dignity and my self-esteem.”

“It’s called brainwashing. Buford and his cult are very good at it.”

She shivered and tightened her arms.

“It’s almost over. We just have to get over the fence.” He paused. “Are you ready?”

She took a ragged breath. “Yes.”

He stood and cocked his head, hearing a sound in the distance. The Dobermans were coming. Damn. Buford knew they were gone, and the dogs were on their trail.

Their time had just ran out.

“What is it?” she asked in a worried voice.

“They’re coming. I can hear the dogs.”

“Oh no!”

“Remember what I told you. Get over and run, and don’t look back.”

He grabbed her hand and they sprinted for the fence. Eli heard the yelps of the dogs, getting closer and closer.

CHAPTER THREE

AT THE FENCE, Eli caught her around the waist and lifted her in the air. “Reach for the wire and start to climb. Even if the barbs cut you, keep going.”

Her bare feet brushed against him. “Dammit. Where are your shoes?”

“Back there,” she replied, grasping a wire.

There was nothing he could do about that now. He climbed behind her, acting like a shield as he boosted her up. He’d forcefully shoved her to the top when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement as the dogs charged toward the fence.

Caroline was over. “Run, run, run!” Eli shouted.

He made to swing over the top, but one of the dogs leaped into the air and clamped its teeth on his right arm, banging him against the fence. Suspended in air, the canine fiercely held on to his prey. Eli struggled to dislodge it, but the dog’s jaws were strong.

Caroline turned and saw Eli struggling with one of the dogs. She ran back. The Dobermans saw her and switched their attention to her, lunging against the fence. This broke the other dog’s concentration and it fell to the ground, freeing Eli, who also tumbled to the ground—but on the right side of the fence. He quickly jumped to his feet and grabbed her hand. They hurried into the woods as the first clan member reached the fence, yelling unchristian words at them.

Eli kept running, pulling Caroline behind him. On and on they raced through the thicket. Eli’s arm burned, but he didn’t pay any attention. He had one goal—to get them to the country road and safety before the clan caught up with them.

They passed through thicket after thicket, then into a valley lined with tall grasses, and into dense woods again. Eli kept a firm grip on Caroline. She was holding up well and he admired her spirit. His own legs grew tired and his chest was tight with exhaustion, but he never wavered or stopped. He wasn’t sure if Buford and his men would follow, so he wanted to get them far, far away.

Finally, Eli tripped, and they tumbled in a heap on the spring grasses. Neither moved—they were too exhausted. Caroline lay on top of him for a moment, then moved to his side to lie on her back.

He sucked air into his starving lungs. “You okay?” he gasped.

“Yes,” she breathed, panting, then pointed to the sky.

“Look, Eli, look.”

He glanced up and saw the sun peeking above the treetops, heralding a new day. He took joy in that. He’d found her and they were out. Buford would not control or ruin her life. Eli took joy in that, too.

“That’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” she said, her eyes shining as the morning sun chased away the night, the darkness.

He looked at her and saw her clearly for the first time. Her blond hair was dirty, as was her skin and clothes, but her green eyes were bright with wonder.

“Isn’t it, Eli?”

He lost the gist of the conversation, but quickly recovered. “Yes,” he answered, his eyes never leaving her face.

She brushed back her hair and he caught sight of her hands.

He sat up and reached for them. “Oh, my God.” Both palms were scratched and bleeding, the blood caking with the dirt on her skin.

“They’re okay,” she said, pulling her hands away and sitting up.

His eyes traveled to her bare feet, then he lifted a foot to stare at the bottom. He closed his eyes briefly. The sole was one bloody mess, and he knew she had to be in a lot of pain. Dammit. He should have carried her when he realized she didn’t have any shoes on. But after the encounter with the dogs, he’d just wanted to get her to safety. He unlaced his sneakers.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You need something on your feet.”

“Your shoes are too big for me.”

“I know,” he said. Pulling off his socks, he gently slipped them on her feet. “That’s not much, but it should help.”

“Thank you.” She touched his arm. “You’re hurt, too.”

His right sleeve was torn and bloody. “It’s just a scratch.” He put his sneakers back on and got to his feet.

“We’d better make it to the road.”

He bent to pick her up, but she pushed his arms away. “No, you’re not carrying me.”

“You can’t walk on those feet.”

She stood. “Watch me.”

He grunted. “God, you don’t take orders very well.”

“No. Now let’s go.” Her eyes held his. This woman was a fighter, a survivor. Buford and his clan would never have been able to brainwash her. She would have died in that dark hole of a grave. Eli wondered about the “others” that Ruth and Amos had mentioned. How many women had died in that makeshift tomb?

