A Place to Call Home

by Sharon Sala

  “Ma’am,” he said, handing her the empty pill bottle. “Charlotte Franklin wants this refilled, please, and she asked me to tell you to bill it to Wade at his office.”

  The woman took the bottle, noted the name, then gave Judd a considering stare before looking over his shoulder to the window behind him. Only after she was satisfied that Charlotte Franklin was truly waiting outside in the car did she step back.

  “What’s wrong with Charlie?” she asked. “Why didn’t she come in?”

  “She’s got a sprained ankle.”

  Judith nodded, then reached for a bottle on a shelf behind her.

  As they waited, Rachel patted Judd on the cheek. When he pretended to growl at the little fingers inching toward his mouth, she giggled.

  Judith turned. A faint smile broke the somberness of her expression.

  “Rachel is a sweet baby, but she’s a handful.”

  Judd nodded. “I’m finding that out.”

  She poured a number of pills into a small tray and began counting them out.

  “Are you kin?”

  “No, ma’am. Just passing through.”

  The smile disappeared almost instantly. “Men have a way of doing that,” she muttered.

  Judd arched an eyebrow, but wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Obviously, this woman wasn’t enamored of the male sex.

  A couple of minutes later, she handed him a small white sack. Then, almost as an afterthought, handed Rachel a lollipop.

  Suddenly shy, Rachel took it, then turned her face against Judd’s neck. Judd froze. The soft baby breaths against his cheek were almost his undoing. Never in his life would he have imagined that a female this small could make him feel so weak. He swallowed around a knot in his throat and gave the woman a brief nod.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Clutching her lollipop, Rachel glanced up at the woman and gave her a bashful smile.

  “Sank you, ma’am,” Rachel echoed.

  Judd chuckled, then to his surprise, saw a slow smile finally break the somberness of Judith Dandridge’s face.

  “Come on, punkin, let’s go find Mommy.”

  “Mommy,” Rachel echoed, and clutched tightly at the collar of Judd’s shirt as they started for the door.

  Charlie thought she was prepared for their return, but when they came out the door and headed for her car, her heart skipped another beat. From his long, sure stride, to the breadth of his chest, Judd Hanna was about as much man as she’d ever seen. And although his face was half-hidden by the brim of his cowboy hat, the sensuous curve to his lower lip was a tease. Would he make love with as much force as he moved through life? Probably. She shuddered, then shoved the thought from her mind.

  “Well, that was entertaining,” Judd said as he slid into the seat after buckling Rachel back in hers.

  Charlie looked startled. “Did Rachel misbehave?”

  “I was referring to the pharmacist.”

  Charlie started the car, but hesitated before putting it in reverse.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Judith is a little different. Did she give you a hard time about filling the prescription?”

  Judd shrugged. “It wasn’t that. I just had the feeling the whole time I was in there that I could have cut my own throat in front of her and she would have stood and watched me die.”

  “I don’t get it,” Charlie said.

  “I mean, she doesn’t much like men.”

  Charlie put the car in gear. “I can understand how that might happen.”

  Judd blinked, suddenly reminded of Charlie’s history with Rachel’s father and decided that the wisest path at the moment was to keep his mouth shut. However, Charlie seemed to be filled with a new curiosity.

  “Judd.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did she say anything about… I mean, what did she say when you asked her to…uh—”

  Judd sighed. He suspected what she was trying to say, but until she did, second-guessing her did neither of them any good.

  “Just spit it out, Charlotte.”

  Charlie stopped for a red light and gave Judd a glare.

  “All right, fine,” she snapped. “Did she act like she thought something was going on between us?”

  Judd’s gaze raked Charlie from head to toe. It was only after he refocused on her mouth that he spoke.

  “You mean, do I think she thinks we’re sleeping together?”

  Charlie flushed, but nodded.

  “Hell if I know,” he said softly, careful that Rachel didn’t overhear his answer.

  Charlie’s shoulders slumped. “She probably does. My reputation hasn’t been all that good since Pete—”

  Judd interrupted angrily. “I think you judge yourself harsher than others judge you.”

  Charlie glared back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like to be the butt of everyone’s jokes, or to hear a noisy room come to instant silence when you enter.”

  Judd thought of his childhood and his expression went flat. “Oh, lady, but yes I do. And in ways you can only imagine, so don’t start feeling all sorry for yourself. You’re not the only one life has kicked in the teeth.”

  Charlie went pale. Her thoughtless words had obviously struck a nerve, which reminded her she knew virtually nothing about the man except his name.

  “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Just drop it,” he said shortly, then glanced at his watch. “I’ll help you with Rachel while you’re getting groceries, and then I’d better start making good on my promise to Wade to help out with the Shuler case.”

  “Of course,” Charlie said, and put the car in gear.

  Even though she knew separating herself from this man was all for the best, she felt regret, even guilt, that he seemed anxious to leave her presence.

  An hour later, Charlie was on her way home and Judd was going through the evidence Wade had collected pertaining to the missing banker.

  “Is this all?” Judd asked as he sorted through the half-dozen photos and the pages of notes.

