Heather claimed he wanted vengeance, but what equitable turnabout was there for what she’d done?
“You should have told me,” His voice shook with betrayal. “I could have helped.”
“Because men who only see life in shades of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ so often assist failure-to-appear fugitives?”
“Eileen and Phillip Hargrove have been peripheral suspects in two different investigations over the past five years. If we’d worked together, if you’d trusted in the system...” If you’d trusted me.
“Like Benita Lopez?” she challenged. “She tried to do the right thing, and it almost got her and her son killed. If you know what kind of people the Hargroves are, then you understand why I can’t risk losing Josie to them. What would you do if it were Eden? Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to save her?”
He was momentarily stymied by her words. Granted, Valerie had never been under suspicion of blackmail or bribing public officials, but she had a slew of other vices. Nonetheless, he’d let her traipse off with his only child. Should he have fought harder to keep Eden? Perhaps—but you would have fought legally.
Heather Hargrove couldn’t say the same.
He looked around the kitchen, belatedly reminded that this house belonged to friends of his. “What do the Comers know about you? I can’t see them turning their place over to a complete stranger, but they wouldn’t harbor a liar, either.”
He saw another flare of panic in her golden eyes, which she tried to cover using sarcasm.
“I’m not answering any questions without my lawyer present,” she said tartly.
He pounded a hand on the kitchen island. “Do you get that you actually need a lawyer? Do you comprehend the seriousness of what you’ve done?”
“Of course I do!” she thundered, abandoning her vow not to argue with Josie upstairs. “For days on end, it was all I could think about. And then you got added to the mix, and every day has been this toxic stew of regretting my impulsiveness and struggling not to fall in love with the lawman next door.”
Some spark of tenderness tried to ignite, but he ruthlessly extinguished it. He wasn’t here to kiss and make up. “Heather, you’ve got to turn yourself in.”
Her head jerked up at the sound of her true name, unshed tears wavering on her lashes. Then she slumped, as if all the fight had drained out of her. “Is that a threat? Like, I’ve got twenty-four hours to get myself down to the station or you’ll drag me there in cuffs?”
“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy.” His entire life, all he’d wanted was to do the right thing. “I’m thinking of you and Josie. You can’t keep running. The longer you try, the worse it will get. Have you thought about how many more lies you’ll need to tell? I’m not here to drag you anywhere. If...”
The words were so foreign to his nature that they stopped abruptly, like the lead car in a twelve vehicle pileup. But somehow he continued. “If you try to run, I won’t stop you.”
“You won’t?” Her eyes narrowed, as if she were looking for the catch.
“No.” Was he granting her that unheard-of leeway because he knew the Hargroves might actually be dangerous or because he so desperately hoped Heather would do the right thing? “But I’m praying you won’t bolt again. Far as I can tell, you and I both married selfish people who disregarded rules and conventions. Is that the legacy you want to carry on for your child, the example you want to set?”
Silence hung between them.
“I could put in a good word for you,” he said stiffly. “Like a character reference. Especially if you have any information we can use about the Hargroves.”
Conflicting emotions battled across her face. “You’ve said your piece. Now please go.”
“All right.” There was nothing more he could do here. As he’d learned the hard way, he could only help people who wanted assistance, those who wanted to change. He was no longer in the business of rescuing damsels in distress against their will. “I’ll leave.”
The real question was, would she?
* * *
THE MINUTE SHE SHUT the door behind him, Heather flew into a flurry of unproductive action. She was trying to be everywhere at once with no clear plan, scurrying to the closet to retrieve the suitcases she’d stored, searching for her cell to call Bryce. I should warn him. Through Kelsey Comer, Zane could easily track down the friend who’d aided Heather. Bryce was an accomplice or an accessory—whatever the official term was for a good friend who’d taken bad risks.
Heather had trouble believing Zane wouldn’t report her. Although he’d said he wouldn’t interfere, she knew what it was like to make a decision under duress and regret it later. How long did she have before his lifelong duty to the law trumped his feelings for a short-term lover who’d lied to him?
We have to get out of here.
“Punkin? I need you to put your shoes on,” Heather called up the stairs. “Now!”
Josie appeared on the landing. “Is it time for my party already?”
The eagerness in her expression brought tears to Heather’s eyes. She’s already left one home, and I’m uprooting her again. What kind of mother was she?
A desperate one. Children were resilient. Surely Heather could make this up to Josie over time.
“We have to take a trip. We’re going...on an adventure.”
Apparently, it was too close to the words she’d used before they came here because Josie’s face crumpled. “We’re going away? Do I have to be someone else again?”
The question skewered Heather. Oh, my God. Her five-year-old was already versed in aliases and false identities. Was this the kind of life she wanted for her daughter? Heather knew the Hargroves were amoral people who would ruin Josie given enough time, but what in the hell was she teaching her kid?
“I’m sorry, punkin.” Tears washed down her cheeks, and she realized that she wasn’t apologizing for leaving. She was apologizing in advance for staying...and for whatever consequences that brought. She knew how furious and disappointed Zane was, but the man she’d fallen in love with was ultimately a good person. No matter how much he might despise her right now, she’d take her chances with him any day over Eileen and Phillip.
