Книга - Death Benefits

Death Benefits
Hannah Alexander


An exotic Hawaiian vacation was what Ginger Carpenter had planned. What she got was a tropical nightmare! An escaped murderer was on the trail of her two foster nieces once more.To protect them, she had to rely on Dr. Ray Clyde–the man she had never wanted to see again. Ginger hadn't been able to forgive Ray's interference with her vocation as a missionary. Now, with danger lurking behind every palm tree, she'd have to find a way to forget the past to make sure they'd all have a future….









“We need to get a few things straight, Ray Clyde.” Ginger kept her voice low.


“What is it we need to get straight?” Ray asked.

“These two little girls are precious to me,” she said quietly. “They don’t need to be used as pawns so you can try to make amends with me.”

There was a slight hesitation, then, “You know better.” His voice chided but remained gentle, maybe a little sad. “Let’s be honest with one another for a moment. You feel you need to place some distance between the two of us on this trip, and so you must make sure I don’t bond with Lucy or Brittany.”

“You have a problem with that?” she asked.

“I do. A considerable amount as a matter of fact.”

Ginger shifted in her seat. No one else had quite the same knack of rendering her speechless like he did.




HANNAH ALEXANDER


is the pseudonym of husband-and-wife writing team Cheryl and Mel Hodde (pronounced Hoddee). When they first met, Mel had just begun his new job as an E.R. doctor in Cheryl’s hometown, and Cheryl was working on a novel. Cheryl’s matchmaking pastor set them up on an unexpected blind date at a local restaurant. Surprised by the sneak attack, Cheryl blurted the first thing that occurred to her, “You’re a doctor? Could you help me paralyze someone?” Mel was shocked. “Only temporarily, of course,” she explained when she saw his expression. “And only fictitiously. I’m writing a novel.”

They began brainstorming immediately. Eighteen months later they were married, and the novels they set in fictitious Ozark towns began to sell. The first novel in the Hideaway series, published in the Steeple Hill Single Title program, won a prestigious Christy Award for Best Romance in 2004.




Death Benefits

Hannah Alexander







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


Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.

—Proverbs 3:5–6


With thanks to Ray and Clydene Brown, real, live heroes who were there for us in our time of need.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


On New Year’s Eve, Lucy Jameson dreamed she saw her dead mama’s face in the fire. Mama had a pretty face, with eyes the color of sunshine through leaves, eyes that filled with love when she smiled. That was what Lucy missed the most about her—the smile, the love.

Mama didn’t always smile, though.

In the fire, her eyes looked scary, and her mouth moved as if she might be shouting—though no sound came from her lips. She acted this way when she needed to get high. Soon, if she got high, she’d be happy for a few days.

Lucy wasn’t supposed to know about these things, because she was only eight and a half. Some kids just knew, whether they were supposed to or not.

Mama stepped out of the fire and came toward Lucy, her hands black and smoking. Her feet burned into the wooden floor, spreading flames with every footstep.

Lucy gasped and sat up in bed, trying to scream as her eyes flew open in the dark. The sound came from her mouth like the chirp of a cricket. She knew it was her own voice; there weren’t any crickets outside the window the week after Christmas in Hideaway, Missouri.

She hated these dreams worst of all. They made her remember the bad times, when her mother was scary-mad, when she slapped and screamed at Lucy and Brittany and called them nasty names. That was when Mama hated them.

“Sissy?”

Lucy winced at Brittany’s frightened voice. “I’m here.”

“What was that noise?”

“It’s okay, it was me.” Good thing she sounded normal again, not like the screechy cry from her dream.

There was a whisper of covers, then a thud of bare feet as Brittany dropped from her own bed and crossed to Lucy’s.

She climbed up beside Lucy without asking permission.

Lucy pulled the blankets back and helped her settle under them. Even though Brittany kicked the covers off, and sometimes even snored, Lucy didn’t mind. Much. Brittany couldn’t help it, she was only five. She wouldn’t be six until February.

Brittany squirmed close, right into Lucy’s face. Eeww! Her breath stank.

“Did you have another bad dream?”

“Guess so.” Lucy protected her nose with a handful of blanket.

“Was it about Mama again?”

Why did Aunt Ginger’s spaghetti make their breath smell like this?

Brittany tugged at Lucy’s arm. “Huh? Was it?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “Now be quiet or everybody will wake up and nobody’ll get back to sleep and we’ll be tired all day tomorrow.”

Brittany shifted…settled…shifted…settled, then snuggled close to Lucy’s side. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day. Mama used to let us stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

“But we never got up early on New Year’s Day to catch a plane to Hawaii when Mama was alive.”

Brittany sighed. “No.”