Eli shook his head and started walking. Caroline followed. Even though he was perturbed at her stubbornness, he admired her courage. That courage would help her in the days ahead.

After another long walk, the road at last came into view. They sat in the bushes, out of sight in case Buford was looking for them.

“We’ll wait until a vehicle comes along so we can get help.”

“Okay.” Caroline was glad to rest, and she stared down the blacktop road toward a bend in the distance. She hoped someone would come soon, but as long as Eli was with her she could wait. Her hands and feet burned and her clothes were torn and filthy, but freedom was an exhilarating feeling.

Eli had saved her life. Her sanity.

She was out of the darkness, and her thoughts weren’t so disoriented or confused now. Fresh oxygen had cleared away the cobwebs, the near insanity, and she knew this was real. The man beside her was real.

She glanced at him and took in this extraordinary person. He was tall, his features prominent and sharp, as if they’d been carved from stone. He had an aura of strength that would deter anyone from daring to change anything about him. She didn’t know him, but she instinctively knew that Elijah Coltrane did not take well to change.

“How are your hands?” he asked, watching the road.

“They’re burning a little, but they’ll be fine.”

He turned his head caught his left sleeve with his teeth and jerked. The fabric tore at the seam. With his right hand Eli unbuttoned the cuff and gathered the cloth, which he continued to rip into strips with his teeth. She watched in awe.

Without a word, he took her hand and wrapped some strips around it. He did that to the other one, and she knew better than to tell him it wasn’t necessary.

When finished, he asked, “How’s that?”

“Better,” she had to admit. “The burning isn’t so bad.”

“You couldn’t have done all this on the fence.”

She swallowed. “When I was scared, I’d beat on the wall of that room with the palm of my hand, then my fist, hoping someone would hear me. I just wanted out of there.”

“You’re out now and you’ll soon get medical attention.” She couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew he was upset.

“My hands feel much better now,” she said again, to reassure him.

“Good.” He turned his attention to the road.

Caroline watched his unyielding face. He hadn’t removed his shirt, because he didn’t want her to see his right arm. She had a feeling it was bad. Maybe he didn’t want to see it either—not yet.

They sat in silence. A squirrel ran across the road and a crow landed in a tree with a frantic squawk. Everything was peaceful—another spring day in the Texas Hill Country.

But it was so much more to Caroline.

“Did you volunteer for this job?” she asked.

“The FBI asked for my help, since I know the area.”

“Why didn’t an agent volunteer?”

“The agents went in with a warrant and searched the place, but found nothing.”

Goose bumps popped up on her skin as she remembered the prophet’s chilling words and the devastating effect it had had on her.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“A woman in the group gave me a clue. They call her Jezebel, but she’s not one of them. Buford said they found her wandering the streets and they gave her a home. They treat her like a slave.”

“You have to get her out of there, too.”

“I plan to, but right now you’re my top priority.”

The words had a soft, sincere ring to them. She just wanted to keep hearing his voice.

“So the Texas Rangers help the FBI?”

“When they ask. The FBI was getting a lot of flak from Washington and they needed something done quickly. The sheriff knew I had investigated Buford before, so the FBI called me.”

“And you agreed to go undercover?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”

“Usually it’s my job to investigate, but I have personal reasons for wanting to get Amos Buford.”

“Does he know you?”

“No, I’d never met him until two days ago.”

“Then…”

“He killed someone I cared about.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It happened a long time ago.”

She licked her cracked lips. “Was it a woman?”

“Yes. My fiancée.”

“Oh.”

“His men grabbed her from the street because the bastard chose her to be his next wife.” Eli glanced at Caroline. “She wasn’t strong like you. She lasted two days in the room, then agreed to marry him. After a month, she managed to escape.”

He took a long breath, hardly able to believe he was telling her this. But he couldn’t seem to stop. “Then I got the call. She was missing, and I found her not far from our ranch, in a ditch, strangled to death.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Caroline touched his arm. “Why isn’t Buford in jail?”

“The police couldn’t prove anything. It was her word against theirs, and there was no evidence Ginny was ever in the compound. They never found a secret room like Ginny said there was.”

“Ginny was her name?”

He swallowed, struggling with his emotions. “Yes.”

“Since Buford is free, I’m assuming they couldn’t prove he killed her, either.”

“No. There wasn’t one shred of evidence, but the FBI were able to close down his camp. He just moved on to these hills, terrorizing other women.”

“I don’t understand how that could happen,” Caroline said. “Why hasn’t the law done something?”

“They will this time. Buford screwed up by kidnapping a congressman’s daughter.”

