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They were gone.
She pivoted unsteadily and propelled herself in the direction of the kitchen. She had to call the police now.
And Don. She should call Don, too.
Lauren banged her hip against the dining table as she passed, a chair clattered to the floor behind her. She knew she would have a huge bruise by morning, but at the moment she didn’t feel the discomfort. She clenched her teeth and refused to give in to the storm steadily building inside her head.
Lauren snatched the phone from its cradle and sagged against the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut at the fierce stab of pain that knifed through the right side of her skull.
The light…the overhead light was so bright. Had she turned it on? She didn’t remember.
Unable to stand any longer, Lauren slid down the wall to the floor. A sob tore past her lips at the next rush of pain and she clenched her teeth to prevent the scream that wanted to follow. Biological parents stole their children back from adoptive parents all the time. Ultimately the law was on the side of the matching DNA. Getting Sarah back would be next to impossible.
Lauren had to make that call—now—before she lost herself to the pain. She clutched the receiver and forced her eyes open. The numbers on the keypad blurred. She blinked and tried again to focus. The overhead fluorescent light sent black spots floating before her bleary vision. She couldn’t do it.
Another sob escaped her as she momentarily yielded to the anguish. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. Lauren sucked in a ragged breath and peered at the numbers through the haze of pain. She had to do it. She had to call.
Seemingly out of nowhere, strong fingers grasped her arm. Lauren screamed and tried to jerk free of the powerful hand holding her so firmly. Her heart thundered in her chest. The beast inside her skull roared, breaking the fragile barrier between her and the pain.
“What are you doing?” a deep, raspy voice demanded.
Ignoring the torturous light, Lauren looked up.
Him. It was him. Gray Longwalker was still here.
“Where’s Sarah?” she choked out, her throat almost closed with fear and anguish.
If he was here, then…Sarah must still be here, too. Lauren clutched the cordless receiver and struggled to get to her feet. Her stomach churned violently, followed so closely by a stab of agony that she almost blacked out. She moaned despite her best efforts not to.
She sank back to the floor and squeezed her eyes shut. God, it hurt so badly she could hardly draw in a breath. “Sarah,” she murmured.
“Sarah is asleep in her room,” Longwalker said quietly, as if he knew not to speak too loudly.
But how could he know?
Lauren forced her eyes open to see his face, and immediately regretted doing so. The light inflicted more of its pain. Could he be telling her the truth? She had to be certain. She had to see Sarah with her own eyes. She commanded her body to move…but nothing happened.
“What can I do to help?” He knelt beside her now. The slightest hint of concern in his voice.
“The light,” Lauren whispered. “Please turn off the light.”
The light was out before she realized he had even moved.
“Do you need the medicine on the counter? Your doctor asked if you’d taken it.”
His words registered in her brain, but didn’t quite make sense. Had he called her doctor? Why would he do that for her? Why hadn’t he taken Sarah and gotten as far away as he could before Lauren regained consciousness? Maybe he still intended to do just that.
“Sarah…I have to go to her,” Lauren whispered as she waged a war with her unwilling body to stand. She opened her eyes, immensely thankful for the answering darkness.
“Let me help you.” His strong arm slid around her waist, and he lifted Lauren to her feet with ease.
Why would he help her? Suspicious, Lauren jerked free of his grasp, almost falling as another wave of pain slashed through her. The silent figure towering over her steadied her with sure hands.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned and backed away, the wall stopped her.
“It’s okay, I won’t touch you.”
Lauren couldn’t see his eyes in the dark room. It was impossible to guess what he might be thinking. She didn’t care. She only knew that she had to get to Sarah.
She drew in a deep breath and focused on blocking out the pain. She got a slight measure of temporary relief.
Still holding the phone, Lauren groped her way along the wall for balance as she moved down the dark hall toward Sarah’s room. Uninvited, Gray followed.
When Lauren finally reached Sarah’s door and opened it, the dim night-light gave off enough illumination for her to see that her child was, as he had said, tucked safely into bed. Sarah slept soundly, totally unaware of the threat that lurked just outside her room.
