Borrowed Angel

by Heather Graham

  “I don’t know about twelve.” Rafe said skeptically. “I’ll say one on the nose.”

  “Oh, no!” Ashley moaned. “What is this! No wonder he ran out. I think that I would run, too, if I had half a chance!”

  Brad came around the counter, helping himself to coffee from the pot. He winked at his wife and smiled at Ashley. “I know where he is. I can take you there if you want to go.”

  “I do not want to go,” Ashley said firmly. “And really, I do hate the swamp. I hate the stupid sounds those rotten alligators make. I hate the mud and the muck. I hate mosquitoes. I love concrete—honest, I do.”

  “Hmm,” Brad murmured. But he was watching her very closely again.

  “Keep an eye on her. She throws things,” Rafe warned.

  “I do not!” Ashley protested.

  “Okay, enough!” Wendy decided. She was studying her husband curiously.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “No, of course not, what could be wrong?”

  “I don’t know, I just feel like you’re torturing this poor woman to keep quiet about something else.”

  “No,” Brad said thoughtfully, and grinned. “I’m torturing her for the sheer pleasure of it.”

  “Okay, okay,” Wendy groaned. “Let’s leave her in peace, shall we? Come on, Ashley, I’ll show you to the women’s quarters. It’s kind of a small place, do you mind?”

  “Mind? Of course not, I’m just grateful to be here!” Ashley said. Brad and Wendy looked at each other and smiled. Wendy led her down the hallway into the back bedroom, touching her finger to her lip when they walked past the drawer-crib with the sleeping baby. Ashley paused and knelt to look at the tiny life. Amy was so small and so perfect, and her coloring was already beautiful. Ashley’s throat and her heart constricted. She had always known in a vague sort of way that she wanted children, but she had never realized until this moment just how desperately she did.

  The years were ticking by, she thought. She had just passed her thirtieth birthday. Not much time left.

  Women were having children in their forties these days, she reminded herself.

  Yes, but dangers increased with each year.

  “It’s a wonderful age,” Wendy whispered from behind her. “They sleep almost all the time, and they never, never answer back.”

  Ashley smiled but didn’t reply.

  “Is something wrong?” Wendy asked softly.

  Ashley stood away from the baby and smiled. “Yes. I’m getting old.”

  “Not that old. How old are you. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Well, I’m thirty-five, and I’m not old, so that makes you a spring chicken,” Wendy assured her.

  “Thirty-five?” Ashley asked, stretching across the bed.

  Wendy, putting a pillow into a new case, nodded. “You just made me feel eighty.”

  “No!” Ashley laughed. “I was just thinking about your son.”

  “You’ve plenty of time ahead of you,” Wendy said, just as if she read Ashley’s thoughts. “Not—” she added teasingly “—that I would want to waste any of it.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Nothing. I’d just like to see you stay around for a while, that’s all.”

  Ashley shook her head slowly. “I have to get out of here. And quickly. I was scared to death in the swamp when I saw the murder. And then when we were shot at…” Her voice trailed away and she shivered.

  “And that’s not it at all,” Wendy said pragmatically.

  Ashley sat up, crossing her legs Indian fashion beneath her. “What—what did happen to his wife?”

  Wendy paused a long moment and then she sat down. “She was killed. Shot to death.”

  “Oh, my God!” Ashley gasped.

  “With Leif,” Wendy added, running her fingers over the pillowcase. “Eric and Elizabeth were having a wedding anniversary party, and he had ordered a very special wine from a friend who owned a liquor store. He was supposed to deliver the wine, but the party was right near Christmas, so he was very busy that night with customers and couldn’t come. I was fixing some things in the house because I had insisted that Elizabeth wasn’t to lift a finger. Eric was fooling around getting the barbeque going, and so Leif and Elizabeth went together to pick up the wine. She was so excited. Eric was quiet, even with her. He wasn’t the type to say ‘I love you’ all the time, but he showed it in little ways.” Wendy shrugged. “She was really beautiful.”