  Wade nodded. “Told you I didn’t have much to go on.”

  Judd whistled softly beneath his breath. “This isn’t ‘much,’ this is nothing. No fingerprints, no tracks, no witnesses, no blood, no motive, no ransom note. Lord have mercy, my friend, what you need here is a miracle.”

  Wade dropped into his chair with a solid thump, his expression as morose as his attitude.

  “Like I don’t know that,” he muttered.

  But the facts didn’t put Judd off. He had always liked a challenge. This should make him happy as hell.

  He stood and walked to the front windows overlooking the street.

  “How about grudges or angry clientele from the bank?”

  Wade shook his head. “Raymond has lived here all of his life. He wasn’t the most popular person in town, but definitely also on no one’s hit list.” Then he added, “That I can tell.”

  Judd nodded. “What did Mrs. Shuler have to say? Did you check her angle? Does she have money troubles? Is there a big life insurance policy against Raymond’s life? Maybe she’s got someone on the side.”

  Wade snorted softly. “Betty? She’s beside herself. Not only does she care for the sorry so-and-so, she wouldn’t want to lose her social standing in the community. As for cheating on him, hell, no. There are no secrets in a town this size. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. Being the bank president’s wife gives her major clout within the women’s circles.”

  Judd turned around. “So you’re saying that Raymond Shuler is every woman’s answer to a successful marriage?”

  Wade frowned. “No…yes…hell, how do I know. From where I sit, Shuler is almost bald, about twenty pounds overweight and has a tendency to use his power to bend people to his way of thinking.” Then he sighed. “But there’s no law against being a bully, and to my knowledge, he’s never laid a hand on his wife.”

  “Okay, so that’s what yo
u know. Now let’s start at the beginning…again. You say Shuler was abducted as he was getting into his car?”

  “We think so,” Wade said. “He was reported missing, and then we found his car. The driver’s-side door was open, the dome light was still on, and the keys were in the ignition. The briefcase he’d had with him at the meeting was on the front seat and there was even a couple of dollars in plain sight in the ashtray. Basically, the only thing missing was Raymond.”

  “I’m assuming you impounded the car?”

  Wade nodded.

  “I want to see it.”

  Wade stood, grinning slightly. “That, I can do.”

  * * *

  It was daytime. Raymond could tell that much from the temperature in the hot, airless room. His hip still pained him, but less than it had. He wondered what they’d done to him, and then stifled the thought for a more pertinent concern. It wasn’t so much what had happened as what had yet to come.

  The fact that the kidnappers had yet to feed him was another fact against his hope for release. Obviously, they didn’t care if he lived or died, and then he remembered they had given him water and, besides the stuff that made him sleep, some sort of antibiotic to offset his injury.

  He flinched as something lit on his hip and then began crawling around on his flesh. Moments later, he realized it was only a fly. He flexed a muscle, trying to shoo it away, but the pain of the motion was too great. Moments later, he felt it light again, and it occurred to him then that the fly could, at this very moment, be looking for a nice nasty place to lay some eggs. He thought of the festering wound on his hip and groaned beneath his gag. Dear God, maggots! What if he got maggots in the wound?

  He began to moan and thrash, trying to pull himself free from his bonds, but nothing budged. In the midst of his panic, he heard footsteps. He paused, listening intently, trying to decipher the length of stride and any accompanying sounds. When the hinges on the door suddenly squeaked, he flinched. Whoever it was had come back. Was this it? Would they finally let him go—or had they come to kill him?

  Inside his mind, he was screaming. Then he smelled something sharp and tangy, like the scent of an orange being squeezed, and felt the familiar prick of a needle. Soon, cognizance began to slide. On the verge of unconsciousness, he heard something familiar—something he’d heard a hundred times before. It buzzed and buzzed in a rapid, repetitive fashion.

  He sighed. Everything faded, and the imminent revelation was lost.

  * * *

  A ripple of thunder ripped through the sky, rattling the windows near Judd’s bed. His sleep was restless, his dreams filled with places that, in daytime, his mind refused to go. Outside, the darkness of the night was a mirror to the terror he was reliving. Although he was safe and dry inside the Franklin household, his mind had taken him back to the place of his youth where, crouched beneath the cellar steps and hovering in the shadows, he prayed he wouldn’t be found. The scent of mold and dirt was thick in his nostrils and the thin fabric of his T-shirt was drenched in sweat born of fear. In the brief ten years of his life, he’d been through more hell than a soldier in war. Through all the fear and hunger—all the pain and suffering at Joe Hanna’s hands—he was like a rat in a maze with no way out.

  Outside, the gusting wind from the oncoming storm whipped a tree limb against the house, pulling it across the siding in a teeth-grinding scratch. But in Judd’s mind, the sound had become a floorboard suddenly creaking above his head. A shudder racked his body as he held his breath and slid quietly onto the floor.

  A distant flash of lightning briefly lit up the Wyoming sky, but he was seeing the pie-slice of light spilling down the stairway from the kitchen into the cellar below.

