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But Hallie remained impassive as she opened the door and slid out. Alex placed his hand on her shoulder as they walked toward the diner’s entrance just as two teenage boys came out, laughing and shoving each other. Alex’s heart raced as he took in the boys’ baggy clothes, earrings and tattoos. He readied himself for the slightest sign of a threat.
One of the boys bumped into him and turned to flash, not a gun, but a smile. “Excuse me.” Then they were gone, and Alex let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
Sweat beaded his upper lip and his pulse pounded at his temples. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. But they were already here, inside the restaurant. His hand still on Hallie’s shoulder, Alex made his way toward an empty booth. About to sit, he noticed Hallie staring at something. No, not something…someone. He followed her gaze to a corner table where three women sat—one of them in a wheelchair—and his breath hitched as he stared into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes set in a face that could’ve easily graced the cover of any fashion magazine.
Young, probably barely in her twenties, her hair fell, thick and dark, just past her shoulders. He caught her scowling at him and quickly averted his eyes. But not Hallie. She was still flat-out staring at the woman.
Alex started to reprimand her, but then how could he scold his daughter for doing something he’d been equally guilty of? Embarrassed, he leaned to whisper in Hallie’s ear.
“It’s not polite to stare.” He slid into the booth.
She glanced at him, and for a moment he was afraid she’d retreat even deeper into her shell. The one she wore like a wary turtle, protecting itself from danger. “She looks like Caitlin Kramer,” Hallie said, sitting opposite him. “You know…Colorado’s Olympic hopeful.”
Alex stared at his little girl. This was the longest string of words she’d uttered in a long time. Thanking God and the hoards of horse magazines he’d subscribed to for her—even if she hadn’t read them lately—Alex smiled. “Does she?”
Hallie nodded. Then she slumped back against the seat as the waitress came to bring them ice water and menus. But she kept her eyes on the woman in the corner.
Alex stole another glance toward the table. The young dark-haired woman didn’t seem to be hungry, picking at her lunch. The other two looked so much like her, he guessed they must be relatives. Perhaps her older sister and her mother. Or an aunt?
“Hallie, don’t stare,” Alex quietly repeated, as much to reprimand himself as anything else.
“It is Caitlin Kramer. What happened to her?”
Keeping his voice low, Alex pretended grave interest in his water glass. “Let’s don’t speculate,” he said. “It’s rude, and besides, that’s probably not her, honey.” He vaguely remembered Hallie rambling on and on about a grand prix jumping horse and the woman who rode him. But he also recalled she’d been enthralled with the professional barrel racers she read about in her horse magazines, and the high-dollar horses they rode. For months all Hallie had talked about was getting a horse and competing at the Denver National Western Stock Show. Not a practical wish when they lived in the city.
But he planned to give his daughter everything she wanted now that they lived in Deer Creek. If he could have a wish of his own granted, he’d ask for only one thing. To turn the clock back four months and get Hallie out of town before she’d witnessed the drive-by shooting that had taken her cousin Melissa’s young life.
The waitress brought their orders, and Alex poured ketchup onto his plate, then dunked a fry in it. Hallie continued to steal glances at the nearby table.
“Maybe you ought to go over there and ask her if she’s Caitlin Kramer,” Alex said. But even as the suggestion left his lips, he knew it wasn’t a good idea. The woman in the wheelchair seemed uncomfortable in her surroundings…any fool could see that.
“Nah.” Hallie wrinkled her nose and turned her full attention to her meal, munching fries, wolfing down her huge cheeseburger.
Where did she put it all?
“You want to hit a movie after this? I saw a theatre in town.”
She shook her head.
Alex’s meal turned sour in his stomach. Hallie was all he had. His wife had walked out on them for another man when his daughter was only three. He’d been the only constant in her life since Julie left. He hated that his little girl’s innocence had been tainted by a senseless act of violence. Hated even more that he’d once designed video games that portrayed similar acts. Shoot-’em-up blood and gore. Kill more bad guys, make more points. The more realistic the graphics, the more his games were in demand, which allowed him to provide well for Hallie.
But one bullet had changed his outlook on the business.
He finished his lunch and placed his crumpled napkin on his plate. “Ready to go, Hal?”
“Gotta pee.” She headed for the bathroom.
