To protect a child witness
Lone Star Justice must prevail
With a killer at large, Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn must safeguard little Ben Markham—the sole survivor of a mass shooting. But allowing Ben and his beautiful aunt, Sierra Walker, into his life is riskier than Taylor imagined. While he can distract Ben with Christmas planning, Taylor can’t ignore how Sierra makes him feel. The only thing harder than protecting them is guarding his own heart…
“What do I do? Go to a hotel?”
Sierra eased down onto the couch.
As a second reporter’s car parked in front, Taylor left the window. “I have an idea. Y’all can stay with my dad. He’s a retired marine and loves children. Besides that, the holiday season is a big thing for my dad. It might help Ben to get away.” He didn’t know if it would, but his safety was the most important aspect to consider.
“We can’t impose. We can keep the blinds closed. The press might get tired of waiting.”
“First, you aren’t imposing. I’ll be there, too. Ben needs to be protected until we find the shooter. It didn’t take long for the reporters to find where y’all were. The same can be said of the killer.” Taylor sat next to Sierra on the sofa, so close a whiff of lavender teased his senses. “Let me call him and—”
A piercing scream reverberated through the house.
Margaret Daley, an award-winning author of ninety books (five million sold worldwide), has been married for over forty years and is a firm believer in romance and love. When she isn’t traveling, she’s writing love stories, often with a suspense thread, and corralling her three cats, who think they rule her household. To find out more about Margaret, visit her website at margaretdaley.com.
Books by Margaret Daley
Love Inspired Suspense
Lone Star Justice
High-Risk Reunion
Lone Star Christmas Rescue
Texas Ranger Showdown
Texas Baby Pursuit
Lone Star Christmas Witness
Alaskan Search and Rescue
The Yuletide Rescue
To Save Her Child
The Protector’s Mission
Standoff at Christmas
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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Lone Star Christmas Witness
Margaret Daley
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
—Psalms 27:1
To the Texas Rangers, who work to keep the people of Texas safe
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
EPILOGUE
DEAR READER
Excerpt FROM BODYGUARD FOR CHRISTMAS BY CAROL J. POST
ONE
Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn strode toward the clinic, ducking under the crime scene tape. A northwest wind blew, a chill in the winter air. Dread threatened to slow his pace, but he couldn’t allow that. Forty-five minutes ago, a woman reported a shooting—a madman had entered this building right before it opened and shot the six employees on the staff. Five were dead, one critically injured.
When Taylor entered the Premier Medical Clinic, the smell of copper and gunpowder accosted him. Sadly, he’d smelled those aromas too many times in his sixteen years in law enforcement. His gaze swept the reception area, pausing for a few seconds on the downed pine tree with its multicolored tiny lights twinkling among the green foliage and the many ornaments lying on the floor. Tangled in the midst of the tree lay the first victim, a middle-aged woman dressed in her nurse’s scrubs—the vision making a mockery of what Christmas stood for.
Lieutenant Nash Cartwright with the San Antonio Police Department approached Taylor, who had been called in because it was a mass shooting. “It’s good to see you.”
Taylor shook his hand, glad that Nash was the SAPD’s lead on this case. He’d worked with the lieutenant several times. “I wish under different circumstances.”
“Me, too. We don’t know much yet. An unidentified man moved methodically through the building taking out the cameras as he went and killing anyone in his path. From what little we saw on the surveillance footage before it went black, the gun had a silencer on it.”
“There wasn’t anything that could identify the suspect?”
“He knew where the cameras were and made sure we didn’t see his face even during the brief time he was caught on tape. All we know is he’s approximately six feet tall with a slender build. His clothing was all black, with a hoodie to hide his face. Nothing else.”
“Was the door unlocked?” Taylor glanced at the security system pad near the front door.
“Don’t know. The alarm was off when we arrived.”
Taylor had briefly noticed a rear parking lot, most likely where the employees parked, which probably meant there was another entrance there. “Even with a silencer, you can hear the muffled shots. But no one escaped the building out the back door?”
“Right. It was blocked by a big trash bin. One male doctor was killed trying to leave.”
Taylor glanced down the hallway and saw another body by the exit, the door opened partially but a large garbage bin against the wall on the outside. “So, the killer came in and left by the front entrance. Any surveillance cameras outside in the parking lots in the back or front?”
“Yes, but taken down beforehand. I just sent some officers out to canvass the other businesses on the street, but with this clinic set back from the road and not surrounded by close neighbors, we might not get anything. And there are no traffic cams on this side street that could show us cars turning into the clinic. We’ll look later at other traffic cams in the general area during the time frame and try to identify the license numbers.”
“Who reported this shooting?”
