“Wait. You think… You think she’s your wife?”
Finally, a voice of reason.
“I didn’t realize… Deke, that girl is your daughter. Your wife is dead. She’s been dead for twenty-five years. Grace is your youngest daughter.”
Her dad was dead. No way this escapee from the looney bin was her father.
“So you’re telling me…”
Grace glanced up.
Deke stared at her, nothing remotely paternal in his expression. “This woman with the same curly black hair, green eyes and perfect body as my wife is not my wife. My little girl had blue eyes.”
“Oh, I’ll admit she’s the spitting image of Cassandra. Kind of freaked me out when I first saw her. And Grace’s eyes were blue. Until she turned three and they changed to green.”
He’d seen her? Knew her mother? She wriggled a little, trying to sit up, but her muscles wouldn’t cooperate.
“That’s Grace. Not Sandra. Not your wife. Deke…you can’t take her.”
“The hell I can’t.” His roar echoed off the walls.
Grace wrapped her arms around her head.
“Even if I believed she’s my daughter, which I don’t, she still belongs to me. Just like the girls she stole. They were mine. My property.”
Spittle peppered her arms. She shook her head. No. There was no way this twist of nature was her father. Her father was dead. He died alongside her mother.
“Do you know everything I went through to make sure she was mine and mine alone?” Deke’s voice became eerily calm. “You remember the fire that killed her parents the night of the Homecoming dance, Sandra’s senior year? She’d gotten a scholarship to some fancy college and was gonna move away. She wouldn’t give me the time of day. ’Course, she wasn’t giving any guy the time of day, so I didn’t mind so much. ’Cept I knew time was running out. So I killed ’em and used the fire to cover it up.”
Heaven above.
“You killed her parents?” Raw pain splintered the man’s voice. “Deke, that tore her apart.”
“Yeah, but she leaned on me from then on. Taught her I was the only important thing in her life. The one constant.”
Even with her arms covering her head, Grace sensed his gaze on her. Revulsion increased her shivering.
“Didn’t it, angel? You and me, we’re meant to be.”
“Deke, you can’t have her.”
“Like hell. After all the trouble I’ve gone to? She’s mine. She’s going to give back what she took from me.”
“I won’t let you take her.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
A metallic click echoed off the concrete, like a round being chambered.
“You gonna shoot me?” The man—John?—sounded strangely calm.
Oh, no. Please, please, please no. No way was she going anywhere with this psycho freak.
“I’ll give you one chance,” Deke said. “You can turn and walk away, or you can die.”
The man sighed. “I really wish it hadn’t come to this, Deke. We grew up together. I guarded your backside all through high school. I believed in you when Sandra came to me with her stories of abuse.”
“Of course you did.” Deke sounded offended. “What else would you do?”
“Believe her. Protect her. Save her.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
A gun boomed, so loud in the tiny room her ear drums throbbed. The following silence was as loud as the shot. Grace peeked out under her elbow. Deke slid down the metal door, leaving a dark streak behind.
He stared at his blood-soaked shirt. “You shot me.”
“You left me no choice.”
Deke raised his gun. “Then I’ll take you with me. You can’t have her either.”
BOOM
Another shot echoed in the too-small space. Grace gasped and too late shielded her eyes. Far too late. The image of blood bursting from the center of Deke Sathers’ forehead burned her eyelids.
A gentle hand settled on her back. “Grace?” The stranger’s voice. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
Quick footsteps rushed toward them. “Dad?”
Grace’s eyes flew open. She knew that voice.
“Dad?” High-pitched with distress. “Oh, God. What did you do?”
The man near her rose. “Luke? What are you doing here?”
The stranger knew Luke?
“You did this?” Luke wailed. The pain in his voice wrenched at Grace. “You killed my father?”
“I had no choice. He was going to hurt Grace. He was going to shoot me.”
“You had a choice.” Luke’s screech pulsed through her tender ears. “Grace deserves whatever he gives her.”
What?
