Книга - A Question Of Honor

A Question Of Honor
Mary Anne Wilson


Trusting him is easy. Telling him is impossible.Faith Sizemore needs to disappear. And Wolf Lake, New Mexico, seems as good a place as any. Just to hole up for a few days and rest her road-weary nerves before making her way to Colorado…and then…who knows? Her only destination is away. As far away from Chicago as she can get.But lying low in Wolf Lake is impossible. She’s attracting too much attention. Particularly from Detective Adam Carson, the best-looking son of the town’s most prominent family. The kind of man she could imagine a life with, if hers weren’t such chaos. The kind of man who could turn her in…if she doesn’t get out soon!









Just then Faith knew that a big change in her life had occurred.


The change had occurred specifically when she’d run into Adam her first night in Wolf Lake. And another change was coming tomorrow.

“Everyone I know seems to be going through some sort of upheaval in their lives, some minor, some very major,” he said. She heard him exhale and instead of looking over at him, she turned to the side window and the night outside. “Jack and Mallory have endured huge changes and their lives will never be the same.”

She was uneasy with the conversation. She didn’t want to think about the way lives could be altered forever in a second. She was living through that horror. Her fingers were aching where they clutched her purse, and she forced her hand to relax on the worn leather. “Sometimes we don’t have choices in things like that,” she said softly.

“True, but I wish Jack would talk about what’s happening with him. He’s so closed, and handling it on his own. That’s no good for anyone.”

“It’s how he deals with things,” she said, knowing she had no choices about her actions. She’d had to leave, to keep moving and stay low. She never dreamed she’d end up in a truck in a small town with a cop and not be under arrest. That last thought made her want to either laugh or scream. She wasn’t sure which one was the right reaction. So instead, she said, “Everyone has to do what they have to do.”


Dear Reader,

A very dear friend of mine said something many years ago that I didn’t quite understand until I started to write and deal with characters on a personal level. “Adam and Eve had different kids.” I thought it was a flip way of saying everyone is as different as everyone else, which is probably true. But I didn’t fully appreciate the basic truth of that statement until I started writing about the Carsons of Wolf Lake.

Three brothers, Jackson, Gage and Adam, are heading in three different directions, all attached to their heritage, but each with his own unique needs and dreams for his future. Brothers who were raised by the same parents in the same place, Wolf Lake, yet brothers who embraced particular visions of what constituted “perfect.”

That is until they met the women who would change their lives for the better. It turns out the differences in each brother proves to be the foundation for a relationship that will survive just about anything. A happily-ever-after might be everyone’s goal from childhood, but the journey is what makes a person and shows him or her what this life is all about, including a love that lasts forever.

I hope you enjoy the Carson family’s journey.

Mary Anne Wilson


A Question of Honor

Mary Anne Wilson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




MARY ANNE WILSON


is a Canadian transplanted to Southern California, where she lives with her husband, three children and an assortment of animals. She knew she wanted to write romances when she found herself rewriting the great stories in literature, such as A Tale of Two Cities, to give them happy endings. Over her long career she’s published more than thirty romances, had her books on bestseller lists, been nominated for Reviewer’s Choice Awards and received a career nomination in romantic suspense.


For Kaetlyn, who shows me constantly that life is worth whatever it takes to make it work.

I love you more than you can ever say you love me!


Contents

CHAPTER ONE (#u3f3c6ef3-fc42-5877-acc6-2a75ddc6ccdb)

CHAPTER TWO (#ua0f7689d-e3a7-50b6-a719-b8a818e01d9f)

CHAPTER THREE (#ub592a0de-3b36-5e4e-95b6-7c9b18a6a169)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u937f39f8-1450-55bb-8ab1-a155aae3923b)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

Chicago, Illinois

FAITH SIZEMORE STRODE quickly along the upscale residential street located a block from Lake Michigan. A light snow had just begun to fall. As she headed for the only home she’d ever known, she carried the knowledge that she was about to make a decision that would affect the rest of her life.

She moved unnoticed along the snowy sidewalk. She’d deliberately changed her appearance and was relieved that it seemed to have worked. Gone were the sleek designer clothes, her usual calf-high leather boots and the expensive shoulder bags she habitually carried.

She’d never been fond of her diminutive size—five feet two inches and barely one hundred pounds—but now she thought it might work in her favor and that it gave new meaning to the expression “staying under the radar.”

Gone were the makeup, the leather gloves and diamond studs she always wore, a gift from her father when she graduated from college. Plain and simple had been her goal. She was plain and simple right then as she neared the front of her family’s historic town house. The reporters that had dogged her every step for the past four months were clustered outside the high wrought-iron gates, and she knew this would be the real test

The “new” Faith was hunched into the wind, her chin tucked into the fleece collar of her definitely unstylish wool parka. Slim jeans were little protection against the biting cold and wind-driven snow, but her chunky boots took the slippery street with ease. A dark watch cap was pulled low on her head, almost covering her ebony hair, transformed from long, sleek locks to a cap of crazy curls that didn’t even touch the collar of her jacket.

She didn’t slow as she got to the group of reporters and the nearby protesters. She didn’t look at the house or the six-foot tall gates. Instead, she kept going, muttering, “Excuse me,” over and over again as she made her way through the crowd.

Suddenly, she felt something hit her shoulder and she turned, coming face-to-face with one of the protesters, a woman who held a sign that read Greed Is a Four-Letter Word. Faith thought it best not to say anything and picked up her pace. She was almost at the corner. Behind her the woman screamed, “Death to corporate greed!”

The security guard hired by her father was keeping an eye on the crowd. He spotted her but gave no indication that he recognized her, yet he’d seen her every day for the past month. She let out a long sigh.

She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been about doing this until that moment, and now, surprisingly, she felt vaguely faint. The feeling fled when she turned the corner onto the side street that ran along the extensive property where the hundred-year-old house stood.

She walked purposefully, nearing a narrow gate that fit snugly into the fence and led to an arch cut in the brick wall of the garage, a converted carriage house. She kept going but chanced a look back, noticing her boot impressions in the snow. No one was there. In one fluid motion, she reversed directions and retraced her steps to the gate. She quickly put in a security code on a pad, and the gate clicked, then slowly swung open.

She went through and carefully closed the gate so that it wouldn’t make any noise. She heard the lock reset with a soft humming sound, and then she turned to hurry across the snow-shrouded terrace. Ignoring a set of French doors that led to the formal dining room, she approached a single oak door almost out of sight at the top of two cement steps.

Another keypad surrendered to her code, and she stepped inside, into the almost total darkness of the utility room where deliveries were made. She didn’t need to turn on any lights because she knew the space by heart. Quietly, she moved through the kitchen to the back stairs that led to the upper floors. There was her bedroom, but she sidestepped it and went directly to her favorite room, the library.

She loved the dark wood paneling, the bookshelves soaring to the ceiling. A huge bay window overlooked the front gardens and the gates that blocked the main entrance to the property. Just being on the inside made her feel safer. When she was a child, she would curl up in one of the rich leather chairs by her father’s massive antique desk and read while he worked.

This was the only home she’d ever known, and her chest tightened as the thought flashed in her mind that this might be her last time here. She wished she could just sit in the chair and read or watch her father at his computer, instead of making such a huge decision about her future. She swallowed to try to ease the tightness, then glanced inside the partially opened library door.

She saw her father sitting behind his desk, as always. He was hunched forward, white shirtsleeves rolled up, and the eerie bluish cast from one of his computer monitors bathed his features in its pale glow. The only other light came from a low desk light. Even so, she could see the way her father was working his jaw, and the intent frown that drew his dark eyebrows together. He seemed totally involved in what he was reading on the screen, and she thought he didn’t know she was there. Then he released a low hiss of air and slowly swiveled his chair toward her.

He was absolutely still for a moment, and then he stood awkwardly as if his legs were stiff. Without a word, he crossed the room to meet her near the open door. She took a shaky breath as he came closer, inhaling the mingled scents of the fire blazing in the fireplace and the hint of pine in the air.

A two-foot-tall live Christmas tree stood by one of the windows against burgundy velvet drapes that had never been closed until recently. The tree looked pathetic. It made her wish she hadn’t insisted on getting it. She foolishly had thought that it would help them to not totally ignore Christmas this year. But since it was the only Christmas decoration in the house, its puny presence only magnified how far they’d fallen from a normal life.

“Faith,” her father said in a quiet voice as he caught her in a hug that was so tight she could barely take a breath. But she savored it, storing it up in her memory to grab when she would need it. He finally released her, smiling at her, but the expression didn’t reach his intent blue eyes. “I didn’t think you were going to come back here for a while.”

At five feet ten inches, he wasn’t an unusually tall man and his frame had always been trim from playing squash or from running. But to Faith he had always seemed like a giant. After her mother had died when Faith was four, he’d been her security, a man who could fix her world with the wave of a hand; her rock, the one person she trusted completely; and most of all, her dad.