* * *
ZANE DIDN’T ENTIRELY understand his motivation for driving to the ballet studio. Did it stem from not knowing how to explain the situation to Eden or morbid curiosity for how this would play out? He wanted to believe that Al—that Heather would be there.
You know she won’t be. Yet he loaded Eden and their gaily wrapped birthday gift into the truck just the same.
As he drove, memories assailed him. He recalled Heather’s hysteria at the festival when she couldn’t find her daughter, the affection on her face whenever she mentioned Josie. He’d accused her earlier of continuing the tradition of being thoughtlessly selfish, but even he had to admit that wasn’t true. Heather had acted on what she believed to be her child’s best interest. She was unquestionably wrong, of course, but her motives weren’t beyond comprehension.
Would a judge take that into account, grant her any kind of leniency? There was no actual warrant for her arrest, but if she turned herself in, at the very least, there would be stiff fines. Had she blown her chances of winning any custody case? There was a difference between knowing Eileen and Phillip were dirty and possessing incontrovertible evidence.
Distracted by his jumbled thoughts, it took him a moment to notice the old beater in the studio parking lot. Her car. Had she... He tried not to think the question, afraid to let hope rise. But it was too buoyant to tamp down. Had she stayed, then? Was she planning to surrender herself to the authorities and place her faith in the system he fought for every day?
He jumped down out of the truck. “See you inside,” he told his daughter abruptly. “I, ah, need to talk to Alex!”
Eden looked amused. “Geez, Dad, I thought I was supposed to be the one at the mercy of hormonal highs and lows. I don’t even get this worked up about seeing Leo.”
/> Zane raced into the building, spotted Heather immediately. She was hanging balloons with Tess and Nicole Hollinger while Josie giggled in the corner with Nicole’s daughter Trixie.
Heather’s eyes widened when she saw him. She made some excuse to her companions and met him in a far corner of the room. “I didn’t expect you to be here,” she said softly.
“Funny. I was going to say the same thing.” But there was more wonder in his tone than accusation. “Are you only here because it’s your daughter’s birthday?” For all he knew, the bags were packed in the trunk of the car and Heather planned to steal away like a thief in the night.
“I’m here because you were right. This isn’t the life I want for her.” She swallowed. “Actually, it is. We’re surrounded by great people, a warm community, neighbors who care. It’s everything I always wanted and hoped to one day have. And now I’m going to take all that away from her? If I’m going to dodge the law and teach her that the rules don’t apply to her, I might as well just drop her off on Phillip and Eileen’s doorstep. At least with them, she’d have the added benefit of her own swimming pool.”
“I’m so proud of you. I’m still pissed. And I doubt I could ever really trust you again. But you’re doing the right thing, and that’s commendable.”
“Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I know that what we had... Well. That’s over. But is it too late to ask for your help?”
“I’ll do what I can,” he promised gruffly. He just hoped it was enough.
* * *
BRYCE SQUEEZED HEATHER’S hand in the posh reception area, offering one last bit of reassurance before she went in to see her lawyer. When Heather had called to make the appointment, the attorney’s secretary had said she was under orders to patch Ms. Hargrove through immediately in the event they heard from her.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” the lawyer had demanded. “We might have had a shot! You’ve completely screwed up my case.” But after he’d calmed, he admitted that her coming back of her own free will might carry a tiny bit of weight with the judge.
Just as she’d apologized then to the lawyer, she apologized now to Bryce. “I am so sorry for all of this. Is Kelsey speaking to you yet?”
“No, but she’ll come around. I’m her favorite cousin,” Bryce said confidently. “Besides, she’s an incurable romantic. She lives for happy endings and hopes you get one. She might have forgiven me already except that her husband the military man is a stickler for rules. To say he’s unhappy is an understatement. What about you? Spoken to Zane lately?”
“No.”
When she’d first driven back to Houston, Bryce had met her, and she’d sobbed out the whole story. Although she’d omitted the most intimate details, he knew exactly how she felt about the Ranger.
When it came to helping her, Zane had been true to his word. He’d set up an informal security detail, making sure she and Josie were watched. After what she’d done, Heather couldn’t completely discount that the Hargroves would try to take Josie without the assistance of the courts. Zane had also used her journal to shift the focus of a cold investigation. If anyone could find the evidence needed to take down her former in-laws, she believed it was him.
But she wasn’t out of the woods. Even if the Hargroves were sent to prison for their natural lives—a lovely fantasy—that didn’t mean Heather would automatically live happily ever after with her daughter. An extreme judge might rule that Heather serve some jail time, as well. Some gene pool we provided for my kid. She could only hope that Josie’s time spent around Zane would rub off on her.
There were far worse role models to have. And few better men in the world.
* * *
ZANE STARED OUT THE BACK window into his yard, scowling at the rain. April showers. What a cliché. He hoped Eden had taken an umbrella with her when she’d left with Leo and his mom. They were having an impromptu celebration at Leo’s house because both teens had earned A-pluses on their all-important research papers. Eden had been giddy about her achievement, except for a brief moment when she’d said, “I wish Alex—I mean, Heather—had been able to read it. She loves Shakespeare, you know.”