“You’ll want to be awake for the airplane ride, so go back to sleep.” They’d never flown.

“I don’t know if I can sleep now. You scared me awake.” Still, she yawned.

Lucy felt Brittany’s teddy bear Chuckles being squeezed between them, his soft fur comforting as it had always been when they were alone at home, when Mom had been out somewhere in the night.

Lucy rubbed Brittany’s head with gentle strokes and waited until her breathing grew deeper. Even when Brittany said she couldn’t sleep, she always did.

“A dream,” Lucy whispered to herself, remembering the angry face of her mother. “She’s dead. It’s okay now. She’s dead.” And then she cried, hating herself for saying that.

Willow Traynor was going to become their new mother next week. She wouldn’t do the things Mama did, because she’d never done them.

Willow didn’t look anything like Mama—Mama was pretty—but Willow was gentle, and when she spent time with Lucy and Brittany, it was as if she really wanted to be with them. She never yelled, and she hugged them a lot. She didn’t take drugs, and she never slapped them. Willow made Lucy feel special.

As soon as Graham and Willow got married and everyone got home from the honeymoon, then Willow would move in here with Lucy and Brittany and Graham. Then, the week after that, the adoption would be final, and they would be a family.

Graham and Willow were going to be the most wonderful mother and father in the world. Lucy knew she could learn to feel safe with them.

She glanced across the room and barely saw the outline of Brittany’s bed, the pile of blankets looking like a jumble of little hills in the moonlight.

Brittany had her own bedroom in this house, but even after all these months, Lucy and Brittany wanted to stay together. The same people who said Lucy was too mature for an eight-and-a-half-year-old couldn’t believe Brittany was almost six. She was small for her age.

Light came in under the door, and it was brighter than the night-light, so that meant someone was up.

The surface of the lake, down the hill from the big log house where they lived, reflected lights from the boys’ ranch on the other shore, where Blaze Farmer lived.

Lucy loved Blaze. When she grew up, she was going to marry him.

On any other night, if the lights were on at the ranch, it meant that it wasn’t midnight yet. The boys all had to be in bed by eleven, even Blaze, who helped with the younger boys when he wasn’t working at the clinic or in college. Tonight, all the boys got to stay up late because of New Year’s Eve.

Lucy realized, since she’d heard no footsteps rushing down the hallway, that her cries from the nightmare hadn’t been loud enough to be heard through the house. Sometimes, she screamed loud enough to wake Aunt Ginger or Graham. Then Aunt Ginger would place Brittany in bed with Lucy, and spend the rest of the night in Brittany’s bed. She’d done that a few times since Mama died last spring.

Aunt Ginger said Lucy had never had the chance to be a child, and that she should learn to be one now. Lucy didn’t know what she meant.

Sometimes, when Lucy woke up from a bad dream and couldn’t stop shaking, she’d creep down the dim corridor to Aunt Ginger’s room. She never made any noise, but sat on the floor in the corner, listening to Ginger breathing…sometimes snuggling into the clothes Ginger’d tossed off when she changed into her pajamas. The smell of Aunt Ginger made her feel safe.

Lucy would miss Aunt Ginger when she moved out.

Tonight wasn’t a good night to wake her up, but if someone was already up anyway…

With slow, careful movements, Lucy pushed the covers back and slid to the floor. Had to be quiet. Brittany shouldn’t wake up again. If she did, she might never get back to sleep.

Lucy opened the door, holding her breath. No sound came from the bed. She crept out into the hallway, but the telephone rang in the front room. She stopped, startled, then glanced back at her sister. No movement.

Who could be calling at this time of night?



Ginger Carpenter reached for the cordless phone beside her chair in the great room of her brother’s lodge—that was how she would have to think of it from now on. No longer home. This would be her last night here.

Curious about who might be calling to wish them Happy New Year, she gave one final, longing glance toward the glow of the full winter moon over the lake.

She would miss this place. After the wedding in Hawaii, Ginger would move into Willow’s condo off Lakeshore Drive. It was situated in a nice area, but it wouldn’t have what Graham’s roomy log house had—two little girls who had taken up so much of her time…and her heart…for the past nine months.

She answered the phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was blocked. “Yes.”

“Ginger Carpenter, that you?” came a deep, gravelly voice that she was too tired to recognize.

“That’s right.”

“Larry Bager here.”

Oh. Of course. How could she have forgotten that extremely masculine voice? Larry. Mr. Tough Guy himself. “Why is an undercover investigator calling here at this time of night?”

“I have to clue you and Graham in on some things.”

“What things?” she asked. What was her brother up to this time? When he’d first hired Larry last year, it was to shadow Willow Traynor without her knowledge—for her own protection, of course, but she hadn’t been happy about it. It had taken some hard convincing for Willow to trust Graham Vaughn again.

