“Nobody answered,” she said as she hung up. “Even the answering machine didn’t pick up.” Her eyes grew shiny with tears once again.
“Is there anyone else you can call to see what’s going on?”
“Nana’s friend, Nancy.” She quickly punched in the number. “She lives next door to Nana at the trailer park. She’ll know what’s going on. Nancy,” she said into the phone. “It’s me.”
Myriad expressions played across her face as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line. “Oh, God, is she…” Tears once again fell from Janette’s eyes but she offered him a tremulous smile.
“Nana, are you all right?”
As she said these words a knot of tension eased in his chest. Either she was a better actress than Meryl Streep or she was now talking to the grandmother she’d thought murdered.
“Does he know where you are now?” Janette asked. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” She paused and listened for several minutes, then continued, “We’re fine and hopefully tomorrow we’ll be on the bus. Don’t worry, Nana, everything is going to be okay. I love you, too. I’ll stay in touch.”
Janette hung up the phone and stared at Dalton, her eyes once again haunted with fear. “She’s alive, thank God.” She returned to the sofa. He saw the tremor that went through her body, but when she gazed at him he realized it was anger shining from her eyes, not fear.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“Yesterday morning Nana braved the snow to go to Nancy’s and have coffee. She was there for about two hours. When she got home she had the feeling somebody had been in her trailer. She didn’t find anything out of place or missing so she chalked it up to her imagination. Then last night she was feeling lonely and unsettled, so she went back to Nancy’s to play some cards and spend the night. During the night her trailer was set on fire.”
Shock filled Dalton at her words.
“Thank God she wasn’t home. He meant to kill her, Dalton.” Janette’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “He meant to kill her and blame me so he can see me in prison. Then he’ll be free to claim Sammy.”
They both looked at the sleeping child on the floor. A weary resignation filled him. He’d offered her safe harbor from a snowstorm but now it appeared that the storm in her life had nothing to do with the weather outside. And he had a feeling whether he wanted it or not, her storm had become his.
“Why don’t we get something to eat? It’s past dinnertime and I think we both could use something warm in our bellies.” He got up from the sofa and she followed him into the kitchen. “Grilled cheese and soup?” he asked and pointed her to the table.
She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter what he offered her. He opened a can of tomato soup and poured it into a saucepan, then when he had it warming up he prepared the grilled cheese for the awaiting skillet. As he worked, she stared out the window where darkness had begun to fall.
He had to admit that there was something about her that touched him, that called on protective instincts he’d thought had been lost when he’d lost Mary.
“It must have been a tough decision to have the baby under the circumstances,” he said. “A lot of women would have chosen a different option.”
“I thought about an abortion,” she replied. “But, to be honest, it was just a passing thought. It might be an option for a lot of women, but it wasn’t for me. I was easily able to separate the innocent baby from the monster who had raped me.”
She smiled then, the first smile he’d seen from her since the appearance of Brandon Sinclair on his doorstep. It was like sunshine breaking through chill wintry clouds. “Sammy is the best of me and there hasn’t been a single minute that I’ve regretted my decision to give him life.”
That’s mother love, he thought. That fierce, shining emotion he saw in Janette’s eyes, that was what he’d lost when his mother had been murdered. Dalton rarely thought about the mother he couldn’t remember, but a shaft of unexpected grief stabbed him now.
“It was a sheriff who murdered my mother twenty-five years ago,” he said. Her eyes widened as she stared at him. “The sheriff of Cotter Creek, Jim Ramsey. He was arrested a couple of months ago when he stalked my sister.”
“Why? Why did he kill your mother?”
Dalton stirred the soup, then placed the first two sandwiches into the skillet. “He said he loved her, but it wasn’t love, it was a sick, twisted obsession. He approached her one night on the highway and told her he loved her, that he wanted her to leave my dad, and when she refused he lost it and strangled her.”