And what had he told Sarah while Lauren had lain unconscious?
She backed out of Sarah’s room and quietly closed the door. Lauren turned to the man waiting in the darkness behind her, his silent presence more unnerving than the pain radiating beneath her scalp.
“If you said anything to upset her—”
“I told her I was a friend, nothing more,” he said, his voice cautious, unreadable. “You should take more of your medication and lie back down. I’ll help you. Dr. Prescott said—”
“I want you to leave, now,” Lauren said with as much bravado as she could muster. How dare he speak with her personal physician. Had he asked questions about her? If he had, surely Bill hadn’t answered. Longwalker already knew more about her than she wanted him to know—she wasn’t about to tell him anything else. He would no doubt look for anything to use against her in the custody battle.
“I’m not leaving,” he stated flatly. “You’re in no condition to be left alone with a child to care for.”
The sudden blast of outrage Lauren felt almost cloaked the fierce pain. “I appreciate that you stayed,” she said, her voice strained, “but I have real friends I can call for help, Mr. Longwalker.”
“You’d better call someone, then, because I’m not leaving until you do.”
Lauren held her anger in check, knowing the emotion would ultimately only add to her misery. Somehow she had to stay in control until she could get this man out of her house. There was no way of knowing why he had decided to be nice to her. Or why he hadn’t taken Sarah and gotten as far away as possible. But she wasn’t about to risk a sudden change of heart. Lauren concentrated on the task of locating the correct numbers without the aid of sight. Much calmer than before, she was able to visualize mentally their location and punch the necessary numbers without much trouble.
Rosemary, Lauren’s friend and assistant, answered after the second ring. “It’s Lauren,” she said without preamble. “I need you to come over and—” she glanced up at the brooding figure next to her “—stay with me tonight.” Rosemary agreed without hesitation, Lauren thanked her and disconnected.
“Satisfied?” Her breathing had become shallow with the increasing difficulty of keeping the mounting pain at bay.
“All right,” he said roughly and turned away.
Relieved, Lauren followed him toward the front of the house. Gray snatched his hat off the hall table, opened the door and turned back to face her. A golden glow pooled around him from the porch light. Lauren could see the rigid set of his shoulders, the grim line of his mouth. Her heart thudded in response, sending a quickening of panic through her weary body, which only served to add to her suffering.
“I will be back,” he warned.
“You know what my attorney said,” she argued, “you have to wait for the test results.”
His taunting smile was slow, bitter, involving only one corner of his mouth. “I don’t need a test and you know it. Sarah is my child and I will be back.”
Lauren braced herself against the wall for support. She was close to losing control again. “Why don’t you go back to wherever you came from and leave us alone?” She hated the desperate sound in her voice, hated her weakness in front of this man.
“Get used to it, Ms. Whitmore. I’m not going anywhere.” He turned and disappeared into the dark night without a backward glance.
Lauren closed and locked the door behind him. Rosemary had a key. She could let herself in when she arrived. Lauren pressed her forehead against the hard surface of the door and slowly yielded to the agony that would be postponed no longer.
The threat of Gray Longwalker would have to be shoved to the back burner until tomorrow or maybe even the day after. Right now Lauren had to deal with the pain. She sank to the floor and curled into a ball, surrendering to the pain and the blackness that would soon follow.
Gray Longwalker would just have to wait his turn to make her life unbearable.
SHE WAS DOING the right thing, Lauren told herself two days later when she took Sarah to the lab appointment Don had scheduled. It was a necessary evil that should have been done yesterday, but the bout of headaches had kept Lauren in bed for nearly forty-eight hours. This morning was the first time she had been out of the house since the episode with Longwalker. She forced the memory away. She didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted this business over.
Sarah held Lauren’s hand as they followed the lab technician down the long, white corridor. Lauren could almost hear the pounding of her own heart; the sound seemed to echo in the stifling silence around them. The steady tap of her low-heeled pumps countered the squeak of the lab tech’s rubber-soled shoes against the polished tile floor. Both kept time with the pounding in her chest. I’m doing the right thing, Lauren told herself once more.