  Outside the Franklin household, a water bucket bumped against the fence post on which it was hanging, caught in the gusty front. But to Judd, it was the thump of footsteps on the stairs just above his head.

  A faint wail of distress from Rachel’s bedroom suddenly broke the silence within the old farmhouse, only Judd heard the wild shriek of Joe Hanna’s voice as he dragged him into the light. He didn’t hear Charlie come running down the hall, or see the light come on in Rachel’s room. Instead, he groaned audibly and prepared himself for the blows.

  It was the sudden silence that yanked him out of the dream. He sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding, his body slick with sweat. His boots were right beside the chair he’d sat in as he’d taken them off. His jeans were on a hanger on the back of the closet door, and his Stetson was on a hook near the window. It took a few moments for reality to surface—for him to realize that he was not in the cellar, and that he hadn’t seen his father in more than twenty-five years.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, and crawled out of bed.

  Across the hall, he could hear the soft, soothing timbre of Charlie’s voice as she put her baby back to sleep, and one door down, the familiar sound of Wade’s intermittent snores. Unwilling to stay in the room with his ghosts, he put on his jeans and then slipped out of his room. He needed some air.

  But as he opened the front door and stepped out on the porch, he flinched. A storm was brewing and he hadn’t even noticed. He lifted his chin, as if bracing himself for a blow. The unsettled elements fit his mood—dark, stormy, threatening. With a muffled curse, he took several deep breaths and then closed his eyes, willing the memories away.

  * * *

  Charlie sat in the old pine rocker, looking down in the lamp light to the baby asleep in her arms. Whatever had disturbed Rachel’s sleep was past. Longing for the comfort of her own bed, Charlie sighed wearily, then stood and laid Rachel down, covering her with her blanket before turning out the light. Giving the room one last glance, she tiptoed out. It was only after she was standing in the hall that she realized Judd’s door was ajar. She glanced in. His bed was empty. Thinking he’d probably gone to the bathroom, she started to go back to her own bed when she became aware of a draft on her bare arms and legs. She frowned. Had she left a window open somewhere? If she had, it would surely rain in before morning. The thought of cool sheets and soft pillows drew her, but she stifled the urge and went in search of the open window, instead.

  She didn’t expect to see the front door wide open, or the man standing in the dark out on the porch. But the moment she saw him, her heart skipped a beat. There was something about the thrust of his chin and the way he was standing that made her think of a man facing a firing squad, defiant to the end. Her instincts were to go to him, to put her arms around him and take away his pain, but self-preservation kept her motionless. And then he turned. His expression was shadowed, but she could tell by the jerk of his shoulders that he was surprised by her presence.

  “Judd?”

  He took a step backward.

  She moved toward the screen door, pushing it wide as she stepped onto the porch.

  “Did Rachel’s cries awaken you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She frowned. “Are you all right?”

  Then she saw his face. Her first instinct was to run, her second was to express empathy. The latter won. She took a step forward.

  When she moved, he panicked. Her sympathy would be his undoing.

  “I’m fine,” he said briefly, thankful that his answer stopped her. She was already too close.

  Charlie frowned. “If you’re sure…”

  Judd laughed, but the wind caught the sound and carried it away. She shuddered. Somehow, she didn’t think the laugh came from joy.

  Judd shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. He needed her to leave—now—before he made a fool of himself.

  “Sure? Am I sure? Hell, Charlotte, the only sure thing in this world is that life will kick you in the teeth if you smile.”

  Charlie gasped. The bitterness in his voice hurt her heart. Not even at her lowest, when she’d known Pete Tucker was never coming back, had she felt as bereft as he sounded. The urge to soothe him was strong. This wasn’t the man she’d seen laughing with
Rachel over marshmallows, or even the man who had pried too close to her own secrets. This was a man she didn’t know.

  “Is this about your partner…the one who died?” she asked.

  “This isn’t about anything,” he said shortly, and pivoted and stepped off the porch onto the grass. The blades felt cool beneath his bare feet, but he knew better than to go too far. Snakes were night crawlers, and he wasn’t looking to add to his troubles by getting bitten.

  Charlie hesitated, then followed him off the porch.

  He didn’t hear her coming, and when her fingers curled around his arm, he jumped, steeling himself to stay calm.

  “You shouldn’t be out here barefoot,” he said.

  “Neither should you.”

  He sighed, then combed a hand through his hair in frustration.

  “Look, I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get a little air, that’s all.”

  The wind was getting stronger now, whipping loose strands of Charlie’s hair around her face and neck and plastering her sleep shirt to her body. He tried not to look, but it was impossible to ignore the generous thrust of breast and slender curves beneath the soft fabric.

  Charlie glanced up at the sky. A streak of lightning tore through the darkness. Thunder belched. The storm was getting closer. She slid her hand to his wrist, then grabbed his hand and began to tug.

  “Please, Judd, come inside. The storm is getting closer.”

  Her gentleness was his undoing. He shrugged free of her grasp, only to cup her face with his hands. To her credit, she stood her ground.

  He moved closer. His need to forget what he’d dreamed was all wrapped up in his desire to lay claim to her, to see if her lips were as soft as they seemed.