Now that was all changing before her eyes. He was diminishing, as if the pressures of his life over the past four months were crushing him downward slowly and painfully. His once lightly graying hair was just as thick, but the color was now pure white. The lines etching his eyes and mouth had deepened considerably, and any tan he’d had, had faded away, leaving his skin almost ashen.

Faith had never doubted that her father could conquer the world, yet here he was fighting for his life. She felt that sense of loss completely and refused to make things worse for him.

She skimmed off her woolen cap. “Those vultures out front are not as good as they think they are,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “And neither is that guard. I went right past all of them, even one of the protesters, and none of them even blinked.”

Any trace of a smile on her dad’s face was gone as he uttered, “You cut your hair.” He turned away from her and went to his desk. He dropped heavily into his leather chair and swiveled back and forth until his gaze met hers. She could see pain and sadness in his expression and it was almost her undoing. “Did you get subpoenaed?” he asked flatly.

“No, I haven’t.” She claimed a leather chair across from him. “I haven’t heard anything, but Baron is on his way over here,” she said quickly. “I would have called to let you know, but...” She shrugged nervously as she tugged off her gloves and pushed them into her jacket pockets. Baron Little, the head of her father’s legal team, had insisted on meeting with her, and she thought she knew why. What he had to say probably wasn’t good. “I was afraid someone might be listening.”

“Everything here was swept this morning. It’s clean, at least for now.” His eyes narrowed on her hair. “You haven’t had short hair since you were a year old, and suddenly...”

She had thought she’d never do more than trim her hair, but that had changed. “I wanted to fool all of them, and I did.” She motioned to the tall windows covered by the heavy drapes. “I wanted to be here with you when Baron told me what was happening.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “You haven’t heard from him about the subpoena, have you?”

He sat forward so abruptly that some papers skittered off the desk and settled on the thick Turkish rug. “No, but the grand jury is being impanelled. Got word yesterday about that. They’re going to file charges. It’s a given.” He raked his thick hair with his fingers. “They have to.”

Faith couldn’t even swallow, her throat was so tight. “Maybe they won’t,” she offered up, but knew she was being delusional.

“They will,” he said with resignation, “but I won’t let them pull you any more deeply into this. Besides, you can’t tell them anything they don’t already know.” He spoke evenly, and she knew that he believed that. “What would they gain, really?”

She wanted to point out that she had been and still was in the middle of things since that awful day four months ago. Federal agents had swarmed LSC Investments, where her father had worked for over twenty years and had been a full partner for all but four of those years. That day everything had changed.

She’d been in her glass-walled office talking to a prospective client about investments when she’d heard the loud voices and confusion in the main area. Then an assistant marshal had been at her door, telling her to step away from her desk. She’d been among the group of employees to be escorted off the premises, forced to leave everything behind. Her father and the other partners hadn’t been so fortunate. She hadn’t seen her father again for almost twenty-four hours. The Feds had confiscated everything to do with the business, from client files, computers, logs, employee workups and all banking information, both domestic and foreign.

Now, after four torturous months, there was going to be a decision about what charges would be filed against the partners, two of the company’s financial officers and seven other employees. A bad dream had irrevocably turned into a nightmare. Her world and her father’s were taken over by lawyers and bail and affidavits and depositions, and her father was central to it all.

Accusations of mishandling clients’ money, obstructing justice and fraudulent practices came down like a stinging hailstorm. And even with one of the best legal teams in the country working to prove her father’s innocence, she had watched him sink deeper and deeper into the abyss.

She swallowed hard, hoping her face didn’t give away her sickening fear. He still didn’t know what she knew. She found she couldn’t tell him. And now... A week ago, Baron Little had mentioned that her name was being bandied about to receive a subpoena to testify in front of the grand jury. That had come out of the blue for her, shattering any hope she had of being able to avoid that very thing.

She couldn’t tell the attorney anything, not when she couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t have to reveal what she knew to the prosecution. She wasn’t about to tell anyone about eight months ago when she’d gone to her father’s office to find out when he could leave for home. A simple thing.

Even when she’d arrived outside his office and heard the raised voices of two of the partners, she hadn’t thought much of it. They’d had disagreements over the years. She’d been ready to turn around and just go home on her own, but she stopped when she heard Winston Linz, a founder in the company, speak harshly to her father. “You’re not simon-pure, Ray. None of us are. You’re in this with us, and it’s working. Leave it alone. The commission from this deal will be enough for all of us to retire on someday.”

Her father’s voice had come back with burning anger in it. “Don’t you threaten me, Win. Don’t you even try!”

“Works both ways. If all you’ve done comes out, you’re dead in the water. So do what you have to do and make it happen, or—”

“Or?” her father demanded.

“Or it’s over, at least for you.”

She heard another voice talking about an account of a client she had never heard of before, Kenner Associates. It sounded as if the man was reading from a file about a new investment account. He finished with “They want it done. They want it finalized and they do not want anyone screwing it up.”

“You don’t have a choice, Ray,” Linz said bluntly.

All of them were silent for a long moment, then her father spoke again in a tone that sounded calm, but Faith knew otherwise. “It will be finished. I will make sure of it personally with Mason. I’ll sew it up.”

She’d walked away, not understanding and not asking anyone about it, not even her father when he eventually got home that evening. Even though they worked in the same company, doing the same things, hers less important than his, they both took care of their own business. He never questioned her about any of her clients. She would never question him about his dealings. And it was forgotten until the world exploded and that same client, Kenner Associates, came up again.

It had turned out that Kenner Associates was a year-long sting operation, executed to trap those involved in substantial financial misdeeds. Faith had been sick, immediately knowing that if she told anyone about what she’d heard, it could be the end of her father. It showed knowledge and complicity with the others in the core deal where violations had occurred.

Her testimony, if she ever had to give it, could be the last nail in the coffin of Raymond Sizemore. She would be responsible for sending her father to prison. And she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. She was also a horrible liar, so not being truthful on the stand was out.

She tasted bitterness in her throat. “I need to know if I’ll be subpoenaed to testify or not,” she said earnestly. “I can’t.”

He watched her intently. “Just tell them the truth,” he said in a low voice. “That’s all they want.”

She flinched at his words. The truth. Yes, she could tell the truth. She bit her lip hard. “You know it’s not like that. They pick and choose. Reinvent how things appear.”

“Faith, this is the Federal government, not some quack sheriff in a Podunk town that you’d be tangling with as if you’d gotten a traffic ticket. And if you don’t testify, it will make you look as if you’re guilty of something, which you aren’t. Refusing a subpoena is as good as putting yourself in jail.” He hit the top of his desk with the flat of his hand and the sudden sound made Faith jump. “You can’t. I won’t let you do that.”

She wasn’t about to refuse to obey a subpoena. It wouldn’t get that far. “I won’t be subpoenaed. I’ll be gone. I told you that I’d just disappear.” And she knew they’d find her, but the time between then and now was what she could control. Until whatever indictments were secured, she couldn’t be anywhere close to anyone in the case, or in this city, or even the state.

“I’ll deal with what I have to deal with,” she stated simply. “I’m twenty-six, all grown up, an adult, and I can do this. I will do this if I have to.” He’d done so much for her all of her life. He’d loved her and cared for her as a single parent, encouraged her to go to college when he realized she had his knack for figures and planning. With her newly minted MBA degree, he’d paved the way for her to join his firm, work her way up, and become an associate with her own office and list of clients she advised.

Sorrow overtook his expression now. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I won’t hurt you, even indirectly,” she said. “When Baron gets here, we’ll know if I have to do anything beyond stand by you.”

As if her mention of the attorney had conjured him, there was a soft chime from one of the computers. Her dad turned the monitor enough for her to see the image on it. Baron Little, a huge man made to appear even bigger by the expensive overcoat he’d chosen to wear, stared up into the security camera by the main entry. He flicked a wave at them and her dad hit a key. They waited for him in the library. They heard the front door open and close. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, and then Baron Little, the brains behind her father’s defense team, came into the room.

The man’s size belied his surname and made the room seem smaller. He glanced from Raymond to Faith as he came to the desk. “I was hoping you were able to get here without a problem,” he said to Faith, his gaze taking in her altered appearance, but he didn’t say a thing about it.

“Well?” Faith managed to get out, hating asking, but anxious to know what direction her life would take after tonight.

The large man had been undoing the heavy buttons on his overcoat, but his hands stilled at the single word. “The grand jury is set, and they should be sending out a server in two days. You’re going to be on the list.”

Her heart sank. Faith had to will herself to get to her feet. “Thank you,” she whispered, and then she looked at her dad. “I’m leaving.” When he started to argue, she stopped him. “Please, no, I have to. I had it worked out in case I needed to, and now I do.” She felt almost numb as she moved around the desk to bend down and give her father a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call when I can. I’d never do anything to hurt you,” she said. “I love you.”