  “I’ve seen her. I’ve seen her picture, I mean,” Ashley said.

  Wendy nodded, as if that said it all. “They were in white that night.” She flashed Ashley a quick smile. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy now. I love Brad with all my heart, but until the day I die, I won’t forget that night.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was a holdup at the liquor store and Leif and Elizabeth walked right into it. One of the men struck Elizabeth and Leif tried to fight him. They shot them both. Leif was killed instantly, one bullet to the heart. They shot Elizabeth four or five times. It was horrible, absolutely horrible. Friends on the tribal force came to the house for us, but I guess we both reacted very badly. It was terrible for Leif and Eric’s grandparents, and the rest of the family, too, but I don’t think that anyone could have understood how Eric and I felt, except Eric and me.” Wendy fell silent then. She looked at Ashley. “Think you understand him any better?”

  Ashley looked at Wendy. “I understand how very badly he must have been hurt. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I still don’t understand his attitude toward me.”

  Wendy shrugged. “Fight him. He probably thinks you’re a beautiful wildflower brought by the wind and soon to be swept away again. He’s a hard man. There’s only one thing sure about Eric.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you want him, you’re going to have to fight for him.”

  Ashley was determined to salvage a bit of her pride. “I’m not sure if I want him or not,” she said flatly.

  “There’s more that you should know,” Wendy told her gravely.

  “What’s that?” Ashley asked.

  “He went after the men who murdered Leif and Elizabeth.”

  Something seemed to lodge in Ashley’s throat. “And—and what happened?” she said.

  “Eric caught one of them.”

  “He—he killed that man?” Ashley said. “In cold blood?”

  “It wouldn’t have been ‘cold’ blood,” Wendy murmured. “No murder would have been more violently hot. But he didn’t kill the man. He turned him over to the police. He’s still on death row up in Raiford.”

  Ashley exhaled. Then she smiled slowly. “I’m glad.”

  “I was glad, too. Once he passed that obstacle, he made an effort at living again.” Wendy walked toward the door. “I’m going to check on Josh before I turn his room over to the guys. Help yourself to a nightgown—they’re in the third drawer over there. Cotton-shirts to lace and frills. Take whatever you like and please don’t be shy. There are towels and washcloths in the bath. Do you need anything else?”

  “No. Thank you very much,” Ashley said, smiling at Wendy and liking her very much. “You’ve already given me much more than I expected.”

  Wendy smiled in return and left.

  Ashley lay back and wondered how she could have possibly come to care for Eric Hawk so deeply and so desperately and so swiftly.

  And then, like Rafe and Brad, she began to wonder if he would show up the next day.

  When she fell asleep that night, it was with a prayer on her lips that he would.

  * * *

  Five miles away, in a distant hummock, Eric stood atop a chickee in his grandfather’s village and stared at the moon. It was a full moon, exceptionally big and beautiful and brilliant after the days of the storm.

  Toward the center of the small village there was another chickee where a fire burned—the communal cooking
fire. It was slowly dying to embers.

  Eric heard night sounds. The occasional call of a crane or a heron, the whir of insects, the distant guttural grunt of a gator, all blending together in a strange and beautiful harmony.

  Eric stood tall and straight and shirtless and let the night breeze wash over him and cool him. But it did little good.

  He had come to forget her. Yet she was ever more present with him here.

  He wanted to show her how the grass looked like a river in the moonlight. He wanted her to feel the air, and he wanted—he burned—to hold her beneath him, to make love to her in the moonlight.

  She wouldn’t need her Tyler jewels at all. And he would require nothing but the primitive earth and the sweeping beauty of her eyes.

  She wasn’t meant to be his.

  One of the men who had killed Elizabeth was out, and Eric should be hating himself, because he was wishing that he could be with a woman other than his wife, instead of wondering if there was any way to catch the murderer.

  There was not, he told himself, not tonight. But if God had any mercy, the murderer would be on death row again by tomorrow or the next day.

  Ashley could be in danger.