He didn’t miss the parallel in what had happened to his mother and what had happened to Janette. Men they should have been able to trust had accosted both on a lonely stretch of highway. The only difference was, Janette had survived and his mother had not.
“Oh, Dalton, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded and swallowed around the unexpected lump of emotion that rose up in his throat. “It was a long time ago. She was a wonderful, loving person.”
“And your father never remarried?”
Dalton flipped the sandwiches. “No, never even looked at another woman. He and my mom were true soul mates and when she was gone he never showed any interest in pursuing a relationship with anyone else.”
“From what my grandmother told me, my mother wasn’t even sure who my father was.” Her gaze went back to the window again and when she looked back at Dalton a tiny frown furrowed her forehead. “Why would he tell you that I’d killed Nana?”
Dalton took up the grilled cheese sandwiches and placed them on two separate plates. “If he burned down her trailer last night it’s possible he doesn’t know she isn’t dead. If he puts out the word that you’re wanted for questioning in a murder case, then you’re going to have trouble hiding out. He can get law enforcement officials in every county keeping an eye out for you.”
He set the plates on the table then went back to grab the two bowls of soup. “If you’re trying to cheer me up, it isn’t working,” she said dryly.
She placed her spoon in her bowl, but didn’t begin to eat. Instead, she looked back out the window, where night had completely fallen. “Do you think he believed you when you told him you didn’t know me, that I wasn’t here?”
Dalton followed her gaze to the window and a tight knot of tension formed in his chest. “I have a feeling we’ll know before the bus shows up in town.”
*
Brandon raised his collar against the stiff wind that blew from the north. He stood across the street from Dalton West’s place, eyes trained on the upper windows. She was in there. He smelled her, the trailer trash tramp who was trying to keep his son from him.
He’d known that she’d blown town, had taken his son and left Sandstone. A visit to her grandmother’s house yesterday had given him his clue. The old lady wasn’t home but he’d gotten inside and taken a look around. The minute he’d seen the name and phone number on the nightstand, he knew in his gut that he was on her trail.
It was obvious from the condition of the small bedroom in the trailer that Janette had packed up and left. Clothes were thrown helter-skelter and there wasn’t a baby article to be found except for the crib, which was stripped of bedding.
He’d been enraged. He’d gone back to his office, researched to find out what he could about Dalton West, then late last night had returned to the trailer and set it on fire. He considered the death of Janette’s grandmother collateral damage. He hadn’t yet gotten the official report of the fire from their fire chief, but he knew the man would write up whatever Brandon told him to.
With the old woman dead and Janette wanted as a suspect in an arson-murder case, she’d find it difficult to get out of Cotter Creek. She was a wanted woman, and if he put a reward on her head, she wouldn’t be able to show her face anywhere.
He’d known he’d find Janette, and he had. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the windows. Even though Dalton West had told him he’d never heard of Janette Black, th
at there was no woman with a baby inside his place, Brandon knew he’d lied.
The sheriff had done his homework. He knew Dalton West was a bachelor who lived alone. But he’d watched the silhouettes move back and forth in front of those windows and knew the professional bodyguard wasn’t alone. And if that wasn’t enough, when Dalton had opened the door and Brandon had gotten a glimpse inside, he’d seen a diaper bag on the living-room floor, a diaper bag with the same blue teddy bear print that had decorated one area of one of the small bedrooms in the trailer.
She was in there, and there was no way she was going to escape him. One Oklahoma bodyguard wasn’t going to stand in the way of Brandon Sinclair getting exactly what he wanted.
Chapter 6
The cough woke Dalton. An irritating cough that pulled him groggily from his sleep. His eyes burned as he sat up on the sofa and realized the air was filled with the acrid scent of smoke.
Fear shoved aside the last of his sleepiness as he grabbed his gun off the coffee table where he’d placed it before going to sleep the night before.
He turned on the lamp next to the sofa and gasped as he saw the dark smoke that swirled in the room. Fire! They had to get out.