“She’s a stupid bitch who belongs to him. In every way. His daughter or his wife, what difference does it make? She’s his.” Steps shuffled closer. “What did you do, Dad? You were supposed to wait. Why didn’t you wait? We had it all planned out. I pick her up for that stupid concert and bring her to you. It would’ve been safe. Why couldn’t you just wait?”
Grace forced herself to move, to lift her arm and look at the man kneeling beside Deke’s still form. Luke smoothed his hand down Deke’s arm and tears streamed over his cheeks.
“Luke,” the man said quietly.
“I hope you’re happy, Sheriff.” Snot dribbled from Luke’s nose, over his lips and onto Deke. “You killed the only father I ever had.”
“Deke was your step-dad. I doubt he was that good a father, Son.”
Luke lurched to his feet, his hand fisted. His other hand… Oh, no.
“Sheriff,” Grace whispered.
He turned toward her. Luke pointed the trembling gun and pulled the trigger. Surprise blanked the sheriff’s face. He slid to the floor.
Another shot reverberated, followed by a muffled thud. Grace flinched.
“Grace?”
Matt. He darted around Detective Harrison, who barely had time to lower his gun. Worry lines were sharply etched around Matt’s mouth and his eyes were dark with fatigue, but she didn’t care. Her heart welled with emotion.
Sharp sobs wracked her, fierce and sudden. He’d come. She was safe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Sandra was a beautiful woman, married to a monster, who beat her and abused their little girls.” Sheriff Sanford clenched his hospital blanket. “She came to me once. I was so young and stupid, I told her husband what she’d said and we shared a good laugh. We didn’t see a whole lot of Sandra and the girls after that. A few years later, I was driving the country roads, patrolling the outskirts of the county. Came upon a sight I’ll never forget.” He stared out the window. “The train engine twisted the big car into a mess. The engineer was sitting on the tracks, sobbing. Can’t say as I blame him.”
Grace sat so still she could have been made of marble if it weren’t for the brilliant bruises. Forty-eight hours had passed since they’d found her. Matt rubbed her back, his need to be in constant contact a living, breathing thing. The night he’d spent trying to figure out where she could be, wondering if she was okay, had been a hell he had no desire to revisit. Ever.
“Your mom and sisters died on impact.” Sheriff Sanford sighed. “Hard to believe it was so many years ago. I’m sorry, Grace. Maybe I should have done things differently. It was such a miracle you survived. You were sitting there in your car seat, covered in blood, sucking your thumb and never made a sound. I remembered what your mother had told me about Deke. After seeing what she’d done to herself and her children, I knew everything she’d said was true. The coroner was able to verify the abuse, due to the extent of old injuries on Sandra and the little girls. And your arm…”
He hesitated. Grace rubbed her arm, something Matt had noticed she often did when upset. She’d mentioned once how it ached when the weather turned stormy.
“Your little arm was badly broken. The doctor said it was at least a day-old injury, so it had happened before the accident. I had t
o get you as far away as possible. A friend helped me place you in foster care. Then I kept making them move you, just to be safe.”
She stared at the faded photograph the sheriff had given her. Matt wrapped his arm around her shoulders, wishing he could do more.
“I found Deke later,” Sanford continued. “Lying in a pool of blood on the floor of their mobile home. I thought for sure he was dead until I discovered a pulse. I really struggled not to leave him there to die. He deserved that, and more. In the end, my training kicked in. I called an ambulance. He recovered. Used his time in the hospital to romance one of the nurses. They got married as soon as Deke got out of rehab. She had a little boy, only two years old at the time. Luke. I spent quite a few years flat-out terrified he’d treat her the way he did your mom. Or that they’d have children. They never did, thank God.”
Matt glanced at Grace. Her green eyes lifted from the photograph to the sheriff.
The guy had to be uncomfortable after his recent surgery to remove the bullet that had grazed his lung and lodged next to his spine. Luke had been shaking too hard to get off a good shot, even at point-blank range. Even so, the sheriff wasn’t young and his recovery would be long.
