If he were smart, he would have told Zack everything. Zack would have probably honored whatever arrest warrant Sinclair had and turned Janette over. Then she would have been out of Dalton’s life. He wouldn’t feel responsible for her.
Zack would tell him that he was making decisions based on something other than his brain. Was that what he was doing? Was he allowing Janette’s beautiful blue eyes and the memory of the hot kiss they’d shared to twist his logic?
Was it possible she and Sinclair had indulged in an affair, one that had gone bad? Was she the kind of woman to take money from her workplace? Make up a story about rape?
No. Even though he’d only known her for a brief time, he knew she wasn’t that kind of woman. Granted, he couldn’t deny that he felt a strong sense of physical attraction to her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t believe what she’d told him. That couldn’t take away the likelihood that tonight Brandon Sinclair had set a fire, then had tried to kill them both. Those weren’t the actions of a man who had nothing to hide.
Dalton had no doubt that the sheriff was behind what had happened. But knowing and proving were two different things and until he had proof, he wasn’t going to tell his brother anything. He stretched out on the sofa and listened to the quiet.
He should be thrilled. He finally had his place to himself again. He was blessedly alone, just the way he liked it. No fuzzy baby, no soft female voice singing lullabies. So why did it suddenly seem far too quiet?
*
She thought she might scream. It was too quiet. Janette sat at the kitchen table in the little cabin sipping a cup of hot tea. It was just after eight, but there was no morning sun shining through the windows. The skies were as gray as her mood.
Sinclair knew she was in Cotter Creek. He’d be looking for her. He also knew she’d been with Dalton, so he’d be watching Dalton’s every move, waiting to see if Dalton eventually led him to her. How long would it take before he’d think that she might be holed up on the West property?
She wrapped her hands around the mug, seeking the warmth to banish the chill inside her. The short night had seemed to last forever. Sleep had been impossible even though she’d eventually gotten into bed and tried to rest.
Her mind had whirled, trying to process the events that had brought her to the small cabin, and each thought was tinged with an underlying fear. Would he find her there? Would he somehow be able to ferret out where Dalton had stashed her? She was all alone, without a weapon except the knife she carried.
She’d finally gotten up and retrieved her knife from her purse, then had slid it beneath her pillow, where it would be in easy reach should she need it. The night had held sounds that made her jump and had kept sleep at bay.
Releasing a deep, weary sigh, she gazed out the window and took another sip of her tea. Would Sinclair be watching the bus stop, ready to pounce if she so much as showed her face?
How was she ever going to get out of town? Out of Dalton’s life? Certainly he’d made it clear on more than one occasion that he didn’t want to be responsible for anyone, that he preferred a life lived alone.
He probably couldn’t wait to get her on her way. How long before he tired of this…of her? And when he got tired of the hassle, of the drama, it was possible he’d turn her in to Sinclair.
He wouldn’t do that, the little voice inside her head protested. If he intended to do that he would have done so when the sheriff showed up on his doorstep.
The morning passed with her feeding and playing with Sammy and her thoughts alternating between worst-and best-case scenarios. After lunch, when she put Sammy down for his nap and stretched out on the bed next to him she wondered when Dalton would show up.
What if he never showed up? What if Sinclair murdered him? Her heart began to pound at the very idea. A new grief tore through her as she thought of the possibility.
Stop it, she commanded herself. Dalton had proved the night before that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was far too strong, too smart to be taken by surprise.
She must have fallen asleep, for the banging on the front door shot her up to a sitting position as her heart crashed against her ribs.
Who was at the door? It couldn’t be Dalton. He had a key. Had Sinclair found her? Was he out there now waiting for her to come to the door? She pulled her knife from beneath her pillow and gripped it tightly in her hand.
She slid out of bed and crept to the doorway, unable to see the front door from her vantage point. Her throat narrowed as her breathing came in half-panicked gasps. There was a phone in the living room, but she couldn’t get to it without the person at the front door seeing her.
Once again the sounds of a fist against the door filled the cabin. “Janette, open the door. Dalton sent me.” It was a female voice and some of Janette’s panic dissipated.
Still clutching the knife, afraid of a trick, she walked cautiously to the door. Peering out she saw a woman with shoulder-length riotous red hair standing on the porch, a grocery bag in her arms.
Janette unlocked the front door and pulled it open only an inch, just enough to see the friendly brown eyes of the woman. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Savannah—Savannah West—and I have some groceries for you.”
Janette opened the door and Savannah flew past her on a burst of cold air and with enough energy to light up the entire cabin. Janette relocked the front door then hurriedly followed Savannah into the kitchen.
“I hope you’re planning on peeling an apple,” Savannah said dryly and looked pointedly at the knife still clutched in Janette’s hand.
A blush warmed Janette’s cheeks as she set the knife down on the counter. “So, you’re Dalton’s sister? I’m sorry, but I can’t remember the names of everyone even though he mentioned them.”
“Sister-in-law,” Savannah said as she began to take items out of the bag. “I’m married to Joshua, the youngest of the bunch.”
“Is Dalton not coming?”
