by Karen Rose
‘Even without the murder of his wife, they’ve got him on . . . What else do they have him on?’ Clay frowned, his eyes closed again. ‘Denny’s murder and the attempted murder of the three of us. And the murder of his mother, even though some lawyer will try to call it manslaughter. Plus the murder of those three people in the alley yesterday morning.’
‘One of them being a cop,’ Stevie added coldly.
‘He kidnapped the girls,’ Taylor added.
‘And assault, robbery and the theft of at least three cars,’ Ford said. ‘JD told me about this when you were getting stitched in the ER, Taylor. A man matching Gage’s description robbed a man at an ATM late last night at gunpoint, hit him in the head with the butt of the gun, then left him in his car, unconscious. One of the cars Gage stole belonged to the dealer he killed yesterday. He took two others when he was fleeing after shooting Clay.’
‘He will never get out of prison,’ Stevie said with satisfaction.
Ford nodded. ‘Mom’s practically salivating over the case. She says it’ll be a slam-dunk. But I think that’s everything, Clay. You should rest now.’
Taylor put her hand over Clay’s. His face had grown more drawn as the minutes ticked by, and she found she just needed to touch him. ‘Should we stop at the nurses’ station on our way out and ask someone to come in with that morphine?’
He lifted a self-dosing pump from the folds of his sheet. ‘I’ve got it. I’m just holding off till Cordelia gets here. She needs to see me awake.’
‘Then we’ll get out of your hair.’ Taylor pushed herself out of the wheelchair, balancing on one foot so that she could lean over the bed railing to kiss his cheek. ‘Bye, Pops. Rest now. I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.’
He smiled weakly. ‘You’re a brat, you know that?’
She rested her forehead against his. ‘I think I come by it genetically.’
He snorted. ‘Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.’
‘Okay, but first I want you to admit that Pops is growing on you.’
‘I admit nothing. You’re just trying to wear me down.’
‘Damn. I’m not gonna be able to get anything past you, am I?’ She kissed his forehead. ‘See you later.’ When she started to straighten, Ford was there, easing her back into the chair. Her butt had just touched down on the seat when she heard the voice that made her remaining fears settle to rest.
‘Excuse me. I’m looking for Taylor Dawson.’
Her shoulders sagged and she choked back the sob that rose in her throat. He was here. He was okay too. ‘I’m here, Dad. Right here.’ She’d started to rise out of the chair to greet him when she saw the look on Clay’s face.
Raw, abject fear. In a blink it was almost gone, his expression the partly stern, mostly neutral one he presented to the cameras.
She rose, balancing on one foot again to lean over the bed’s rail. ‘Hey,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. I can love you both, you know.’
He nodded, his jaw even more taut than it had been a minute before. ‘Yeah, I know. But if you need to go back, I’ll understand.’
‘Relax. I’m not going anywhere for a while.’ Using the rail for balance, she turned to smile at the man who’d been her father for most of her life. Frederick hung back in the doorway, the look on his face similar to the one Clay had worn. Abject fear. Then he, too, hid it away, showing what she’d always considered his courtroom face. She reached out her hand. ‘I’ve been so worried about you all day. You weren’t answering your phone.’
Frederick slowly crossed the room, his eyes taking in the other faces before returning to hers. ‘I’ve been on planes all day, trying to get to you.’
Because he’d been afraid that she’d choose Clay and Baltimore over him and California. She had to smooth this over somehow or she’d be a turkey wishbone forever. But that could wait a minute or two. ‘You didn’t check your phone?’
He flushed. ‘I had it in airplane mode most of the time and forgot to switch it back on.’ He stopped at the foot of the bed. ‘We circled Baltimore for over an hour, waiting to land. I turned it on as soon as we did and saw all the missed calls, but you didn’t answer your phone then.’
‘I lost it. Actually, I lost two phones today.’ She pointed to her leg. ‘I’ve had a busy day.’
‘I heard. Someone found your phone – a Detective Fitzpatrick – and told me that you’d been shot.’ He pressed the heel of his hand to his chest. ‘My heart almost stopped.’