“I’ve hated that title most of my life. Today it feels good.” Her gaze swung to the road. “My parents are probably very worried.”

“Yes. Your father has posted a big reward for any information leading to your whereabouts.”

“How is Colin, my fiancé, taking this?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything about him.”

She bit her lip. “We were having problems. He wanted to get married right away and I didn’t. Now I can’t remember exactly why I was against it. At thirty, a woman should be ready to get married.” She paused. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“I’ll be glad to see Colin.” She glanced at Eli. “Thanks to you, I will.”

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

Blood trickled down the side of his face into his beard. She reached out with her bandaged hand to touch it.

“You’ve scraped your face.”

He wished she wouldn’t keep doing that—touching him. He had to keep this on a professional level, and when she touched his skin, he found that difficult. All he had to do, though, was close his eyes and see Ginny’s face, and everything was fine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, trying not to pull away.

She let it drop and he was glad. His arm was on fire, but he couldn’t let her see he was in pain.

“It’s early, but the FBI is patrolling this road, so someone should be by soon.”

She studied her bandaged hands. “I probably won’t see you again after they arrive.”

“Probably not.”

“I want to thank you again for getting me out of that place.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “As I said, it’s my job.”

“But you did it for Ginny, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “That bastard deserves to be put away for what he did to her and probably many other girls.”

Caroline put both arms around his neck and hugged him. “Thank you, Eli.”

Dammit. Did she have to keep doing that? He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t see Ginny. That scared him. It was the first time that had happened. He was just exhausted physically and mentally, he told himself. He had to hold on to Ginny, but all he could see and feel was Caroline Whitten.

A hum in the distance was a welcome relief. He pulled away. “A car is coming. Stay put and I’ll check it out. Don’t stand on your feet.”

He stood and walked to the edge of the road, recognizing the car immediately. It was Tuck. What the hell was he doing here? He had his own job to do. Then again, Eli was glad to see him.

Tuck pulled over and jumped out.

“Call the FBI and an ambulance,” Eli shouted.

Tuck dashed into his car and was back in a minute. He stopped short when he took in Eli’s appearance, especially his bloody arm. “What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story and I don’t have time to get into it.”

“You found Ms. Whitten?”

“Yes. She’s over here.” They walked toward the bushes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Surly as ever—still the same old Eli. For a moment there I wasn’t sure. But to answer your question, I offered my help. The lieutenant and captain agreed that the FBI could use all the help they could get.”

“What happened to one riot, one ranger?”

“Well, it took one ranger to get her out of there, and Congressman Whitten will want answers as to why the FBI didn’t find her days ago.”

That would certainly come up in the investigation that was to follow, but right now, Eli’s main concern was still Caroline.

They walked up to her. “Caroline, this is Jeremiah Tucker, and Tuck, this is Caroline Whitten.”

“Howdy, ma’am.” Tuck tipped his hat, staring at her bandaged hands.

A string of cars came roaring down the road, and Eli reached down and lifted Caroline into his arms.

“Put me down, Eli,” she ordered. “You can’t carry me with your arm like that.”

He didn’t oblige, but just kept walking.

“Eli,” Tuck called after them.

Eli didn’t pay any attention to him, either. He seemed to stroll effortlessly toward the road, but she knew he had to be in a lot of pain.

Tom and Bill ran up to them.

“We need an ambulance,” Eli said.

“It’s on the way,” Bill replied, his eyes on Caroline. “Are you okay, Ms. Whitten?”

“I am now.”

“Where did he have her hidden?” Tom asked.

“In the cellar.”

“We checked there.”

“One of the walls moves in slightly, just enough for a person to squeeze by, and it’s very hard to detect.”

An ambulance pulled up, followed by a black car. Paramedics jumped out with a gurney and rolled it up to Caroline. Eli gently laid his burden on it. Before the paramedics could take her away, she grabbed Eli’s left arm.

“No,” she cried. “Eli has to come, too. He’s hurt and he needs attention.”

“Caroline, just go and get taken care of. I have things to do.”

“No,” she said again, and held on tight even though her hand was hurting like hell.

Bill was looking at Eli’s blood-soaked sleeve. “That arm does look bad. We’re going in to make the arrest, and you’re not any help to us in that condition. Go to the hospital and take care of your arm. We’ll check in later and get a full report. Your job here is done.”

Eli gritted his teeth. He wanted to go back and arrest Buford himself, but knew that wasn’t going to be possible. “The dark-haired woman isn’t one of them, so go easy on her. She helped me find Caroline.”

“Okay,” Bill said. “We’ll make sure she gets special attention. I’m just hoping this goes peacefully. Did you notice any weapons?”