Alex took out his wallet and laid a five-dollar tip near his plate, then tucked a twenty into his hand along with their order ticket. He stood and slipped the wallet back into his jeans, using the opportunity to glance at the corner table. The woman in the wheelchair didn’t look at him, but the other two did.
“Ladies.” He flashed them a smile and tipped his hat, enjoying his new cowboy gear and the Western tradition it stood for. He’d wanted to fit in with the farmers and ranchers of Deer Creek by dressing the way he had when he was a boy growing up in the mountains.
The silver-haired woman gave him a polite nod, and the other dark-haired lady briefly returned his smile. Confound it. He wanted the young woman to look at him again. Wanted to see those gorgeous sapphire-blue eyes up close.
But she only toyed with the straw in her cup, looking down. Ignoring him.
With a sigh, Alex made his way toward the register near the restrooms to pay for lunch and wait for Hallie.
IN THE LADIES’ ROOM, Hallie closed herself into one of two stalls. She waited impatiently for the woman in the next one to hurry up and flush. A few moments later, the sound of water running in the sink reached her ears as the lady washed her hands for what seemed an eternity.
Come on, come on! Hallie stood quietly in the bathroom stall. Listening for the sound of the door. At last the dryer shut off, the door snicked open, then shut with a soft click.
Hallie closed her eyes and focused. She could do this. It was easy, once you learned how. Her friends in Aurora had shown her the way.
She raised her fingers to her mouth and felt her stomach begin to heave in a familiar wave of motion. Then she leaned over the toilet, purging herself of everything she’d just eaten.
But not just the food.
Of everything bad that lay like a thick, black poison inside of her.
CHAPTER TWO
“I DON’T THINK you’re ready for this, Caitlin.” Evelyn sounded worried, reluctant to let her go. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
Caitlin returned her mother’s firm stare. “I’m walking on my own now.” Pretty well. “I’m sick of being smothered. I need my space.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being alone. What if you fall?”
“I’ll get back up.” Caitlin folded her arms. “Mom, I’m twenty-three years old. When are you going to stop treating me like a child?” Until the accident, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d leaned on her parents, her grandmother and brother. A close family, albeit a rather nontraditional one, they’d never lived far from one another, and Caitlin had spent her entire life at the family’s horse ranch—Foxwood Farms.
“You’re the one who’s acting like a child,” Evelyn said, hands on her slender hips.
“Now, girls, let’s not argue.” Benton Kramer placed his hands gently on his daughter’s shoulders. “Honey, your mother is simply worried about you, and so am I.” Six foot two with a sturdy build and silver-streaked black hair, he had the same blue eyes as she did; the same blue eyes as Gran. The laugh lines around them that Caitlin loved so much now crinkled with concern. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, peach?”
“Yes, Dad, I’m sure.” Caitlin ran her hands up and down his arms affectionately, sickeningly aware of the fact that it took a conscious effort to move her left one. “It’s been almost seven months since the accident. And it’s not like I’ll be far away.” The small farmhouse she’d rented was three miles from the Kramers’ five-hundred-and-fifty acres. And the house on the neighboring property, which belonged to the Bagley family—longtime residents of Deer Creek—had sat empty, for sale for some time now, so Caitlin would have plenty of peace and quiet. Plenty of seclusion. Exactly what she wanted.
“Okay, then.” Benton lifted his hands in surrender. “Dillon and I will move your stuff in this weekend.” He ignored Evelyn’s continued protests.
Caitlin turned her back on her mother and, with the aid of her cane, headed slowly toward the sweeping staircase and her room.
By Friday afternoon, her things were gathered and she was ready to go.
“Is this it, Cate?” Dillon hefted a box of kitchen goods into his arms. At twenty-six, with coal-black hair and the Kramer blue eyes, he attracted his share of women out on the show circuit. He kept extremely busy, riding, training, showing—their father’s right hand in the running of Foxwood Farms. But he’d always made plenty of time for his little sister.
“That should do it.” Caitlin felt an exuberance she hadn’t known lately as they headed outside. The mid-September heat engulfed her as she headed for her new pickup truck. New to her, anyway.