So did Taylor’s, just hearing him say it. ‘I’m okay,’ she assured him. ‘Barely a scrape.’
Behind her, Clay sighed in exasperation. ‘For God’s sake, Taylor. You had a bullet in your leg. Do not lie to the man and tell him it was barely a scrape.’
Taylor looked over her shoulder to find Clay’s eyes closed and his face pinched in pain. ‘All right. I was shot. The bullet missed anything major. They dug it out, stitched me up, and told me to stay off the leg for a few days.’ She gave Frederick her most engaging smile. ‘Now are you going to come and hug me, or do I have to hop over there on one foot?’
Ford moved the wheelchair and Taylor met her dad halfway, falling into his arms and hanging on. He squeezed her so hard that she could barely breathe. ‘Don’t scare me like that, not ever again,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘For a moment I thought you were dead. The detective’s next words were that you were okay and in the ER getting treated, but between “shot” and “okay” I thought I’d lost you.’
She rubbed her cheek on the lapel of the wool sport coat that had to be burning him up. But he smelled like home and horses and the pipe smoke he’d always favored, and she inhaled deeply, letting the scents fill her up and calm her down. ‘Nope. You’re stuck with me. Seems like I’m hard to kill.’
‘Don’t joke,’ Frederick said on a rush of air. ‘It’s not funny.’
She pulled back and patted his cheek. ‘No, it’s not. I’m sorry. And now I have to sit down, because I’m still light-headed.’ From behind her, Ford took her arm and lowered her to the chair. She took a breath and lifted her chin. ‘Okay. So . . . introductions. Don’t be weird about this, people.’
‘Why would we?’ Clay murmured. ‘Because this isn’t weird at all.’
That made them all laugh. ‘Okay. So, I’m Taylor,’ she said slowly, pointing at herself. ‘But you all knew that. This is Ford Elkhart. Don’t get riled up, Dad, but he and I are a thing.’
Ford’s eyes widened almost comically.
‘What?’ Taylor asked, surprised. ‘We aren’t a thing, or you didn’t think I’d tell him?’
‘The second one. At least not straight off.’ Ford visibly composed himself, holding out his hand and straightening his spine. ‘Nice to meet you, sir.’
Frederick’s brows crunched as he shook Ford’s hand. ‘What kind of a thing?’
‘We don’t know yet,’ Taylor said. ‘I’ll let you know when we figure it out. This is Stevie Mazzetti-Maynard, former cop and now wife and business partner to this guy here in the bed, who I’m sure you’ve guessed is my birth father, Clay Maynard. Everyone, my other dad, Frederick Dawson.’
Clay turned to Stevie. ‘Help me sit up. I’m not doing this flat on my goddamn back.’
Stevie gave Taylor a look that promised retribution if Clay were to be hurt from whatever words were likely to be exchanged, but she did as he asked, using the buttons to raise him to a slightly less prone position.
Clay scowled at his wife. ‘That’s not sitting up.’
‘It’s as sitting-up as you’re going to get, so deal with it,’ Stevie snapped, then met Frederick’s wary gaze. ‘He’s been through hell. Do not upset him.’
Frederick leaned back on his heels, his apprehension and irritation clear. ‘So noted. Ma’am.’
‘Dad,’ Taylor murmured. ‘Do not suddenly
become a lawyer again after all these years. You’re much nicer as a rancher. You’ve told me so yourself.’
Frederick looked embarrassed. ‘All right. I’m sorry. You’re right, Mrs Maynard. I’m very tired and I’m . . . emotionally not myself.’
‘Join the club,’ Clay said wryly. Drawing a breath, he looked up and met Frederick’s eyes. ‘Thank you,’ he said, his sincerity unmistakably pure. ‘Thank you for taking care of my daughter, for protecting her all these years, even though I wasn’t the enemy you thought I was. You’ve been the father you didn’t need to be.’
Visibly stunned, Frederick froze for a long moment, and then his shoulders slumped, his expression changing to one of regret. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I would never have kept her from you if I’d known the truth.’