He grabbed her hand. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” she said matter-of-factly, not wanting him to know anything. This was all her doing.

He let go of her and reached into a drawer to his left. He took out a large red square envelope with a Christmas bell design on it and offered it to Faith. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to give you this early, but...”

She took the card from him, hugging it tightly to her chest without opening it. “I didn’t get you anything,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Her dad stood, brushed at the moisture on her face with an unsteady hand, then pressed her to him. “As long as you’re my daughter and believe in me, I’ve got all I need,” he uttered. “Merry Christmas, Angel.”

Faith forced herself to leave without looking back. She moved quickly. Her dad’s use of the nickname he’d given her as a baby hurt her so much. She brushed past the attorney and would have left if Baron hadn’t said her name.

“Faith.”

She paused and closed her eyes, keeping her back to the room. “I can’t tell you anything,” she said.

“I don’t want you to. Just be safe, and if you need anything...” He touched her shoulder and she saw him hold out a business card to her. “On the back, my personal numbers. Use one of them if you have to.”

She accepted the business card without looking at it and slipped it into her jacket pocket. The attorney spoke again. “Hold on, I got the files you asked for.” She had almost forgotten he’d promised to get her copies of files from the Kenny setup that would be used in any case against her father. She turned to see Baron with a thumb drive. “Lots on there,” he said.

She took it from him and, without looking at her father, walked away. She retraced her path and checked the security screen by the side door. No one. Only falling snow and leafless trees bending in the growing wind.

Minutes later she reached the old import she’d bought from a private party two days ago. She couldn’t register the car in her name, so she chose not to register it. The tags were good until June, so she felt she had enough time to use it and keep her name off the title. She’d parked seven blocks away from the house and felt slightly breathless from the walk by the time she slipped behind the wheel.

She got the engine going, then set the heater on high, which, she’d found on the way there, meant warm enough. Sinking back into the seat, she stared at the red foil envelope in her hands and watched the snowflakes melting on the surface.

She tugged the sealed flap open with hands that were less than steady and looked inside. There was a small plastic card and a flat box in green foil. She caught the plastic card between her fingers and pulled it out. She almost cried at her father’s ability to hate what she was doing and yet help her if she had to do it, even when he was afraid for her. She’d emptied her back account and had enough cash to keep going for a good amount of time. But only her father would think of the one thing she hadn’t considered.

She was holding an Illinois driver’s license with her picture and vitals, the same ones on her real license. She was five feet two inches, 105 pounds, with black hair and blue eyes. But what wasn’t right was the name, Faith Marie Arden, or the address, somewhere in Rockford, Illinois. Arden had been her mother’s maiden name, and she didn’t even know anyone in Rockford.

She wasn’t about to try to figure out how her father had managed to get the license; she was just grateful that he had. “Thank you, Dad,” she whispered as she put it in her wallet. She opened the glove compartment and slipped her valid license under the sales papers for the car. She sat back and reached inside the foil envelope again to take out the only thing left. The box.

It had a single strand of ribbon around it, and she undid it, letting it fall to her lap. Opening the box, her eyes filled with hot tears as she took out a delicate gold bracelet with a single charm on it. It was a locket in the shape of a heart. Her mother’s. Something her father valued beyond measure. But he’d given it to her. Through a blur of tears, she manipulated the tiny lock and the heart fell open. Inside was a photo of her when she was just born, and on the other side was a photo of her mother and father on their wedding day.

When she had been very young, her father would open the locket and tell her stories about everything he could remember about Marie Arden. She heard how they met, fell in love and how thrilled they were when their daughter was born three days before Christmas.

She studied the images of three people at the start of their lives together. Her mother was gone. Her father was in real danger of being destroyed. And she was driving away from the only person who mattered in her life. She started to drop the bracelet back into the box, but spotted a folded piece of paper lying on the bottom.

She took it out, opened it and read, “Merry Christmas, Angel. You were the best Christmas present ever. Dad.”

Faith swiped at her face again, wishing she could wear the bracelet, but afraid to. It was so delicate. Still, she had it with her. She put the note and bracelet away and pushed the box into the glove compartment.

As she pulled away from the curb, she felt the tires slip on the fresh snow, then gain purchase. She was heading south, away from Chicago. She paid no attention to the Christmas decorations adorning the streets, and by the time the city was in her rearview mirror, she felt an overwhelming sadness mixed with a strong conviction that she was doing the best thing for everyone.

“Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad.”


CHAPTER TWO

Santa Fe, New Mexico

ADAM CAMERON HAD ARRIVED in town an hour ago and sat alone in a coffee shop near the airport. He was waiting for his ride home to Wolf Lake, two hours northeast. He’d chosen a booth by the window that overlooked the street, keeping an eye out for a police cruiser, the one his childhood friend John Longbow told him he would be driving.

John had been surprised by Adam’s call a few days ago, assuming that his friend would be back according to his normal timetable—get home the day before Christmas and leave as soon as he could.

To be honest, Adam had been surprised by his own decision to arrive home early. But it had ended up being an oddly easy one for him to make.

When he’d called home to let his mother know when he’d be there, he’d figured she wouldn’t be happy but that she’d understand how busy he was. And besides, she would have Jack, his older brother, and Gage, his younger brother, there, which would take some of the sting out of her disappointment. Lo and behold, he’d been wrong, very wrong.

The waitress appeared with his coffee. A cute blonde who never stopped smiling or calling him “hon” as she set the steaming mug in front of him. “You new around here, hon?” she asked with that smile still blazing.

Adam didn’t flirt well. He’d always thought that if something happened, it happened, but working to make it happen didn’t sit well with him. Been there, done that, he thought as he poured cream into his coffee. He hated playing games. That was why he liked relationships with no ties and no complications. He would admit to anyone that he had commitment phobia. He liked freedom and moving along when he had the urge to go. His latest stop had been Dallas, on the police force there, but already he was thinking about making a change, maybe heading to California.

The waitress was waiting for an answer, and he was vague. “I’m just here for a few days,” he said as he picked up his mug and turned back to the window.

He heard the waitress sigh, and in the window watched the reflection of her walking away. Then Adam’s image overlapped hers. With his ebony hair combed straight back from his sharp-featured face, one half of his heritage was emphasized, and it wasn’t the fair-skinned Irish side that rose to the surface. He could see his mother’s Navajo ancestry that defined him in more ways than one.

All three Carson boys were chiseled from the same mold physically, with decent height, tanned skin and bold features. But their characters were uniquely different. Jack was the homeboy who loved the land. Adam was the restless one, and their younger brother, Gage, was passionate about building anything. But right then it was Jack who filled Adam’s thoughts as he waited.

That simple call to his mother, but Jack answering the phone, and everything changed when he heard his brother’s voice come over the line.

As he picked up his mug, he spotted the police cruiser emblazoned with Wolf Lake P.D. on the door and John behind the wheel. Adam put down his coffee, slapped a five-dollar bill on top of his tab and then headed for the door. The waitress calling after him, “You come on back, hon, you hear?” He let the doors shut on her voice and he approached John, who had gotten out of the cruiser.

The men hugged, thumped each other on the back and got inside the car. “Welcome back, man,” John said, and in that moment, Adam experienced something unsettling and unusual for him. A huge wave of homesickness washed over him. He couldn’t remember that ever happening to him before, even as a kid. He’d always looked beyond the horizon.

Until now.

Adam murmured, “I appreciate the ride.”

“Glad to do it,” John said as he swung the cruiser out into traffic.

“Did you really have business in the city?” he asked, eyeing the man’s dark uniform, which looked rumpled from prolonged wear.

“Of course I had business in Santa Fe. Besides, I like having good company when I make this trek.”

They had barely gone a few blocks before Adam’s cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the ID, expecting it to be work or even his mother. But he did a double take. The call was from his kid brother, Gage, and that surge of homesickness came again.

“Hey,” he heard over the line after he answered the call. “What are you up to?”

“Just off a plane in Santa Fe and heading for home.”

Gage didn’t sound surprised by that statement. “Good, Mom’s looking forward to it.”

“Mom called you about me coming back now?”

“No, actually. John did,” Gage answered. Adam was confused.

He turned to look at John, who was staring dead ahead out the window. “You called Gage about me coming early?”

John glanced dark eyes at him and nodded. Without saying a thing, he went back to his driving.

“Why?”

No hesitation. “Jack.”

Adam closed his eyes. There were no secrets in Wolf Lake. Everyone knew the Carson family’s history and circumstances, especially their good friend John. “Go on,” Adam said into the phone.

Gage spoke quickly. “I’m real busy here.” Where that was, he didn’t say. Gage’s design and construction company worked all over the globe, and Gage, who was a hands-on owner, went wherever the jobs were being done. “I won’t be home for Christmas, so I was glad to hear you would be.”

