Saving Hope: Men of the Texas Rangers Book 1

by Margaret Daley

  “In her room.”

  He walked to the coffeepot and tossed away the remains in it, then set about to make a fresh brew. It was going to be a long night. “So what is your explanation?” he asked.

  Her teeth digging into her bottom lip, his mother picked up a wet dishcloth and began wiping the kitchen surfaces.

  His patience slipped down a notch. He gripped the counter’s edge. “Mom?”

  She huffed then threw the cloth in the sink. “Okay, I messed up.” Fully facing him, she ran her fingers through her hair then played with some strands. “All the other girls in her group were getting one, and I hated to see Maddie left out.”

  “All?”

  “Well, Ashley, and I think Kelly will be able to talk her mother into it.”

  “But she doesn’t have one?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You know that isn’t really the issue. You helped my daughter disobey me, and we aren’t even talking about the bikini. What kind of message does that send to her?”

  His mother hung her head. “I don’t want her to hate me. You two are all I have.”

  He drew in a steadying breath. “Giving into her isn’t the answer. I know how much you love us, but loving a person means doing what is best for them whether they know it or not. If Maddie still wants to get a tattoo when she is eighteen that is her business, but I wanted her to make that decision when she was a little more mature and not swayed by her peers as much.”

  “I got a tattoo with my third husband. There’s nothing wrong with them. And hers will wear off in three or four weeks. It isn’t permanent.”

  “I know that. Again, that’s not the issue.”

  “You need to give her some room to make her own decisions—and for that matter, her own mistakes. She’s growing up and will be an adult before you know it.”

  “I’m still the parent here.” The image of his wife’s killer’s tattoo tried to intrude into his mind and shove him back into the past. He shook it away and said, “Mom, I have to know you support me 100 percent with Maddie. I can’t worry that you’re countermanding what I tell my daughter.”

  She lifted tear-filled eyes to him. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No.”

  “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. It won’t happen again. Promise.”

  He covered the short space between them and hugged her. “We’re family. We stick together no matter what, but I am Maddie’s parent and what I say goes.”

  She kissed his cheek. “When she asked me, all I could think about was when I was her age and trying to fit in with my friends.” She took a step back. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Wyatt bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying, “How long?”

  “I’d better go get ready for my date.”

  “With Jack?”

  “Who else? He’s such a gentleman. I haven’t met a man like him.” While the aroma of coffee infused the air, she sailed out of the kitchen in her usual “on to the next project” manner.

  He poured himself a mug then sat down at the table. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to Maddie yet. His conversation with his mom had zapped some of his patience, and he needed to replenish his store of it before seeing Maddie. Plus, he really didn’t know how successful he was with his mother. She said all the right things, but would she remember them when she needed to?

  He pulled out his cell and called Kate. “The college was a dead end. There wasn’t a student named Liz Taylor enrolled.”

  “So does that mean Emma was lying about that, too?”

  “Maybe. I’m having her give a description of the girl to a sketch artist. If we can’t get the person when Emma calls the number she was given tomorrow, then I’ll show the picture around the college and see if anyone recognizes the girl that recruited Emma. So far what we’ve discovered about Emma supports her story.”

  “How about finding Zarah’s sister? I know we tried for the memorial service but didn’t get anywhere.”

  “We know the family who adopted Zarah’s sister, Amanda, moved years ago to Louisiana. I’ll put some of my resources into that. I’m not sure she can give us anything, but we need to check everything out.” He sipped his coffee, hoping the caffeine gave him a jolt of energy to tackle this next problem.

  “Have you talked with Maddie and your mom yet?”

  “Mom was waiting for me when I walked through the door. We talked. I think she heard what I said. Only time will tell on that one. She’s getting ready for another date with Jack.”

  “If you want to talk afterwards, call. I’m doing some paperwork for Senator Foster.”

  “Bye.” He pictured Kate sitting at her desk, her long hair falling forward as she wrote. Her lips puckered in concentration. Lips he wanted to kiss again.

  He had to put a stop to that thought. He had to keep focused on the issue with Maddie. After finishing off his last swallow of coffee, he rose and made his way to his daughter’s bedroom. He rapped his knuckles against the door.

  When Maddie opened it, she stepped to the side to let him into the room. Her eyes were puffy and red, which should have made him feel better that she was upset about what she’d done. It didn’t. It should never have come to this. How was a parent supposed to stay on top of everything in his child’s life?

  He crossed to the bed and sat while Maddie took the chair at her desk, curling her legs up to her chest and locking her arms around them. Calm and cool. “Why did you do it?”

  She rested her chin on her knees. “I wanted one. It’s my body. I’m the one who has to live with it. Not you. Besides, it wasn’t a permanent one so what harm was done?”

  “You’re saying I should let you do anything you want even if I think you should wait or it’s not good for you?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a tattoo—even a permanent one.”

  “And when you’re eighteen, you can get one if you still want one. But as long as I’m responsible for you and you live here, you have to follow the rules. Even the ones you don’t like.”

  She stood, her arms stiff at her sides. “What’s so wrong with a tattoo? A dolphin is a beautiful animal.”