The sheriff took a deep breath and winced. “I suppose you’re wondering how Deke found out about you after so many years. My mother’s to blame, I’m afraid. About a year and a half ago, my wife had a stroke that left her disabled. My mother moved in with us to help out. After my wife passed, she kept helping out by sorting through her personal things. Thought it would be too painful a process for me. Maybe she was right. Regardless, she found an album my wife had made over the years. My wife shared my pain and guilt over what had happened to your mother and you girls. She kept track of you, with my help, and created an album of all your accomplishments. She was proud as could be of you.”
Grace leaned forward, her tension radiating straight to Matt. She needed to hear this. To know people had actually cared about her all those years.
“When my mother found that album, she figured out who you were. Who you belonged to.” Sanford sighed and shook his head. “You have to understand. There’s a different generation of thought there. She figured your father had a right to know you were alive and well. There was no way she could’ve known he’d flip his lid like he did. Nor did she know the history. Even if she had, I don’t know that it would have mattered. All I can do is say I’m sorry, Grace. Whatever you need, I’ll do everything I can for you.”
Grace sighed, some of the tension leaving her muscles. “I’m sorry about your wife. It must be a terrible loss after so many years together.”
Sanford stared at her blankly. Matt was sure as hell surprised. Impressed too. Sanford had essentially ripped Grace’s life apart. Matt didn’t know if he’d be able to offer any degree of empathy in her shoes.
“Thank you.” Sanford’s eyes looked suspiciously wet.
“I would prefer to have gone through my life without this drama. Discovering the truth cost a lot of lives, but I’ve learned a great deal in the process, Sheriff.” Grace reached up and covered Matt’s hand with hers. “Most importantly, I realized sometimes people come into your life to stay.”
Sanford’s gaze shifted from Grace to Matt. A satisfied smile curved Sanford’s lips and he relaxed against the bed, crossing his hands over his belly.
Grace rose and limped to the side of Sanford’s bed. Placing her slender hand atop his, she leaned down and whispered in his ear. Sanford’s grin grew. She kissed his cheek, patted his hand and straightened.
“You do good by her, Matt.” Sanford ruined his stern tone by winking. “I suspect she’ll be a handful, but I think you’re up to the task.”
“I like to think so.”.
Grace rolled her eyes. “Get over yourselves already.”
Sanford chuckled then groaned. “Damn. Get out of here. You two have better things to do on a fine spring day.”
“Yes, sir.” Grace snapped a mock salute, but she was smiling. “You behave now. We’ll be by tomorrow to see you. The nurses will tell me if you’ve been difficult.”
Matt wrapped his arm around her waist, accepting some of her weight as he helped her from the room. The cuts on the bottom of her feet and her shin had to be agony, but she was stubborn. Her bruises had turned slightly less enthusiastic shades of purple and blue overnight. The cuts and scrapes would take longer to heal. He was confident she could handle any damage to her psyche. Grace had more strength inside than she knew.
“You don’t have to help me so much,” she said for the hundredth time. “I’m perfectly capable—”
“Of managing on your own. Yes, I know. There’s no harm in accepting help. Your doctor wasn’t exactly thrilled when you insisted on being on your feet, if you remember.”
She snorted. “Yeah, he would’ve stuck me in a wheelchair. Over a few cuts and bumps.”
“I think you’re underestimating the damage. You know, I’m more than happy to carry you wherever you want to go.”
“Oh, I can just see that.” Grace chuckled, the sound so precious he couldn’t help smiling. Even if she was being obstinate. “You walking through the grocery store with me in your arms.”
“Maybe I’d just toss you over my shoulder.”
She laughed and leaned more of her weight onto him. Some of the lingering anxiety eased. He really would be only too happy to carry her—if she’d cooperate.
“I’m so glad Lisie was able to leave the hospital yesterday.”
“What was she mumbling about?”
Grace laughed. “Apparently, one of the doctors was giving her a tough time about going home to an empty house. She told him she didn’t need a babysitter, and things escalated from there. All the nurses were talking about it.”
“She is a fiery little thing.” He gently squeezed her waist. “Almost as much as you.”
