When she heard pounding on the front door a short while later, she gulped. Not only was Sloan early, he sounded impatient. She dashed her hands down her robe again, hurried toward the front door and nearly jumped out of her skin when it crashed open before she could reach it.
Rex yipped and raced past the intruder’s legs, bolting for freedom.
They weren’t Sloan’s legs.
A complete stranger was standing there, eyeing her with cold-blooded loathing. He pointed at her. “They took my boy ’cause of you.”
Horrified realization rolled through her. She grabbed Dillon and pushed him behind her. “Go to your bedroom and lock the door,” she ordered. “Now!”
Looking terrified, he scrambled down the hall, and she waited tensely until she heard the door slam. Then she eyed Bobby Pierce and completely, fully understood why Sloan had been so adamant that she keep her distance.
She edged toward the kitchen, wondering what her chances were of getting to her grandpa’s shotgun before Bobby got to her and figuring they weren’t stellar considering he was about as close to the kitchen as she was. “You shouldn’t be here, Mr. Pierce.”
“Why not?” He stepped farther into the house, eyeing her up and down. “Got no place else. Can’t go home. Can’t see my wife. Can’t see my boy.”
Thank God for that, she thought, but wisely didn’t voice it. “Breaking in like this won’t help your case to get them back.”
“Wasn’t locked.”
“You entered without my permission.” She sidestepped a little more. The breakfast counter was the problem. She had to go around it to get into the kitchen, which would take her closer to Pierce. “But if you open up that door again and leave now,” she suggested reasonably, “we can forget this ever happened.” Like hell.
He took a long step into the room, ending any hope she had of making it into the kitchen, and she changed course instantly, backing instead into the living room.
He smiled gruesomely, clearly pleased with her retreat, particularly when she had to stop abruptly because of the fireplace at her back. He advanced. “Afraid, little girl?”
Desperately.
“You’re loathsome,” she hissed. The iron fireplace poker felt wonderfully solid as she reached behind her and silently wrapped her hand around it. The closer he drew, the stronger the stench of liquor became. “Does it make you feel big and powerful to beat up a little boy?”
“You bitch.” He raised a fist, and she braced herself, prepared to swing the poker. “You don’t know nothing about me.”
“She doesn’t. But I do.”
Abby’s knees nearly went out from beneath her at the sound of Sloan’s voice.
“Take another step, Bobby,” he warned as he stepped through the front door. “Give me a reason to shoot you.”
There was no question Sloan meant it.
The gun he was aiming at Pierce made that more than clear.
“Abby.” His gaze never strayed an inch from the man he was watching with deadly calm. “Dillon’s outside waiting for you. Go on now.”
The fireplace poker clattered noisily as she dropped it and fled around Bobby, stopping only to snatch up her snow boots that were lying by the door before running outside.
Dillon was, indeed, standing next to Sloan’s cruiser, huddled alongside Mr. Gilcrest. She shoved her feet into the boots and ran down the steps, not caring that she was wearing a robe and little else. She lifted Dillon in her arms, also not caring one whit if he thought he was too old and too big for such things. “You’re supposed to be in your room!”
Her brother just hugged her tightly around her neck and hung on. She looked around, wondering where Rex had run off to, but didn’t want to say anything. Dillon was already upset enough.
“Climbed out his window,” Mr. Gilcrest offered by way of explanation. His lined face was proud. “Said you needed help.” His words were drowned out by the screaming siren of a SUV like Sloan’s. It stopped in front of Sloan’s house, and two uniformed deputies quickly emerged. “Dep’ty McCray got here before I finished calling 911.”
Abby rubbed Dillon’s back. “You brave boy.” She kissed his cheek and willed the other deputies to move faster. Sloan had a gun. But he was still in there alone with a crazy person.