There was a commotion almost blotting out Gage’s voice. “Hold on,” he said, then, “Listen, Adam, I have to go. Just call me when you get there and see Jack.”

Adam barely had time to say “Okay” to his kid brother before the line went dead. He put his phone back into his pocket and looked at John again. “Why did you call him about Jack?”

John shrugged. “Worried.”

Adam was worried, too. He was worried enough to not only come home early, but block out a month of sick leave with the police force to give himself time to figure out what he needed to do to help his older brother.

John kept talking. “He’s not himself, although, I understand that after what he’s gone through. But he rides off for days alone into the high country. He’s at work on and off, mostly off, but he’s still living in the apartment above his law office. Going to tell me why you’re here early? What got to you to make you do that?”

Adam noted the landscape changing as they left Santa Fe. The old-world charm of the city, with its adobes and pueblolike housing clusters, morphed into vast, sprawling land, cut here and there by massive buttes and towering mesas. Home. He swallowed hard. “I talked to Jack. He was at Mom and Dad’s place, and he answered the phone when I called.”

“He asked you to come home?”

“No, he’d never do that. It wasn’t even anything Jack said, not really.” Adam remembered his brother talking about anything and everything except himself. His voice was different, flat and uninvolved in what he was saying. “When I asked him about some things, I could tell he’s not doing well.”

“He’s grieving, Adam.”

“I know. But it’s been a year and a half since Robyn was killed in the accident, and he’s not moving on. You said he’s staying by himself mostly. He lets Maureen take care of his cases, and those rides alone...” He thought of Jack going to law school, leaving the town for an extended time, then coming home, falling in love with Robyn and making a life with her that looked perfect.

They had lived in the loft over the offices in the center of town, everyone expecting they’d start building on Wolf land when they had kids. But there had been no kids, and not because they didn’t want them. They couldn’t, and they had been searching for answers, undergoing treatments. Robyn had taught on the reservation while they waited for their own children. Then, without warning, she was gone in the blink of an eye, in a single-car accident on her way home from work.

Adam closed his eyes for a moment. But he opened them as quickly as he’d closed them. He couldn’t take the images that came in the darkness. That night at the hospital, Jack, his face twisted with grief, the loss of Robyn so great that Adam had almost been surprised when Jack had gone on living.

By Christmas last year, Jack was back at his practice. He was doing what he’d always done, but the old Jack was gone, and the new Jack, left in his place, seemed numb and lost. On that Christmas, Gage and Adam had both been home, and they’d both told Jack that all he had to do was call, and they’d be back in Wolf Lake for him. He’d never called them on that promise. He never would. But Adam was calling himself on it now.

“There’s no time limit on grieving,” John said, snapping Adam away from the past.

“I know.” But he didn’t know at all. He’d been told that by others, as the only major loss in his life, his grandfather, made sense. His grandfather had lived eighty-four years before quietly leaving in his sleep three years ago. He missed the man so much, but he’d had a wonderful life. Robyn’s death made no sense to him at all—she’d been barely thirty with her whole life ahead of her. Adam had no idea about the hurt that Jack experienced.

“He’s lost, Adam. He’s breathing and walking and talking and even working some, but he’s not living.” Adam felt John’s eyes on him as he asked, “So you’re going back to do what?”

He didn’t know. He only knew he had to be there. “I’ll know that when I see Jack,” he replied honestly.

“I think when we get there, we should get Jack to come hunting or fishing or just plain old camping with us, maybe Moses, too, up in the high country where we used to go as kids.”

Adam agreed. The five of them—Jack, Gage, Moses, John and himself—had been inseparable when they were young. Now Moses Blackstar was the head of the local hospital, the driving force behind it being built and the one who kept it going. “Getting away from everything, maybe we can talk how we used to back in the day.”

“He’s turned down Moses’s invitations right along,” John said, “But if all of us do it, it could happen. It’s worth a try.” Without warning, John pulled off the highway and into the parking lot for a fast-food place next to a motel and gas station. “I’m hungry,” he said. “We can sit and talk for a bit, maybe make some plans, get them in place, then speak to Jack.”

Adam didn’t want to stop anywhere. He wanted to be in Wolf Lake. “Get it to go, and we can talk while you drive,” he said. He wasn’t even sure he could eat right then. His stomach had tightened painfully at the idea of what he’d find when he got home and saw Jack. He wasn’t at all certain what that would be. Not at all.

* * *

FAITH WAS EXHAUSTED. She’d been on the road for two weeks, stopping at motels in Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas and Texas as she traveled south, then west. Her plan had been to keep moving, spend a day or two in each place, nowhere too long, and go through the files when she could. She read and read, hoping to find something that wasn’t right. Something that might prove her father was innocent. Anything the others had missed.

But thus far, there had been nothing like that. So she just kept moving. At the moment, she was moving west on Highway 40 toward Albuquerque. She’d made the news quite regularly as a tagline to her father’s problems. One headline read Faith Sizemore Stays Out of Sight. It was another, though, that actually hit her the hardest. Sizemore’s Daughter Hiding—Subpoena for Grand Jury Fails. Below that, the story began, “While Federal investigators search her home again, Faith Sizemore is nowhere to be seen. An attempt to serve a subpoena for her testimony in front of the grand jury failed and prosecutors say they will keep trying, believing that her testimony could be vital to their case.” Did they know she’d run, or did they think she was just “secured” somewhere?

Her stomach grumbled, and at the same time, weariness almost overtook her. She realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and she couldn’t remember when she’d actually slept for a good number of hours. She covered a yawn, cupped the back of her neck with one hand to knead at the tension. She was exhausted to the point she couldn’t concentrate. To keep herself going and to be of any use when reviewing those files, she had to have food, then rest. Real rest.

Peace and privacy for a week was what she needed. But where would she find that? The motels she’d been staying at were not exactly calm and quiet with people coming and going at all hours. And a hotel that would give her peace wouldn’t give her privacy, since she couldn’t use a credit card.

She rotated her head from side to side to ease the cramping in her muscles and felt as if she hadn’t taken an easy breath since leaving Chicago. Looking ahead, she saw a sign that towered into the graying sky, which was rapidly filling with dark clouds. Multicolored neon lights flashed Willie G’s Diner. The best food in town.

She almost smiled at that as she headed to the exit. The “town” was little more than a gas station, a tepee-shaped souvenir shop with a heavy emphasis on Native American and Western collectibles, and a cluster of trailers beyond the parking lot for the old adobe building that was Willie G’s Diner.

She slowed as she spotted a sign on a power pole near the diner’s entrance advertising The Wolf Lake Inn. The words were printed over a sepia depiction of what looked like a wolf baying at a crescent moon. But it was the last line that got her full attention: “As much or as little peace and quiet as you want. Rooms by the day or by the week. Come visit us at The Inn.”

She took the time to jot down a phone number and address from the sign before parking in front of Willie G’s. The building was low-roofed, with faded pinkish-beige walls that were chipped in spots to reveal adobe bricks underneath. Every arched window along the front held a wreath made out of sticks with twinkling lights threaded through them. The lot was barely full, with only four other cars, an 18-wheeler and an old motorcycle.

Faith sat for a long moment after she turned off the engine, fighting the urge to call her father, to hear his voice and feel as if she wasn’t totally alone. She had only called him twice from a throwaway cell, and each time, she’d been afraid to speak too long or to be too honest. She hadn’t wanted him to hear any fear or worry in her tone and she couldn’t bear to hear the somber resignation in his voice. She left the phone alone and got out into the snow and wind to hurry to the entrance. Pushing the door aside, she stepped into comforting warmth, enhanced by the fragrance of food being cooked and woodsmoke that came from a funnel-shaped fireplace set in the middle of the dining area.

The interior echoed the exterior character of the building. Rough, oxidized plaster walls, a ceiling with massive beams made from stripped timber. Well-worn stones underfoot were faded and chipped from years of use. Straight ahead was a counter and beyond that, swinging doors leading to the kitchen.

Booths lined the wall to the right and across the front by the windows, separated only by a large Christmas tree, fully decorated in silver and gold. Wooden tables were arranged in the middle of the room to take advantage of the fireplace. A young girl with brilliant red hair was serving two men at the counter. She looked up as the door thudded shut. “Sit anywhere you’d like,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be right there.”

Christmas music with a definite Western twang played in the background, blending with the customers’ conversations. Faith chose a booth by one of the windows. She sank down onto the dark red vinyl bench seat, slipped off her jacket and thought about the sign for the Wolf Lake Inn. “As much or as little Peace and Quiet as you want.” She craved both the way a man lost in the desert craved water.

The girl from the counter came over to her and smiled. “Welcome to Willie G’s. What will you be having today?” Faith ordered coffee and a hamburger with fries, then sat back as the girl took off for the kitchen. When the hamburger and stack of fries, both large enough to feed a small nation, came, she knew that she’d made a decision. She was going to find Wolf Lake Inn and stay put for a few days if it looked okay. And she could sleep, really sleep, so she could think straight. She was afraid of making a mistake and being recognized.