She glanced down at her daughter, who was busy taking in everything she saw. Sarah hugged Leah close to her side. Lauren had dressed Sarah in her favorite pink overalls. Her long black braid hung down her back with a pink satin ribbon tied at the end. The plain white blouse looked stark against her dark skin.
Lauren shivered when Gray came immediately to mind, despite her best intentions not to think about him. This was all his fault. If Gray Longwalker had stayed away, she and Sarah wouldn’t be here right now. Lauren moistened her dry lips and swallowed hard. But he has rights, she reminded herself. She just prayed those rights didn’t allow him to take Sarah away and prevent Lauren from seeing the child again.
Frank, her boss, was nearing a cardiac episode with her work delays. An architect at the growing Dallas firm, Lauren was very lucky that Frank allowed her to work from home. He was very sympathetic to her needs. But this thing with Longwalker only made matters worse. Though he understood, Lauren knew the last few days had put him seriously behind. The rest of the world didn’t stop just because hers was crashing down around her. Contractors needed their new specs for design changes, clients wanted their architectural drawings now. No one wanted to wait. Except Lauren. She wanted time to stop right now, before fate tore her heart out yet again.
The lab tech she and Sarah followed down the endless corridor would take the necessary blood and saliva samples for the DNA test.
Lauren shuddered inwardly but smiled down at Sarah’s upturned face. She had to be strong. She had to. “It’ll be okay, sweetie,” she assured her quietly. Sarah blinked and managed a hesitant smile.
“Right in here, Ms. Whitmore,” the lab tech announced and gestured toward an open door.
“Thank you,” Lauren said automatically, though she felt far from thankful. Every instinct told her to grab Sarah and run. Her stomach twisted itself into a thousand knots as she led her innocent, unsuspecting child into the small room. Sarah had no way of knowing that what was about to happen would forever change her life.
Lauren had struggled with the decision the entire journey to Dallas. If she opted not to submit Sarah to the test, Gray would no doubt make a legal move. By taking the test, Lauren had a couple of weeks to figure out some way to fight him. Two weeks, three tops. It was no time at all.
“You may hold Sarah in your lap if you’d like,” the tech suggested, nodding toward the beige molded-plastic chair against the wall.
Numbly, Lauren sat down and pulled Sarah onto her lap. She pressed a kiss to the top of her head and gave her a hug. Her chest ached with the fierce pounding of her heart.
“Mommy, if I’m a good girl, do I get a present?” Sarah looked up at Lauren, her big gray eyes hopeful.
Please let this be the right thing.
“Sure, baby,” Lauren said softly.
“And I want a Little Mermaid Band-Aid,” Sarah piped up.
“I think I can handle that.” The tech smiled.
Lauren fought the burn of tears behind her eyes. Even the medicinal smell of the place made her stomach churn. She had to do this. They needed the time before Gray made a move. But Lauren knew how this test would turn out.
“Now,” the tech began, “this won’t hurt a bit.”
Chapter Four
Time crawled at a snail’s pace for Gray. Three days had passed since he had arrived in town…since he had seen Sarah. He had been in Thatcher only seventy-two hours and it felt like a year.
He hated this god-awful place. Sarah was the only reason he had come back. Yesterday afternoon he had driven to Dallas and parted with the required samples for the DNA test. He supposed that Lauren had taken Sarah, as well. But, of course, he had no way of knowing because no one told him anything.
Gray blew out a disgusted breath as his surroundings came back into focus. He sat alone in the diner. The booth’s red vinyl seats were faded and cracked with age. Nothing had changed about the place. Same scarred counter. Same black-and-white tile floor, coated with years of wax and buffed to a high, slightly yellowed sheen. Booths and tables, some mismatched and all worn from decades of use, filled the surprisingly clean diner.
A waitress placed his breakfast in front of him, freshened his coffee and smiled flirtatiously. Gray nodded, but didn’t return the smile.
He knew what people thought of him in this town. He’d stopped caring long ago. The quick, nervous glances and periodic murmuring told him that, like the diner’s decorating scheme, the people hadn’t changed, either.
Gray stared at the bacon, eggs and toast on his plate with complete disinterest. He really wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t been for days.
