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A Place To Call Home
Sharon Sala
All Detective Judd Hanna was looking for was a few days of peace and solitude, away from the dark shadows of big-city crime. But in a little town in the Wyoming high country, he found something more, much more–a woman who made him dream, for the first time in years, of a life filled with love and laughter….But even here, peace was hard to find. For Charlotte "Charlie" Franklin–a strong but gentle woman who was raising an adorable little girl alone–was in mortal danger. And before Judd could hope for a future with her, he had to make sure she lived to see tomorrow…
At that moment, Judd turned, and Charlie found herself caught in his stare. A long, silent moment passed, and all she could think was,
Lord, don’t do this to me again.
Then Judd was laughing between mouthfuls of marshmallows that her daughter was poking into his mouth. Every bite he took, he growled and nipped at her baby fingers, which seemed to the little girl to be the height of hilarity.
When he pulled her toddler out of her car seat and into his arms, Charlie’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel. The image of a big strong man carrying her tiny child was too touching to be ignored. At that moment, she would have liked nothing better than to sit there and cry. But letting go of her emotions was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
God, please take away this feeling, she prayed silently. I don’t want to want that man….
Dear Reader,
I was so pleased to learn that A Place To Call Home was being reissued. The story depicts a life that so many children live these days. When a child is born, and held and loved, a bond is formed that only death can break. When Judd Hanna loses his mother at a young age and is left with a father who wishes Judd had never been born, his life becomes a spiral into fear and abuse. That’s when having one parent can sometimes be worse than having none at all. These kinds of children grow up with a wall between them and the rest of the world. The wall is security against ever loving, or falling in love. It’s their only protection from ever being hurt again.
But when Judd Hanna meets Charlotte Franklin and her adorable little girl, Rachel, his walls come tumbling down.
I hope that when you have finished reading this book you are able to give thanks for having wonderful families of your own. But if you do not, and if your life is somewhat like Judd Hanna’s, don’t give up. There’s always hope that you, too, will find a place you can call home.
A Place to Call Home
Sharon Sala
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SHARON SALA
With fifty-two books in print, award-winning author Sharon Sala, who also writes as Dinah McCall, still has to remind herself from time to time that this isn’t a dream.
She learned to read at the age of four, and has had her nose in a book ever since. Her introduction to romance came at an early age through the stories of Zane Grey, Grace Livingston Hill and Emily Loring.
First published in 1991, she’s now a four-time RITA® Award finalist, winner of the Janet Dailey Award, three-time Career Achievement winner from Romantic Times magazine, four-time winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award and five-time winner of the Colorado Romance Writers’ Award of Excellence, as well as numerous other industry awards.
Her books are regularly on bestseller lists, such as The New York Times, USA TODAY, Publishers Weekly, Waldenbooks mass market and many others.
She claims that, for her, learning to read was a matter of evolution, but learning to write and then being published was a revolution. It changed her life, her world and her fate.
I dedicate this book to all of my readers who have vanquished the monsters that slept under their beds.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u66e6b2f3-568a-5a44-b364-6ac1fb7d176e)
Chapter 2 (#u7ff9d853-8629-565a-80e0-6f1b217513cb)
Chapter 3 (#u1071bbd6-8556-50af-8eba-e75904de18cd)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1
“Goddamn it, Hanna, you aren’t listening to me.”
Detective Judd Hanna of the Tulsa Police Department gave his captain a look that would have quelled a lesser man. Roger Shaw threw up his hands in defeat.
“And don’t give me one of those ‘spare me’ looks, either. This is serious.”
Judd let his gaze shift from his captain’s face to a spot just over his shoulder, and then the window beyond. There was a window washer halfway up the building across the street. Judd wondered absently why a man would choose such a dangerous occupation.
Shaw saw Judd’s focus shift. He turned, following Judd’s gaze, saw the man on the scaffolding across the street, and then strode to the windows and deftly dropped the shades. When he turned, Judd was heading for the door.
“I’m not through with you,” Shaw snapped. “Get back here now, and that’s an order.”