She ate half of her food. Pushing aside the plate, she reached for her wallet. She needed to get going.

“Food no good, lady?”

The blunt question startled Faith, and she looked up to find an older man standing by the booth. He was in his middle to late sixties, with weathered skin and long white hair piled under a cook’s hairnet. Wearing a white T-shirt and white pants, both liberally stained by various foods, he frowned at her plate, his hawkish nose twitching. “No good?” he repeated as he met her gaze.

She shook her head. “Oh, no, it was very good. It’s just so much food, enough for two or three meals.”

He folded his arms on his chest as a smile softened his lined, angular face. “I understand. You’re a little bit of a thing. For a minute I thought old Willie G. had lost the magic touch.”

“What I could eat was great.” She couldn’t stop a yawn. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve been driving forever and I’m really tired.”

“Where you heading for?”

She hesitated, wondering if he could help. “Albuquerque, but I saw a sign for The Wolf Lake Inn when I pulled in here. Do you know it?”

“You looking to stay there?”

“Maybe, as long as it’s peaceful and private, and not too fancy or expensive.”

“That about describes it,” Willie said

“Is it very far from here?”

“It’s about fifteen miles north, near the res.”

“The res?”

“Indian reservation.”

Faith hadn’t realized until that moment that he was very much a Native American. “You’re from there?”

He nodded. “Born and bred. Wolf Lake is a good place. Some tourist stuff, but nothing too crazy. It’s pretty quiet most times. Shoot, they got a police force of four, and their main job is giving out tickets for illegal parking to tourists who wander through. That tells you how safe it is.”

It didn’t sound as if any of the four policemen would be looking for a financier’s daughter or even know about her. “How do I get there?”

He gave her directions, telling her to watch out for the inn just before the general store on the main drag of the town on the north side. “It’s a two-storied adobe with a carved eagle above the entrance. It was the first hotel ever in town. Now it’s more like what do you call those places...oh, yeah, a bed-and-breakfast. Six, eight rooms, nice place.” He hesitated and then said, “For the sake of truth in advertising, I should tell you my niece runs the inn. Name’s Mallory Sanchez. You can tell her I sent you, if you want.” He smiled slyly at her. “Probably won’t help you, but who knows?”

She answered his smile. “Thank you so much, Mr....?”

“Name’s Willie G. Lots of Willies around, but only one Willie G. in these parts.”

The waitress called out to him, “Got two orders, Willie.”

He waved a hand at her but didn’t turn. “What’s your name?”

“Faith.”

“Safe journey, Faith,” he said, moving toward the kitchen.

After the waitress boxed Faith’s leftover food and took the money for the bill, Faith stepped out into air that was just plain cold. Light snow was falling, gradually turning the land a pale gray-white. Faith got in her car, went back to the frontage road and headed east for two miles, then spotted the turn Willie had told her about. She drove onto the narrow two-lane road that was all but deserted in the early evening.

As she drove, there were fewer and fewer houses and buildings. The road cut through a vast desert area, with lots of rocks and rough ground, etched in white. Shadows fell on the snow from the mesas and buttes that rose in erratic patterns.The country looked bleak.

She clicked on her headlights and kept going. Had Willie told her the right distance to Wolf Lake? She felt as if she’d been driving for a lot more time than it took to go fifteen miles. Relief came when she caught sight of a road sign: Wolf Lake—2 Miles. She sped up, anxious to get there before the dark descended completely.

She was so intent on her driving, she didn’t notice she wasn’t alone on the road until the jolting wail of a siren cut through the air. Flashing red and blue lights bounced around in the interior of her car. She reflexively glanced at the speedometer, actually happy to see she was speeding. Simple speeding, stupid of her to do it, but this was not about her fleeing Chicago, just her driving.

She took a shaky breath as she pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped. It was okay, she told herself. She had the license her dad had given her. When she jumped at the flood of bright light from inside the police car, she admitted that no matter what logic told her, she was afraid.


CHAPTER THREE

JOHN MUTTERED, “Crazy people,” when the speeding car came to a full stop. “Thought we’d get this type on the weekend or closer to Christmas when the tourists come around to visit,” John grumbled. He tucked the cruiser in behind the compact car with an Illinois plate on it.

There was a single passenger from what Adam could see, a woman grimacing at the glaring light that John had switched on. She wasn’t moving at all.

John tipped open the onboard computer, brought it up and put in the license-plate number. A moment later, he was reading the screen. “Gerald Lewis Reich and Martha Reich, Chicago area. Looks like Martha is on her own. Car’s clean, and they’re clean. Not even a traffic ticket between them in the past five years.” He reached for the door handle. “Be right back,” he said and got out.

The wind was picking up, swirling the snow, and John ducked his head while he gripped his cap with his free hand. He got to the driver’s window as it slowly slid down and he leaned in to speak to the driver. A hand pushed some folded papers out toward John, who took them and stood to read. Then John turned his head as if he was trying to hit his left shoulder with his chin.

Adam knew John was in full uniform and his two-way radio was wired into the shoulder. He spoke into it, then went back to the car. He pushed the papers back to the driver, bent to say something, then jogged back to the cruiser. He slammed the door on the cold wind and snow outside. “Got a call,” he said. “It’s Amos Joe and Birdie. They’re at it again. Got to get there before someone does something stupid again.”

He punched the gas on the idling cruiser, veering out and around the car still ahead of them. Adam glanced at the driver, who still had the window partially down. He caught a glimpse of a shadowy shape before they raced past and down the highway. “What about the stop?” Adam asked, motioning behind them.

“She just bought the car and didn’t get it registered before she took off, so I let her go.”

Adam saw the way John was biting his lower lip and he knew there was more. “What else?”

John shook his head. “Just a hunch, that’s all.”

“Just a hunch?” he repeated to his friend. “A hunch about what?”

John frowned at the road ahead. “Actually, the thing is, I get a feeling she’s scared of something, and not just of a speeding ticket.” He shrugged on a gruff laugh. “If I had a dollar for every right hunch I had about people, I’d still be broke.”

Adam stared at the darkness outside. “I don’t know. Your hunches have worked out sometimes.”

“Dumb luck,” John muttered.

Maybe John was right about the woman, maybe something was going on, but it wasn’t something either man could do a thing about.

What they could do was help his brother.

“When did you see Jack last?”

John cleared his throat. “Out at your pa’s place.” He was referring to Adam’s grandfather’s ranch just north of their parents’ spread.

“Why there?”

“Don’t know. Maureen said he’d headed out there, so I followed.” Maureen Cane, Jack’s assistant in the law office, kept close track of her boss. “I caught up with him sitting on the porch of the old house.”

Adam thought maybe the old place gave his brother some comfort. That adobe had been the first thing his grandfather had built when he’d migrated from the high country on the res, down to the low country. Eventually, he brought his expanding family to the raw land that had been in the Wolf family for what seemed forever. Pa, as the boys called their grandfather, had been obsessed all his life about making something out of nothing for his family. He’d been told to stay with his people, to not go off on his own to mingle with others.

But Jackson Wolf, whom Jack had been named for, hadn’t listened. He’d followed his own vision. He’d gone down and worked hard and long, clearing first the homesite, building the sprawling adobe to house his seven children, then went on to clear pastures to graze cattle and sheep. When he’d finished, his family had a home with efficiently run land that extended over three hundred acres.

Adam’s mother, Lark, had loved it, and when she’d married Herbert Carson, an Irish banker from Boston, whom she’d met by chance in the town, there was no question that they would settle on Wolf land. And they did. They moved south of the original house, onto a piece of land that was three times as big and ended up being three times as fancy.

But the Carson boys had always been drawn to Pa’s land. Like metal to a magnet, when school let out and they were free for the summer, they were at the old ranch. They’d trail after their grandfather, working alongside him and listening to his stories about their ancestors and his plans for the land. He’d gone even farther and helped develop the town of Wolf Lake. He’d been there when the name of his people had been put on the town. He’d realized his dreams.

As the squad car drove through the persistent snow, Adam remembered an incident when he’d been around fourteen. The brothers had left Pa’s place and hiked up into the fringes of the high country. At sunset, they’d been sitting on a ledge that looked down on the reservation in one direction, the town in the other and the vast expanse of Wolf land far below. Off in the distance, the soaring mountains beyond the buttes and mesas stood starkly against the early-evening sky. A deep gouge that cut through them opened a way to the other side.

Jack had said something about the new grazing area Pa had cleared, that he’d hoped he’d go farther south. Land had always been Jack’s passion, the Wolf land. Gage had pointed to a site on the far end of town, to the start of construction for a fully equipped medical clinic that Moses’s father would run for years before his son pushed for a real hospital. Gage had said they needed to make it bigger, and they had done that years later, turning it from a clinic to a hospital.