“Is the boss around?” Larry asked. “He needs to hear this, too.”

Any other time, Ginger would have rolled her eyes at the man’s standard reference to her brother, but something in his voice alerted her. “Larry,” she said, “what’s going on? Just tell me, okay? Graham’s already asleep. I was getting ready to turn in, myself. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Hawaii, right?”

She paused. How did he know about that? “That’s right. Please don’t tell me Graham’s contacted you about something and hasn’t told us.”

“Not yet he hasn’t. That’s what I called about. I saw the wedding announcement in the paper, and I made a few inquiries. If I could find out so easily, I’m afraid somebody else could’ve seen it, too.”

“Someone like who?”

“Sandi Jameson’s killer.”

Ginger frowned, confused. “So? That man’s in prison. Why should it matter?”

There was silence, and Ginger felt a knot of tension tighten in her stomach. “Larry? Please tell me that monster is in prison.”

A tired sigh. “I didn’t figure you’d get a call from the police in Kansas. State line and all that. Nobody wants to step on anyone else’s toes. But I’d’ve thought somebody’d at least give you guys the heads-up.”

“Are you trying to tell me Rick Fenrow has been let out of prison?”

“Nobody let him out, that’s for sure. He broke out.”

The fingers of Ginger’s left hand tingled. She realized her grip on the receiver might crack the hard plastic, and she shifted to the other hand.

“Ginger? You there?”

This couldn’t be happening. “When?”

“Two days ago. He was in the infirmary—”

“Why did they allow a convicted killer to work in the infirmary? Are they crazy?” And why hadn’t someone called them sooner? This was unconscionable.

“I didn’t say he was working there, I said he was there.” Larry sounded tense, himself. “He purportedly injured his leg. From there he coaxed a medical supply delivery lady to slip him out underneath her truck.”

“How did he convince her to do that?”

“What can I say? Bad boys do seem to have their charm for some women. I’ve seen it happen too many times. She’s been arrested.”

“Shouldn’t someone have checked the truck before they allowed it to leave the prison grounds?”

“Yep. The guard who neglected that part of his job has been fired.”

Somehow, that failed to comfort Ginger. “But they haven’t found Fenrow?” The tingle of alarm spread over her shoulders and down her back.

“Not a clue where he went,” Larry said gently. “Look, the boss is going to need to know about this, that crazy loon could be headed toward Hideaway with revenge on his mind.”

Ginger shot a sudden glance out into the darkness beyond the bay window and the deck. “Let me talk to Graham. I’ll have him call you back.”

“You do that. I have a feeling I’m going to need to pack for a trip to Hawaii for some protective surveillance.”

Ginger hung up. Had it been anyone else, she’d be tempted to suspect he was making it all up to con them into taking him with them to Hawaii. Larry Bager had the chutzpah to pull it off, too, but he wasn’t the type. She knew for a fact he didn’t like flying, and he didn’t like water.

She decided to check into Rick Fenrow’s whereabouts before waking Graham, but she had an awful tightening in her gut that told her Larry Bager knew exactly what he was talking about. Last year’s horror was paying another visit.




TWO


Lucy inched along the broad hallway as Aunt Ginger talked to somebody on the telephone, then Lucy crouched behind the coats on the hall stand when Aunt Ginger hung up and hurried in Lucy’s direction.

Aunt Ginger wouldn’t be mad at Lucy for being up, because she knew Lucy often couldn’t sleep. But Lucy realized from the tone of Aunt Ginger’s voice that something was going on. She knew from past experience that no one would tell her what it was.

Nobody ever told Lucy anything around here. They thought they were protecting her, when really they were killing her. Curiosity was an awful thing to die from.

Aunt Ginger knocked on Graham’s door.

There was no answer. Aunt Ginger always joked about how easy Graham could wake up if he received an emergency call from a patient, but try to wake him up any other time, and it was like waking the dead.

Lucy thought of her dream about Mama. It would be horrible to wake the dead. But Graham wasn’t anything like Mama. And he was really alive.

Lucy’d never had a father before. She didn’t know what she was going to call Graham after the adoption was final. “Daddy” sounded too childish, but Aunt Ginger reminded her that she was a child, and that “Daddy” was a good name for a real father who loved his little girls.

If Graham wanted her to call him Daddy, that was what she’d do. It was what Brittany already called him, but Lucy had decided she was going to do this right. When Graham and Willow were married, when they came back and signed the adoption papers, then they’d all be a family, and then Lucy would call Graham and Willow what they should be called.

