PAROLED!

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  The old Mercedes was equipped with a lap belt only. Cait's fingers shook as she slipped the metal end into the buckle and pulled the strap tight.

  "It'll be okay," she murmured, but her voice shook. "Dante will take care of you."

  There was more blood now. On her skirt, on her breast, on the hand she'd used to smooth the thick hair off his wet forehead. He groaned and turned his head away from her. "Hang on, buddy," Dante murmured as he muscled past Cait to make sure the seat belt was fastened. When he was finished, he gently closed the door and turned to face her.

  Cait clutched his arm. "He's lost a lot of blood. There may be shock, infection, anything. He needs professional care."

  Dante's Latin features took on a fierce scowl. "He'll get it."

  "How?"

  "My neighbor is a vet. She's sewn me up a time or two."

  Cait's eyes rounded. "A vet!" she snapped. "You're out of your mind. He needs a doctor, and I intend to call one."

  She took two quick steps toward the door before Dante's big hand came down on her shoulder, stopping her. He swung her around until they were only inches apart.

  He towered over her, his face close to hers. "Let me spell it out for you, Dr. Fielding," he said in a low, rough voice. "Because of you and that vindictive sister of yours, Ty just might spend the rest of his life branded as a sex offender."

  Cait flinched, but Dante wasn't in the mood to be gentle. He bored in. "At the moment, he's just trying to get through one of the most restrictive paroles I've ever known the board to order. So far he's managed to keep his P0 off his back. But one slip, one mistake, one violation of the rules, and Ty's freedom, such as it is, is history." He inhaled swiftly, but he wasn't finished. "A street brawl, no matter how justified, is definitely not permitted."

  Cait tried to blink away the tears, but there were too many. "But if I testified on his behalf, if I told the board that he was just trying to protect me—"

  "Like you testified on his behalf at the trial, you mean?"

  Cait winced. Visibly trying to control his temper, Dante let her go. "Ty is the best friend I ever had. He's also one of the kindest men I know, and the most honorable. I watched him dying by inches in that hellhole. He's not going back there, no matter what I have to do."

  He turned away from her and hurried to the driver's side of the car. Seconds later the engine roared to life. An instant later they were gone, leaving behind a plume of exhaust and a woman with tears streaming down her face.

  She was there, smiling down at him in that slightly crooked way he remembered. This time she was so close he could feel the sweetness of her breath bathing his face.

  "Darling," she whispered. "I'm here."

  Her eyes warmed until they were shot with seductive gold lights, and her tongue ran along the gentle curve of her lower lip, sending his pulse rocketing. He tried to smile, but he had forgotten how.

  He struggled to get closer, but unseen hands anchored him to the cold, wet ground beneath him. Panic shot through him, rising in a wave to his throat. But he knew better than to cry out. A man who broke was a dead man.

  Tyler awoke in a cold sweat. Panic sent him jackknifing into a sitting position. Pain like hot needles nearly cut him in two. Crying out, he doubled over and fought for breath.

  When the pain eased enough to allow rational thought, he discovered that he was lying naked under wool blankets. A large gauze pad was neatly taped to his hip. Another covered one shoulder.

  He remembered then. This was Dante's house. Probably Dante's bed, too, from the size of it. Seconds later the sound of his friend's voice told Tyler that he had guessed right.

  "Morning, buddy. How 'bout a quick game of racquetball?"

  Tyler turned his head too quickly, sending pain spiking through his shoulder. He bit off a groan.

  "Can it, Dante," he grumbled. "I'm not in the mood."

  Dante leaned his truncated shoulder against the doorjamb and grinned. It took much of the harshness from his face.

  "Hell, Ty. You got to be rarin' to go. You slept almost sixteen hours after Clancy sewed you up."

  Tyler ran his hand down his stubbled cheek. His eyes were gritty, and his mouth tasted like the bottom of a well. No doubt he smelled like a hibernating bear.

  "Tell me the truth, Jess. The lady with the needle wasn't really a vet, was she?"

  "Absolutely. She owed me a favor or two."