“I’m sure that’s why we became fast friends.”
“No doubt.”
In the parking lot, he ignored her objections and lifted her into the truck. She stuck her tongue out—a tease he couldn’t ignore. Anchoring her with his fingers in her hair, he fused their lips. Her hands skated down his sides. Then back up and around to knead the muscles in his back. Matt groaned and pulled her closer. Tucking her head against his shoulder, he deepened the kiss.
Someone cleared their throat. Reluctantly, he released her. Grace sank back against the leather upholstery and licked her lower lip. Muscles clenching, he almost said to hell with whoever stood behind him and went back for more. From the curve of her lips, she knew it too. His expression when he turned probably wasn’t too welcoming.
He bit back a frustrated groan. “Detective Harrison.”
“Mr. Duncan. Miss Debry.” Harrison nodded at Grace. At least he managed to keep his expression from sinking into puppy love. “How are you?”
“Good.”
“I want to reiterate my suggestion that you see a counselor. As a preventative measure, if nothing else.”
“I appreciate your concern, Detective. I assure you…” Grace linked her fingers through Matt’s. “I have everything I need to recuperate from my experience.”
His heart warmed, and no doubt his grin was sappy as hell.
“If you’re sure,” Harrison hesitated.
Matt almost felt sorry for him. Must be tough to want something you couldn’t have. Since there was no way in hell he was letting Grace slip through his fingers, Harrison definitely couldn’t have her.
“Well, I wish you the best of luck.” Harrison glanced at him. “Both of you.”
“Thank you.” Grace smiled. “For everything.”
Matt stretched his hand toward Harrison. Really, he wasn’t a bad guy. “Thank you, Detective.”
The detective left and Matt cocked his head. “I kinda feel bad for the guy.”
“Why?”
He turned. Corny as it sounded, she took his breath away. She was so beautiful, inside and out. And she loved him. That sort of thing
could go to a guy’s head.
“Because he’s in love with you.”
Her eyes widened. “He is not.”
He shrugged, shut the door and walked around.
“I’m serious, Matt.” Grace frowned as he climbed in. “Detective Harrison is not in love with me. He doesn’t even know me. That’s silly.”
Resting his left arm on the steering wheel, he leaned over the console.
She blinked and her pink tongue emerged to sweep across her pouty lower lip.
“Grace, sweetheart, you’re a stunning woman. You’re intelligent, sweet, gracious, and damn sexy. All a man has to do is stare into your beautiful green eyes and he’s lost.”
Light-pink color washed her cheekbones and he grinned. Man, he loved her. Then she did the most astonishing thing. She winked, leaned forward and kissed him. The need he tasted on her tongue just about did him in.
He sucked in a ragged breath and started the truck. “How fast do you suppose we can make it back to my place?”
Grace reclined in the lounger, enjoying the warm spring weather. Birds chirped and the scent of jasmine floated on the cool breeze. Tranquility and renewed life. Closing her eyes, she allowed the hazy, fragmented memories to wash over her.
Sheriff Sanford had stopped by last week on his way out of town. He was heading back to Kentucky, but he’d said he couldn’t leave without giving her something—a worn brown-leather album recovered from Deke’s meager possessions. Inside were numerous newspaper articles, pictures, school papers, and drawings. They spanned her entire life, starting at two years old.
In the very back was a newspaper clipping telling the story of a beautiful twenty-seven-year-old mother killed at a railroad crossing. Her five little girls had been in the car with her. They’d died on impact with a large freight train. She didn’t realize she was crying until Matt knelt in front of her and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Four sisters. She’d had a family. Not only was the album a rough trajectory of her life after Kentucky, it also included snapshots of a life long gone. Dark-haired sisters, inspiring dreamy thoughts of them hushing her when she took a tumble, sharing their ragged little dolls and cuddling her in their little laps from a monster in the dark. Common sense—and experience after meeting the man—told her the monster was none other than their father. Best of all were the hazy memories of her mother. Soft black hair tangled in her fingers; an impression of comfort and warmth snuggled against her.
Dying for Love Page 24