It was late. Darkness had fallen, and still Zack and his men were processing the scene. Charlie was out there with them, but he’d insisted Zack leave a deputy with Grace.
Ben Taylor stood at the window, staring out in the distance where a faint glow of lights shone from the area behind the cottage.
For two years Grace had hated her mother for abandoning them. For two years she had cursed the name of the woman who had given birth to her. The anger was what had sustained her. Now it was gone and she had nothing left to hang on to.
She hadn’t left them.
She’d been murdered.
The words flittered through Grace’s head, but she couldn’t grasp the concept, didn’t yet feel the reality deep inside her.
The front door opened and a moment later Zack and Charlie walked into the room. Charlie immediately came to her side and sat next to her, his hand reaching for hers.
She allowed him to hold her hand. Somewhere in the back of her mind Grace realized his skin was warm against her icy flesh, but the warmth couldn’t pierce through the icy shell that encased her.
“Zack wants to ask you a few questions,” Charlie said gently.
“Of course.” She looked at Zack, who sat in the chair across from them, his green eyes expressing a wealth of sympathy.
“Do you know of anyone your mother was having problems with at the time of her disappearance?” Zack asked.
“No.” Her voice seemed to float from very far away.
Zack frowned. “Charlie mentioned that William had told you he and your mother had a fight the night before she disappeared.”
She was having trouble concentrating. She felt as if she were in some sort of strange bubble, where things were happening around her and people were talking to her, but she really wasn’t involved in any of it.
“Grace?” Charlie squeezed her hand.
She looked first at Charlie, then at Zack. “Yes, William told me they had an argument, but it wasn’t a big deal. They were happily married, but like all couples they occasionally had disagreements.”
She stared at Zack and then turned once again to gaze at Charlie. “What’s happened to my family? Everyone has disappeared and now somebody is trying to make me disappear.” Her voice had a strange, singsong quality.
“I need to get her home,” Charlie said to Zack. “She’s in shock.”
“Yes, please take me home. I need to go to bed. I need to sleep. Things will be better in the morning, won’t they, Charlie?”
He didn’t answer her, but he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his side. “Zack, if you have any more questions for her, they can be asked tomorrow.”
Zack nodded and stood at the same time Charlie helped her up from the sofa. At that moment Lana came flying into the room.
She looked around. “Is it true? Elizabeth is dead?” Zack nodded, and she began to sob.
Grace broke away from Charlie and went to her. She wrapped her arms around Lana and vaguely wondered why the housekeeper was crying for her mother and she wasn’t.
“I need to ask you some questions,” Zack said to Lana. “Both you and your husband.”
Lana nodded and Grace stepped back from her. “Do you know who would do this? Do you know who would kill my mother and pack her suitcases and stuff her in an old shed?”
“I don’t know.” Lana looked around wildly. “I don’t understand any of this. First William and now your mother.” Lana began to weep once again as Zack led her to a chair.
Charlie grabbed Grace by the arm. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
Once they were in the car, Grace leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m so tired.”
“We’ll get you home and tucked into bed,” he said.
“And I’m cold. I’m so cold. I don’t feel like I’ll ever be warm again.” She wrapped her arms around herself and fought against the shivers that tried to take control.
“You will,” he replied. “Eventually you’ll get warm again and you’ll laugh and enjoy life. Time, Grace. Give yourself time. It’s true what they say about time healing all wounds.”
Once again she closed her eyes. She knew eventually the agonizing grief over losing her mother would probably ease, but how could she get over her guilt? For two years she’d hated a woman who hadn’t left them but instead had been brutally murdered.
Emotion swelled in her chest and made the very act of breathing difficult. She fought against it, afraid to let it take her—afraid that once she let it loose she would lose what little control she had left.
“Somebody must have hated us,” she murmured, more to herself than to Charlie. “Somebody must hate us all, but I don’t know who it could be.”
She sighed in relief as Charlie pulled up in her driveway. All she wanted was to sleep—hopefully without dreams. It was the easiest way to escape the confusion and pain that had become her life.
Charlie helped her out of the car, and once they were inside he led her directly to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to unbutton her blouse, but her fingers were all thumbs.
“Here, let me help,” Charlie said. He crouched down in front of her and unfastened the buttons. There was nothing sexual in his touch, only a gentleness she welcomed as he pulled the blouse from her arms.
He retrieved her nightgown from the hook on the back of her bedroom door and carried it to her. “Here, while you put this on, I’ll turn down the bed.”
Dutifully she stood and took off her bra and pulled the nightgown over her head. Then she took off her pants, and by that time the bed was ready for her to crawl into.
She got beneath the covers and shivered uncontrollably. “Charlie, could you just hold me until I get warm?”
He quickly stripped down to his briefs and then slid beneath the sheets and pulled her into his arms. She welcomed the warmth of his skin as she shivered in his arms.
He stroked her hair and kissed her temple. “It’s going to be all right,” he said softly. “You’re strong, Grace. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. You’re going to get through this.”