  "She's damn good, whoever she is. I hardly felt a thing." Dante stepped into the room and crossed to the bed. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt bearing the logo of a famous oil company, one of his former sponsors when he'd been on the racing circuit. In his hand he held a steaming mug of coffee that drew Tyler's narrowed gaze.

  "That for me?"

  "Yeah. Thought you could use the caffeine."

  Dante set the mug on the nightstand and helped Tyler pile the pillows against the headboard. Tyler grunted his thanks before easing himself into a semireclining position. The pain receded slowly, leaving him feeling sick to his stomach.

  "What did you slip me last night, a Mickey?"

  "Codeine. It was about eight years old, but what the hell? It worked."

  Tyler stretched out one leg and tried to work some of the stiffness from his back. If pressed, he might be able to find a place on his body that wasn't sore. Or he might not.

  "What time is it?" His watch was on the dresser across the room, along with his keys and the picture of Kelsey that Cait had given him.

  "Almost eleven."

  "Damn, I have to call Angie."

  "I've already taken care of it. Told her you had a problem with the truck. She said she would cover for you."

  Tyler nodded. "I hope that bastard Shuffler doesn't decide to make another one of his surprise visits."

  "I hear ya."

  Dante crossed to the window and threw open the curtains. Sunlight streamed through the window to splash on the bed. The sky was a bright, deep blue, startling Tyler with its intensity. During those first few weeks after he'd been released, he'd felt disoriented with all the colors and sounds of the outside world.

  "How do you feel?" Dante asked as he turned away from the window.

  "Like I lost."

  "Way I heard it, it was three against one."

  Tyler managed a grunt. "Two and a half anyway. One was dead drunk."

  Tyler waited for the stabbing pain in his side to ease before reaching for the coffee. It was hot and bitter. He thought he'd never tasted anything better.

  "By the way, you had a couple of calls." Dante pulled up an old-fashioned rocking chair and sat down. The aged wood groaned under his weight. "One last night after you were asleep. Another early this morning."

  Tyler frowned. "Me? Who from?"

  "Caitlin Fielding. Both times."

  Tyler stared into the dregs in the cup. "She say what she wanted?"

  "To know if you were okay. Seems she's concerned. Wants you to call her back. She left her home number and her office number. Made me repeat them, even."

  Leaning back, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He dropped it onto the nightstand. Tyler ignored it.

  Dante settled back in his chair and shook his head. "You don't listen worth a damn."

  "I listen."

  "Oh yeah? So why didn't you stay away from Caitlin Fielding?"

  "Because of Kelsey. And don't worry. I had Shuffler's permission to see Cait."

  Dante's gaze went to the dresser. He'd found the photo of Tyler's daughter when he'd stripped off the bloody clothes. The little girl had changed a lot since the trial. He turned back to find Tyler watching him with those too-empty eyes.

  "Ty, do you have any idea what could have happened if Kelsey happened to be in Fielding's office when you showed up?" Without waiting for an answer, Dante went on. "You'd be back in Vacaville serving the rest of your sentence, that's what."

  "It didn't happen."

  "But it could have. You were just damn lucky."

  Ty
ler gulped the last bitter drops of coffee and turned to put the cup on the stand. A hot lash of pain stopped him. Dante leaned forward and took the cup from his hand.

  "Thanks," Tyler muttered as he let himself sink back against the pillows. The cut in his shoulder was beginning to throb.

  "Jess, I want you to do something for me."

  Dante eyed him warily. "Why do I think I won't like this?"

  "Arrange for me to see my daughter."

  Dante scowled. "Damn it, Ty. Haven't you heard anything I've just said?"

  "I heard."

  Dante braced his arm on his knee and leaned forward, suddenly all business. "The court has taken her away from you permanently. My hands are tied."

  Tyler scowled. "File a petition."

  "Useless, unless you're acquitted in a new trial."

  "Then get me a new trial, damn it."

  "I'm trying, but you keep sabotaging me."

  The two men glared at each other, power against power. Determination against determination. Dante was the first to look away.