Eli shook his head. “No. I searched a lot of places and never saw any type of weapon, but they’re good at hiding things so be careful.”

“You take care of that arm,” Tom interjected. “Great job—now relax and let us handle the rest.”

Stephen Whitten got out of the black car, ran to his daughter and embraced her. Still Caroline did not let go of Eli’s arm.

“Oh, Caroline,” the congressman said, his voice cracking. “What have they done to you?” His gaze swept over her. “You need medical attention.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” she said. “And, yes, we’re on the way to the hospital.”

“We need to get going,” a paramedic said to no one in particular.

“Go to the hospital,” Tuck whispered, and Eli wanted to punch him like when they were kids. But he didn’t have any strength left and knew it was time to give in. It wasn’t easy.

“You can let go of my arm,” he said to Caroline. “I’m going.”

She complied and the paramedics pushed the gurney into the ambulance. Eli took a seat on the side. Stephen stood at the doors, talking on a cell phone.

“Where’s Colin, Dad?”

Stephen clicked off. “I’m not sure, Caroline. The press will be at the hospital. Don’t say a word to anyone about what happened. Your mother, Grace and I will meet you there.”

Why wasn’t he going in the ambulance with her? Eli wondered. And why in hell was he worried about the press? Caroline needed her family, but Congressman Whitten went back to his car and his bodyguards. Eli saw the hurt look on Caroline’s face and suspected it had less to do with the congressman than with the fiancé. Where was he?

In the ambulance, a paramedic was taking her vital signs and another was taking his. “I need to remove your shirt, sir,” the man said. “Or what’s left of it.”

Eli unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, trying not to flinch as he pulled the bloody fabric from his arm.

The man glanced at the wound. “What happened?”

“A dog, a Doberman to be exact, tried to keep me from going over a fence, and almost succeeded.”

“Then this was done by a dog?”

“Yep.”

The paramedic moved and Caroline saw Eli’s arm. “Oh, my God. Can’t you do something?” she cried to the paramedic.

“We’re almost at the hospital, where a doctor will take care of it. I’ll wrap it in the meantime.”

Eli hadn’t looked at his arm and he knew he had to. Big, fearless Elijah Coltrane was afraid. But fear never had much of a hold on him for long. He turned his head and forced himself to look down at where the dog’s teeth had sunk into him, pulling flesh and muscle from the bone. He wasn’t sure how he was still using his hand.

He’d never been sick a day in his life. The cold and flu bugs always got Tuck, but never him. Pa used to say Eli was tough—even germs were afraid to live in him. But what if his arm was permanently injured now? And it was his right arm….

No. His arm was fine. It would heal in no time.

The paramedic bandaged him and he shifted his thoughts elsewhere. The other technician was attending to Caroline.

“How are her feet and hands?” he asked.

“Scraped, bruised and cut. No deep lacerations, so they should heal without a problem.”

That’s what he wanted to hear. She would be fine.

“Eli,” she said in a soft voice. “Are you upset with me?”

He knew what she was talking about—her refusal to let go of his arm. “No, Caroline. I just wasn’t thinking too clearly. I’ve waited a long time to put handcuffs on Amos Buford. I didn’t want to miss that, but I’m in no condition to put handcuffs on anyone.”

“They’ll get him.”

“I just hope the arrest goes smoothly.”

There was silence for a moment and he heard a whimpering sound.

He frowned. “Are you crying?”

“No. Yes,” she sniffled. “And I don’t know why. I’m out of that place and I should be happy but…”

“It’s an emotional reaction,” he said, the sound twisting his gut. “You’ve been through a lot. Soon we’ll be at the hospital and you’ll see your fiancé, your family, and you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t think so,” she mumbled. “I feel as if I’m never going to be the same again. Somehow I’m different.”

“Give it time.” But he felt the same way. For years he’d held on to Ginny’s love, her memory. That was enough.

Until now. Now…

He closed his eyes, forcing the feeling away, striving, struggling to see Ginny’s face. No matter how hard he tried it wasn’t there. Caroline’s was. That frightened him more than the damage to his arm. Caroline was seeping into his system and he didn’t like that. He didn’t want it. He barely knew her, but he was powerless to change whatever was happening.

He didn’t like that, either.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHEN THEY REACHED the hospital, things happened fast. Reporters and TV crews were everywhere, with the police trying to push them back. Attendants whisked Caroline away, and above the noise Eli heard her call out to him.

He didn’t respond. She needed her family now—not him. Stepping out of the ambulance, he saw an orderly with a wheelchair. His first response was to object. Then he glanced at all the people clamoring to get a statement from him. He sank into the chair without protest, wanting to get away from the crowd as quickly as possible. Reporters were shouting questions at him and flashbulbs were going off, but he ignored them.