As far as people like Eden and Tess were concerned, Heather Hargrove had been in an unofficial form of witness protection. Zane had fudged some of the details, telling them just enough to let them draw their own conclusions. Only with his mother had he been brutally honest, revealing the entire sordid story. She’d answered with a sad “I see,” and had mercifully never broached the subject of Heather or Josie again.
Yet, whether she mentioned them by name or not, Zane felt as if his failed relationship had been present in the subtext of every conversation he’d had with Dorothea ever since.
“Eden mentioned she’s going to a sleepover this weekend. How would you like to meet your father and I for dinner in town?” Translation: “We’re worried you shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“We had a lovely game of bridge with the Fowlers last night. You remember their daughter Dinah?” Translation: “Don’t give up hope. There’s a woman out there who’s right for you.”
He had no interest in seeing other women, not when he was still so banged up over the last one. This week, he thought he’d made improvement, not thinking about her nearly as much, but then he’d received a call yesterday afternoon from a fellow Ranger based out of the Houston field office.
“We’ll be able to press charges against those slippery bastards this time!” the man had gleefully reported. “We questioned a guy Heather had mentioned in numerous entries and he offered to tell us everything he knows in exchange for immunity. That woman has a pretty good memory for details. Between her journal and her agreement to testify when all of this goes to court, she’s been a real asset.”
When other Rangers had looked at her notes, that’s what they’d seen—an asset. Zane read between the lines, though. He knew her journal was a firsthand look into how miserable she’d been for eight years, the things she hadn’t wanted to see for the sake of her marriage but ultimately couldn’t erase from her memory. She’d run because she was scared of the Hargroves and now that he had a better idea of some of what they’d been involved in, Zane couldn’t entirely blame her.
If she hadn’t gone on the lam, he never would have met her. Whatever else had happened, he couldn’t bring himself to regret having known her.
“Dad?”
Zane started. Had he really been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard Eden come in? So much for your keen senses and well-honed reflexes, Sergeant. “What are you doing back so early?’ He glanced past her. “Where’s Leo?”
“We said goodbye on the front porch. I thought bringing in my boyfriend would be...a little insensitive to you. Why flaunt our goopy happiness?”
Great. His fifteen-year-old pitied him. “Did you have fun at his house?”
“Yeah, but...” Eden leaned against the counter, fiddling with the napkin holder and not meeting his eyes. “This is going to sound lame.”
“Try me.” Zane had learned that the sentiments his daughter deemed lame were often his favorites.
“I didn’t want to celebrate with them. I mean, I thought I did, and Leo’s parents are pretty cool even if they are superstrict, but I wanted to come home and celebrate with you. You’re the one who believed in me and put up with me when I was stomping around the house, annoyed that I couldn’t get my paragraphs exactly the way I wanted them.”
He laughed. “You do stomp. But I love you, anyway.”
“Love you, too.” She hugged him. “I’m glad I came to live here.”
He squeezed her tight, so grateful that he got to see her every day. “I told you this town has a lot to offer when you give it a chance.”
Eden nodded. “Do you...do you think Heather and her daughter will ever come back to town? They seemed to like it here, too.”
Zane sighed, hating to disappoint her but refusing to offer false hope. “We’ve talked about this, honey. This was never their h
ome.”
“It could have been,” she muttered mulishly. “Have you talked to her since she left?”
“Not directly. She’s gone back to her real life and has a lot to sort through.”
“But you miss her.”
Since it didn’t really sound like a question, he opted not to respond. But the answer echoed in his mind. Every damn day.
Chapter Thirteen
Spring had passed through Texas and, judging from the May heat, summer was officially here. As Zane sweated by the grill, he asked himself why he’d caved to his mother’s unsubtle hints that he should invite them over for a cook-out. Currently Dorothea was stepping onto the back deck. She’d probably ask him some question about whether there was anything else that needed to be prepared inside. But they both knew she was really coming to check on him. She constantly sought ways to monitor him, to ask if he was all right without ever voicing the question. Not for the first time, he thought mothers would be uniquely qualified for undercover work.
“Food’s just about done, Mom. I—”
“We’ve just realized we don’t have any of that steak sauce your father loves,” she informed him, her expression oddly serious for a woman discussing condiments. “Eden and I are going to run to the store.”
“Now? But we’ll be sitting down to eat in just a few minutes. I marinated the meat. The steaks will taste fine.”
Dorothea had already turned back toward the house. “You don’t know your father and this steak sauce. In fact, I’d better take him with us to make sure we get the absolute right kind. Oh, and there’s someone here to see you. Bye!” She moved with impressive speed for a woman her age, leaving him flabbergasted.
Based on the facts he’d been given—that his mother was acting like a lunatic and that his entire family had abruptly abandoned him minutes before a family dinner—there were only two logical conclusions to draw. Either his mother had engineered this entire meal as a stealth blind date, which he wouldn’t put past her, or... Alex. The phony name was simply force of habit. As was the imprudent wash of joy that accompanied it.
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