Protecting Her Own (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Margaret Daley

  But what choice did she have? If her dad hadn’t had a stroke that affected his ability to talk, he would never agree to coming to Dallas and staying with her. His house wouldn’t be ready for weeks. And it would be hard to protect her father and try to solve who wanted him dead.

  Okay, maybe she should consider staying at Mike’s house when her father was released. Somehow she had to ignore how seeing Connor again played havoc with the fragile threads of her life. She was so close to all those threads snapping. From what the sheriff told her last night, he couldn’t spare a twenty-four-hour guard detail for long and Connor was very good at his job. Sean was relieved Connor was helping him with the case.

  The sight of Connor’s black Jeep Cherokee, covered in dust and mud, coming around the corner halted her pacing. She moved to the curb and climbed into his vehicle when he came to a stop.

  She hadn’t even closed the door when he said, “What were you thinking? Standing outside like that?”

  She slanted a look toward him. “What did you think? The killer would do a drive-by and shoot me?”

  “First, you were advertising where you’re staying by being out front. I know there aren’t many hotels around here, but a little doubt wouldn’t hurt for as long as you could manage. And second, we don’t know what the assailant’s going to do next. Yes, he could drive by and shoot you. Who knows? Why take the chance?”

  “Good morning to you, too.” She buckled her seat belt. “I’ll try to remember that, but you forgot one important thing. I’m probably not the target. Yes, there’s a slim chance, and we need to find that out, but more likely my father is. I gave it a lot of thought last night, and I believe that even more now.”

  He snorted and pulled away from the curb. “And Sean agrees. That’s why there’s a deputy at Sunny Meadows guarding his room.”

  “What made you so grumpy this morning?” Cara noted the clean interior, in stark contrast to the exterior of the Jeep.

  “No sleep.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I don’t like you staying at that hotel.”

  “Because you can’t control the situation?”

  “Yeah.” The tension emanating off him decreased, and his hands loosened their tight grip on the steering wheel. “I kept expecting to get a call in the middle of the night telling me you were dead. It’s that small chance it could be you I can’t shake.”

  For a moment Connor sounded as if he cared what happened to her. The way she’d run out on him would challenge anyone’s forgiveness. She’d been a chicken, so out of character, all those years ago when she’d left Clear Branch without seeing him again or telling him goodbye. She now realized why. If she had, she’d been afraid he would convince her to stay and give them a chance. She couldn’t risk that because she would have regretted it. Maybe not right away but later. She’d needed to do what she’d done, in spite of what happened in Nzadi.

  “I’m sorry, Connor.”

  His heavy sigh dissipated the silence. “Until we know who sent the bomb, it’s best to think you and your dad are both in equal danger. I know you’ve been in dangerous situations and obviously made it through unscathed. Use those same skills and think before you do something here. Just in case.”

  Unscathed? Hardly. She was a wounded individual even if those wounds weren’t visible. The hurt deep inside wouldn’t leave her. She didn’t even know how to begin healing. Had she done the right thing? Yes, she had saved her client, but others had been put in danger and one woman had died. It was as though the incident in Nzadi forced all her past horrific experiences to come crashing down on her and make her question the skills and instincts she’d honed from years of experience. Now she felt buried by them.

  In the middle of all that, an image of her mother lying on her bed, lifeless, after taking sleeping pills on top of drinking several glasses of wine, ruined her composure. No, she couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else. With determination she shoved that picture back into the dark recesses of her mind.

  “I wasn’t saying sorry about this morning,” Cara finally said into the quiet. “I was talking about thirteen years ago. I shouldn’t have left without saying a word to you. I was—wrong.”

  A tic in his jaw twitched. His grasp tightened around the steering wheel as the silence lengthened. “I’ve accepted we aren’t meant for each other.”

  “We were young and there were so many possibilities in front of us. I never wanted to look back and have regrets.”

  He pulled into the driveway of her father’s home. “And you don’t have any regrets?”

  “Did I say I was naive, too?” She looked away, pretending a great interest in the handle as she thrust the door open. “Yes, I have regrets. I can’t imagine going through life and not having them.”

  Thankfully he didn’t ask her what regrets, or she was afraid she would break down in front of him and actually tell him. Because one of the biggest regrets was not having someone to share her life with. She felt so utterly alone. Living out of a suitcase and moving from assignment to assignment around the world wasn’t conducive to having a long-term relationship. And she would never do what her father had done. Marry then leave a spouse home continuously as he covered breaking news in the United States, as well as other countries.

  But even more so, she didn’t think she was capable of committing to a lasting relationship because of what she’d witnessed in her parents’ marriage. Her father had often been gone, and she was the one who dealt with her mother’s loneliness and sorrow that he wasn’t there. Her mom’s grief had led to her suicide. Why couldn’t Cara have been enough of a reason for her mother to want to live? Coming back had been such a mistake, she thought, staring at her childhood home.

  Connor came around the front. “Are you ready for this?”