The orderly quickly took him to a bed in the emergency room. Eli stood and lay down there, feeling totally spent.

“The doctor will be in here shortly,” the attendant said.

“Thanks,” Eli replied, and stared up at the fluorescent ceiling lights. Had the arrest been made? He hoped this wouldn’t take long because he had to get out of here and give the FBI a full report. They had to know everything he’d learned as soon as possible. Where in the hell was the doctor?

A doctor who barely looked old enough to be playing in Little League came into the room. Eli knew he had to be much older, or at least hoped he was.

“I’m Dr. Fisher, Mr. Coltrane. I’m going to look at your arm.”

“Sure. Stitch it up or whatever you have to do because I have to go. I have an investigation to finish.”

“Yes. I heard,” the doctor said, unwrapping his arm.

“It’s been in the news all week and the hospital is inundated with reporters. Everyone is very relieved Ms. Whitten was found alive.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Eli watched as he examined his arm.

“How long is this going to take?”

The doctor made a grunting sound. “I’m not sure. I have to get a surgeon down here.”

“A surgeon! What the hell for?”

“Your arm needs special attention, Mr. Coltrane.”

“That’s why I’m here. Stitch the damn thing up so I can go.”

“It’s not just the skin that’s been damaged—muscles and nerves have been ripped apart and it will take a specialist to put it back together.”

That still didn’t deter Eli. “It can’t be that bad. See? I can move my hand.” He raised his arm—it was beginning to feel heavy—and moved his fingers.

“Look closely at your fingers,” the young doctor said patiently. “They’re starting to swell and so is your arm. With this type of injury, surgery needs to be done as soon as possible so you can maintain full mobility.”

“Are you saying if I don’t have the surgery, I’ll lose the function of my right hand?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

There was silence as Eli battled with what he had to do and what he wanted to do.

“Surely you’re not thinking about not having the surgery?” The doctor was clearly shocked.

“How long will the operation take?” he asked instead of answering.

“The surgeon will be able to tell you that.”

“Well, get him in here. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Dr. Fisher gave a long sigh. “Mr. Coltrane, you’re not going anywhere for a while. It would be best for you if you started thinking in those terms.”

“And it would be best for you if you got the damn surgeon in here.”

The doctor was scribbling in a chart and he didn’t look up. “I’m attributing your bad attitude to the pain you’re in. I’ll have the nurse give you something.”

Eli took a deep breath. “I don’t want a damn thing for the pain. I just want to get this over with.”

“Yes. I think we’ve established that.” He closed the chart. “The surgeon will be in soon, Mr. Coltrane, so please try to relax.”

Dr. Fisher walked out and Eli knew he was being an ass, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never been badly injured before and he wasn’t handling it well. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax as the doctor had suggested. This would be over in no time and he could finish the job he’d started. They had to have arrested Buford by now, and he wished someone would come and tell him how it went. He had to know Buford was in jail.

“Mr. Coltrane.”

Eli opened his eyes to see an older, bald-headed man reading his chart. “I’m Dr. Jim Stiles. I hear you’ve had an encounter with a mean dog.”

“Yes. You could say that.”

“Let me take a look.” He laid the chart down and moved to the right side of the bed, where he picked up Eli’s arm and examined it. “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm. A lot of damage has been done. We need to get you to surgery now before the swelling gets any worse. Has your wife been called?”

“I’m not married.”

“Family?”

“My brother’s working the same case that I was and he’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“We have papers that need to be signed. Do you think you can sign them with your left hand?”

“I can sign them with my right,” Eli said.

The doctor stared directly at him. “Ranger Coltrane, I hear you’ve been giving the intern a hard time. But you and I are of the same caliber—tough, determined men—and if you want me to save that arm then you’ll have to cooperate. That’s the bottom line for me—cooperation. My time is too valuable to waste on a man who is too stubborn to realize he needs help.”

Eli didn’t waver under that intense gaze. “Dr. Stiles, I’ve always been a survivor and a fighter, and I learned discipline, respect and honor from a man I worshiped. He taught me how to take a punch like a man, how to give in without giving up, but he never taught me how to handle anything like this. So you’ll pardon me if I’m not on my best behavior.”

Dr. Stiles picked up the chart. “It’s all over the news that the Whitten woman was found alive by a Texas Ranger. Something the FBI hadn’t been able to do.”

“I was working with the FBI.”

“Don’t know how to take praise, either, do you?” The doctor scribbled something in the chart.

“Guess not.”