Maybe George had forgotten to turn off a stove burner and something had caught flame. Dalton didn’t give much thought to what caused the smoke, he just knew he needed to get Janette and Sammy out, for the smoke appeared to be thickening by the second. Fire could be dangerous, but smoke was just as deadly.
He pulled on his boots, then grabbed a coat, his cell phone and car keys and hurried into the bedroom where Sammy and Janette were asleep. He turned on the overhead light and Janette stirred, but didn’t awaken.
“Janette.” He walked over to the bed and shook her shoulder with a sense of urgency. A spasm of coughing overtook him as she opened her eyes. “We need to get out of here,” he finally managed to gasp.
She didn’t ask questions, obviously aware of the imminent danger that whirled and darkened the room despite the overhead light. “I’ll get your coat,” he said. “Just grab what you need.”
As Dalton raced back through the kitchen into the small utility room where he’d hung her coat the night she’d arrived, he felt no heat beneath his feet, heard no ominous crackle of flames. But that didn’t mean they weren’t in danger.
She met him at the bedroom door, pulling her suitcase behind her and Sammy in her arms with a blanket over his head. He thought about telling her to forget the suitcase, but realized the case contained all the possessions she and Sammy had left in the world.
He grabbed the suitcase from her and motioned her toward the door that led to the interior staircase. He needed to make sure George got out, as well.
Before he opened the stairwell door he felt the wood, wanting to make sure it wasn’t hot, that deadly flames weren’t already attempting to burn through. The door radiated no heat so he opened it and motioned for her to precede him down the stairs.
The smoke wasn’t as intense in the staircase, and still he could feel no heat radiating from any of the walls. But where there was smoke, there had to be a fire.
They hit the landing to the first floor and Dalton entered George’s area of the house. “Wait here,” he said to Janette as he raced through George’s living room and down the hallway to the bedroom where the old man slept.
It took him only minutes to rouse George from sleep and get his coat and shoes on him, then together they all made their way to the front door.
It wasn’t until they opened the front door to get out that Dalton’s brain fully kicked into high gear. “Wait,” he said urgently before Janette ran outside.
His mind whirled with suppositions. Brandon Sinclair had burned down Janette’s grandmother’s place. This evening he’d come to ask if Janette was here. Was it possible Sinclair hadn’t believed Dalton when he’d said he didn’t know Janette? Was it out of the question that he’d set a fire to try to smoke her out?
“Janette, my truck is in the driveway. I’m going out first and when I get outside you run for the truck. George, you come out after Janette.” He released the lock on his gun, knowing he might have to provide cover for her if Sinclair was outside.
He knew by the look in Janette’s eyes that she perceived his thoughts, realized the potential for danger. She gripped Sammy more tightly against her as George took the suitcase from her hand.
“Problems?” George asked.
“Possibly,” Dalton replied. George nodded and straightened his thin, sloped shoulders.
Dalton went out the door, gun drawn, and with every sense he possessed on high alert. The night held the eerie silence that snow-cover produced, a preternatural calm that could be deceptive.
Snow crunched beneath his boots as he stepped onto the front porch. The cold air stabbed his lungs as he drew deep, even breaths. He looked both directions, seeing nothing amiss but unwilling to trust that the night shadows held nothing dangerous.
He took several more steps, then turned back to the house, noting dark smoke rolling out of a partially opened basement window. Had George left it open? The old man had a workshop downstairs where he did some woodworking. Had he left his wood-burning tool on, and somehow it had caught fire?
His heart pounded as adrenaline continued to pump through him. He had no idea how big a fire might be burning there, but it was apparent he needed to get the others out of the house as soon as possible.
Looking around once again he saw nothing that indicated any danger. He walked back up to the door and motioned for Janette to follow him as he tried to watch every direction around them.
The gunshot came from the left, the bullet whizzing by Janette’s head as she screamed in terror. Dalton’s body slammed her to the ground, and he hoped that in the process Sammy wasn’t hurt.