  Ashley would soon be gone.

  But she wasn’t gone yet, and she wouldn’t be gone tomorrow. She was in the swamp, and she could be in danger.

  He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. Not far away, his grandparents were surely sleeping. His whole family was probably asleep, happy to be back in the village where they spent their summers. Brad and Wendy even came there sometimes. In the Seminole nation, a man joined his wife’s family, and so Brad had become part of the Hawks. They were as close as any full-blooded relations.

  But Ashley…

  He wasn’t going to think about her.

  Great. He was going to spend his night with a tame and half-trained panther curled up beside him when he could have brought Ashley with him here.

  Ashley? Here?

  No.

  He wasn’t going to think about Ashley.

  He stared at the moon a moment longer and felt the air upon his bare flesh. It didn’t help. It was a moon meant to be shared. He turned away, unrolled his sleeping mat and lay down on it. Baby crawled beside him.

  “You’re a poor excuse for company!” Eric charged the cat. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. He had no right to be worried about her. Brad and Tyler were with her. She was safe.

  He sighed. He knew that he would head back to Wendy’s first thing in the morning. Whatever happened, he was going to be with Ashley. Billy wanted to talk with him about the shooting, so he had to go back. He should go back to Ashley.

  He would go back. Early. It wouldn’t be for the police, though. It would be for Ashley.

  He sighed deeply. It was going to be one hell of a night, lying there in a searing state of fury, longing to go back in time—to strangle John Jacobs with his bare hands.

  Eric had done the right thing. The law had dealt with Jacobs fairly. There had to be law; it was important for all men, Eric knew. A half smile curved his lips. The Seminoles were one of the “Five Civilized Tribes.”

  Still he wished that he could get his hands on Jacobs again.

  There was nothing that he could do. Except, of course, dream of Ashley.

  He sat up, swearing. Baby growled, annoyed that he had turned. He settled back down to try to sleep again. He would not dream….

  But dreams could not be denied.

  And softly, slowly, hauntingly, Ashley came to him like an angel of the night and touched him with the gentle fingers of the breeze. In the darkness, she was there, an angel to sweep him into dreams.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Oh, my God!” Ashley gasped, staring down at the bloated face of the body. They were in a garage belonging to a nice old man named Mac, and the body, covered by a white sheet, was on a shelf in his back freezer.

  Tara and Rafe were in Fort Lauderdale. They had been taken out that morning by helicopter. Brad and Wendy were behind her, Billy was next to her.

  And Eric was there, too. He was leaning casually against the doorway, watching, waiting. No one got to see whether he would come to the house or not because Wendy had insisted on airboating to the little village to leave Josh with Willie and Mary, Eric’s grandparents. Wendy wasn’t taking her young son to see a corpse.

  They had reached the village by eleven. Eric had been up and dressed, and had come down to the airboat, ready to accompany them. Wendy had run up to the chickees with Josh alone, and they had all waited for her in silence.

  Ashley had wondered if Eric didn’t want her to meet any other members of his family. It seemed that way.

  Eric’s appearance had given Ashley little comfort. He was cool and distant, so carefully polite. She hated it. He was with her only because he had to be, she knew. Because the police officer was going to question him again about the shots fired at his house. It would have been better if he hadn’t come at all.

  He was there, though, leaning against the doorway. He was wearing sunglasses that completely hid his eyes, a leather headband and a Seminole shirt in shades of red and green. His jeans fit snugly, and he looked so much like a renegade.

  As much as his manner had hurt her, Ashley was more concerned with the body in front of her. She was stunned.

  Bile rose in her throat. She was going to be sick. She’d never seen a corpse before, except for her grandfather’s, and his body had been touched up by the mortician. He’d worn his best pin-striped suit, and he had looked as if he were sleeping.

  The flesh on this corpse had gone gray. The time in the water had caused a hideous swelling. She didn’t even dare think of the other things about the corpse that were just not human anymore. She knew she would feel sicker and sicker.