“Let’s go fix that arm so you can pin on that medal they’re going to give you.”

“Just do it as fast as you can.”

“I’ll do the best job I can in the amount of time it takes,” Dr. Stiles retorted.

“You don’t cooperate very well, do you, Doc?”

The doctor smiled. “I said I demand cooperation. I didn’t say I gave it. I’ll see you in surgery.”

After that Eli relaxed. He didn’t have much of a choice. They removed the rest of his clothes and gave him a hospital gown to wear. A nurse started an IV and he signed papers with his left hand, and another doctor came in to explain what was going to be done to his arm. Soon he was rolled to the operating room, where the anesthesiologist explained how he was going to put Eli to sleep.

Eli stared up at the bright lights, realizing he’d never felt so alone in his life. He had no family, what with Ma and Pa gone. It was just him and Tuck.

A man should have a family. He shouldn’t be alone. Where had that thought come from? He’d always been a loner. Maybe it was the drugs starting to flow through his system. Maybe it was his age. Maybe life had just caught up with him.

It would be nice to have someone here, though—someone to wake up to. Caroline’s face swam before him and he squeezed his eyes tight. No. He didn’t want to see her. Then he pictured Jake McCain. No. He didn’t want to see him, either. But Jake was his brother, his half brother. He was family. He was blood. No. Eli wasn’t a McCain. Joe McCain had denied his existence, and Eli would never admit that the man’s blood ran in his veins.

Never.

That thought lasted a second, then everything went black.

CAROLINE LAY QUIETLY as the doctors and nurses attended to her wounds. She wondered where her family was. Where was Colin? She felt so alone in this roomful of strangers. They quickly took her to a private room, and Caroline kept looking for her mother, father, Grace and Colin, but all she saw were people she didn’t know.

She had an IV in her arm because the doctor said she was dehydrated. They’d given her something for pain and she was beginning to feel woozy and disoriented. But she had to stay awake and find out how Eli was.

Her hands and feet were bandaged, and a nurse removed her clothes and helped her put on a hospital gown. After making sure she was comfortable, the woman left the room.

Caroline licked her dry lips as tears gathered in her eyes. She felt alone and abandoned and she wanted to touch Eli—to feel his strength. She didn’t even know him, yet she felt a connection she couldn’t explain.

Her eyes grew droopy and she forced them open. She wouldn’t close them. She never wanted to see darkness again—not ever. “Amazing grace” hovered at the back of her mind and she wanted to give in and sing to block everything out.

She heard voices in the hall and that weakness dissipated. Grace was here. She’d know her sister’s voice anywhere. The door burst opened and Grace ran in and grabbed her.

“Caro, Caro,” she cried, holding her tight. “Thank God you’re okay. Thank God you’re alive.”

“Yes. I’m very lucky.”

Grace drew back and brushed away a tear. The sisters looked very much alike, with the same blond hair and green eyes and body shape, except Grace wore her hair pulled back while Caroline’s was usually loose. Their personalities were so different, though, that people often said they didn’t resemble each other.

Caroline was soft and giving, but had an inner strength. Grace was studious, career driven and very much like their father, whom she spent most of her life trying to please. Caroline was just the opposite—needing to be on her own, needing to be her own person.

“My,” Grace said, “look at you. You have scratches on your face and arms, and the doctor said your hands and feet have bad lacerations.”

“They’ll heal.”

Grace frowned. “Couldn’t that Texas Ranger who found you have done more to keep you from getting hurt?”

“I’m alive,” Caroline stressed. “I’m alive. If not for him, I’d be dead.”

Grace shivered and ran her hands up her arms. “Don’t say that. We’ve been so worried and I—”

“Where’s Mom and Dad?” Caroline asked, before they both started bawling like babies.

“You know them. Dad’s giving a news conference and Mom is right beside him, as always. It makes good politics—gets the sympathy of the voters, and that’s top priority—the voter.”

Caroline heard the bitterness in her voice. “Do you think we’ll ever get past the resentment of not having normal parents?”

“Probably not.” Grace sat on the bed beside her. “But, you’re thirty and I’m twenty-nine so we should probably try.”

“Yeah,” Caroline answered quietly.

Grace rubbed Caroline’s arm. “Are you okay?”

She smiled at her sister. “Yes. I’m a little shaken still, but I’ll be fine.” She glanced at the door. “Where’s Colin? I thought he’d be here waiting for me. I’m anxious to see him.”

Grace looked away.

“Grace, where’s Colin?”

“He should be here soon.”

Grace was trying not to tell her something.

“Why isn’t he here now?”

“You know he had that new store opening in Houston.”

“Yes.”