Her father had offered to buy her a fully loaded, top-of-the-line, dually pickup straight off the showroom floor, but spending that much money on a pickup was foolish. She’d seen the candy-apple-red, ’79 Chevy parked at the local lot, owned by a reputable dealer. Something about the way the truck had obviously been lovingly cared for appealed to her.
Caitlin tossed her purse into the passenger seat. She couldn’t drive yet. Her ability to perceive distances correctly had been compromised by her head injury. As had her ability to judge the weight of an object. Her brain was left with no way to know how hard to flex her muscles. Without proper balance coordination, her brain initially couldn’t even communicate the simple act of moving a finger, and it had taken intense concentration and physical therapy to begin to overcome these obstacles.
The Chevy had an automatic transmission. No clutch for her weakened left side. She hoped to be driving within the next month, at least around the ranch.
“You be careful,” Evelyn said, giving her daughter a warm peck on the cheek.
Gran hovered over her, fussing with Caitlin’s hair, touching her as though she might crumble into dust and blow away on the wind. “Keep that cell phone clipped to your belt, you hear?” She pointed a stern finger. “I know how you’re always misplacing it.”
“I hear you, Gran.” Caitlin smiled and shook her head. “I’ll be fine, really. Shauna will be checking in on me, too.” Her best friend since fifth grade, Shauna had stuck faithfully by her side ever since the accident, even when she’d tried to push her away. Caitlin kissed her mother and grandmother on the cheek. “I love you both, even if you are a couple of worrywarts.”
Evelyn graced her with a good-natured frown. “That’s fine. You go on and think that way. We’ll see how you feel when you’re a mother one day.”
But she didn’t plan…never had planned…on being a mother. Caitlin herself had been raised by a series of nannies. Evelyn had never been the sort of nurturing mom she now suddenly wanted to be in lieu of Caitlin’s accident. Except on the horse show circuit.
Caitlin slid into the pickup, settling her cane against the floorboard. No. She’d never be a mother. She couldn’t really relate to Evelyn on a maternal level, and couldn’t transfer the concept to herself. Besides, she’d always looked forward to a career as an equestrian with a future in the field of animal science.
What she hadn’t planned on was the crash.
Facing forward in the seat, Caitlin looked at the windshield as Dillon drove through the gate and onto the county road. From there, they took a narrow dirt road to her new home. Caitlin noticed that the house on the old Bagley property across the road—a modest, two-story, pale yellow frame—no longer looked deserted…the For Sale sign gone. Curtains hung at the windows, chairs sat on the porch, and a blue Ford Ranger was parked out front.
Huh. She hadn’t counted on neighbors, but it shouldn’t be a problem. In addition to the narrow road, enough space divided their yard from hers to give her plenty of privacy. Plus, a small area of her backyard was fenced off.
“Here we are,” Dillon announced unnecessarily. He shot her the grin that made women swoon. “For what it’s worth, Cate, I think you’re doing the right thing.”
“Thanks.” His support didn’t take her by surprise, since he’d always been there for her, yet still, it choked her up.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping a close eye on you,” he added. Dillon lived on his own horse ranch a few miles from Foxwood Farms, dividing his time between both places.
“Yeah, yeah.” Caitlin grinned back at him as he turned off the ignition. But her grin turned to a frown as she opened the truck door and heard a familiar sound. A whinny, and not just any horse. Caitlin froze in her seat, staring at the four-stall barn and adjoining paddock behind the house. Silver Fox trotted back and forth along the fence, then stopped and hung his dapple-gray head over the rail. Ears perked, he stared at her with soft brown eyes, as though asking why he’d been moved from his familiar surroundings with the other horses. “What is Silver Fox doing here?”
Dillon’s smile slipped. “What, you’re not happy to see him? I thought he might cheer you up.”
Caitlin set her jaw. “Take him back to the stables.”
“Caitlin…”
“I mean it, Dillon.” She got out of the truck and slammed the door, stumbling as she fumbled with her cane. “Dad’s going to bring Spike over later once I’m settled in. He’s all the company I’ll need.” The two-year-old Jack Russell terrier had been hers since he was a pup, and his vigorous devotion and enthusiasm helped raise Caitlin’s spirits.
“Come on, don’t be that way.”
“What way?” She whirled to face her brother, the motion making her dizzy. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry. “How could you do this to me?”