Judd sighed. Short of mutiny, which he was considering, disobeying an out-and-out order was beyond him. He turned, wishing that this feeling of helplessness would just go away. He felt aimless…almost out of control. And of all things, Judd Hanna had to be in control. It was the only way he could function.
“What…sir?”
Shaw took a deep breath and then popped a mint in his mouth to keep from cursing again. He’d lost his temper more in the last ten minutes than he had all month. God only knew what his blood pressure was doing right now. He shuddered and pushed the thought from his mind.
“Look, Hanna. I’m serious. This is Vice. We do things here as a team. You can’t keep playing cowboy every time we go out on a raid. Use your radio. Call for backup. Depend on your partner. That’s why he’s there.”
Judd’s eyes narrowed. “My partner is dead,” he said shortly.
Shaw shoved an angry hand through what was left of his thinning hair. Even though Judd had been assigned a new partner over a month ago, he had yet to acknowledge his presence.
“I know it was rough losing Myers the way we did. We all liked Dan. But life goes on. David Sanger is your partner now, and you will, by God, treat him as such.”
Judd didn’t blink and wouldn’t answer. None of them knew the guilt Judd carried. Three days away from retirement, Dan Myers had taken a bullet meant for Judd. Instead of a retirement party, they’d attended Dan’s funeral. Judd hadn’t slept the night through since.
Shaw glared at the implacable expression on Hanna’s face. Never in his life had he wanted to shake anyone as badly as he did right now. And yet looking at him, Shaw knew that was the last thing a sane man would do. At three inches over six feet, and with an attitude that wouldn’t quit, Judd Hanna was a man you didn’t want to piss off. Shaw sighed, then tried a different approach.
“Hanna, you know as well as I do that the rules are in place for everyone’s safety. Not just yours. I don’t want to attend another funeral, namely yours.”
Judd muttered something that, to Shaw, sounded suspiciously like, who the hell cares.
“That does it!” Shaw snapped. “Turn in your badge and your service revolver. I’m placing you on medical leave until you get your head screwed on straight.”
Finally, Shaw had Judd’s attention. “You can’t!” Judd argued. “We’re too close to finding Dan’s killer.”
Shaw pointed a finger in Judd’s face. “That’s what I mean,” he shouted. “Dan Myers’s case belongs to Homicide. We’re Vice.”
Judd swallowed as panic started to intercede. He couldn’t let go just like that. Why couldn’t Shaw understand?
“Look, Captain, Dan was my partner. He took a bullet meant for—”
Shaw shook his head. “You heard me. As of this minute, you’re on leave…with pay, of course. You will report to Dr. Wilson at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and every morning thereafter until he pronounces you fit for duty again.”
The department shrink? Judd’s nostrils flared.
“Like hell.”
Shaw leaned across his desk, glaring into Hanna’s face.
“Hell it may be,” he snapped. “But you don’t come back until Wilson says it’s okay.”
Judd straightened. Just the notion of letting go of the devils he lived with was impossible to consider. He tossed his shield on the desk, then laid his revolver down beside it. Without saying a word, he headed for the door.
“Hanna—”
He stopped but didn’t turn around, leaving Shaw to say what must be said to the back of his head.
“Nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Judd slammed the door behind him. It was all the comment he was capable of making.
Shaw grabbed the phone and punched in a series of numbers, frowning as he waited for an answer.
“Dr. Wilson…it’s me, Shaw. I’ve just put Judd Hanna on medical leave. He’s due in your office at nine in the morning. Yes, he’s borderline now. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I want it stopped before I lose him, too.”
He hung up, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It hadn’t been easy being tough on Hanna. He liked the man, even admired him. And losing a partner of fifteen years would have been difficult for anyone. At least now things were on the right track.
But for Judd, everything was off balance. For the first time since he took the oath of office, he had nowhere to go but his apartment. He hesitated on the street outside the station house, then headed for the bar down the street. His apartment wasn’t home. It was just where he slept, and it was far too early to go to bed.
