Easy answer: because her son was upstairs in bed, sick. She thought she could get him out, or hide them both. No, probably not hide him—he’d been found dead on the stairs, her at the foot of them, possibly having tumbled a distance. The police would know for sure, from blood on the steps and from her autopsy. Either way, she and Brian had been trying to tiptoe down and slip out of the house, Gabe guessed. One of them had inadvertently made a sound, or the killer had walked out of the kitchen to leave and seen them.
The sad thing was, if they had hidden, they’d probably have survived, given that the killer likely assumed the house was empty but for his target. Rebecca Keif wouldn’t have had time to think it through, though. She heard an explosive argument; by the time she got her son out of bed and moving, she might have heard a gunshot. Her only thought would have been of her children, her main goal escaping with them.
After Chloe’s breakdown tonight, Trina had sat with her while she took a bath. When Chloe emerged from the bathroom, he’d squatted to give her a big, good-night hug. He’d been newly conscious of the fragility of that small body. He couldn’t get his last glimpse of her out of his head. On her too-pale, pinched face, her freckles had stood out like rust-colored paint splatters.
Trina had stayed with her a long time, reading and then singing. He didn’t hear a peep from Chloe, who’d lost her voice again after her haunting repetition of “no.”
With the night completely quiet, he heard that eerie voice again. Mommy said to stay and not make a sound, not even a teensy sound. No matter what I heard.
Gabe mumbled an obscenity under his breath.
He’d spent hours himself crouched in places where he was a breath away from being discovered, and his teammates’ lives as well as his had hung in the balance. The creak of a floor, or a faint crunch of rocks underfoot; an involuntary sneeze, or a stomach rumbling, or a small movement that brushed the barrel of his AK-47 against sandstone—any of those would have meant death. And he was an adult, a soldier who’d gone through grueling training and survived countless missions, yet he still remembered the bowel-loosening moments when he thought he’d blown it, or that one of his teammates had. If some of those instances still lurked in uneasy corners of his mind, appeared in dreams, how much worse must it be for a three-year-old child who’d been loved and pampered, probably never knowing any real fear?
And when she emerged from hiding, it was to find she was the only survivor. Career soldiers cracked when that happened. They spent the rest of their lives asking themselves why me?
He stiffened at a faint noise from the hall. Bare feet brushing over floorboards. A door closing. Probably Trina using the bathroom, which meant she hadn’t dropped off to sleep any better than he had. But there was a small chance it was Chloe who had crept out of bed. While on his shopping spree last weekend, Gabe had bought a plug-in night-light for the bathroom so she’d feel safe getting up in the night.
After he heard the toilet flush and the door open again, the pad of footsteps came back down the hall...and paused in front of his open bedroom door.
“Trina?” he said softly.
“I... Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I was lying here thinking.” He rolled onto his side and stretched out to turn on a lamp. “Come on in.”
She hovered in the doorway, wearing boxer shorts and a tank top. All that uncovered skin seemed to glow in the diffused light. “I shouldn’t. It’s just...”
“You itch.”
“Yes.”
Tending to run hot, he’d pushed all his covers to one side and had only the sheet pulled up to his waist. She wasn’t the only one exposing a fair amount of bare skin.
“Why don’t you go get the aloe vera?” he said reasonably.
Her head bobbed. The maple brown hair she so often wore in a ponytail or a twist at the nape of her neck or even French braids hung loose tonight, falling below her shoulders. Once she’d disappeared, his hands tightened into fists. He had to deliberately open and flex his fingers before she came back.
Relaxed, that was him. Not so easy to project, when he was horny as hell. In fact...he glanced down his body, grimaced, and bunched up the sheet. In the nick of time. Given that she’d said a clear “No,” seeing his response to her could rightly offend her.
Trina entered into his bedroom, looking shy. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He sat up, leaving enough room for her on the edge of the bed beside him. Lucky he’d taken to wearing flannel pajama pants because of his guests.
With another wary glance over her shoulder, she sat where he’d indicated and lifted the tank top, although not pulling it over her head.
Without comment, Gabe took the bottle and began spreading the goop. When he heard a small moan, his hand stilled and he had to swallow hard before continuing.
“What about lower?” he asked after a minute. “Or doesn’t it itch?”
“I can reach that.”
Well, hell.
“Chloe sleeping okay?”
Trina nodded, easing the tank top down before swiveling a little to look at him. “She conked right out.”
“Are we back to square one with her?”
“You mean, will she talk in the morning? I think so. I hope so. Tonight she just...shut down.”
“She told you a lot.”
“I know. If only her mother had hidden.”
“I was thinking the same. But reality is, something horrific blew up really fast and she was in a panic.”
A shudder rattled Trina’s body. “I know about that.”
“Yeah, I guess you do.” He didn’t like thinking how close she’d come to dying. He knew without asking that, under pressure, saving Chloe had come well ahead of saving herself in Trina’s head.
She sighed. “If she’d just tell us.”
His “Yeah” came out gruff.
Her eyes searched his. “Do you think we should call Detective Risvold?”