Dillon’s mouth gaped. “Do what? I was only trying to make you feel at home by bringing your horse over.”
“Well, I don’t want him here.” She clumped up the walkway, tripping on an exposed rock.
Instantly, Dillon was at her side, catching her by the elbow. “Careful.” He glowered at her. “Maybe you’re not ready for this after all.”
“Would you stop treating me like an invalid!” Caitlin jerked out of his grasp. “I don’t need everyone hovering over me, I don’t need your help walking up to the damned door and I sure as hell don’t need Silver Fox reminding me of everything I’ll never have again!”
“Caitlin, wait.”
But she ignored him, moving toward the house with determination.
THE SOUND of raised voices floated to Alex on the clear mountain air as he stepped outside. He paused in the middle of lifting another sack of groceries out of the truck to listen. Odd. He’d been under the impression no one lived in the white-frame farmhouse. It was why he’d purchased the property across from it. Privacy for him and Hallie. He frowned at the sight of a tall man arguing with a woman who had her back to Alex. She walked with a cane and, as he watched, stumbled and nearly fell. The man took hold of her arm, and the two continued to argue heatedly before she turned and walked away.
Alex hesitated. It wasn’t any of his business. But even though he’d moved Hallie away from Aurora knowing the crime rate in Deer Creek would likely be low, he wasn’t naive enough to believe that domestic violence didn’t happen everywhere. Setting the bag of groceries back in the truck, he crossed the dirt road dividing the properties.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked gruffly as he drew close to the couple.
When the woman stopped and faced him, recognition hit him hard. It was her, the dark-haired, sapphire-eyed beauty he’d seen at Pearl’s Diner a few weeks ago. The woman Hallie had insisted was Caitlin Kramer. She was no longer in a wheelchair. He would’ve smiled if the situation at hand hadn’t been so serious.
“No, there’s no problem.” The man frowned at him. His jet-black hair and row of even teeth said pretty boy. His khaki slacks and polo shirt screamed money, as did his haughty attitude. “Who are you?”
“Alex Hunter.” He nodded in the direction of his own house. “I just bought the place across the road.”
The young woman raised one eyebrow in a way that sent his libido racing. “I didn’t realize I had a new neighbor. The Realtor’s sign was still up the last time I was out here.”
“I thought your house was empty, too,” Alex returned. “We just moved in a couple of weeks ago.”
“I’m Dillon Kramer.” Pretty Boy held out his hand, and Alex shook it, surprised to find it work-roughened, the man’s grip strong and sure. “This is my sister, Caitlin.”
So it was her. “I’ve heard of you.” Alex nodded and took Caitlin’s hand, relieved she was okay.
Her face flushed and her eyes darkened. “I hope you’ll excuse me, Mr. Hunter, but I’ve got things to do.”
“Sure. Sorry for the intrusion.” He gestured toward his place. “I’ve got groceries to put away myself.” He looked at Dillon. “Nice meeting you. You, too, Ms. Kramer.”
“Likewise,” Dillon said.
But Caitlin didn’t answer. She merely nodded politely, then turned her back on the two men and walked away.
To Alex’s surprise, Dillon addressed him softly. “Please excuse my sister’s rude behavior. She’s not normally like that.”
Alex shrugged. “I didn’t really think she was rude. I’m the one who barged over here uninvited.”
Dillon gave him a crooked grin. “You know, I’m actually glad you did. It’ll give me some comfort, knowing someone’s nearby to watch out for my sister.” He shook his head. “She’s very stubborn.”
A million questions hammered Alex as he stared at the closed door of Caitlin’s house. He knew enough from his daughter’s magazines to realize that equestrians of Caitlin Kramer’s caliber didn’t normally live in a modest old farmhouse. His eyes fell on the tall gray horse that moved restlessly in the nearby paddock. Was it the same animal Hallie had been in such awe of?
“Nice-looking horse,” he said. “My daughter’s been bugging me for one for some time now.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“Twelve.”
“Ah.” Dillon nodded. “Another young girl bitten by the horse-lover bug.”
Alex laughed, warming to the other man in spite of his initial reservations. “A common virus, I hear.”
“Oh, yeah. Caitlin was riding before she could walk. Of course, I was, too, so I guess it attacks us guys, as well.”