The bar was cool and fairly quiet. The afternoon crowd had yet to arrive. Judd slid onto a stool and combed his fingers through his hair in frustration. How in hell had his life gotten so mixed up?
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.
“Bourbon,” Judd muttered.
The bartender slid a bowl of pretzels his way and then went to pour the drink. Judd pushed the bowl aside. He didn’t need to eat. He needed to forget.
“Here you go, buddy,” the bartender said.
Judd grabbed the shot glass and lifted it to his lips, and as he did, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror over the bar. But something happened between recognition and focus. Instead of seeing the man that he was, he saw the boy that he’d been. His belly knotted and his heart suddenly ached as he let himself remember.
The pink slip in Joe Hanna’s back pocket rode his conscience like a hot poker. Overwhelmed at being fired from another dead-end job, he’d spent the last four hours, and what was left of his money, drowning his sorrows at the local bar. The only thing he had left was a constant, burning rage at the disappointments life had dealt him, and the burden of a ten-year old son he had never wanted.
As he started up the walk to his house, it occurred to him that the house was dark. He squinted against the glare of streetlights and cursed. That damned kid. If he wasn’t home from school, he would tan his hide.
It never occurred to Joe that more than seven hours had passed since his son, Judd, would have come home from school, or that he’d come home to a house with no food. Joe felt no guilt for his lack of concern. He kept a roof over their heads, which was more than his daddy had done for him.
He stumbled as he started up the steps, falling forward and then catching himself on his hands and knees just before his face hit the porch. A sharp pain pierced the palm of his right hand. He got up swearing and staggered into the house, turning on the lights, room by room.
“Boy! Where the hell are you?”
No one answered. Joe cursed again as he stumbled to the kitchen sink. He looked down at his hand. It was bleeding. He wiped it on the front of his shirt, then reached for the cabinet. The second shelf down from the top was where he kept his liquor. He needed a drink, but there was nothing there.
He slammed the door shut with a bang. “Goddamn it, Judd Hanna! You answer me, boy! What did you do with my whiskey?”
Again, the rooms echoed from the sound of Joe’s voice. Rage grew. His belly burned and his head was swimming. In a minute, he was going to lie down, but not before he got his hands on that damned kid.
Joe started through the rooms, shouting Judd’s name. Doors slammed. A lamp tumbled to the floor and shattered into pieces, and still no sign of the boy. He was furious. The shame of being fired, coupled with the frustrations of his life in general, had boiled into a rage. He staggered back into the kitchen, swaying where he stood and staring around the house in disbelief.
It took a while for him to realize that the door leading down to the basement was slightly ajar. A cold smile broke the anger on his face. Seconds later, he stood at the landing, shouting Judd’s name into the darkness below.
The basement walls were damp with condensation, the odors a choking blend of dust and mold. Something scurried in the darkness beneath ten-year-old Judd Hanna’s feet and he stifled a gasp. Yet the fear of the unknown was far less sinister to him than the man standing at the landing of the stairs.
“Judd…Judd, boy, I know you’re down there. Answer me, damn it.”
Judd held his breath, afraid to swallow for fear he’d be heard.
When his father started down the steps, every muscle in Judd’s body went tense.
No, no, no…God, don’t let him find me.
“Answer me, you sorry little bastard. I know you’re down there,” Joe growled.
Judd squeezed his eyes shut and shrank a little farther against the wall. If he couldn’t see his father, then his father couldn’t see him. It was a game he’d played in his mind for more years than he cared to count. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
“What did you do with my whiskey, boy? Answer me, you hear? Don’t make me come down there and get you.”
Judd gritted his teeth, struggling against the need to cry. It had been years since he’d given his father the satisfaction of knowing he could be hurt.
Joe cursed beneath his breath and reached for the light switch. But nothing happened. He cursed even louder, unaware that Judd had taken the bulb out in hopes he wouldn’t be found. But to Judd’s dismay, his father started down the steps, fumbling his way through the dark and cursing with every breath.
Judd slid silently to the floor and doubled over on himself, trying to become invisible. His eyes were closed, his breathing almost nonexistent.