“The first patient of the day, at eight. An older woman—Gladys Mills. She’s outside in a car with a female officer. She was shaken up and could only tell us she didn’t see anyone leaving the building or hanging around.”
Its location had made this place an easier target, Taylor knew. But he wondered whether this attack was random or targeted. “Any drugs taken?”
Nash frowned. “No. The drugs were locked up, and there are no signs the locks were tampered with, so we can rule that angle out.”
Taylor moved down the hall to the man by the rear door, dressed in a white coat. He stooped and examined the body, facedown, with an entry bullet hole in his back. “The only doctor here?”
“No, Dr. Noah Porter runs the clinic with one other doctor—a female, Dr. Kathleen Markham.”
“Is she one of the dead victims?”
“Yes. She was still in her office.” Nash gestured to a shorter corridor off the main one. “At the end.”
The door was open, but from this view Taylor couldn’t see the victim. “Are all the employees here today? Most clinics, even small ones, have more than six employees.”
“No. There are two not here if the information we
’ve dug up is right. One is a male nurse, Colin Brewer, and the other is Sierra Walker, who manages the clinic. I have two officers tracking down the missing employees.”
“Good.” It was possible one of them or both were involved in the shooting or at the very least might have information that could help this investigation. “I especially want to talk to the office manager. This could have been done by a disgruntled employee—past or present. Knowing why will help us find this guy. Where are the other two dead victims?”
“There.” Nash pointed to the counter in the middle of the building where the nurses probably worked.
Taylor walked around a large booth to find two women on the tiled floor—one shot in the back, the other in the chest. From what he had seen so far, the shooter was swift and accurate—possibly methodical in his execution of the crime, as though he’d planned it for a while.
Nash received a call. His frown deepened the longer he listened to the caller. When it ended, he took a few seconds to gather himself, then said, “The sixth victim died on the way to the hospital. She never regained consciousness. Mindy Carson worked the front desk where she was found alive.” He started to walk away, then turned back to Taylor. “Look around. I’ll be in the lobby.”
As Taylor walked toward the female doctor’s office, he couldn’t shake his bad feeling, a growing hollowness in his gut. If this wasn’t a current or former disgruntled employee, then what drove a person to kill all these people who were healers trying to help others get well? The shooter hadn’t come in while patients were here. He’d done this before they opened the clinic. This wasn’t a random choice. The shooter wanted one or all of these people dead.
He stepped into Dr. Markham’s office, noting the lock on the door had been shot out, and paused a few feet inside, scanning the medium-sized room. A woman in her thirties, wearing a white coat, lay on the floor near a bank of windows that didn’t open. Trapped in her office with no way out. He covered the distance to the doctor, who lay faceup, an entry wound to her heart. She hadn’t suffered at least.
As he gazed at a face caught in a look of terror, he whispered, “Who wanted you dead?” He wished the victim could tell him.
The sound of faint whimpers wafted to Taylor. He stiffened and whirled around, every part of him on alert. But the room was empty. His gaze swept more carefully over the office, stopping at a framed picture on Dr. Markham’s desk of her and a little boy.
Did he imagine the noise?
Again, he surveyed the area, looking for any place to hide. The only furniture was a desk with two chairs in front and one behind, as well as a sideboard along the opposite wall with more photos of the doctor and the boy with a few including another woman. He strode over to the piece of furniture for a closer look. The sideboard had drawers down the middle, and cabinets on the sides with louvered doors. He opened the nearest cupboard. Files, books and magazines were crammed inside. He moved to the other one on the left and swung the door wide.
A child was curled into a tight ball, his head buried against his knees. Another whimper escaped the kid’s mouth as he tried to crouch even more into a protective cocoon.
Taylor squatted in front of the child. “You’re safe. I’m Texas Ranger Blackburn, and I won’t let anything happen to you.” A lance pierced his heart as he waited for the boy to trust him. Finally, the child looked up, and Taylor recognized him as the boy from the photographs. Dr. Markham’s son probably. He could only imagine the horror this young child went through when the killer came into the office. Did he see or hear anything through the slats in the cabinet door?
Taylor wondered who the other woman in a couple of the photographs was. She looked like Dr. Markham. She looked too old to be her child. A sister maybe?
“No one is going to hurt you. I promise. You’re safe.” Taylor held out his hand.
The brown-haired child didn’t move.
Taylor withdrew his cell phone and called Nash rather than leave the child alone to find the lieutenant. “Will you send a police officer to find Kathleen Markham’s residence and see if there’s a family member there?”
“Why?”
“I found Dr. Markham’s son in her office.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.” As Taylor disconnected, he held out his hand again toward the child. “Come on out. You’re safe.”
But the kid quickly turned his face away from Taylor.