“You don’t understand. She wasn’t just my mother, she was my best friend.” The words pierced through a layer of the protective bubble she’d been in since learning of her mother’s death. “And I don’t feel very strong right now.” Tears burned her eyes as grief ripped through her.
Charlie seemed to sense the coming storm and tightened his arms around her. “Let it go, Grace,” he said softly. “Just let it go.”
“I never understood how she could have just walked away from me…from us. Oh God, Charlie, for two years I’ve hated a dead woman who didn’t leave us by choice.” She could no longer contain the sobs that ripped through her as the realization of the loss finally penetrated the veil of shock.
Charlie said nothing. He merely held tight as she cried for all she’d lost, for all she still might lose. She had always believed someplace deep in her heart that she would see her mother again, that somehow the wounds would be healed and they would love one another again.
That wasn’t going to happen. Elizabeth couldn’t rise up from the dead to spend even one precious instant with her children.
She cried until there was nothing left inside her and then, completely exhausted, she fell into blessed sleep.
“The initial finding is that she was probably strangled,” Zack said to Charlie when he called the next morning. “Her larynx was crushed, and the coroner could find no other obvious signs of trauma. And there’s no way she packed her own suitcases. The clothes inside were shoved in, not neatly folded. She was probably killed someplace else, then the suitcases were packed to make it appear that she’d left.”
“And I suppose the suspect list is rather short,” Charlie said dryly.
“Yeah, as in there isn’t one.” Zack’s frustration was evident in his voice. “I’ve got the mayor chewing on my ass wanting answers as to what’s happening in his town, and I don’t have any answers t
o give him.”
“I wish I could offer you some,” Charlie replied.
“I interviewed both Lana and Leroy Racine last night. They remembered where they were on the day Elizabeth disappeared. Lana was in Oklahoma City getting her son a checkup with his physician and Leroy spent the day fishing. Other than that, I haven’t had a chance to question anyone else. Hell, to be honest, I’m not even sure where to begin. I’m still trying to break Justin Walker’s alibi for William’s murder.”
“You really think those kids killed him?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t know what to think. I just collect the evidence and let the prosecuting attorney do the thinking. How’s Grace doing this morning?”
“Still sleeping.” And for that Charlie was grateful. He picked up his coffee from the table and took a sip. “Got any ideas about what’s going on as far as the attacks on her?” he asked.
“I was hoping maybe you had some,” Zack replied.
“I don’t have a clue.” Charlie frowned. It wasn’t even nine o’clock and already his level of frustration was through the ceiling. “I don’t suppose this new development changes anything with Hope’s case?”
“A slick lawyer like you can probably make an argument that it should, but I don’t think it will hold much weight. How do you tie a two-year-old murder into William’s?”
Charlie blew out a deep breath. “I don’t know, but in my gut I feel like they’re all related—Elizabeth’s and William’s murders, Hope’s incarceration and the attacks on Grace. Somehow they’re connected, but I just can’t get a handle on it.”
“Well, if you do, I hope I’ll be one of the first people you’ll tell.”
“And you’ll let me know if anything new pops?”
“You got it,” Zack replied.
Charlie hung up and stared out the window, his thoughts on the woman sleeping in the master bedroom. He was worried sick about her. She’d sat on the sofa in William’s house like a stone statue, seemingly untouched by everything going on around her.
He’d always known she was a strong woman, but he’d known it wasn’t strength that was keeping her so calm, so composed. Her brain had shut down, unable to handle any more trauma.
When the grief finally hit her, it had been horrible. Her sobs echoed in Charlie’s heart, pulling forth his own grief for her. The worst part was knowing that he couldn’t fix this for her. There was nothing he could say or do that would make her pain go away.
When she’d finally fallen asleep, exhausted by her river of tears, Charlie remained awake, his mind working overtime in an attempt to make sense of it all.
He could protect her from a gunman and make sure nobody could get at her without coming through him. But he couldn’t protect her from grief, and that broke his heart.
Glancing at the clock, he was surprised to see that it was nearing ten. Grace never slept so late. He got up from the table and walked down the hallway to her purple bedroom, wanting to make sure she was okay.
She was awake but still in bed. “Hey,” he said, and walked over to sit on the edge of the mattress. “How are you feeling?”
“As well as can be expected,” she said. She sat up and pulled her legs up against her chest. Her eyes were slightly puffy from the tears, but Charlie thought she’d never looked as beautiful.
He reached out and smoothed a strand of her hair away from her face. She caught his hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I don’t think I’m ready to face this day yet,” she said softly.
“Then don’t. There’s nothing you need to do. If you want to stay in bed all day, nobody is going to complain. I’ll even serve you your meals in here if you want me to,” he said.
She smiled and reached up and pressed her mouth against his. He realized then that she must have gotten out of bed while he was on the phone with Zack, for her mouth tasted of minty toothpaste.
He tried to steel himself from the fire of desire that instantly sprang to life inside him, but as she pulled him closer it was impossible to ignore.
A familiar ache of need began deep inside him, not just in his body but also in his heart. It was obvious what she wanted, and even though he knew he was a fool, it never entered his mind to deny her.