  “I don’t like tattoos.” The memory nudged its way forward in his mind. No, I’m not going there.

  “That’s all.” She clenched her hands. “Just because you don’t like one, I have to suffer and not have one until I leave home. That’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t always fair.” Was it fair an escaped felon murdered his wife?

  “That doesn’t make what you said right.”

  The arm lifting up and the gun pointing toward Rebecca’s heart filled his vision for a few seconds. All he saw was the dagger tattoo, menacing and evil looking. He closed his eyes.

  “Why do you hate them?”

  The noise of the Magnum .45, his gun, thundered in his mind. The sight of Rebecca crumbling to the floor would stay with him forever.

  “Dad, why?”

  The same rage he’d experienced when the man shot his wife washed through him, leaving him quaking. Calm and cool. He gritted his teeth and realized he’d lost that when he’d walked into the bedroom. He shoved to his feet. “School starts next Wednesday. You’re grounded until it does.”

  “Grounded! For getting a tattoo!”

  He strode toward the hallway but paused at the threshold and said, “No, for disobeying me.”

  He continued his trek down the corridor. The sound of the door slamming behind him reverberated through the air with his daughter’s anger. He should have told her the reason behind his feelings concerning a tattoo. The words had lodged in his throat as though his wife’s murderer had his hands around his neck and was choking the life out of him.

  At the end of the hall, his head swimming with painful images of Rebecca with her murderer, he reached out his hand to steady himself. His gun had killed her. He was the one who had insisted they take a long weekend at the lake. Rebecca had wanted to stay home. He’d needed to get
away, especially after an especially difficult murder case. She was dead because of him.

  The ringing of the doorbell forced him to straighten, to pull himself together. His mother sashayed toward the foyer. The stone lump in his gut grew. He quickly disappeared into the kitchen as his mother, wearing a black cocktail dress and three-inch high heels, greeted Jack.

  Later that night, Kate turned over in her bed and punched her pillow. Sleep evaded her. All that had happened earlier tumbled through her mind, churning her frustration.

  When she’d listened to Amanda—no Emma—talk about

  Zarah, she’d been happy that at least Zarah had been able to go to her sister. That she hadn’t died so alone. Then she’d found out that Emma had been lying.

  Father, why can’t things be simple? Be what they appear to be?

  No answers came to her. And she hadn’t expected any because life wasn’t simple. It was full of complications. She’d learned that repeatedly while trying to get her program going. Thankfully, Charlene Foster had given her hope she could keep Beacon of Hope and possibly even expand it in the future.

  The sound of her doorbell echoed through the apartment. Jerking up in bed, she threw back the covers and stood. She’d put the bell in so she could hear if someone was at her door even in the middle of the night. She’d meant it when she’d told the girls she was there for them 24/7. Sometimes when a new teen began the program, she would test that. She hoped that was all it was tonight. She didn’t need another problem after the past ten days.

  When she opened the door, she found Cynthia standing in the hallway, biting down on her lower lip to the point Kate worried she’d draw blood. Kate took the girl’s hand and tugged her into the apartment. “Come in.”

  Cynthia’s large gaze skimmed down Kate’s length. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. You were asleep.”

  “I may have been in bed, but I wasn’t sleeping. Sit. Tell me what’s going on.” Kate made her way to the couch and patted the seat next to her.

  Cynthia hung back for a long moment, still chewing her lower lip.

  “I was thinking of getting up and doing some reading. When I can’t sleep, I hate just lying there.” She smiled at Cynthia, hoping that would reassure the girl. “Can I get you something to drink? I know it’s probably still ninety degrees outside, but I was thinking about getting a hot cup of chamomile tea. Do you want that?”

  The teen shook her head and plodded to the couch. “I’m scared.” The words slipped out on a whisper, Cynthia’s head down, one hand kneading the lower part of her arm.

  “And you want to cut yourself?”

  She nodded.

  Kate slid her arm around Cynthia. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “But look what happened to Zarah and Rose.”

  “Remember, Zarah chose to leave. Rose, I think left to help a friend and got caught up in something. I won’t stop looking for her until she’s found.” Hopefully not dead. “Both girls were from this area, but you aren’t. You’re from Kansas. That’s a long way off for your pimp to come looking for you. The security is good here, but I’m going to beef it up even more.”

  “How? Isn’t Beacon of Hope in trouble?”

  “Not anymore. I have the money to keep it open, and we’re going to get more starting with our open house.”

  Cynthia lifted her head and stared at Kate. “You’ve got someone to help us?”

  “You bet! Senator Charlene Foster is going to support the program. She’s been working in Austin to strengthen the laws against people who harm children. We couldn’t ask for a better person to help us.”

  “Can I tell the girls? They’ve been worried.”

  “I was going to tomorrow when Senator Foster comes to Beacon of Hope, but go ahead and spread the word. I don’t want you all to worry—or be scared. You’ve got a safe haven.”

  The tense set of the teen’s shoulders relaxed. “I’ve never had that.”

  Emotions clogged Kate’s throat. She swallowed several times before saying, “You do now. For as long as you need it.”