  She nodded. Her throat closed at the sight of the destruction visible on the lawn, not really remembering it from yesterday. She’d walked through bombed buildings before and thought she knew what to expect until she entered her home and saw what the bomb had done. In this very foyer where she’d played as a young child with her dolls, there was little left she could recognize. In the dining room the table she’d placed the packages on was gone, blown to bits, some impaled as tiny stakes in the walls that remained. She glanced toward the boarded-up window, with slits of light leaking through to illuminate the room. The stench of dust and black powder clung to the house, refusing to release their hold.

  Among the debris that was strewn about the floor so heavily that she couldn’t tell if there was tile, hardwood or carpet beneath it, she picked out a few pieces of what would have been birthday presents. What if the bomb hadn’t been the package that had been delivered right before the explosion?

  “I’ve always assumed that the package that blew up was the one that had just arrived, Connor. What if it had been one of the other ones or something else? For all I know someone could have come in and put another gift among the pile. I didn’t keep count. We know it was a pipe bomb from the fragments found, but everything has been destroyed, so how do we know exactly which package carried the bomb?”

  Connor swung around and faced her. “Which again stresses that we don’t know who the intended target was. We should know more about the bomb when the forensic report comes back. We do know the point of origin is the dining room table. ATF is good at their job.”

  She shook her head. “After this, I need to go see Dad at the rehabilitation center. He can’t talk much and his hand isn’t steady enough to write legibly, but maybe he can answer some simple questions.” She wished she’d kept better tabs on her father’s activities. She wasn’t even sure she would ask the right questions.

  “Do you remember what the deliveryman looked like? What company he was from? We still need to check into that. It’s a possibility the last gift contained the bomb. It’s our best lead at the moment.”

  She replayed the scene where she opened the door and took the present, then signed for it. “He had on a white s
hirt, but honestly I can’t remember anything else. I was on my cell with my employer, and my concentration was on what she was saying.” She closed her eyes and again tried to bring up an image of the man. “He was wearing a blue ball cap and blue shorts. Blond hair. He had on sunglasses and I couldn’t see his eyes. That’s all.” She released a deep breath. “That doesn’t say much for my observational skills. Usually they are much better than that. Do you think he’s the guy?” Her shoulders slumped, the weight of what they were discussing—her father’s life—crushing her. “This feels personal.”

  “We need to track down the deliveryman. I’ll have Sean ask the neighbors specifically about seeing a vehicle at your house about that time, or a deliveryman. We’ll explore every possibility.”

  “When I opened the last package, the present was wrapped in black paper. I thought someone used black paper as a joke because it was Dad’s sixtieth birthday.”

  “What was on the outside of that box?”

  “The return address was Global Magazine, so if that was where the bomb was, Dad has to be the target.”

  “Anyone can put any kind of return address on a package. I doubt a person would announce where they work after sending a bomb.”

  The tension in her shoulders intensified. “I know.”

  “Let’s get what you came for, then visit your dad at Sunny Meadows.”

  “First, I’d like to check his home office. I haven’t been in there since I came home.” The memories of the room left a bad taste in her mouth. That was where her father would let her know how disappointed he was with her. In high school she’d been valedictorian, but he’d never said a word about it and certainly hadn’t congratulated her. In fact, during her graduation, he’d been in Russia.

  “Sean took your father’s computer and files down to the station. There may be something in them that points to who might want him dead. Later you can help us go through them. Maybe we can even get your father’s input.”

  “Dad encrypts his computer files. I might know a few of his passwords. His communication is limited, but I want him involved. He can at least answer yes and no questions.”

  “Good. That’s a start.”

  “Dad has a safe. There might be hard copies of notes and files in there. I know the combination.” That was one of the few things her father had ever shared with her. “That is, if he hasn’t changed the code.”

  Connor swept his arm across his body. “After you.”

  As she picked her way toward the back of the house, a sense of loss inundated her. There was more damage than she’d thought. It would take weeks to restore the house to the way it was. Inside the office she stood by the entrance, remembering the last time she’d been in here. The day she’d left Clear Branch after she and her father had fought. Actually, more like had a screaming match. He’d rarely raised his voice to her. Usually he had always been cold, unemotional. That day he’d informed her yet again how disappointing she’d been to him, that she wasn’t reaching her full potential.

  The accusation resounded in her mind from thirteen years ago. “How can you throw your life away staying here and marrying a local? You were meant for more than that.” Disillusionment had dripped off each of his words.

  She’d stormed away from the house, from Clear Branch, to finish her senior year at college. She’d never told her father she’d already made the decision not to marry Connor, but not because she was meant for more or because he was a local. She hadn’t been ready to settle down into marriage. At that time, she’d needed to fulfill her dream to see the world, as if that would finally be the connection between her and her dad. As if she would finally understand why her father was always gone and had little time for his family. As a child, she’d imagined traveling all over the world like her father, seeing the same places. What was it about the rest of the world that kept her father away? What was better than home and family?

  “Cara?”

  Connor’s deep husky voice intruded into her thoughts. She blinked and focused on him and the concern in his expression.

  “Are you all right?”