  "I thought you'd learned a few things in prison, like patience."

  Tyler closed his eyes. Dante was the best friend he'd ever had. He was also a damn good lawyer. A man would have to be crazy not to listen to him.

  "Kelsey's in a school play on the nineteenth," he said, opening his eyes.

  A look of alert suspicion replaced the frustration in Dante's black eyes. "How do you know?"

  "I saw a poster in Cait's office. I'm thinking about attending."

  Dante shot a quick gaze toward the ceiling. "To see Kelsey?"

  "Yes."

  "You sure it's not to see Caitlin Fielding again?"

  A scowl furrowed Tyler's brow. "I might have lost my license, but I haven't lost my mind."

  "Every man loses his mind when he wants a woman. It's built into the damn hormones." Dante's powerful voice rang with all the conviction of a man used to commanding six figures just for walking into a courtroom.

  "And don't try to bs me, old buddy. I saw the way the lady was holding on to you in that parking lot Bloody and hurtin' like hell, you were lovin' it."

  Tyler kept his temper pulled tight. "She's Kelsey's mother now. And that's all she is."

  Just because she'd been worried about him, even cried for him, didn't mean that she was offering anything more than temporary compassion. A man would be a fool to think she was.

  Dante stood. His gaze caught Tyler's and held. "Remember this, Ty. Get caught in the vicinity of your daughter without permission, and I guarantee the board will revoke your parole. In case you've forgotten, that means three more years of hard time. And maybe even an extra year or two tacked on for contempt of court. Think about that before you do something stupid."

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  Seven-year-old Steven Goldberg slapped his Forty-Niners cap on his head and opened the door to the outer office where his mother was waiting.

  "Bye, Dr. Fielding."

  "Bye, Stevie. See you next week."

  "Yep, I'll be here." He flashed her a cocky grin and closed the door. Smiling to herself, Cait jotted down a few notes before she tossed his folder on top of the day's stack. Stevie had been coming to her every Saturday morning for almost a year.

  Before long, he would no longer need her. It would hurt, saying goodbye, just as it always hurt when one of her patients left her.

  Her gaze went to the photograph that had replaced the one she'd given Tyler. Her daughter was the most precious thing in her life. If she ever lost her…

  The phone rang. It was the answering service with her calls. One of them was from Hazel. She returned it first.

  Ten minutes later, Cait pulled out the card with Tyler's number scrawled on the back and dialed. It rang twice.

  "Horseshoe. McClane here."

  Cait swallowed the sudden flutter of nerves in her throat. "This is Cait."

  Silence burned through the line. Cait wondered if he was going to hang up. She wasn't sure she would blame him if he did.

  "You sound as though you're recovering," she said quickly.

  "I'm doing okay."

  "I wanted to let you know that Teri Grimes at Children's Protective Services has gotten Hazel and me an appointment with an appellate judge next week. Looks like we might be able to convince him that Kelsey's recovery requires some limited contact with her father."

  "When next week?"

  "Wednesday at four."

  "I'll call you at five."

  Cait smiled. That was more like the Tyler she'd known. "Better make it six, at home. Let me give you the number."

  "No need. You left it with Jess."

  "Along with a request that you call me back. As I recall, you never did."

  Silence fell. This time Cait resolved to wait it out. As she did, she wound the phone cord around her index finger. The silence was long enough to let her unwind it again. It was also long enough to make her feel like a fool for calling in the first place.

  "You're right. I should have called." His voice was clipped. "My manners must be rustier than I thought."

  "Mike was looking for me, wasn't he?"

  "No. He was following me."

  "It was because of me, though. Wasn't it? He was after you because you threw him out."

  "Let it go, Cait."

  "I've, uh, been thinking about the play tomorrow night. If you promise to stay in the back…"

  "Don't worry, Cait. You won't have to post guards. I won't be there." He hung up without saying goodbye.

  * * *

  Kelsey's class was gathered with all the others in a classroom next to the cafeteria. Devoid of tables now, the lunchroom was doing double duty as an auditorium.

  The classes were appearing in order. At the moment the third-graders were onstage. Kelsey's class was next.