Not since he had seen his child…Sarah.
Gray closed his eyes and envisioned the little girl. His heart squeezed in his chest. When he’d first learned of her existence, he had tried to imagine what she looked like but hadn’t been able to put a mental image with his expectations.
Now he knew.
He opened his eyes and surveyed the small crowd in the diner. These people knew Sarah was his daughter, as well—they would have to be blind not to know. Mrs. Jennings had known.
Had anyone in this pathetic excuse for a town ever treated Sarah as they had treated him? Anger rose with such swiftness that he balled his fists.
Gray forced back the anger, shuddering with the effort. He would not allow it to consume him. He picked up his fork and stabbed at the food. His stomach turned. He couldn’t eat. Even the invitation for dinner at the Jennings ranch held no appeal for him. The fork clattered against the heavy white plate, earning Gray another round of suspicious looks and renewed murmuring.
Gray clenched his jaw and met each look with a fierce stare of his own. Let them say something, he mused. His fingers itched for an excuse—any excuse—to pound someone senseless.
He dragged in a long, deep breath and forced his attention to the wall of windows and the street outside. The last thing he needed was a fight. The law in this town would love an excuse to send him packing, or worse.
Gray hadn’t been in a brawl in more than four years. He walked away from conflict now. He had made peace with himself, if no one else. He had chosen his path and never looked back. There hadn’t been any reason to look back, until now.
The idea that his blood ran through that little girl’s veins shifted something—some sort of balance—deep inside him. Gray didn’t quite understand the feeling. He didn’t exactly love Sarah…. How could he? He didn’t even know her. The sensation was something much more primal than love. A sense of responsibility or protectiveness maybe.
Whatever it was, it grew with each breath he took.
When he had tucked Sarah into bed the other night, he had sat on the floor for a long while and watched her sleep. He had never before experienced such a driving desire to possess something. He wanted this child. His child.
Gray pushed his plate away and finished off his coffee. He hadn’t heard anything from Lauren Whitmore’s attorney other than the time and place for the lab appointment. Davis had until five o’clock today to contact Gray, after that his own attorney would start legal proceedings. He would not waste any more time waiting or analyzing Mrs. Jennings’s comment about someone else having an interest in Sarah. No one would keep him from claiming his daughter.
Gray had stayed away from Lauren since the episode on Monday night. He had struggled ever since with guilt he shouldn’t even be feeling. He didn’t know much about headaches, other than he’d had his share, but he had never seen anyone suffer the way Lauren had. But he had to set his sympathy aside. Lauren Whitmore was an obstacle he intended to remove from his path—one way or another.
Gray stood, ignoring the wary looks his every move earned him. He dropped the cash on the table for his meal and headed for the door. He’d had about all the Thatcher social life he could stand for one morning.
A bell jingled as he pushed the door open and stepped outside. Gray closed his eyes and raised his face to the warmth the sun offered against the cool March wind. He drew in a deep breath, settled his hat on his head and wondered how he could occupy himself today. He had visited a few of his old haunts the last couple of nights. What little night life Thatcher had to offer hadn’t changed much since he left, either.
Maybe he would go out to Manning’s ranch and take a look at that stallion the old man was having such a hard time with. He had heard the stories at the tavern last night about the demon horse Manning owned. The animal had injured the half dozen or so men who had tried to work with him already. Gray had a gut feeling that the horse had probably paid dearly for his rebellion, and that bothered him far more than what the men who had tried to break him had suffered.
Gray walked in the direction of the hotel where he had taken a room and left his truck. Thatcher was always quiet at this time of the morning. The kids were in school, and most of the other folks were at work, except those who made a career out of hanging out in Sid’s Diner or Dilbert’s General Store.
The same old storefronts lined the sidewalk, with only a fresh coat of paint here and there to mark any progress. The wind slashed down the straight line called Main Street that cut smack through the middle of the two-horse town.
Gray shook his head in disgust. Thatcher only reminded him of the things he had worked hard to forget. The longer he stayed the harder it became to maintain the discipline he had struggled to achieve.