  Because she recognized the man. She had known him in life. “Oh, my God!” she repeated, and turned around. She had to get away from the horrible stench that wafted to her despite the icy cold of the freezer.

  “Ashley!”

  She felt Eric’s hands on her shoulder. He had moved at last. His touch was firm as he guided her outside.

  “Leave me alone!” she begged him. “Please!”

  “Look, it’s all right, it’s all right,” he tried to tell her.

  It wasn’t all right. She managed to tear away from him and reach a patch of saw grass, and then she was violently ill. She fell down flat on the earth, afraid that she would pass out.

  Eric bent down over her and smoothed a damp handkerchief over her face. She couldn’t see his eyes, just her own pathetic reflection in his glasses. “Let me help you up. Mac can get you some water.”

  He didn’t give her time to answer, but brought her to her feet. By that time, Wendy and Brad and Billy were out with them. And Mac was coming her way with a paper cup full of water.

  She drank it gratefully. Wendy took over for Eric, grabbing the handkerchief, smoothing back Ashley’s hair. “Are you all right now?”

  “I’m sorry—” Ashley began.

  “My stomach almost went in there,” Brad assured her, smiling. Then he cast a quick glance at Billy. “Ashley, you recognized the body.”

  “Yes. It was Harrison Mosby. He was the director of the commercial we were shooting. He was the one who— who—”

  “Who lured you into the swamp?” Eric finished softly for her.

  She looked his way, but she could still tell nothing of his feelings. Those damned glasses hid everything.

  “Well, then,” Billy murmured, “at least we know who this stiff is. Sorry, miss, if he was a friend—”

  “He wasn’t a friend,” Ashley said quickly. “But I wouldn’t have wished this on a—on a—”

  “On a dog!” Wendy supplied.

  “On a dog,” Ashley said without warmth.

  “Billy, can we take her out of here now? That was pretty awful for all of us, and having to see someone that she knew…” Eric said.

  “Yeah, sure, sure,” Billy replie
d. “Eric, Miss Dane, I just need you to sign your statements, and then you’re free to go.”

  Seconds later, Ashley was done, having scrawled her signature where Billy wanted it. He thanked her, telling her that without her help they might have spent aeons identifying the man. Now, thanks to her, they did have something—if very little—to go on.

  “What will you do? How will you try to solve this?” Ashley asked.

  “Oh, we’ll check around. If he was from New York, we’ll get cooperation from their police department. The storm washed away anything that might resemble a clue, but eventually, the top-notch detectives will make it out here and see what they can come up with. We’re not at a dead end, so please, don’t worry. Eric, she’s still awfully pale. Why don’t you all get going?”

  “Yeah, we’ll do that,” Eric said.

  “You’re not going back to your house?”

  “Not today. I’m going back out to Willie’s.”

  “We all have to go back out to Willie’s. Josh is there with Mary,” Wendy said.

  “All right. Take care,” Billy told them.

  He waved as Brad led the way toward their airboat, one hand gently on his wife’s back, and the other on Ashley’s. Eric followed at a slight distance, with Baby at his heels.

  He caught up with them at the airboat, taking Ashley’s arm and turning her around to face him. “Are you all right?” he asked softly. “You’re still as white as snow.”

  She nodded, deciding that maybe he was not completely heartless. He swore slightly then, and she appreciated the protective gesture until he muttered, “This was wrong. You just weren’t cut out for stuff like this.”

  “No one is cut out for murder!” Ashley protested.

  Eric waved a hand in the air. “I mean all of this. The swamp, the storm, the place, what has happened. All of it.”

  She lifted her chin slightly and smiled. “Don’t kid yourself, Tonto. I’m tougher than I look.”

  She didn’t wait for a reaction from him but tossed her hair over her shoulders, and walked onto the airboat behind Wendy. She turned around and called to the big cat. “Baby, here, Baby, come here!”

  To Ashley’s astonishment, the graceful feline decided to be on her side, and padded silently away from Eric to leap up beside her.