“Get down, George,” he yelled at the old man, who had just stepped off the porch. George dove into a snowbank with the agility of a man one-fourth his age.
Another gunshot exploded in the quiet of the night and the snow next to where Dalton and Janette lay kicked up. The shots had come from the direction of a large oak tree in the distance. Janette screamed again and Sammy’s cries added to the melee.
Dalton’s heart crashed against his ribs and he thought he could feel Janette’s heartbeat through their coats. “I’m going to roll off you and start firing. When I do, run like hell to the truck and get inside. Stay down.” He fumbled in his pocket for his keys and gave them to her. “And if anything happens to me, drive away and don’t look back.”
He didn’t give her time to protest or accept, he rolled off her and began firing at the tree. At the same time he heard the sound of a siren in the distance and knew that somebody had heard the shots and called for help.
When he saw that Janette was safely in the truck, he stopped firing and waited to see if there would be an answering volley.
Nothing.
For a long moment he remained where he was, not moving, but listening…waiting…wondering if the threat still existed or not.
He got up into a crouch as the siren grew louder. Still no answering shots. He had a feeling the shooter had run at the first sound of the siren. He hurried to the driver’s side of the truck and was surprised to see George come burrowing up from the snowdrift and running to throw the suitcase in the back of the truck bed.
Dalton had just backed out of the driveway when Zack’s patrol car came screaming to a halt. “Get down,” he ordered Janette. She bent so she wasn’t visible and Dalton was grateful that at the moment Sammy wasn’t wailing. He rolled down his window as Zack rolled down his.
“Call the fire department, and see to George,” Dalton said. “I’ll be in touch.” As Zack yelled a protest, Dalton pulled out onto the street and sped away from his brother, the house and the quiet, solitary life he’d led.
Thankfully, Janette remained silent as he headed out of town and kept a watchful eye on the street behind him for anyone that might be following.
He neede
d to think.
Zack was a newly elected sheriff and aware of everyone’s eyes on him. After the disgrace of Jim Ramsey, the last sheriff of Cotter Creek, Zack was proving himself to be a strictly by-the-book kind of lawman.
Dalton believed in rules, but sometimes rules had to be bent, even broken, and he wasn’t convinced that Zack would see things his way.
If Brandon Sinclair had an arrest warrant for Janette, then Dalton feared his brother would feel it necessary to turn her over to him. He wouldn’t want to put himself in the middle of a problem that wasn’t his, especially in bucking the authority of a fellow sheriff.
“Where are we going?” Janette asked, finally breaking the tense silence in the truck as they left the town of Cotter Creek behind.
“A place where you’ll be safe until we can figure things out,” he replied.
Besides, if he did decide to confide in Zack, what could he tell him? That a strange woman had shown up on his doorstep and had initially lied about everything, but finally had told him a story that he believed?
Zack would ask for cold hard facts and Dalton had none. He couldn’t prove that Brandon Sinclair had set the fire tonight or fired the shots. No doubt Sinclair hadn’t used his service weapon; ballistics would probably lead to a dead end. He couldn’t prove that Janette hadn’t stolen money from her employer, although he could attest to the fact that she hadn’t been anywhere near that trailer when it had gone up in flames. Unless Sinclair screwed around with the reported date of the fire.
He didn’t want to put his brother in the untenable position of having to choose between doing his job or supporting Dalton’s decision to break the law by hiding Janette.
He’d talk to Zack, tell him who he thought was responsible for both the fire tonight and the gunfire, but he wouldn’t tell Zack where Janette was hidden away. He wouldn’t give her over to Zack, who might find himself with no alternative than to turn her over to Sinclair.
He cast a quick glance at the woman in the passenger seat. She bounced Sammy in her arms and asked no more questions about where they were going or what they were going to do.
Glory, Glory: Snowbound with the Bodyguard Page 23