But Adam had looked past the town and the res and over to the separation in the mountains. All he remembered feeling at that moment had been an overwhelming urge to head for the opening and keep going. He wasn’t sure where to, but he knew he wanted to go.

Like Pa, he’d wanted to break free.

“We should discuss our trip and have things organized when we talk to Jack,” John said, snapping Adam back to the present.

“Good idea. We can contact Moses tomorrow and see if he can get away. It’s been a long time since we all went up there together.”

John nodded. “Just have to convince Jack to come.”

Adam relished watching the town of Wolf Lake rapidly come into sight. The familiar shapes and layout welcomed him yet brought a sense of unease about what he’d find there. It didn’t make sense, and when John pulled into the trailer park to find Amos Joe and Birdie, he pushed it out of his mind completely.

* * *

FAITH SHIVERED UNEXPECTEDLY despite the warmth in the car, and for a moment, she felt light-headed. Slowing, she opened the window a crack, letting in frigid air and some errant snowflakes. The coolness on her face helped her to settle down a bit. Obviously she wasn’t meant for a life of crime. She’d barely been able to nod when the cop who had stopped her had let her off with a stern warning. Slow down and enjoy the beautiful country, he’d said.

She kept going, staying below the speed limit, and finally spotted the sign for Wolf Lake. A glow began to spread in the distance ahead. As she got closer, the glow gradually turned into a sprawling town that flowed away from the main highway. She caught the turnoff and found herself driving past small houses, then was jarred when she saw the police cruiser with its lights flashing, parked by some ancient trailers to one side of the road.

She drove past slowly, keeping her eyes on the road. The main street of Wolf Lake was an eclectic mixture of adobe structures, wood frames and brick buildings, all reflecting the reds and greens of Christmas lights. Decorations filled the windows of stores and homes and were strung over the street and outlined most roofs along the way. The whole thing was a merging of the Old West and Native American heritage, overlaid by tons of Christmas cheer. Raised wooden walkways that spoke of the past, when streets turned to mud and snakes could be anywhere, led the route.

Souvenir shops mingled with businesses that ranged from a grocer’s to a surveyor’s office, a potter’s store and a feed-and-tack barn set up in a huge wooden building fronted by haystacks. Native American influences were everywhere, and life-size carvings of wolves framed several doorways.

She spotted a few restaurants, then finally saw what she was looking for, The Wolf Lake Inn. It was what Willie G. had described, a well-kept two-story, flat-fronted adobe structure set well back from the street behind a low stone fence. A carving of an eagle in flight hung over the entrance, faded with age and layered with pure white snow. A red neon sign flashed Vacancy in one of the six arched windows on either side of a broad stoop and a heavy wooden front door.

Faith was excited as she pulled into one of the parking spots outside the fence. Only one other car was there, a blue van with a bumper sticker that read California or Bust. She got out, grabbed her purse and hurried to the door. There was a huge knocker fashioned like a wolf’s head, with its onyx eyes staring out at the night. She ignored it and pushed the door open. A low chime rang somewhere inside.

The front of the first floor was used for a large reception and sitting area, split by a staircase that led up to the second level. Dark wood and lovely furnishings made for a warm, cozy atmosphere. A huge Christmas tree stood to one side of the stairs, its lights twinkling with turquoise and silver decorations. Rugs in rich earth tones partially covered tiles that were worn and faded to a reddish-brown.

“Hello there,” a voice said, drawing Faith’s attention to the reception desk that ran along the left wall and was backed by an old-fashioned cubby for letters. A swinging door by the cubby was still moving as a lithe, black-haired lady came up behind the desk flashing a brilliant smile. Narrowed eyes assessed Faith. “So you did decide to come,” the woman said.

“I’m sorry?” Faith asked, approaching the desk.

“Willie G. said you might be coming by.” She held out her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Mallory Sanchez and I’m guessing you’re Faith.” Her black hair was straight and fell loosely to her waist. Chocolate-brown eyes were warm against a creamy tan, and jeans worn with a heavy red sweater showed off her slender frame. A pretty woman by any standards, and her smile made her even more attractive.

“Faith Arden,” Faith said, taking the woman’s hand when she offered it and met a surprisingly firm grip. “I didn’t expect Willie to call you about me.”

“He was calling about something else, a big Christmas party, actually, but mentioned you might be coming by. He said you’re looking for a place to rest.”

Faith felt uneasy at her words. The police stop had been bad enough. She didn’t want to be a topic of conversation for the town. “I need a room,” she said with more coolness than she intended.

“Well, of course you do,” Mallory said and spun an old registration book around to face her, then handed Faith a pen with a bobbing Santa head on the end of it. “Just put in your information, and let me see your identification.”

Faith handed the fake driver’s license to Mallory, who said, “The inn is peaceful and you can get a good rest here. No problem.”

“That’s great,” Faith murmured while she quickly signed her name, then stopped. She was drawing a blank for her address. What was wrong with her? She’d used that address in Rockford at every stop so far, but she couldn’t for the life of her recall it right then.

Mallory asked, “Is there a problem?”

“Oh, no, I’m just so tired,” she said and yawned without having to force it. Then the address came to her and she quickly wrote it on the ledger. “I’ve been driving forever.”

Mallory glanced at the information in the book, made a notation off her driver’s license, then handed it back to Faith. “I hope you didn’t drive all the way from Illinois nonstop?” She smiled at the absurdity of her question and didn’t wait for Faith to answer. “Do you want the first or second floor? Although, if you’re here to rest and take it easy, the second floor is probably your best bet. It’s more private, and there’s only one guest up there in a front room, a gentleman from Texas.”

“That sounds good, second floor, in the back?”

“We have a great room at the end of the hallway with its own bathroom. The other rooms up there have to share. It’s a bit more, of course, but it’s very nice.”

When she mentioned the daily rate, Faith was okay with it, and although she doubted she’d stay more than a few days, she asked about the weekly rate. The figure was 20 percent less than the daily. “I’ll take it for two nights,” Faith said and paid for the room. When Mallory argued she should see the room first, Faith wanted to say, If it has a bed and a door to lock, I’m sold, but instead said, “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Mallory selected one of the keys from the cubby and talked as she led the way to the staircase. “We have more choices if you need to change. We have two rooms down and four rooms up.” Faith followed her up the stairs onto a small landing that branched out in either direction. They went left and passed only one door as they walked toward the end of the corridor.

Mallory unlocked the door to Faith’s room, flipped on a light, then stepped aside for Faith to go in first. “If this doesn’t work for you, I have another that might do.”

Faith barely heard Mallory. The room was perfect. A huge poster bed fashioned out of what looked like stripped tree trunks stood by a window framed by lace curtains. The floor, worn wooden planks, was warmed by a braided rug in blues and lavenders that matched the bedding. An open door to the right exposed a small bathroom, and a closet on the opposite wall stood open and empty.

“What do you think?” Mallory asked as Faith went to the window and looked down at a garden area dominated by a leafless tree that was almost as tall as the building itself. Snow covered the ground and chairs were tipped up on three tables. It looked right. No one would be out there in this weather.

Faith could almost feel the knots in her body starting to dissolve. “This is fine,” she replied. Mallory crossed to a large armoire by the bathroom door and opened both doors. A TV sat on a top shelf over another shelf that flipped forward to make a writing desk. Faith had to fight the urge to just collapse on the big bed.

“Why don’t we go down for your things, then you can settle in and get your rest?”

Five minutes later, Faith had her bag and computer in the room and she was closing the door behind her and locking it. While she’d retrieved her things from the car, Mallory had put a pitcher of ice water along with a glass on a tray by the bed. A chocolate mint lay on the fluffy pillows piled against the headboard, and the scent of roses faintly drifted on the warm air.

Faith felt weariness wash over her. She sank down onto the bed, tugged off her boots and pushed back until she was half sitting against the pillows. The chocolate fell to one side and slid to the floor, but she didn’t pick it up. She thought she’d rest for a few minutes, then set up the computer on the desk and pull up the files.

The next thing Faith knew, she woke with a start, and for a second she couldn’t remember where she was, but then the world settled. One look at the bedside clock showed her she’d been asleep for over two hours. It was almost eight o’clock. She got off the bed, stretching her hands over her head. Should she just go to her car and get the leftovers she had from Willie G.’s place or see if there was someplace close by to get something hot to eat?

She tugged on her boots, grabbed her jacket, her car keys and wallet, then went downstairs. A man and woman were relaxing in front of the fireplace. On the table in front of them were wineglasses, a carafe of deep red wine, and a platter of crackers, meat and cheese.

If things had been normal, she would have said hello to the couple, filled a plate with cheese and crackers, poured a glass of wine and gone back up stairs. But since she’d left Chicago, she hadn’t been normal. She stayed away from people as much as possible to avoid contact, hopefully without looking odd or being remembered by any of them.