“Maybe later. He was worried about being followed so he called me.” Savannah’s brown eyes radiated sympathy. “He told me what’s going on and asked for my help. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody you’re here.” She pulled a package of disposable diapers from the bag. “Is your baby sleeping?”
Janette nodded. “So what exactly did Dalton tell you?”
“That you were in trouble, that he was keeping you hidden here until you both can figure out the next step. You want to put these in the freezer or refrigerator or wherever you want them?” She pulled out two small packages of hamburger and a wrapper of deli meat.
“How about you make a pot of coffee while I finish unloading these things,” Savannah suggested. “Then we can have a nice chat.”
Janette readily complied, grateful to have somebody to talk to, somebody to break up the silence that had plagued her since Dalton had left.
Within minutes the groceries were put away and the two women sat at the table with fresh coffee. “I’m so grateful to have somebody to talk to,” Janette said. “The silence was really starting to get to me.”
Savannah smiled. “Joshua would tell you that silence never bothers me. If I don’t have anyone to talk to then I’m perfectly satisfied to talk to myself.”
Janette returned her smile, deciding at that moment that she liked Savannah West. “How long have you been married?”
“Only three months. We’re practically newlyweds, but at the moment he’s off in New York. He flew up last week to do a job for a friend and should be coming home sometime later this week. I can’t wait for him to get back to me.”
For the next few minutes Savannah told her about leaving Arizona and settling in Cotter Creek. She’d met her husband-to-be when a mutual friend of theirs had been murdered and the two had put their heads together to investigate a land scandal taking place in the small town.
“Are the West men all so…so…”
“Handsome? Strong? Stubborn?” Savannah laughed. “All of the above.
They’re good people, the whole West clan.” She sobered. “You can trust Dalton. He’s quiet and reserved, but he’s a good man.”
Janette nodded. “Are you a stay-at-home wife?”
“Heavens, no. I bought the local newspaper not long ago and most days I’m either writing news stories or editing to get out the daily newspaper.”
“I appreciate you taking time off to come here.”
“I’d do anything for Dalton, for any of the Wests, but I have to admit I was also curious when he explained everything to me. Consider it my reporter nose for news.”
Janette shot up straighter in her chair, heartbeat quickening. “But you can’t print anything. I don’t want any of this to get out. If you even breathe a word of this to anyone you could put my life, my son’s life, in danger.”
“Relax,” Savannah said. “I’m one of those rare birds, a reporter with ethics. I would never do anything to put you and your son at risk. But I do have a few questions to ask you.”
Tension twisted Janette’s stomach. “Questions about what?”
“About Brandon Sinclair.”
Janette got up from the table to pour herself another cup of coffee. “Why would you want to know anything about him?” She remained standing by the counter, certain that she didn’t want to have this conversation.
“Because I intend to do a little investigative reporting on my own and see what I can find out about this creep,” Savannah said.
Janette returned to sit at the table. She set her cup to the side and grabbed one of Savannah’s hands. “Please, please don’t do that. If he finds out you’re asking questions about him, he’ll hurt you.”
Savannah squeezed Janette’s hand and offered her a reassuring smile. “Believe me, the last thing I want is for Brandon Sinclair to have me in his sights.” She released Janette’s hand. “I’m very good at what I do and he’ll never know I’m gathering facts about him.”
“Why would you even want to get involved in all this?” Janette asked.
Savannah leaned back in her chair, her brown eyes contemplative. “From everything I’ve ever heard about sexual predators, they don’t just indulge their ugly impulses once then never do it again. My guess is that you probably weren’t the first victim of Brandon Sinclair and you won’t be the last.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Janette said softly.
Savannah leaned forward. “You know something about another victim? Have you heard rumors? Sandstone is a very small town, surely somebody whispered something about the good sheriff.”
Janette shook her head. “I never heard anything specific, but I suspected that one of the waitresses I worked with at the café might have had a run-in with Sheriff Sinclair.”
“What made you suspect that?”
Janette reached back in her memory to the painful days just after her rape. She’d spent the days trying to act normal, trying to pretend that the terrible violation hadn’t taken place. But she’d been desperate to talk to somebody, to anybody.
“Right after it happened to me, I asked Alicia if she’d ever been pulled over for a speeding ticket by Sheriff Sinclair. She said no, but there was an expression in her eyes that made me think she was lying. When I pressed her about it she told me to back off and the next day she quit the job.”
“You said her name was Alicia. Alicia what?”
“Alicia Patterson, but she won’t tell you anything. Everyone in Sandstone is afraid of him,” Janette exclaimed and her throat tightened up a bit. She felt as if things were spinning out of control.
Savannah offered her a reassuring smile. “Too bad for him I’m not from Sandstone.”
“Please, don’t do this for me.”
“I’m not,” she replied easily. “I’m doing it for every young woman who lives in Sandstone and the surrounding areas.” She finished her coffee and stood. “Don’t worry, I know how to be invisible when I need to be and somebody needs to step up. I want to get the goods on this guy and put him away.”
