by Toni Leland
Dillon cradled her in his arms. What the hell was he going to do now? This wasn’t the time to tell her about the private investigator, but the news couldn’t wait too long.
A few minutes later, he held the truck door while Ginger climbed up into the seat. His thoughts intensified as he considered one plan after another. The immediate emergency would be on the forefront of her mind, so he’d better help her with whatever needed to be done. Time was of the essence.
He settled behind the steering wheel and looked over at her. “Tell me what we need to do.”
She whisked a tear from her cheek and sniffled. “I don’t think the horses have been fed yet. And I didn’t tell Bud where I was going. I should call him.”
“Bud will understand. You can call him from the farm.”
She gave a long shuddery sigh and shook her head. “This is so awful…” She sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “I’ll need to stay at the farm while she’s recuperating. Maybe Bud will give me some time off, at least until I locate all the volunteers and see if we can set up some sort of schedule.”
Dillon nodded and pulled away from the hospital. How long before the private investigator learned about the farm? If he returned to Bud’s, there was a chance that Ginger’s friendship with Casey might surface.
Ginger’s soft voice drifted on the quiet air. “Dillon, what if she dies?”
He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, gloom rolling through his mind. If he could get her safely through the next twenty-four hours, it would be a miracle.
As the two of them walked through the barn door, the horses set up a ruckus and Ginger headed for the tack room, calling over her shoulder. “You go up in the loft and throw down two bales. I’ll get the grain.”
Insistent squeals echoed from somewhere and Dillon turned to locate the source, then laughed at the small head peering over a stall door.
“Who’s this twerp?”
“That’s my new baby.”
Oh crap, I forgot about that. Nothing like making a hard decision impossible. As he climbed the perpendicular ladder to the loft, he mentally ticked off what needed to be done immediately. Do something with the horses. Get on the phone with volunteers. Give Ginger some time to calm down. He gazed around the warm, dim loft, inhaling the pleasant fragrance of the hay, remembering his own little barn and saddle pal. He missed all that. After returning from Afghanistan, he’d wanted to hole up in the country somewhere and lick his wounds. Being one with a horse was a sure way to find peace. Why he’d allowed someone else change his lifestyle, he’d never know. He snorted. Yes, he did know—his stability had been fragile, shaken by the horrors of war, and he’d clung to the comfort and security of having a companion. An unsuitable one, but nonetheless, a woman who’d helped him forget for a while. Had he really been in love with her? Had he felt about her the way he felt about Ginger? Which is…?
He frowned and shoved a bale of hay over to the opening, then watched it tip through the hole and disappear to land with a heavy thud. An image of Casey falling from up here made his stomach lurch. He shook off the thought and grabbed another bale of hay.
Ginger met him at the bottom of the ladder. “I could swear I left my phone in the tack room, but it’s not there.”
Caught off guard, he opened his mouth, then closed it again.
She narrowed her eyes, searching his face. “What?”
He pulled the phone from his pocket and held it out, watching bewilderment wash over her features. She took the phone, her confusion changing to a frown.
“How did you—”
He exhaled sharply. “I was out here looking for you.”
“But why? I was at work this morning…oh God, something’s happened, hasn’t it?”
“Let’s get these horses taken care of and then we can talk.”
Julia’s chest almost caved in at Dillon’s expression, but she was already so overwhelmed with the situation that she was willing to delay the inevitable for awhile. She glanced at the phone, then back at Dillon.
“Okay, but I need to call Bud.”
Dillon’s features hardened. “No, you can’t call anyone. In fact, we need to destroy that phone right away.”
Now he was scaring her.
He gently took the phone and stuck it in his shirt pocket, then pulled her close.
“You have to trust me.”
Within the circle of his arms, her fear subsided. She could trust this man—couldn’t she?
Chapter 38
Casey’s kitchen was warm and cozy, and Julia gratefully accepted the mug of coffee Dillon had brewed. She pulled the hospital admission form out of her pocket and scanned the information.
“Casey was taken to the trauma center at St. Louis University Hospital. I want to call and see what’s going on.”
Dillon handed her his cell phone. “That’s a good idea. It would help to know how long she’ll be laid up before you start calling volunteers.”
A little blip ran through Julia’s pulse. The inevitable was coming up fast.
Twenty minutes later, she handed Dillon’s phone back. “Her skull x-rays are normal, thank God. Apparently, she landed on the arm and it took the full impact. She’s in surgery right now.”
Dillon whistled low. “She’s very lucky.”
Julia took a deep breath. “Okay, tell me.”
He licked his lips and held her gaze. “Your ID surfaced. I heard it on the news this morning. Someone stepped up for the reward money. I drove straight to Bud’s to warn you, but of course, you weren’t there.”
A sickening lump formed in the pit of her stomach. “How long do you think—”
“Some guy with private investigator written all over him came into Bud’s while I was there. He was looking for Ginger Green, which means your alias is blown.”
Julia’s voice cracked. “How would he find that out?”
“Whoever took your stuff would have intended to sell it. Pawn shops require identification, but selling on places like eBay or Craigslist is almost anonymous. Anyway, the thief would have tested the VCR to see that it worked.”