The kiss quickly became hot and hungry, and within seconds Charlie was naked and in bed with her. Last time, their lovemaking had been a slow renewal of old passion—a rediscovery between lovers—but now it was fast and hard and furious.
She encouraged him as he took her, her fingernails digging into his back, then into his buttocks. She cried out his name, whipping her head back and forth as she rocked beneath him.
He knew it was grief driving her to the wildness that possessed her. He held tight to her, as if to keep her from spinning off the face of the earth, and she cried out when she climaxed, a combination sob of pain and gasp of pleasure. He followed, losing it with a moan of her name.
Afterward he got up, grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom to dress. Once again he felt a burgeoning anger swelling in his chest, and it was directed at Grace.
She had used him. He had the feeling that he could have been any man in her room just now. She’d just needed somebody and he was available.
She insisted she didn’t want him and would never forgive him but pulled him into her bed and made him feel like he was the most important man in her world.
They needed to talk, but he was aware that now wasn’t the time. She’d just lost her mother. She certainly wasn’t in her right frame of mind, and he’d be a fool to attempt any meaningful conversation about the crazy relationship he now found himself in with her.
Just leave it alone, he told his reflection in the mirror. That’s what a smart man would do. He drew a deep breath, sluiced water over his face and then did exactly what he’d told himself he wouldn’t do.
“We need to talk,” he said, when he returned to her bedroom.
Those beautiful blue eyes stared at him warily. “Talk about what?”
“About us, Grace. We need to talk about us.” He refused to be put off by the vulnerable shine in her eyes.
She sighed, a tiny wrinkle appearing in the center of her forehead. “Do we really need to do this now?”
“We’ve put it off for eighteen months. I think we’re past due for a conversation.”
She raked a hand through her tousled hair. The sun drifting through the window caught and sparkled off her glorious golden strands.
His love for her blossomed so big in his chest he couldn’t speak. How did you get into an unforgiving heart? How could he make her understand that he wasn’t the same man he’d been in the past?
“Let me shower and have some coffee, then I guess we’ll talk,” she finally said with obvious dread in her voice.
He nodded and left her there with her hair shining and her eyes filled with a sadness. He feared that he’d just made a huge mistake.
Grace stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “What are you doing?” she asked the woman who stared back at her. “What are you doing making love with him when you hate him? Have you forgotten what he did to you?” No wonder he wanted to talk. She’d given him so many mixed signals it was ridiculous.
She whirled away from the mirror with a sigh of disgust. She’d let him get back into her heart. Somehow the drama of the past few days caused her to let down her guard.
She started the water in the shower and stepped in, hoping the stream would wash away the foolishness she’d entertained since he’d reentered her life and restore her to sanity.
When she’d come to him for help with Hope, she’d thought her anger and bitterness would shield her against any old feelings that might rear their head. But she hadn’t expected his quiet support—his sensitivity to her every mood, his gentleness when she needed it most. She hadn’t imagined his desire would be as fiery, as focused, as it had been before, and she certainly hadn’t anticipated that he’d know when she needed a laugh.
She hadn’t planned to fall in lov
e with him all over again. She raised her face to the water, fighting against the new set of tears that burned her eyes. She couldn’t go back. There was still a core of bitterness that remained inside her, an anger she refused to let go of for fear of being hurt again by him.
Stepping out of the shower, she grabbed a towel. She’d known this was coming. She’d known eventually they would talk about it. For weeks after she’d left him, he’d called, sent flowers and tried to communicate with her, but she hadn’t given him a chance. The calls hadn’t been answered and the flowers had gone directly into the trash.
Eventually he stopped reaching out to her, but there had never been any real closure between them. Now there would.
She dressed in a pair of bright yellow capris and a white and yellow blouse, hoping the sunny color would somehow bring warmth and comfort to her heart.
The one thing she couldn’t think about was her mother. The grief would consume her. Her guilt would destroy her. It was better to stay focused on Charlie, to embrace the old rage that had once filled her where he was concerned.
She left her bedroom and found Charlie at the kitchen table. “The coffee is fresh,” he said.
She nodded and poured herself a cup, then sat across from him, her fingers wrapped around the warmth of the drink. Grace was surprised to see a throbbing knot of tension in his jaw and the darkness of his charcoal eyes that looked remarkably like the first stir of anger.
“I can’t imagine why you want to rake up the past,” she finally said.
“Because it’s there between us, because maybe if we talk about it, then you can finally let it go.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “What I did was wrong, Grace. It was wrong on about a thousand different levels. Hell, I don’t even remember that woman’s name. I was drunk and she drove me home from the bar. It was a stupid thing for me to do, but I think we both need to accept some responsibility for what happened.”
She sat up straighter in her chair and narrowed her eyes. “I certainly didn’t encourage you to get stinking drunk and fall into bed with the first available woman.” That old storm of anger whipped up inside her and the taste of betrayal filled her mouth.
The Rancher Bodyguard Page 12