“We just about have to, even though all she did was confirm what I’m sure the police suspected. I need to go out for groceries tomorrow, anyway. You can make me a list after breakfast.”
“Yes. Okay.” Her muscles tensed. “I should go to bed.”
“Don’t.” Without a conscious decision, his hand closed around her wrist. It was an effort to keep the grip light, so she wouldn’t feel trapped.
“But...we agreed.”
“Did we?”
“Is this like benefits for the bodyguard gig?”
Stung, he released her hand. “You’re right. Get to sleep.”
After a hesitation, she stood. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It was as good as a slap in the face.” He lay back against the pillows, hoping he was doing impassive better than he feared. “But I set myself up for it.”
“Can’t I say I’m sorry?”
Last thing he wanted to hear. “Go to bed.”
Something about the quiet talk and the night and the intimacy had apparently blasted his rightful hesitation where she was concerned. He’d really thought, if he put himself out there again... Stupid, and not like him. But whatever seethed in him because of Trina wasn’t usual for him, either.
Clasping her hands in front of her, she said with dignity, “I can’t have fun and then shrug you off.”
She gave him ten or fifteen seconds before she nodded and left.
He turned off the lamp, pounded the mattress with a fist and thought a lot of things he shouldn’t be.
* * *
FRIDAY, WHILE TRINA WORKED, Gabe continued his so-far unproductive investigation.
Driving a slow path through the Keifs’ neighborhood, he scanned the monster of a house owned by their next-door neighbors. Along with the standard attached two-car garage, it also had a separate four-stall garag
e. His eyebrows lifted at the sight of a red BMW in the driveway. Someone had to be home. On his couple of other forays in the neighborhood, no one had answered the door at this place.
Gabe parked as inconspicuously as possible, tucked up beside an RV beneath a high roof that extended from the detached garage. The Sadler PD might be doing drive-bys, and he didn’t want either his truck or the license plate on it to be noticed.
Now came the challenge. He’d found a couple of neighbors happy to talk about the murdered family, not much caring who he was or what he represented. But he’d had a few doors closed firmly in his face, too, when he couldn’t produce any convincing ID.
An attractive blonde he guessed to be around fifty came to the door.
He said apologetically, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I had some questions about the Keifs. I haven’t caught anybody home here.”
“What a horrible tragedy,” she said without hesitation. “But I don’t know what I can tell you. Jim and I already spoke to that detective.”
“I’m only interested in the Keifs’ routines.” Gabe aimed for soothing. “People you might have seen in and out of their house.”
“Well, no one suspicious! They entertained regularly, you know, and had the two darling children.” Thinking about the kids noticeably hit her. “It’s so hard to believe...”
When he told her he’d met Chloe and that she was doing well, the neighbor regained her poise and continued to chatter. Yes, she and her husband had gone to parties at the Keifs’, and had entertained them here, too. Everybody liked them, she was sure.
Gabe showed her pictures he’d printed of Stearns and Pearson. Pearson, she recognized immediately.
“Well, they were partners, after all.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen them here in a while.” But she shook off the thought. “Goodness, Ron and his wife may have been away! The other man...” She couldn’t remember ever seeing him.
“The awful thing is,” she confided, “I drove by their house that morning. I even glanced at it, I don’t know why, you know the way you do if you see movement, but I must have been imagining it.”
“Were there any unfamiliar cars in the driveway?”
“I don’t know...” Her voice slowed. “I think maybe there was. That could have been what caught my eye.” Appalled understanding spread on her face. “Oh, dear Lord. Why didn’t it occur to me? That detective never asked.”
* * *
THE WEEKEND HAD proved to be an oasis in the tension, Trina thought.
Right now, with the exception of the clop of the horses’ hooves and the creak of leather, the stillness seemed absolute out here in the lodgepole and ponderosa forest. Sunlight penetrated pine branches in golden streams.
Feeling content for this short interval, Trina rode a dun mare that followed Gabe and Chloe on Mack. Although she felt sure that this mare came to life in a herd of cattle, right now Trina could have been on the kind of plodding horse used in trail rides for urban visitors experiencing the “Wild” West. Reins optional. In fact, she let hers hang loose.
Yesterday, Chloe had been...not mute, but definitely subdued. She’d perked up when Gabe took her for a ride around the paddock again. Today, apparently having judged Trina to be healed enough, he’d ridden to the ranch proper and returned with a saddled horse for her to ride.
She cocked her head when she heard Gabe and Chloe having a low-voiced conversation, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
The next second, he urged Mack into a lope. The dun Trina rode leaped to follow suit, startling her. She looked ahead anxiously. Did he know what he was doing? He’d been careful with Chloe so far, but—
Chloe’s laugh floated behind her.
Smiling, Trina relaxed.
Gabe eased them to a walk again, and not ten minutes later, the cabin and barns came in sight through the trees.
He abruptly reined in Mack and gestured to Trina to be quiet. What... Then she, too, saw sunlight glint off the roof of a car parked in front of the cabin. One that had a rack of lights on top. A uniformed officer was coming down the steps from the front porch, his head turning as he scanned the outbuildings much as she’d seen Gabe do.