  Cynthia stopped rubbing her hand up and down her lower arm. “You’re really not mad I came so late?”

  “Nope. How are you and Audrey getting along?”

  “Okay. We don’t talk much.”

  “She’s a quiet person.”

  “So am I. Rose always did all the talking.” The mention of her friend’s name brought a frown to Cynthia. “Do you really think you’ll find her?”

  “I’m not giving up. Just like I won’t give up on you.”

  “My parents did.”

  “I’m not them.”

  Cynthia yawned. “I guess I should get to bed.”

  Kate rose. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your room.”

  By the time they reached Cynthia’s room on the second floor, the redness her kneading had produced on her arm had vanished. At her door, the teen gave Kate a small smile that evolved into a yawn.

  “Thanks, Kate.”

  Before Cynthia went inside, Kate said, “Remember, I’m available. Anytime you even think you want to hurt yourself, come see me.”

  As the girl disappeared into her room, Kate prayed the teen would come see her before hurting herself.

  Kate positioned herself at the classroom door as Charlene and her husband talked with Harriet, then moved around speaking to different girls independently working on their level in English with the teacher’s assistance when needed. From the interested expression on the senator’s face, Kate inhaled a relieved breath. This initial visit had gone well. Charlene and Kenneth had enjoyed eating lunch with the girls and answering questions from them. In turn, she, and even her husband, had asked them some. Most of the girls shared how they had ended up as prostitutes and what they felt now that they weren’t. Jana and another remained stony quiet.

  Charlene thanked the class and Harriet, then threaded her way through the maze of tables and chairs to Kate, while Kenneth remained talking with the teacher. “I hate to leave. This has been so enlightening. I’d like to volunteer when my schedule permits.”

  “We’d love to have you.”

  “Kenneth thought he would stay a little longer, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  “I need to grab my purse and get moving before I miss my afternoon meeting.” Charlene started down the corridor toward Kate’s office.

  The older woman entered first and came to a halt a few feet inside. Kate peered around Charlene to find her mother sitting at the round table, glaring at her benefactor.

  “So the rumors are true. You are funding Beacon of Hope.” Kate’s mother rose as though she had not a care in the world, but the tightening about her mouth and the hardness in her eyes belied that impression.

  “Yes. It’s a worthy cause—one I believe in. I’m not fair-weathered like some I know.” Charlene marched to the couch and picked up her purse, then moved back to the door, turning her back on Laura Winslow and facing Kate. “You’ll receive the first check next week. I’ll encourage my friends to attend your open house. This is something they should get behind.”

  “Thank you for seeing that. I feel the same way.”

  When the sound of the senator’s footsteps faded down the hallway, Kate closed the door and turned toward her mother. “Why are you here?” The calmness in her voice conflicted with the tension mounting inside her.

  “I needed to hear from you that you went behind my back and solicited funding from someone you know I don’t like or get along with.”

  How could you? was left unsaid but definitely implied. “Mother, you left me no choice. You won’t support the program, and I won’t give up on it. Weren’t you the one who taught me if I started something I needed to finish it? Well, I’m doing just that.”

  “To spite me.” Her mother clutched the leather straps of her purse, her chin tilted up.

  “No, to help these children who most people have ignored, or worse, exploited.”

  Not one hair ou
t of place, her makeup perfectly done, her mother strode toward her. “You’ve made your choice about who is more important to you. Good-bye, Katherine.”

  The finality in her voice froze Kate. She shuddered and watched her mother head toward the foyer, her shoulders thrust back, her head held high. Tears smarted in Kate’s eyes, quickly blurring her vision. She shifted away and closed her office door. She didn’t want any of her students to see her falling apart.

  But the last sentence her mother had uttered made it clear she wouldn’t welcome Kate at the house. Or in her life. Hurt swamped her. The constriction in her heart sent waves of pain outward.

  Somehow, she found her way to her desk and collapsed in the chair. Fighting the tears, she scrubbed away what few had slipped down her cheeks. “I’m not going to let you get to me. Dad will make you change your mind.” Her father might not like the idea of Beacon of Hope, but he would never cut her off because of it.

  Scooting her chair up to her desk, she switched on the computer to work on sending out invitations to the media for the open house. As she composed the press release, the phone rang. “Hello,” she said, noting the call was from Wyatt. A smile chased away her earlier gloom. She cradled the receiver against her ear and lounged back in her chair. “Any news?”

  “No, but we’re leaving to stake out the café where Emma is meeting her contact, this Liz Taylor or whatever her name is. Maybe I’ll have something later.”

  “Great. I hope so.”

  “How did the meeting go with Charlene Foster?”

  “Good until my mother showed up. I’m surprised you didn’t see the fireworks go off where you are.”

  “Nah. It’s still daylight. You need to have those kinds of confrontations at night,” he said with a chuckle. “Seriously, are you okay?”

  “Other than my mother washed her hands of me, yes, I’m fine. Call me and let me know what happens with Emma.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I pick you up and you come to the ranch? I can tell you all about the stakeout.”

  “You can do that over the phone. What’s the real reason you want me to come to the ranch?”