No one was behind the reception desk, so she avoided seeing the owner. She quietly passed behind the couple, reached the door and cringed at the soft chime that sounded when she opened it. She quickly slipped out into the biting cold.

She got into her car, started the engine and the heater, then put her things on the passenger seat and let herself relax for a moment. Slowly, she backed out onto the street and turned away from the direction she’d entered the town. She drove along the deserted street and spotted a modest shop that was open. Its neon light proclaimed it as The Hitching Post, along with advertisements for sandwiches, burgers, cold drinks and doughnuts. A real mixture of offerings, she thought as she stopped her car in front of the low brick structure.

The snow had let up a bit, she noted as she left her car and sprinted into the store. She got a sandwich, some cookies and a take-out cup of coffee. When she reached her car, her attention was drawn by raised voices close by.

“Jack!” a male voice ordered. “We have to talk this over.”

She glanced over and saw two men nearby on the sidewalk. One had his back to her. He was at least six feet or more, with broad shoulders that tested the seams of a leather jacket trimmed in shirred wool that he wore with jeans and black cowboy boots. She took in the sound of his quick breathing as he faced the other man.

Faith couldn’t see that man’s face, since it was lost in the shadows and he had a cap pulled low on his face. He was in a blue down jacket with dark pants and running shoes. She couldn’t see his expression, but she didn’t miss the edge to his voice when he countered, “Leave me alone! I am not a charity case, and I don’t need you suggesting—”

“Hey, I’m not here for charity,” the first man said in a lower, calmer voice. “I came because—”

The man in the cap spun on his heel and hurried off with a wave of one hand over his shoulder. “Go back to where you came from,” he said as he strode off down the sidewalk.

Faith realized she’d been eavesdropping and quickly went to open her car door. But before she could escape, the remaining man turned abruptly and ran right into her. Her coffee flew out of her hand, and her bag of food fell at her feet along with her wallet and keys.

She bent quickly to gather what she could, and the man did the same, his large hand grabbing her bag while she got the rest. “I’m really sorry,” he said as they crouched and faced each other.

She looked up into a face with sharp features, a strong jaw that showed a new beard, then eyes as dark as the night around them. She felt flustered under his intent gaze and stood. He matched her action and seemed to tower over her. “I...I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she said in a breathless voice. “I’m sorry.” She looked away from the man, her gaze landing on her coffee, which had spilled right by her car. “Oh, shoot.”

“What were you drinking?” the stranger asked.

“Just plain old coffee,” she muttered, frowning at the still spreading pool of brown liquid that was melting the snow beneath it.

Before she realized what he was doing, the stranger had gone into the shop. She could guess what he was up to, and soon he returned with a cup in his hand, which he held out to her. “My treat,” he said with a smile that revealed a dimple on his right cheek.

“Oh, no,” she said, awkwardly trying to get her wallet open.

“I mean it,” he stated firmly. “I was distracted by...” He shrugged, his smile fading. “I feel it’s my duty to make sure a visitor’s stay in Wolf Lake is a pleasant one.”

She was thankful her mouth didn’t drop open with surprise that he’d spotted her as a visitor so easily. “How would you know that?”

“Easy,” he said and that dimple was gone.

Faith felt her anxiety rising. Enough was enough. She quickly took the coffee he offered her, ignoring the warm touch of his hand, and said, “Thank you.”

He inclined his head slightly, looked past her and his brows knit together questioningly. She turned to see he was checking out her car. “You’re from Illinois?”

She nodded as she opened the car door and slipped inside. She set her things down, wanting to close the door, but the man was still there, blocking her. “Yes, from Illinois.”

“You’re a long way from home,” he said.

In that moment, she felt intensely her total isolation, and she almost hated him for saying it out loud to her. “A long way,” she echoed.

He had his hand on the top of the door frame. “I’m Adam,” he said, expecting her to give him her name, but she didn’t.

“And you live here,” she finished for him.

“Used to. Right now I’m just home for Christmas.”

He wasn’t aware of her situation, thankfully, but everything he said made her feel sad. He was home for Christmas, and she knew she wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t be home for her birthday or New Year’s Eve, and probably not for a long while. She felt the heat of tears stinging her eyes and quickly said her thanks.

He drew back, and she slammed the door shut with more force than she intended to. Without looking at him again, she pulled onto the street and drove back to the inn. She was worse off than she thought she was if a total stranger could make her feel this way just by making innocent conversation. She really needed to relax and calm down for more than a few days.

But she couldn’t and she hated that. The tears came silently. She hated tears, too, but couldn’t stop them, either. Like so much else in her life...


CHAPTER FOUR

ADAM WATCHED THE WOMAN with the soft dark curls, amazing blue eyes and a voice that was slightly breathless drive away and he felt stunned. First by her, then by the car she was driving.

When he’d turned into her, so angry at Jack that he could barely see straight, he’d stopped dead. In front of him was a woman with delicate features, incredible eyes and a creamy complexion. He had to admit that just then he’d all but forgotten about Jack.

Their fight was nothing new. His brother had always been stubborn, not one to accept help, and Adam had figured out ages ago that going head-to-head with him was a mistake. But he’d forgotten that earlier and regretted it now. He’d try again. He wasn’t giving up, nor was he going to give up on the small but smart-looking woman he’d towered over.

Tiny but resolute when she’d tried to refuse that replacement cup of coffee. And even when he’d persisted and won, he hadn’t felt he’d had a victory as much as she’d allowed him to do it to stop any argument.

Then the car. The blue compact with Illinois plates on it. The same car John had stopped on the road to Wolf Lake. John had had a feeling about her, a hunch, and Adam had seen something himself in her expression. It wasn’t really fear, maybe anxiousness—something he was having a hard time defining anyway. Uncertainty, impatience? He could usually read people quite easily, but not her.

He finally headed down the street toward where he’d parked his truck and gone looking for Jack. He pushed his hands into his pockets and hunched into the wind. The blue car was gone, the red taillights swallowed up by the night. Running into that woman had cut through his frustration with Jack, easing it briefly, but now it was back. He loved his brother, but his resistance had stunned him. No, he didn’t understand losing someone like that, but he wanted to help and he would.

He got to his truck, climbed in and went directly to the family ranch, where he was staying in the guesthouse. “Welcome home,” he said to the emptiness around him. He had the crazy image of a woman waiting there to greet him; she had dark curls and a smile he wished he hadn’t seen. “Stupid,” he muttered, but that didn’t blot out the memory of those blue eyes.

* * *

INCREDIBLY, FAITH SLEPT well that night, no dreams, no nervously waking only to realize that no one was pounding on her door wanting to arrest her. It was just past eight, and she got up right away, dressed and glanced at the paper sack that still held the untouched sandwich from the night before.

She felt better, and she had a feeling it was time to just go and not stay a second day. Wolf Lake was nice but so small, and she knew she’d be conspicuous. The man the night before had spotted her for a visitor, and others would, too. The visitor who wasn’t doing any sightseeing, she thought and knew it was time to drive on.

She got her things together and arrived at the registration desk an hour later. The couple from the night before were helping themselves to coffee and Danish pastries. Mallory was behind the desk.

“Good morning,” the woman said, eyeing Faith’s bags in either hand. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Yes, I need to check out.”

Mallory frowned with concern. “You aren’t happy with the room? I told you, I could move you—”

“No, it’s not that. I had a good rest and really need to get on the road again.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, then her smile flashed. “Well, if you’re ever near Wolf Lake again, come on back and stay a bit longer.” She counted out Faith’s refund for the unused second night.

Faith wished she could stay, but she knew she’d never be back to this town. “Thanks,” she said again, collecting her things and heading for the door.

The morning was gray and cold. Snow from the night before covered everything, and only a couple of cars were driving down the recently plowed street. She spotted patches of ice on the black asphalt.

The interior of her car was freezing. Quickly, she pushed the key into the ignition. The engine turned over and she flipped on the heater. She was thinking about heading north to Colorado as she reached for the gearshift. Everything came to a stop as she caught a whiff of something burning followed by a sudden sputter of the engine right before it died. She stared at the gauges, saw a check-engine light was on and noticed the acrid smell in the air.

This couldn’t be happening. This car was everything to her. She couldn’t rent one and risk leaving a trail for the authorities to find. There was no bus or train service handy. And she couldn’t walk. The best-laid plans never worked out, Faith thought, trying the key again. Nothing. Not even a click.

The temperature was bitter cold. She just shook her head. So many things she hadn’t taken into consideration. The car was used. Because it had been running so well for the past two weeks, the thought of it breaking down hadn’t even entered her mind.