The mare started to shake her head, but Trina laid a hand on her neck to stop her before she blew out air.
After a minute, the man got back into the SUV, swung it around and drove back down the narrow lane.
Still watching it, Gabe asked, “Did you know him?”
“No.”
Once the car was out of sight, they rode together to the barn. After dismounting, Trina reached for the mare’s girth, but Gabe shook his head. “I’ll take care of the horses. You and Chloe need to get inside.”
Stress stole the relaxed pleasure of the outing. “But if anybody has been watching, they’ll recognize you, too.”
“Nobody will see me.”
She took him at his word and led Chloe inside. She was sweating, and decided they smelled horsey. They both needed a shower, Trina decided.
Wet hair felt heavenly when she and Chloe went back downstairs to prepare lunch. Trina had cooked an enormous pile of potatoes and eggs earlier, and now she drew a stool up to the counter so Chloe could “help” her make a potato salad.
The back door opened and Gabe came in, hanging his Stetson on a hook just inside the door. His eyes met hers briefly. Then he said, “Let me go wash up,” and walked through the kitchen. Footsteps on the stairs came a moment later.
Trina blinked and gazed down uncomprehendingly at the cutting board and her hand holding a paring knife. Sweaty men had never done it for her before, but, well, apparently there was an exception. As short as his hair was, she’d been able to see a line left by the hat. His angular face had gleamed, and she’d focused on droplets of sweat on his brown throat.
Oh, my.
She’d gotten a grip on herself and finished the salad by the time he returned, clearly having showered and changed to clean jeans and a T-shirt that fit snugly over powerful biceps and pecs.
She rolled her eyes at herself and starting slapping together sandwiches.
Just as they were sitting down, Gabe’s phone rang. He pulled it from a pocket and answered. “Boyd,” he said, probably as much for her sake as in greeting. Then he mostly listened, responding with occasional monosyllables.
Once he’d finished the conversation, she lifted her eyebrows inquiringly, but he gave his head a slight shake and asked Chloe how she’d liked the ride.
He was waiting in the kitchen after Trina settled the little girl in bed for her nap, a fan on a low setting stirring the hot bedroom air.
He’d opened his laptop again, but looked up the minute she appeared. “Boyd said he had a visitor. Sadler PD officer, following up on a vehicle he claimed had caused a minor accident and fled the scene.”
“What? He lied?” Her surprise felt like naïveté, but as irritating as she found Detective Risvold, she had trouble believing the local police could be corrupt.
“Whoever sent him out here would have had to come up with a story that justified the time and bother.”
Trina nodded doubtfully.
“Fortunately, the number he had was from a derelict vehicle abandoned here by a ranch hand moving on. Boyd assured the cop the guy had left last year. He showed him paperwork proving it, and said he’d have sworn that young cowboy had said he was going back to Montana where he’d grown up. He didn’t mention that the kid had left his Blazer behind. Not much the cop could do.”
“No.” They were so lucky the officer hadn’t been in pursuit of one of the other sets of license plates Gabe had borrowed.
“Another problem,” he said, not giving her a chance to dwell on the last one. “Diane’s youngest son was in a car accident last night. She left first thing this morning for Boise. She made Boyd promise to tell us how sorry s
he was to let us down.”
Having really liked the older woman, Trina exclaimed, “Oh, no! Was it bad?”
“The accident? The boy’s injuries aren’t critical, Boyd says. Broken arm and nose, minor concussion.” Gabe shrugged. “Kid’s only twenty, though.”
“And her baby. Of course she had to go.”
“I guess so.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Boyd’s looking for a replacement.”
“We could take Chloe,” Trina suggested tentatively. “Nobody even knows the day care is there.”
“You so sure about that? If a cop came into the building and asked questions?”
That silenced her.
Was her stubborn insistence on going to work endangering the little girl who depended utterly on her? Trina hadn’t been able to help asking herself the same thing often last week. But then she’d think about the children she’d be working with the following day, and would come to the same conclusion. Her first appointment tomorrow was with an eight-year-old girl who’d been savaged by a dog and was now facing multiple surgeries and living with scars. Terrified of any and all animals, she didn’t want even her friends to see her. The mom had had to take a leave of absence from work because Ashley had screaming fits at the idea of returning to school.
Trina suddenly became aware of Gabe watching her, intensity in his blue eyes. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
She told him.
He sighed.
* * *
GABE GLANCED IN the rearview mirror, seeing Chloe whispering to her stuffed unicorn, and therefore unlikely to pay attention to anything the adults said.
He made sure he had Trina’s attention before saying in a low voice, “You know the plan. I want anyone watching to see you go in alone. Chloe and I will be up in a while. Day care is the last door on your hall, right?”
“Right.”
He’d argued against bringing Chloe from the beginning. Once—if—she was spotted, he knew the killer would make a move. Probably not armed gunmen assaulting the professional building, but he couldn’t rule even that out.
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