  Cait was helping the "elves" with their costumes. Some of the other mothers and a few fathers were performing similar tasks. Inseparable as always, Kelsey and her friend Sarah chattered back and forth like bright, very nervous magpies.

  Cait settled the green felt cap over Kelsey's soft curls. A sudden panic widened Kelsey's eyes.

  "What if I forgot what to say, like Sarah did in practice?" she whispered in a tremulous voice.

  "No big deal, sweetie. Just make something up."

  Kelsey continued to fidget, but the panic had subsided. "You're sure you're going to be in the audience?"

  "Absolutely. With my fingers crossed." Cait held up two crossed fingers to demonstrate. "Hazel will be there, too, remember? She's saving me a seat. We both love you very much, you know. And we're very proud of you."

  Kelsey shifted from one foot to the other. "Sarah's grandma and grandpa came all the way from New York to watch us."

  "I know."

  "I don't have a grandma or a grandpa, do I?"

  "No, not anymore." Cait brushed an imaginary speck of lint from Kelsey's shoulder. Her parents were both dead. So were Tyler's, or so he'd told her once a long time ago.

  Kelsey's soft little mouth trembled. "Sarah says that I'm an orphan, 'cause you're really my aunt and not my mommy."

  "Sarah's wrong. I'm your aunt and your mommy. That makes you one very special little girl, don't you think?"

  Kelsey nodded, but her eyes didn't smile.

  * * *

  The school had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Snowflakes hung from the ceiling. A heavily laden Christmas tree stood in one corner. Red and green garlands were draped along every wall.

  The play had drawn a capacity crowd. Standing on the periphery, Cait stood on tiptoe and searched for Hazel's bright curls.

  In the dim light it took her a few seconds of scanning faces before she spied Hazel in the back row, near the end. The seat on the aisle was empty.

  "How is she?" Hazel whispered as Cait slipped into the empty seat.

  "Nervous."

  "How are you?"

  "Even more nervous!"

 
Hazel chuckled and handed Cait a program. "She'll be fine."

  Cait held up her still-crossed fingers. "I hope so." She settled into the hard seat and tried to swallow the nervous tickle in he throat. Onstage, a troupe of eight-year-olds dressed as reindeer giggled and mugged through a ragged two-step in time with "Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer."

  A quick glance at her watch told Cait that the evening was nearly half over. Soon the third graders would take their final bows, and then it would be time for Kelsey's class to take the stage.

  "…and that's how Rudolph became the ninth reindeer!" the third-graders chorused in unison.

  At that moment the curtain came down swiftly, nearly bonking the last reindeer on his antlers. Tentative clapping swelled into a storm of applause.

  Just as the clapping began to abate, Mrs. Eddington, looking like Mrs. Santa herself in red velvet, walked to center stage and beamed at the faces turned her way.

  "And now, moms and dads, brothers and sisters and friends, I am proud to present our fourth-grade students in a play of their own creation entitled The Elf Who Hated Christmas."

  The rotund teacher executed a small, formal bow and walked off the stage to another burst of applause. The audience murmured in anticipation. Hazel cleared her throat and straightened in her chair.

  Cait felt a gust of wind shiver the back of her neck and swiveled around to see what was causing it. Someone had just come in through the door leading to the parking lot.

  As soon as she saw the broad shoulders, she knew. It was Tyler. As she watched, he took a quick look around before edging closer to the wall where other latecomers were standing.

  He could have been any of the fathers in his conservative blue blazer and tailored slacks. His hair, disheveled by the wind, looked as though it had been recently trimmed, and his jaw had the shiny hardness of a recent shave.

  It was the bruised jaw that set him apart. That and the tension in his big shoulders. Cait was certain she hadn't made a sound, but suddenly Tyler's gaze was aimed directly at her.

  "That's Kelsey's father, isn't it?" Hazel murmured, close to her ear.

  "Yes," Cait whispered over a swell of music from the boom box near the stage. "How did you know?"

  "For one thing, they look alike. For another, you're about to mangle that program."