“The opening was today.”

“And he went!” Caroline knew the answer before Grace spoke.

“Yes. We’d been waiting for days, and like I said, we were so worried. I think he just needed to do something. The wait was getting to all of us. Mom called him and he’s on his way back.”

“Oh. I guess that makes it all right then.” She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.

“Caro, please don’t—”

“I’m so tired.” Caroline cut her off. “I want to go to sleep, but I’m afraid to close my eyes. They kept me in a cellar with nothing but bread and water. There was no light.” She had to take a deep breath as the suffocating memory filled her. “I think I went insane for a while. I sang hymns and I want to start singing again. That way I can stay awake. I feel as if I’m losing it. I can’t…”

“Shh,” Grace murmured, stretching out beside her. “Remember when we were kids and I was afraid of the dark and I’d sneak past the nanny to sleep with you?”

“Yes.”

“Now I will protect you from the dark.” She snuggled against her. “Just close your eyes and go to sleep. I’ll be right here and I’ll leave all the lights on.”

“I don’t think I can sleep. I can still feel the terror of that room—of him.”

“Caroline, try to put it out of your mind.”

“I can’t. He picked me to be his seventh wife—to bear his seventh son. If he had touched me in that way, I would have died. I couldn’t have lived through that.”

“It’s over. Try to think of something pleasant.”

Eli was pleasant and nice and…

“Shut your eyes,” Grace coaxed. “I’ll be right here.”

“Sisters first,” Caroline mumbled, remembering a pact they’d made when they were nine and eight years old. Her eyes closed.

“Sisters first—always,” Grace echoed, as Caroline let go and drifted into a restless sleep.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but she woke up screaming. Grace quickly calmed her. “It’s all right. You’re in a hospital. It’s all right.”

“Oh, God,” Caroline whimpered, feeling the remnants of the nightmare about Amos Buford. “I could see him so clearly, as if he was in this room with me.”

“He’s not. I’m the only one here.”

Caroline scooted up in bed. “I can’t sleep. I just can’t.”

“Okay.” Grace pushed up beside her. “Then we’ll talk. There’s a new chick flick out—the mushy, happily ever after stuff that you love. We can go see it as soon as you feel up to it.”

“Okay,” Caroline mumbled.

“And, oh, there’s a new suit at that little dress shop we love. It’s a light mint-green with a lacy camisole. Absolutely fetching. I love it, but its kind of bright and I wanted to get your opinion. Tell you what, I’ll buy the suit and you pick out something equally charming and we’ll dress up and go out to a movie and dinner.”

Caroline rested her head on Grace’s shoulder, relaxing at her easy, nonsensical chatter. “Keep talking.”

“I was thinking about joining one of the fitness places for women. I don’t get much exercise and at my age I should start thinking about that. I hate getting all sweaty, though, and I haven’t figured out a way around that. Maybe you could join me and we…”

The thought of Grace exercising was hilarious—Caroline couldn’t even picture it. She’d join just to get a glimpse of her sister working out. Grace’s voice drummed on and Caroline smiled, letting go of the fear and easing into sleep once more.

CAROLINE AWOKE TO VOICES, familiar voices, and saw that her mother and father were in the room. Joanna was sitting in a chair talking on a cell phone and Stephen was pacing back and forth, talking on his own cell phone. Grace sat by Caroline’s bedside, holding her bandaged hand.

“You’re awake,” Grace said. “Feeling better?”

Caroline didn’t get a chance to answer as her mother jumped up and ran to her. “My baby, my baby,” she cooed, brushing back Caroline’s hair. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to be fine. I’m making arrangements to fly you to Washington to a private clinic, where you’ll get special attention and a qualified therapist to help you deal with this.”

What was her mother talking about? She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Caroline.” Her father came to the bed. “You look much better. Agent Caufield is outside waiting to speak with you. You can handle it, right?”

He didn’t ask how she was, or if she was up to facing anyone. He wanted her to do it because he expected her to. Stephen Whitten’s daughters always did what was expected of them.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and winced.

“Stephen, I don’t think she can do this right now.” Her mother spoke up.

“Yes, I can. I want to tell them what happened.”

“See?” Stephen said. “She’s made of strong stuff.”

Her father opened the door and two men came in. Her father introduced them as Agents Tom Mercer and Bill Caufield. She remembered them from the road where the ambulance had picked her up. Tom sat and began to ask her questions. He took down her answers, recording everything she said about what had happened after the men took her from her apartment.

“That’s good, Ms. Whitten,” Tom said.

“Have they arrested him?”