The other neighbors were coming out onto their porches, venturing onto the street to see what the commotion was all about. One of the deputies who’d just arrived broke off and started waving at everyone to keep back. Abby buried her head against Dillon’s, controlling the urge to scream at them all, because as long as the deputy was watching out for them, he couldn’t watch out for Sloan.
“Everything’s fine,” she whispered to Dillon. “It’s all going to be fine.” She repeated it, again and again, like a litany.
* * *
Sloan waited until he was sure that Abby was gone before he spoke. “You are the dumbest son of a bitch to ever walk this earth, you know that, Bobby?”
The other man craned his head around, his lips twisted in contempt. “You’re not gonna shoot me.”
“Might.” The image of Abby’s terrified face wasn’t going to leave him anytime soon, and it filled him with the kind of rage he’d never wanted to feel again. He lifted his firearm and sighted on Bobby’s forehead only because he knew, even as angry as he was, he’d never pull the trigger. He didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t a killer. Not anymore. “This close? No possible way of missing.” His arm shifted and he aimed lower. “Course I could just shoot you somewhere else. Nobody’d care much if I gelded you.”
The fool actually paled and took a faltering step back. “You wouldn’t.”
Moving faster than he remembered he could, Sloan holstered his weapon and slammed the man up against the brick fireplace, his arm on Bobby’s windpipe. “Or I could just put you out of your misery like this,” he gritted. “What d’you think, Bobby? You want to take me on? See what it’s like with someone who isn’t smaller?” He pressed a little harder, hearing Bobby wheeze. “Who isn’t weaker?” He waited a beat. “I ever see you around Abby or Dillon again, I’ll finish this,” he promised. “You understand me?”
Bobby’s eyes were filling with panic. His wheezing was coming harder, and his hands scrabbled against Sloan’s immovable arm.
“You’re going to leave Lorraine alone. And you’re gonna leave Calvin alone. Got it?”
Bobby couldn’t nod but he blinked furiously. Sloan figured it was close enough. He flipped him around and cuffed him while Bobby was still gasping for air.
“You’re crazy,” Bobby yelled hoarsely as Sloan searched him for weapons.
“Yeah. I was a Deuce, you jerk. We were all crazy.” Finding nothing on the man but a thin wallet, Sloan shoved him toward the front door and pushed him out into the cold, where an indistinguishable streak of color flew at him. Rex growled and snapped at Bobby’s legs, and the guy howled when the dog found some purchase. He kicked Rex off him, but the dog didn’t back off. He continued snarling ferociously, and while it was tempting to let him go at Bobby again, Sloan didn’t. “Rex, sit.”
The dog’s butt hit the porch deck. He whined once, watching Sloan hand Bobby over to Max, who must have just arrived.
“He tried to kill me,” Bobby screamed as Max yanked him toward his waiting vehicle. “You gonna do anything about that?”
“Ask him why he didn’t finish the job,” Sloan heard his boss respond mildly.
Sloan wasn’t interested in hearing anything more, though. He pulled off his coat and headed for Abby and Dillon, wrapping it around them before pulling them both into his arms. His throat felt tight, and his head was pounding the way it always had from too much adrenaline. “You okay?”
Abby nodded against him. Even though she was already holding Dillon in her arms, she managed to wind an arm around Sloan’s neck, too. “Welcome home.” She laughed thickly then promptly burst into tears.
He pressed his cheek to her head, wanting to kill Bobby all over again. He brushed b
ack Dillon’s hair until he could see the kid’s eyes. They were still dilated with fear. He rubbed his thumb over the tears on Dillon’s cheeks. “You’re both pretty brave, you know that?”
“Is that man gonna be gone forever now?”
“I sure hope so, Dillon.” Sloan slid his arm around the boy, taking his weight off of Abby as best he could, considering the awkwardness of their positions. He watched over their heads as Max drove off with Bobby. Pierce wouldn’t be gone forever, he knew.
But maybe he’d be gone long enough that his family could find some peace.
Abby shifted. Her cheeks were wet, her eyes a drenched sea of gray. “So much for our Friday night, huh?”