“I just want to get away,” Janette said, more to herself than to Savannah.
She walked Savannah to the front door and on impulse gave her a hug. “Thank you for the groceries and for the talk.”
Savannah pulled her hood up and opened the door. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
Janette watched from the doorway as Savannah got into her car and pulled away. She closed and locked the door and leaned her head against the wood.
Somebody needs to step up.
Sammy began to cry from the bedroom, having awakened from his nap. She hurried into the room and his tears instantly transformed into a watery grin. She picked him up and cuddled him close.
Somebody needs to step up.
“Not me,” she whispered. With the weight of her son in her arms, she fought back tears. “Not me,” she said more forcefully.
Chapter 8
It was dusk when Dalton pulled up to the cabin. It had been a long tense day. He’d spent most of the day in his apartment, staring out the window, watching for Sinclair and thinking.
He’d set in motion a quiet investigation into Sinclair, enlisting both Savannah and his brother Tanner’s aid. As the eldest of the brood, Tanner was not only the most levelheaded of the bunch, but also a whiz with computers.
By morning Tanner would know everything there was to know about Brandon Sinclair. He’d know where he shopped, where he ate, how much he had in his bank account and if there had ever been a complaint filed against the man.
He hadn’t told Tanner anything about Janette and Sammy. He’d only said that he was doing a favor for a friend and needed to keep it quiet, especially from Zack.
What had surprised him more than anything during the day was how he’d noticed Janette and Sammy’s absence. The quiet of his apartment had never bothered him before, rather he’d relished it. But, today, the quiet hadn’t felt good. It had felt lonely. And that had irritated him.
As he shut off his truck engine, the front door opened and she stepped just outside and greeted him with a beautiful smile. Tension instantly built inside him. She looked gorgeous in a pair of jeans and a lavender sweatshirt, and her bright smile only added to her beauty.
He got out and walked to the back of the truck, picked up an oversize wooden cradle, then carried it toward where she stood.
“I thought Sammy might be able to use this while you’re here,” he said as she held open the door to allow him inside. He set the cradle on the living-room floor. “I know the bed in the bedroom is pretty small, especially by the time you surround Sammy with pillows. I figured this would be more comfortable for both of you.”
She knelt down next to the cradle and looked up at him, those Oklahoma sky–blue eyes of hers shining brightly as she ran her hand over the rich wood. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”
“It was packed in a shed. It hasn’t been used since Joshua was a baby.”
“So it’s a family heirloom.”
“Yeah, I guess.” The cabin smelled of lemon furniture polish and that evocative scent of honeysuckle. “You’ve been cleaning,” he observed, noting that all the furniture gleamed with a new sheen.
She stood. “I got bored and found some furniture polish under the kitchen sink.”
“Sammy sleeping?”
“I just put him down.” She ran a loving hand over the cradle once again. “I think I’ll clean this up and move him into it.”
As she disappeared into the kitchen, Dalton sat on the sofa. She was in a good mood now, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t be in such a good mood when he told her what was on his mind.
She returned with the bottle of furniture polish and a rag and sat on the floor to begin the cleanup on the cradle. “I like your sister-in-law,” she said as she worked.
“I know you didn’t want me to tell anyone, but I knew I might need some help since Sinclair might be watching my place.”
She looked at him worriedly. “Do you think he was watching when you left
tonight?”
Dalton shook his head. “He’s back in Sandstone.”
“How do you know that?”
“I called his office and he answered the phone.” Dalton leaned back against the sofa cushions. “He can’t stay in Cotter Creek all day and night. He has a job and a family in Sandstone. He can’t spend every waking hour hunting you down.”
“Thank God for small favors, right?”
It took her only minutes to finish cleaning off the cradle. She folded several thick bath towels into the bottom of it, making a nice soft mattress for Sammy.
She left to get Sammy and Dalton drew a deep breath. Her scent eddied in the air and evoked memories of that single kiss they had shared, a kiss he wouldn’t mind repeating even though he knew he was all kinds of a fool to even think about it.
Sammy didn’t stir from his sleep as she gently laid him in the cradle and covered him with another towel. She stood and smiled down at him, her smile so soft, so loving, Dalton felt it in the center of his chest.
“You want some coffee or something?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine. But I would like to talk to you.” He sat on the sofa and patted the space next to him.
She eyed him warily but sat, close enough that he could smell her fragrance, but not close enough to touch in any way. “Talk about what?” Her eyes were darker blue than they had been moments before.
“About bringing Brandon Sinclair to justice.” He leaned back against the cushion. “I know the special prosecutor in Oklahoma City. His name is Trent Cummings and it’s his job to prosecute elected officials, like sheriffs, who break the law. I intend to contact him about Sinclair.”
She nodded slowly, her expression guarded. “Good. Somebody needs to stop him before he hurts more women.”
“What we need if we’re going to stop him is cold hard evidence, and that’s where you come in.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t have any evidence,” she protested. Her entire body tensed and she appeared to shrink back from him, becoming smaller and looking more vulnerable.
Glory, Glory: Snowbound with the Bodyguard Page 25