“Yes. Amos Buford and his men are in jail. The women and children are in another location, and several agencies have been called in to help gather information. We’re hoping to place the children with relatives—we just have to locate them.”

“I hope Amos Buford won’t be able to do this to another woman.”

“Amos will not be on the outside for a while,” Bill promised.

“You make damn sure they put him away forever,” her father ordered.

“We’ll do our best, Congressman Whitten.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Sometimes your best isn’t good enough.”

“How is Eli?” Caroline asked, before her father could demean the agent more than he already had.

“He’s in surgery,” Tom answered, as Bill turned away.

“Surgery?” She sat up straight. “Oh, no.”

“The dog did some damage to his arm and a surgeon’s repairing it.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Now, Caroline,” Stephen interjected. “Don’t upset yourself. I’m sure the man will be fine.”

“Will Eli be okay?” She spoke to Tom, ignoring her father.

“The doctor is very confident, but Eli will be out of commission for a while, at least until his arm heals. I’m not sure who’s going to be brave enough to tell him that, though.”

Caroline smiled a tremulous smile. “No. He’s not going to take that well.” She could see his stubborn face, and it was so uncanny that she could do that. She felt she was never going to forget that face. They were two strangers, yet…

“I will be taking my daughter back to Washington,” her father was saying.

Tom’s lips tightened. “I know you want to do that, sir, but it would be best if Ms. Whitten stayed here awhile longer. The prosecutor will need her testimony to get an indictment.”

“That can be done from Washington. I’ll speak with the U.S. Attorney’s office.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dad,” she said, not able to let this go on any longer. “I’m staying here.”

“You need medical attention and—”

“I know what I need. I’m not a child.”

The room filled with a thick tension.

“We’ll check in later, Ms. Whitten,” Tom said. He and the other agent quickly left, but Caroline barely noticed. She was concentrating on her father’s anger, which she could feel sucking all the oxygen out of the room.

“This is just like you, isn’t it, Caroline,” Stephen charged. “Always needing to defy me. Do you even realize how worried your mother, Grace and I have been? We thought you were dead, killed by this insane cult leader. And now that you’re back we want to take care of you, but you’re throwing it all in our faces.”

“But you will not be taking care of me,” she pointed out, with as much calm as she could manage. “You’ll hire someone to do that, and I’d rather recuperate here close to Grace.”

“Maybe she’s right, Stephen,” Joanna said. “The girls have always been close.”

“Do you know what this is going to look like in the papers?” Stephen turned on Joanna.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, you’d better. We have an election coming up.”

Caroline lay back on the pillows. It always came down to that—the next election, the votes. Nothing else mattered, not even their daughters’ health or happiness. She wished they’d go away and leave her alone. Loneliness was preferable to this.

The door opened and Colin rushed in. He went directly to Caroline. “You’re okay? I was so worried.” He kissed her cheek and she tried not to pull away.

“It’s awful big of you to show up, Colin,” her father said.

Her mother picked up her purse. “I think we need to leave the two of you alone. I’ll make arrangements for you to stay here if that’s what you wish. Your father and I will delay our plans until tomorrow. That will give you time to think about it.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“I’ll be outside,” Grace said.

Joanna and Grace kissed her and walked out. Stephen glanced at her briefly, then followed.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Colin said.

She took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t take much more that day. “I’m really tired and I just want to rest.”

“Sure. I understand. I’ll stay until you wake up.”

“No. I’d rather that you left.”

“Caroline…”

“How did the opening go?”

“Great. But I couldn’t concentrate on what had to be done for worrying about you.”

“Then why did you go?” Try as she might she was unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

He touched her face. “Please don’t be angry. I just couldn’t sit around one more minute.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

Did he? She didn’t think so. He didn’t love her the way she wanted to be loved—completely and passionately, like Eli loved his Ginny. When he’d talked about her, Caroline had heard the love in his voice even after all the years she’d been dead. Colin and she didn’t have anything close to that.

She wanted to be the most important person in his life and she wasn’t. That’s what had bothered her about them getting married so soon. She wanted more than what she and Colin had. The ordeal she’d just been through proved that they didn’t have that special magic to make a marriage last forever. And she wanted that—one man, one marriage, forever.

“I left my ring in that room they kept me in,” she said, trying to think of something else.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll buy you another one.”

She didn’t have any strength left to deal with Colin and everything she was feeling about their relationship. She turned away. “I need to rest.”

“Sure. I’ll come back later.” He kissed her cheek, but she didn’t respond.

When he left, she began to cry. Tears ran down her cheeks to her neck and gown and she didn’t try to stop them. She cried for everything that had happened, for all the changes in her life and the changes that were to come.

And she cried for Eli.

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