The night wasn’t going to end up anything like what he’d anticipated. But he couldn’t care less.
“You’re safe,” he said roughly. “That’s the only thing that I care about right now.” Then he kissed her on the lips, not caring in the least what conclusions Dillon or anyone else who saw them would draw.
Chapter Thirteen
Even though Max had taken Bobby away, it wasn’t long before it seemed as if half the town was crowding onto their short street.
Sloan took Abby and Dillon over to his place, since the idea of going back into their own house leached the color right back out of both their drawn faces.
“Get a little crowd control going,” he suggested as they passed Jerry Cooper, who’d also arrived. Sloan managed not to yell the instruction, so he figured maybe he had more self-control left than he thought. Then he remembered Rex and gave a sharp whistle. The dog came running.
Once inside, he left Abby, Dillon and the dog huddling together on his couch in his sparse living room and bolted upstairs long enough to drag the blanket from his bed and take it back down to them. “You want something hot to drink?” His coat was still draped around her shoulders as he spread the blanket across them.
Abby shook her head. She’d dried her tears, but she was still clearly upset as she pulled the blue blanket up to her shoulders. “Don’t you have to go in and make a report or something?”
He did. “Right now the two of you are my priority.”
Her eyes went soft.
Dillon’s hand emerged from the blanket and worked the fabric down until it was beneath his chin. “I can’t breathe under there, Abby,” he complained. A second later, Rex’s nose popped out, too.
She laughed brokenly and pressed her cheek against the top of his head. “Sorry.” She let out a shaking sigh. “Are you thirsty? Do you want something to drink?”
He shook his head. His gaze seemed to be glued to Sloan. “Told you he was a White Hat,” he whispered to Abby, though Sloan could hear him well enough.
“I know, sweetie.” Abby’s eyes met Sloan’s, and the trust in them was strong enough to shake him. “He’s even more of one than you know.”
Sloan tugged at his collar and was vaguely surprised to remember that he was still in his dress uniform. He yanked his tie loose, but it didn’t seem to ease the vise tightening around his throat. “I’m going to go change.”
Abby nodded. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the couch as if all she wanted to do was sleep, even though it was barely past six o’clock.
He headed for the stairs again but veered off for the front door when he heard someone knocking.
Both Dee Crowder and Tara were standing on the porch, looking equally wild-eyed. “I was at the bank when I heard,” Tara said. “Are you all right?” Her gaze raced over him as if she were looking for proof otherwise.
“I’m fine.”
“Some nice timing you have, Deputy,” Dee said, moving past them to cross the room toward Abby. She sat on the couch next to her friend and put her arm around her shoulders.
Sloan exhaled, knowing whatever time he was going to have alone with Abby and Dillon had just ended. It would take an explosion to unseat either Tara or Dee now. He squeezed his sister’s shoulder. “Will you stay here with them while I go over to the sheriff’s office?”
She nodded immediately. “Should I call Axel?”
He shook his head. “No need. Max isn’t going to let Bobby go anywhere. Everyone’s safe.”
“Thanks to you, from what I’ve been hearing.”
“You didn’t see Abby,” he murmured. “She would have taken the guy’s head off with the fireplace poker if I hadn’t gotten there when I did.” He didn’t wait around to hear what his sister had to say about that. He just grabbed his keys and left to take care of business as rapidly as he could.
Rapidly, though, turned out to be a relative term, and it was several hours later before he was able to return. When he pulled up in his driveway, light was spilling from the front windows of his house, and something tightened inside his chest.
He ignored the feeling and went inside, immediately spotting Dillon where he was sprawled sleeping on the couch. The blanket from Sloan’s bed was gone, but the kid was covered by Sloan’s jacket, and Rex was on top of that. The dog opened his eyes and watched Sloan. But Rex didn’t budge, and Sloan rubbed the dog’s head as he studied Dillon.