‘I believe you. She loves you. She says you’re a good man and that’s enough for me. For the record, I won’t try to keep her here if you’ll be okay with her visiting whenever she can. I know she’s made a life with you. I know she loves you.’
Frederick’s whole body now sagged and he gripped the bed rail for support. ‘I didn’t think . . . I never expected . . .’ He swallowed hard, overcome. ‘We’ll figure something out. I thought . . .’
‘You thought you’d come here and find that I’d brainwashed her into staying?’
‘Something like that, yes,’ Frederick admitted. ‘That’s why I rushed out here. God knows you’d be in the right. I have no way of making this up to you.’
‘Not your fault,’ Clay said wearily. ‘Nothing to make up. You sacrificed a helluva lot to keep her safe from a threat you believed to be real. And you were smart enough about it to keep me chasing my tail for way too many years,’ he added ruefully.
‘Plus he taught me how to shoot,’ Taylor inserted.
Clay’s mouth turned up at the corners. ‘Can’t forget that. She saved my life today. So thank you for that as well.’
Frederick let out a slow breath. ‘It sounds like Taylor has quite a story to tell me.’
Clay’s lips curved. ‘You don’t know the half of it. It’s nice to meet you, Frederick.’
‘Likewise,’ Frederick said, extending his hand. ‘It’s good to finally, truly know you.’
Taylor breathed her first truly easy breath in . . . it had been so long that she couldn’t remember when. Maybe never. And God, did it feel good.
Clay started to lift his hand to shake, but he didn’t have the strength. ‘I’m not at my best today.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Tomorrow we can arm-wrestle for her.’
Frederick chuckled, but it sounded strained. ‘Rain check on the handshake, then.’
‘And now it’s time for Clay to rest,’ Stevie said firmly. ‘Please don’t be offended, but you all need to leave. Now.’
Obediently they filed into the hall, Ford pushing Taylor’s chair and her dad following behind. ‘I saw a waiting room at the end of the hall,’ Taylor said. ‘They have machines with soda and munchies, and I’m suddenly starving. I’ll answer all your questions there. I promise.’
‘And then I need to find a hotel, a shower, a real meal and a bed. In that order.’
‘No, sir,’ Ford said. ‘We’ve got plenty of room at the farm. That way you can see where Taylor’s been working, too. Just to put your mind fully at ease.’
‘Thank you, son. I’ll take you up on the invitation.’
Taylor looked up to find her dad smiling at Ford, and the last little bit of worry faded away. ‘Where are Daisy and Julie?’ Daisy was always home on the weekend, and Julie rarely left the property at all due to the mobility issues caused by her cerebral palsy. Their absence had only added to Taylor’s earlier concern. ‘One of the FBI agents on this case sent the sheriff to the house, but nobody was home.’
‘They’re staying with the Larsons.’
‘Ah, that makes sense. They’re a family we knew from the homeschool group,’ she told Ford. ‘Mrs Larson used to be a nurse, so she can care for Julie if anything comes up.’
They reached the waiting room and Ford parked the wheelchair.
‘I’m dry as a bone from the air on the plane,’ Frederick said. ‘I’ll get us something to drink and eat and then you can tell me a story.’
Ford sat next to Taylor while her father went to the vending machine. ‘So we’re a thing?’ he asked with a small smile.
‘Yes.’ She gave him an uncertain look. ‘Unless you don’t want to be. If it makes you nervous, I underst—’
‘Taylor, hush. I want to be.’ He laughed quietly as he took her hand. ‘And I’m not even the least bit nervous. I think if we can survive this weekend, we can survive nearly anything.’
‘Even a long-distance relationship if I go back?’
‘If it’s meant to be, we’ll find a way.’
Taylor raised her brows in challenge. ‘His back is turned. Kiss me quick.’
Ford laughed, but he did as she asked. Except it wasn’t that quick and her father had to clear his throat to separate them.
Ford pulled back like she’d burned his lips, his cheeks red as fire, but Taylor just smiled up at her dad. ‘I told you that we’re a thing. You gotta expect a little of that.’
‘I’ll get used to it,’ Frederick muttered. ‘Maybe.’ He took the chair next to Ford and handed them bottles of water. ‘So, Ford, I read that you’re an engineer.’