  She tried to shrug away the emotions drenching her. She couldn’t. Anger and even sadness at her father hugged her in a suffocating embrace. “I’m fine.” She marched over to the safe covered by a portrait of her mother, a long-suffering woman who had died heartbroken during Cara’s first year of college. “I don’t understand why he kept this in here. He didn’t love her.” She swung the picture aside to reveal the safe and punched in the combination on the keypad. When she opened the safe, its empty contents surprised her. “Dad used to keep important documents in here. I guess he could have changed his habits, but this doesn’t bode well.”

  “So someone could have come in here and broken into the safe? If that’s so, we’re talking about a person with a certain amount of skill or a top-notch accomplice because it doesn’t look like it’s been touched.”

  She turned at the same time Connor stepped closer. She collided into him. He steadied her, his hands on her arms branding her. His gaze captured hers and held it for a long moment; the thundering of her heart drowned out all common sense.

  Why else would she wonder if he still kissed as good as he did when they were dating?

  She pulled away from his grasp and hurried toward the exit. “Let me get my clothes and then we can leave.”

  “I’m going to check this room some more. It’s beginning to look like someone may have been in here, which means the files we have might not be all of them.”

  A minute later Cara collapsed on the bed in her old childhood bedroom. She was too vulnerable. She should flee back to Dallas and let Connor and Sean figure everything out. But what if it wasn’t really about her father? Besides, she’d never run from a fight since that day she left Clear Branch. She wasn’t going to start now.

  And even more importantly, if someone was after her father, she should be the one to protect him. She’d never be able to live with herself if she didn’t take this assignment.

  She flipped open her cell and called her boss. When Kyra came on the line, she told her what had happened in the past twenty-four hours. “I may be here longer than I thought. Will you let Mr. Richards know I’ll contact him when my father is safe?” She couldn’t deal with the guy from the State Department right now.

  “Yes. Is there anything else I can do? Send someone to protect you and your father?”

  “No, I have everything under control. We’ll be all right.” At least she hoped what she said was true. “But I appreciate the offer. There is something you can do for me. Although my father is most likely the target, I want to rule myself out totally. I’ve thought of three men who went to prison because of my testimony and actions. I’d like to know where they are. David Adams, Tom Phillips and Nelson Dickerson.”

  “I imagine both Adams and Dickerson are still in prison, but I’ll check to make sure and give you a call. I think Phillips was released for good behavior. Again, I’ll double-check.”

  “Thanks. If he’s out, find out where he’s been lately, if he’s traveled to Washington, D.C., or Virginia.”

  “I’ll do more than that. If he’s around here, I’ll pay him a visit.”

  That was what she was grateful for about her employer. Kyra went the extra mile for her employees. After promising Kyra she would keep her informed of what was going on, Cara pocketed her cell, grabbed her gun and holster and quickly threw her clothes into her one piece of luggage. She was coming out of her room when she met Connor in the hallway.

  “I was getting worried about what was taking you so long.” He took the suitcase from her.

  “I called my boss and brought her up to speed.”

  “Okay.” Connor weaved his way through the mess to the front entrance, a temporary makeshift door with a padded lock. “While we’re driving, you can tell me about who you think might come after you. Did you make that list last night?”

  Stepping out onto the porch, Cara waited until Connor secured the do
or before pulling out a sheet of hotel stationary and handing it to him. “I thought of three people. I’m having Kyra check to see if they are still in prison. If not, she’ll find out where they are.”

  He tossed her suitcase onto the backseat, then opened the front passenger door for her before rounding the front of his Jeep and climbing inside. She was so used to doing everything for herself that the polite gesture took her by surprise. In the past he’d always made her feel like a lady. That part of him hadn’t changed.

  When Cara settled into the vehicle, she angled toward him. “Kyra says she heard Tom Phillips is out of prison, but she doesn’t think the others are. She’ll let me know for sure.”

  “Good. I’ll do my own checking into these men.” Connor backed out of the driveway and headed toward the edge of town where the rehabilitation center was, halfway between Clear Branch and Silver Creek.

  “Out of those three, if I had to say who would come after me, I would say David Adams. He wasn’t too happy with me after the conviction came down, but he was sent away for twenty years and even with good behavior he won’t get out anytime soon.”

  “He could have paid someone to come after you.” At a stop sign, Connor drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “I agree and could see that, but he didn’t have any money left after paying for the lawyer. However, there are other ways to pay for a hit, and the look he gave me certainly said he would do what he could to make sure I wasn’t around for long.”

  As he crossed the intersection, he gave her an assessing look. “You used to not be so cynical. What happened?”

  “Life happened. I was young when I knew you before. I didn’t know all about the evil there was in the big, wide world.”

  “Your father’s articles and stories weren’t a clue?”

  “Reading about it is one thing. Living it is entirely different. People have constantly disappointed me in my line of work. How can you not say that, too? You’re in law enforcement and you’ve most likely seen more horrific things than I have.”

  He stopped at a red light and slid his gaze to hers. “I have. There are times I haven’t been sure I can continue. That’s when I turn to the Lord for guidance and solace.”