He settled himself on the floor by the child. He didn’t want him to feel he was alone nor did he want to force him out of the cabinet. Taylor glanced up at the photo of Dr. Markham, the boy and a young woman who had long blond hair and a smile that lit her whole face. She had her arm around the kid, looking down at him. Suddenly a thought struck him. What if the boy was this lady’s son, not Dr. Markham’s?
* * *
Sierra Walker left the Premier Medical Clinic’s accountant’s office, relieved to get the necessary paperwork to him for the end of the year. She hurried toward her car, the cold wind whipping her long blond hair about her face and sending a shiver down her spine. Reaching her Mustang, she opened the driver’s side door and slipped behind the steering wheel.
She hoped Kat could figure out what was wrong with Ben. Probably a cold or possibly the flu. After her nephew had spent yesterday at the clinic, sleeping most of the time in one of the exam rooms, Sierra had told her sister that she’d take Ben with her today and work at home when she finished meeting with the accountant.
When she turned onto the street that led to work, the sight of police cruisers parked along the street in front of the clinic with lights flashing sent terror snaking down her spine. A small crowd stood behind a makeshift barricade.
She parked along the street, then dug her cell phone out of her purse. Her hands shook as she called her sister, her full attention glued to the police going in and out of the building. When Kat didn’t answer, she stuffed her phone back into her handbag and scrambled from her car.
Her pace, matching her pounding heartbeat, quickened with each step she took toward the barricade. She fought her way through the throng, praying everyone was all right, especially Kat and Ben. They were her only family. Her sister was the one who rescued her when she started down the wrong path. She owed her so much.
She reached the cordoned-off area and ducked under the barrier. A police officer immediately confronted her. “Ma’am, you aren’t supposed to be here. Please stay behind the barricade.”
“I work here. What happened? Is everyone all right?”
“Who are you?”
“Sierra Walker. I’m the office manager, and my sister, Dr. Markham, works here, too.”
“Can I see some identification?”
With trembling hands Sierra dug into her purse and presented her wallet with her driver’s license.
“Come this way.”
As she walked beside the officer, she scanned the scene and realized that something really bad had happened for this kind of all-out response and interest from bystanders. The nearer she came to the entrance, the more distress wrapped around her and squeezed the breath from her lungs, making her chest hurt.
The officer stopped while a gurney with a closed body bag was wheeled from the building.
“Please tell me if my sister and her son are okay.” She didn’t know how the words passed her tight throat.
He didn’t answer but continued to make his way into the clinic as the gurney was rolled toward a waiting vehicle. Sweat popped out on Sierra’s forehead in spite of the cold weather. The stench assailed her senses as she moved farther inside. Her stomach roiled.
When the sight of a body’s shape taped on the bloodstained floor by the Christmas tree across from the receptionist’s desk transfixed Sierra, she stopped as though frozen in place. Who was dead? Mindy, the receptionist? Mindy was one of her best friends. They often shared lunch here at the clinic or the café across the
street. Then Sierra thought of all the other people she worked with who could be on that gurney, and her heart broke into pieces.
The officer glanced back. “I’m taking you to someone who can answer your questions.”
She heard the words he said, but they seemed to come to her as if she were in a long tunnel and he was at the other end.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
Sierra closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she opened them again, a man over six feet tall, dressed in a long-sleeve white shirt, with a blue tie, an off-white cowboy hat and tan pants, headed toward her. Her focus latched onto the circular star badge he wore slightly to the left, over his heart. A Texas Ranger—which usually meant not a routine crime.
The Texas Ranger with deep green eyes and dark brown hair held out his arm. “Sierra Walker?”
She shook his hand. “Yes. What has happened here?” Her voice quavered, and she swallowed hard, trying to prepare herself for the worst—Mindy was in the body bag.
“There’s no good way to say this. A shooter came to the clinic right before it opened and shot everyone who was here. Is Dr. Kathleen Markham your sister? That’s what the officer said.”
Fear froze her lungs. “Yes. Is she hurt bad?” Please don’t let her be the person in the body bag.
“I’m Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn. Let’s go in here.” He motioned toward a room behind the receptionist desk.
Part of the area was partitioned for her workplace. “My office is back there.” Moving forward, Sierra made the mistake of glancing down the main hallway, and when her eyes lit on a male body by the back door, she stumbled.
A hand grasped her arm, and the Texas Ranger stopped her from falling. Heat flushed her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting that. Who is it? Dr. Porter?”
He looked down at her. “Yes, it’s him.”
She stared into those green eyes, and in that moment, she knew no one survived the mass shooting. Kathleen! Ben! Mindy and the others. Tears sprang into her eyes and blurred her vision. “Is my sister’s body still here?”
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