Taylor laughed. ‘Smooth, Dad. Real smooth.’
‘Give me a break, kid. I’m still a greenhorn. Daisy hasn’t met anyone yet.’
Taylor snorted inelegantly. ‘That she’s told you about.’
Frederick’s eyes grew wide. ‘What?’
But Ford interrupted them. ‘Wait. How did you know I was an engineer?’
‘There was Wi-Fi on the plane. I figured I’d better familiarize myself with the folks on your farm, since that’s where my girl is working.’ He pulled a folded envelope from his pocket. It was covered with names connected by lines and arrows. ‘I took notes and made a family tree of sorts, so I think I can follow along with your story.’
Taylor shook her head. ‘Oh no, Dad. You’re gonna need a much bigger envelope.’
Twenty-four
Baltimore, Maryland,
Monday 24 August, 5.45 P.M.
Clay leaned back against the pillows of his hospital bed, closed his eyes, and let the breath seep out of him. It was quiet. Finally. He’d had a steady parade of visitors throughout the day, progressing up in their level of elegance from barn clothes to tuxedos and sequined dresses as the clock ticked closer to Holly and Dillon’s big event.
But they were all gone now, even Stevie, who’d sat at his side all day long, but who was now at the church with Cordelia, the prettiest little flower girl of all time. Not that he was biased in the least, of course. The wedding was due to start within the hour, and he’d watch it via Skype, but he had a few minutes to close his eyes and simply rest.
He must have dozed off, because he woke with a jerk to the light touch of a hand on his shoulder, his fists clenched and his abs burning as he tried to lurch up to sit.
The hand gently pushed him back to the mattress. ‘Sshh. It’s okay.’ The voice was soft and feminine and it soothed him. ‘It’s just me, Becky, your nurse. I need to take your vitals, but then you can go back to sleep.’
‘Sorry.’ Clay focused on slowing his pulse back to normal. ‘Military habits die hard.’
‘I figured as much,’ she said, and he heard the smile in her voice. ‘A lot of vets wake up jumpy and disoriented. Cops, too.’
‘Been there,’ he grunted. ‘Done both.’
‘I know. Marine Corps, served in Somalia, came back to join DCPD, then went off on your own to start a personal security firm.’
He opened his eyes to look up at her. Fortyish with a sweet smile, she’d given hi
m excellent care all day, even though he suspected he was not the best patient. Okay, he knew he wasn’t, because Stevie had told him so. Multiple times.
‘How did you know all that?’ he asked.
‘Your dad told me.’
Clay rolled his eyes. ‘He brags.’
‘Sounds like he’s got a right to. I also heard it from your little girl. Cordelia, right?’
His lips curved. Cordelia had been by twice, once to bring him some pictures she’d drawn ‘especially for him’, and the second time to model her flower-girl dress. ‘Right.’
‘She’s a cutie,’ Becky said. ‘I may have also heard it from your business partner, you know, the pregnant woman with the black belt. And from the young man who said he’d manage your networks for you for free, but I’m not supposed to tell you that because he has bills to pay.’ She said all of this teasingly as she took his blood pressure and temperature and checked to make sure all the tubes in and out of his body were still connected.
‘The young man is my . . . well, kind of an adopted son. Alec. He’s my IT guy. He came in to set up the computer so that I can see the wedding.’ He patted the PC that Alec had left propped up against his hip so that he could reach it easily.
‘Kind of adopted, huh? Then you’re both lucky to have found each other. You have a lot of people who care about you, Mr Maynard, and each one said something like “Oh, he’ll be fine.”’ She dropped her voice to sound gruff. ‘“He’s a former Marine. A little thing like a bullet can’t keep him down.”’
Clay laughed and Nurse Becky looked pleased with herself. ‘You were a good sport today,’ he said. ‘Thanks for taking those photos for us.’ He picked up his phone from the side table and scrolled through his pictures. Stevie had taken most of them, but Nurse Becky had snapped a few when Stevie hadn’t been in the room or was in the photo herself.