He wondered if Calvin and his mother were sleeping just as soundly, knowing they were safe from Bobby for at least a little while.
He could hear the soft voices from the kitchen, and he gave Rex a final pat before moving silently in that direction. The three women were sitting around his kitchen table, but as soon as they heard him, they looked up. Dee was the first one to hop to her feet. “Gotta go!” She scurried past Sloan, giving him a wink.
His sister was almost as quick. “Dinner’s at Jefferson and Emily’s this Sunday,” she told him. They were Axel’s parents. “Do I need to twist your arm?”
He gave her a resigned look, though he was more interested in looking at Abby. She had dark circles under her eyes and had his blanket wrapped around her like a shawl. “We’ll be there,” he told his sister.
She blinked once, obviously noticing the we part. “Well, hallelujah,” she murmured as she reached up to kiss his cheek. “Get some sleep, Abby,” she ordered softly before hurrying out also.
A few seconds later, they heard the distinct click of the front door closing.
“And then there were two,” he said quietly.
Her eyes searched his. “What happened?”
“Max is sitting on him. There won’t be a judge available for an arraignment until Monday morning. He’s got him until then, at the earliest.”
“I’m going to need to make a statement.”
He nodded once, not surprised that she’d reached the conclusion on her own. “You’ve got all weekend,” he assured her. “You won’t have to see Bobby—”
“I’d like to see him sitting in a jail cell,” she interrupted, sounding fierce. “Preferably in shackles and chains.”
“I should have gotten there sooner.”
Her brows pulled together. “Why? You had no more reason to expect him to show up at my house than I did.”
“I knew about the report you’d made about Calvin. I should have suspected.”
She slowly pushed the blanket off her shoulders. She was still wearing only her robe. “Everyone in town probably knew about that report as soon as I made it.”
“It’s supposed to be confidential. If I find out Pam had anything to do with the news getting out, I’m going to—” He broke off when Abby reached out and pressed her fingers to his lips.
“Stop,” she whispered. “This is nobody’s fault but Bobby’s. He’s the one who abused his family. He’s the one who invaded my house. How anybody finds out anything in this town doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s been stopped.”
“We should’ve been able to stop him before this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to pace the kitchen. “Family protective services has been at that house more times than I want to think about. I should have seen that he’d started in on Calvin, too.”
Abby hated hearing the blame in Sloan’s voice that he directed squarely at hi
mself. She walked up behind him and slid her hands over his tight shoulders, feeling the flinch he gave.
But he didn’t move away, and she squeezed her fingers, kneading his back. “Bobby’s the Black Hat here.”
Sloan turned, his eyebrow lifting, and she realized she’d used Dillon’s terminology. “You know what I mean. Bobby’s the bad guy. Period.” It seemed strange standing there with her hands digging into his shoulders while he faced her, and she slowly lowered her hands. “Do you know what’s happened with Calvin?”
“Family protective services has him placed in a foster home for now.”
“He wasn’t at school yesterday or today.”
“Not surprised.”
“What about his mother?”
“They have to determine if she was part of the problem or a victim.”
She thought of that poor, fearful woman she’d met on the sidewalk outside of Ruby’s. “Victim.”
“I think so, too, but Lorraine’s got a terminal case of stand-by-her-man. I hope she’ll choose to stand by her son this time.” His lips twisted and he ran his hands down her arms with a frightening sense of finality. “You’re beat.” He stepped around her and moved toward the loaf of bread that was sitting out on the table. “Were you able to eat something?”
Feeling a little chilled, Abby nodded. “I can make you a sandwich.”
“You don’t have to make me anything.” He twisted his head around as if his neck ached. “You can take my bed,” he said abruptly.
It had been difficult not to poke around upstairs while he’d been gone, but she’d resisted the urge. If Tara hadn’t been there, Abby wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to keep Dee from egging her right into it. So she didn’t know what sort of room or bed situation he had going on up there. “What about you?”
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