“And if it didn’t, he’d open it up.” Julia frowned. “But the name on the papers wasn’t my alias.”
“Right, but as soon as he realized what he had, he went for the reward money, and any decent private investigator could get your address out of a petty thief.”
Julia closed her eyes. The mailbox…
Dillon shook his head. “I figured we had some time, but your husband was on this like white on bread. You have to leave the area immediately.”
“But what about Casey? And the horses? I can’t just walk away!”
Dillon sat back and crossed his arms. “Well, you could just go back to Seattle and solve the whole problem.”
Anger tore through Julia’s chest and she jumped up, knocking over the chair. “Don’t be a smart ass. If you won’t help me, just get the hell out of here.”
She grabbed her coat and headed for the kitchen door. “I have calls to make.”
Dillon caught up with her on the porch and grabbed her arm. “Hey, I’m sorry…I was out of line. What can I do to help?”
Her shoulders sagged. “I’m not sure. What if I can’t get the volunteers to cover the place around the clock? If that happens, I can’t leave.” Her throat tightened and she barked a derisive laugh. “An abandoned rescue operation—there’s a good one.”
“I’ll just park the rig in the driveway and keep watch. But right now, you should start making those calls. Plan B isn’t the best one we have.”
An hour later, Julia sank into a kitchen chair and exhaled softly. “That wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” She ran her finger down the list of volunteer names and nodded. “We’re covered except for two hours in the middle of every week day. That’s not a big deal—the horses don’t need constant supervision. One of the original volunteers is an old friend of Casey’s and she said she’d come stay at the house and supervise, more or less. One
of the men is retired and has lots of time on his hands. He said he’d be here within the hour.”
Julia stared at the list, not really seeing the names. Her thoughts had moved from the immediate problem to her own.
She looked up at Dillon. “What’s Plan A?”
“You’d be safe at my place. I can call a retired deputy friend of mine to stand guard.”
Despair settled over her. On the run again.
“When?”
“Now, as soon as possible. The guy looking for you promised he’d come back.”
Julia rose from the table. “I’d better go pack my stuff.” She snorted. “That’ll take three minutes.”
A short while later, she carried her duffel bag down the stairs and left the house. Dillon was leaning against her car, but he stepped forward and took the bag.
“You need to clean out everything in the glove compartment, including the registration.”
“I didn’t get to that part yet. Oh, look what I found.” She opened the magazine to the page with Coquette’s picture and handed it to Dillon. “Now we can get her posted on NetPosse.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Beautiful…both of you.” He tucked the magazine into the duffel. “I’ll put your bag in the truck. We should leave as soon as your guy gets here and you give him instructions.”
Julia looked back at the house, then over toward the barn and pastures. A lump rose in her throat. Little Bit.
Dillon patted her arm. “I’ll wait in the truck. You go say your goodbyes.”
Julia walked along the ambulance tire tracks leading to the barn, her head down, her thoughts crashing into one another. She slipped through the door and closed it behind her, then turned and surveyed the familiar friendly surroundings. The sounds of munching, the occasional snort, two or three inquisitive heads hanging over stall doors. This barn had been a safe haven for more than just the four-legged victims of abandonment and abuse, it had been a refuge for her too. It had been Casey’s salvation when life handed her losses too great to bear. This place was not just a wide spot in Julia’s road—it felt like a destination.
She walked slowly down the aisle, letting the atmosphere envelop her, opening herself to the rising calm.
Dillon walked slowly around the front of the truck, frowning at the muck and frozen grime clinging to the fenders and bumper. His breath curled on the chilly air and an involuntary shiver ran over his shoulders. He’d get Ginger safely on a bus or train to Massachusetts, then pick up the Cincinnati load. His gut tightened. Did Rusher know the money ring had ID’d him? In this operation, Dillon would be live bait, a moving target with A to Z plastered all over the side.
Footsteps crunching on snow brought him out of his deliberations and he turned. Ginger strode toward him and, instantly, he saw the determination on her face. What now?
She stepped up close, barely a foot between their faces, her eyes dark with intent.
“I’m not going.”
He started shaking his head, but she grabbed his arm.
“No! Listen to me. I have been running for over a year, the most miserable year you can possibly imagine. So technically, Stephen still had a hold on me, and that was the very reason I left him. None of this makes any sense.”
“Ginger—”
“Let me finish.” She stepped back and tilted her head, her expression strangely hopeful. “He can’t make me come back, don’t you see? The only power he’s had over me was my fear of being with him again. Whoever was sent to find me will tell him I’m alive, and then what?”
Dillon frowned. “But you were afraid he’d kill you.”
“That was when I was right there under his thumb. And he would have—I believe it. Tell me, do you think he’d come out here to kill me? Wouldn’t that be premeditated murder instead of an accidental death during a heated argument?” She shook her head and turned away, making a sweeping gesture toward the property. “I don’t want to leave this. I’ve finally built a somewhat normal life, even if it is under false pretenses.”