She grabbed her wallet and got out of the car, locking it. It took a full second before she realized she’d just left her keys in the ignition. She wanted to scream or maybe laugh at the absurdity of the moment. Instead, she made herself breathe evenly and think. A mechanic. Surely Wolf Lake had an auto repair shop somewhere.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to the inn. Mallory was still behind the registration desk. She looked up as the chime sounded and saw Faith. “Hey, did you forget something?” she began, then her smile faltered as she saw Faith’s expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked, quickly coming around the desk.

“My car won’t start. I just wanted to know where I can find a mechanic.”

“Sure, of course. Just farther down the street.” She motioned to the west. “Manaw’s Garage is on the other side of the street, three or four blocks down.” She gestured at the phone on the desk. “Let me call him,” she said, reaching for the receiver.

“Oh, no,” Faith said quickly. She didn’t want the woman involved any more than she already was. “I can walk down there.”

Mallory hesitated. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. I appreciate the offer, though,” she said to soften her refusal. “I’ll get going.”

Mallory called after her, “Ask for Dent.”

Faith waved a hand and stepped back outside. She got to the street, headed west, and after a couple of blocks, she spotted her target. She crossed the street and arrived at Manaw’s Garage.

The building looked old and settled, with none of the cuteness of faux adobe or Old West touches. It was weathered wood and stone, with twin gas pumps standing by the street in front of the two service bays. As she approached the closest one, she spotted the mechanic, a short, stocky man with a shaved head wearing an oil-stained denim jacket over equally stained orange overalls.

He stood under an ancient truck raised on a lift and turned when her boots hit the cement floor with a dull thud. He came out from under the truck and smiled. “How’s it going, little lady?”

Little lady? She almost smiled at that. Wolf Lake could be quaint. “My car broke down. The battery, I think. It won’t start.”

“The make and year?”

She told him and finished with, “It’s over at—”

“The Inn. I know,” he said, rubbing his dirty hands on a soiled rag.

“How did—”

“I know?” he asked for her. “Saw the car there this morning. Always notice a new car in town. Assumed you were staying there.”

Faith was grateful she could dismiss the irritation she’d felt thinking Mallory had called after she’d asked her not to. Faith guessed everyone that lived here pretty much knew everything going on. “Well, it’s there, and I accidently locked the keys in it.”

He grinned. “I can get in any car in less than a minute,” he assured her, and she wondered if that was a good thing. “I’ll be over there in an hour or so.”

“How long do you think it will take to fix it?”

“No way to tell until I get a look-see at the problem. If it’s a battery, no time. Be done today. But if it’s more, I don’t know. Depends on what and how bad it is. Just give me a number to reach you at, and I’ll be in touch as soon as I figure it out.”

Her heart sank. She didn’t want to give out the number of the pay-as-you-go cell she’d bought before leaving Texas. No one had that number. Then she knew what she’d have to do, at least for the next few hours. “I’m at the inn, so you can call there.” She would check with Mallory during the day.

“Great.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“I’m no sir. I’m Denton Manaw, sole owner and head mechanic at this establishment. But people call me Dent.”

“Dent,” she repeated. “I’m Faith. And thank you again.”

He nodded, then got back to work on the truck.

She walked away slowly, toward the inn, taking her time, checking out the town. Wolf Lake felt so comfortable, as if it belonged right where it was, as native to the area as the buttes and mesas were. No rush, no fuss, and nice people, if they were like Mallory and Dent. The memory of Adam came to her. He was nice, too, she suspected. He’d bought her another coffee and obviously felt bad about running into her.

She glanced into several windows decked out for Christmas and considered what it would be like to live in a place like this. It was a world away from Chicago in more ways than one. When she spotted the same coffee shop she’d gone to the previous evening, she ducked inside, ordered coffee and a pastry, then took a table by the window that overlooked the street. Slow and easy. It was good to just sit still for a bit. There was nothing else she could do, so she sipped her steaming coffee and nibbled on the flaky pastry.

She hadn’t been there more than ten minutes when she looked out the window and spied a tall man striding down the sidewalk. He was heading in her direction. There were the leather jacket, faded jeans and boots she recognized. Adam, she thought, but now he had a dark Stetson pulled low to shadow his face. He walked quickly, an obvious destination in mind, and she wondered if he was searching for the man he’d argued with the night before.

As he got nearer, he glanced up and to his left, then waved to someone across the street and kept walking. As he got closer, she had to fight an impulse to move back from the window. But she stayed put as he came abreast of her on the other side of the glass. She looked down into her coffee, sure that he was going to pass without noticing her. She was wrong.

There was a tap on the window, and she looked up, knowing who she’d see. Adam. His intense gaze was on her, then the smile she’d seen last night, the one dimple exposed by the expression. He looked rugged and confident, as if he fit right in at Wolf Lake. She managed a nod, formed what she hoped was a pleasant smile for him, and all the while her heart was hammering against her ribs.

Please keep walking, she pleaded silently, but he had no intention of going past with a mere wave and a smile. He headed for the shop’s entrance, all but dwarfing the space. In a few strides he was at her table. Without hesitating or asking if it was okay, he pulled out a chair and sat across from her, taking off the Stetson and putting in on an empty chair by him.

His eyes flicked to her coffee. “I promise not to get too close to that,” he said with that wry grin.

Did the man know what effect he had on women, or was he one of those guys who didn’t have a clue? Staring into his dark eyes, she wasn’t sure. His smile was genuine, his body language showed ease, and if he smiled fully again, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. But she knew she wasn’t going to drink any more coffee. She kept her hands clasped in her lap under the table.

He glanced out the window, then back at her. “So how’s it going for you in Wolf Lake?”

“Good,” she said tentatively, “although I really haven’t seen much of what’s around here.”

His gaze held hers and that made her even more nervous. “Maybe you need a tour guide,” he said, one dark eyebrow lifted slightly.

Darn, he was... She erased that image, knowing any thoughts about him being sexy were out of order, especially given the circumstances. “No, I’m leaving today.” She hoped that was the truth. “I’m just getting a few things done before I go.”

For a moment she thought she saw a flash of disappointment in those eyes, but the recovery was so swift, she was sure she’d imagined it. “Well,” he murmured, “I hope you get back sometime, and if I’m here...” He shrugged. “Who knows?”

What she knew was that wouldn’t happen. That made her feel... She didn’t know, but it wasn’t pleasant. It was all so bizarre. At any other time, if Adam had sat down across from her, she would have definitely talked with him, got to know him a bit, to maybe let whatever he was hinting at blossom, but that was out of the question. “Who knows?” she repeated softly.

He frowned, his head tipped slightly to one side as if considering something. He leaned forward, his forearms on the table, his strong hands clasped together. He paused before he finally spoke again. “You know, to be honest, I’ve got the feeling that I’m a problem for you.” The smile was gone completely now.

Shock zinged through her, and she didn’t know what to say. A problem? “What?”

“Maybe not a problem, but I’m making you upset and I’m sorry for that.” She had a heart-stopping moment when his hand moved and she thought he was going to reach out and make contact with her. Thankfully, he didn’t. “I’m going out on a limb here, because I’m not sure what’s going on, but if you need help, someone to talk to, I’m a great listener.” She wasn’t sure what expression she had on her face because he quickly added, “Just someone to talk to.”

His offer was genuine, she could sense that, and that was what terrified her. He could tell she was alone, that she had no one to confide in and that she would have loved to have that luxury.

What scared her the most was his reading her so perfectly when she’d thought she was being so outwardly contained. “No,” she sputtered, her panic rising to the surface. “There’s nothing, not anything.” She tried to slow herself down, to actually sound as if she were fine. “But it was good meeting you,” she said, acknowledging how much she really meant that. She reached for her wallet. “I need to go.”

Adam stood, looked down at her, and her knees felt weak. He spoke softly. “Have a good life. Just remember, I’ll be coming back here more often now.”

“I don’t think I’ll be back, but if I am...”

“Look for me?” When she didn’t answer his question, he added, “There is something that I need to ask you, though.”

She braced herself for any lie she had to tell to get out of there. “What’s that?”

“Who are you?”

She felt a rush of anxiety flood her senses. “Ex...cuse me?” she managed.

“If I come back, I need to know who to ask about. You never told me your name.”

Oh. If she could have done a backflip out of joy at such a simple question, she would have done it. But all she did was take a breath before answering him. “Faith.”

“Faith,” he murmured, that smile flitting at the corners of his mouth. “Faith.”

She nodded and moved past him to get to the door.

She stepped out onto the street, turned abruptly to go and noticed at the first corner she came to that she’d gone in the wrong direction to get to the inn. She could see Manaw’s garage two blocks ahead. She felt too unnerved to care at that moment and just kept going until she got to the next corner. She darted a look behind her.

Adam was nowhere to be seen. Who are you? he’d asked. The words had contained as much force as a physical punch.

She pulled her jacket more tightly around her, kept going and circled back at the end of the block to pass a mixture of trailers, houses and bare land. Then she took another street that led to the main drag and came out a block beyond the inn.





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