Dillon stepped up behind her and took hold of her shoulders. “What do you want to do?”
She turned in his grasp and searched his face. “I’m going to confront him and get my freedom, like I should have done at the beginning.”
Dillon stared at her for a long minute, seeing a side of her that had been slowly emerging over the short time he’d known her. Inside was a strong woman with ideals. How hard it must have been for her to be a pawn in Stephen’s game. Deep down, Dillon wasn’t surprised at her decision, but he wasn’t happy about the additional anxiety it would generate in him. His brain hummed with a surge of the old knee-jerk worry about endangering someone close to him. Regardless of who she was, being connected to him would put her in more jeopardy than Stephen could ever devise. For the time being, Dillon would have to stay away. How could he tell her that without revealing the reasons?
He pulled her close, feeling like a heel at what he was about to do. She nestled eagerly against him, and the devil on his shoulder chortled.
His throat tightened. “Okay, but promise me you’ll stay right here and not disappear.”
A soft smile spread across her face. “Only if you promise the same.”
He brushed her lips with a kiss, his heart aching with the lie. “I promise.”
Chapter 39
Julia immersed herself in Dillon’s embrace, knowing she’d finally made the right decision. A car pulled into the driveway and she disentangled herself from his arms.
“That must be Mr. Thomas.”
An old red Volvo pulled up beside Dillon’s truck and a gray-haired man climbed out. He gave the semi a curious look as he walked toward them.
“Ginger? I’m Bill Thomas.”
They all shook hands, then Julia gestured toward the barn. “I posted a schedule of who will be here and when. We’ve already fed and watered this morning, and the horses have been turned out. Stalls still need cleaning. For the time being, we’ll have to refuse any new animals. We just don’t have the manpower. If anyone has questions, they can call me.” She turned to Dillon. “Do you still have my phone?”
She saw the reluctance in his eyes, but he played along and handed her the cell phone. Later today, she’d talk to him again about her plan. He obviously needed some time to think about it.
She gave the volunteer her number, then stepped back. “I have to get back to work right now. Don’t hesitate to call.”
He saluted. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got this under control. Been helping out here for over five years.” His expression sobered. “How’s Casey? Any word?”
“I’ll be checking in the next hour. I’ll let you know.”
She watched him head for the barn and when he’d disappeared through the door, she turned and smiled at Dillon. “Want me to fix dinner tonight?”
Surprise brightened his face. “I thought you said you didn’t cook.”
She chuckled. “I lied. How does six o’clock sound?”
Dillon looked down at the ground. “I have a load to Cincinnati today. Can I have a rain check?”
Julia’s happy mood disintegrated, but she smiled anyway. “Sure. Actually, I should spend tonight figuring out how to initiate my new plan of action.”
Dillon moved closer and smoothed his hand down her arm. “Just be careful.”
Twenty minutes later, Julia gazed through the windshield, watching the back of Dillon’s truck enter the ramp to the interstate. Melancholy settled over her, but she didn’t know why. With her newly-found determination to gain her freedom, she should be high on enthusiasm, but a shadow of doubt still colored every thought. Could she really do this? Really end her flight, once and for all? She pulled into Bud’s lot and prepared herself for his anger. She’d been gone for over four hours without so much as a courtesy phone call. She snorted. Thank Dillon for that. No, under the circumstances, he’d been right, been protecting her, and she was grateful for that concern.
Bud looked up from the counter, a
n expression of surprise, then relief passing over his features. “Ginger, where the hell have you been?”
“I’m really sorry, Bud. Casey had an accident and I just raced out of here. I should have called you.”
“What happened? Is she okay?”
Julia took off her jacket. “No, she’s hurt real bad. Broken arm, possible internal injuries. She’s at SLU hospital. I’m going to call now to get a progress report.”
“Uh, before you do that—a guy was in here looking for you this morning. I told him you were on a parts run until this afternoon. He said he’d be back. Just thought you should know.” He grinned. “Oh, and Hector Dillon came by to take you to lunch. He’s an okay guy, ya know? You could go out with him with no worries.”
Julia smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate the personal recommendation.”
Julia glanced at her watch and exhaled sharply. Finally. The hours had dragged all afternoon and she was anxious to get to the hospital to see Casey. After locking the cash drawer, she reached for the scheduling book to put it away and, in the process, bumped a container of peppermints that Bud kept on the counter for customers. The basket tipped onto the floor and she groaned. She’d just filled it and at least fifty of the little buggers were now scattered over the tile. She squatted down and began retrieving them. The front door opened and she closed her eyes. Will I never get out of here?
She stood up and frowned at the man at the counter. “We’re closed.”
“Ginger Green?”
Uh oh, here it comes.
“Yes. Who’re you?”
He didn’t answer, but reached inside his overcoat, a gesture that sent a jolt of adrenaline through Julia’s gut. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe Stephen would send someone to kill her. She stepped back, considering a dash into the garage, but before she could do anything, the man held up a photograph.
“Do you know this woman?”
Julia’s heart thundered as she stepped closer. The picture was one taken just before an awards ceremony two years ago. She took a soft, centering breath.