Sure, Lucy already called Aunt Ginger “Aunt.” And she called Willow’s brother, Preston, “Uncle.” But a mother and father were different from other relatives.

Graham finally muttered something from his bedroom that Lucy didn’t quite hear, and Aunt Ginger opened the door and stuck her head through. “Graham, something’s come up. You need to call your pee eye.”

Lucy wrinkled her nose. Eeww!

Graham muttered something she couldn’t hear.

Aunt Ginger went inside, and Lucy crept closer to the door. She hadn’t been able to hear what the call was about earlier, but she could tell Aunt Ginger was upset. Her words were clipped, her voice higher and her speech faster than usual.

“Fenrow’s out of prison,” she said. “He broke out.”

“What do you mean, broke out?” Graham nearly shouted.

“Shhh! You’ll wake the girls.”

“Did Larry say how it happened? Are you sure this isn’t some practical New Year’s Eve joke? He’s not drunk, is he?”

“He didn’t sound like it. He told me someone sneaked the man past the guards. He’s thinking about joining us in Hawaii for protective surveillance.”

“How could the guards have allowed Fenrow to slip past them?” Graham asked. “What could they have been thinking? Rick Fenrow, of all people!”

Lucy heard the name clearly. She knew it well. Even though no one would tell her exactly how Mama was killed, Lucy knew, because she’d heard them talking. That man, that Rick Fenrow, was in jail because he killed Mama and tried to kill Willow.

Leaning her forehead against the smooth wood of the hallway wall, Lucy thought she was going to throw up. They were talking about a murderer! And he was out of prison?

“I told Larry you would probably call him back,” Aunt Ginger said.

Graham sighed, and there was a long silence. “Larry’s presence in Hawaii will put a damper on the whole celebration.”

“Isn’t it better than the alternative?” Aunt Ginger asked.

“We don’t need a reminder about what happened last year. Fenrow surely can’t follow us to Hawaii.”

“And yet, we don’t need to take chances with our lives,” Aunt Ginger said. “You know how vindictive Fenrow can be. The man’s crazy, Graham, and Larry knew we were going to Hawaii tomorrow, though no one told him. If Larry can find out, so can Fenrow.”

Lucy swallowed hard. Last year, Rick Fenrow had set fire to the cabin where Willow was staying with her brother, Preston. Rick Fenrow was evil and wicked, and evil people always wanted to hurt and kill.

“He killed Sandi Jameson to keep her from talking to Willow,” Aunt Ginger said. “You know what he’s capable of. We have to think of the children. And Willow. They need protection. We all do.”

“Larry wasn’t able to protect Sandi last year.” Graham’s voice sounded louder and closer. He’d gotten out of bed.

“You didn’t hire him to protect her,” Aunt Ginger said. “You hired him to protect Willow.”

“He didn’t even do a good job of that.”

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Aunt Ginger said. “Maybe he would have had more luck if Willow had cooperated and told him about the situation before she went barging into it.”

Lucy scowled at this criticism against her soon-to-be new mother.

“He knows what to expect now,” Aunt Ginger said. “So do the rest of us.”

“Fenrow’s always been a loose cannon,” Graham grumbled. “What makes you think we can predict his actions any more this year than we did last year?”

“Maybe this is one of those times we need to have some faith,” Aunt Ginger said. “We all believe you and Willow and the girls were meant to become a family. If that was God’s intent, then it will happen. So maybe you need to have some faith that He will be your protector. However, we can take some steps to protect ourselves.”

While Aunt Ginger kept preaching to Graham—that’s what Mama would have called it—Lucy tiptoed back to her bedroom and slipped through the doorway.

A soft, trembling whisper from the darkness reached her. “Sissy?”

Lucy gasped, nearly wetting her pants. Brittany stood like a ghost just inside the door, clutching Chuckles by an ear, sucking the fingers of her other hand.

“What are you doing up?” Lucy snapped at her.

Brittany took the fingers out of her mouth. “You left! I s-scared! I woke up and…and…you—”

“Okay. It’s okay now.” Lucy put an arm around Brittany’s shoulders, feeling bad for snapping. Brittany had outgrown baby talk most of the time, except when she was scared, then she forgot. Sometimes she still sucked her fingers.

“Be quiet and get back to bed.” Lucy took Brittany by the shoulders and nudged her in the direction of her own bed.

“Can I…can I sleep with you some more?”

“Not if you’re going to keep getting up and scaring me like this.”

“But you left!”

“I’m back now, okay?”

“I heard Aunt Ginger and Daddy talking—”

“They’re planning our trip. And we’re missing out on sleep. I want to be awake for the trip tomorrow. Now get into bed and sleep!”



After an hour of staring at the dark ceiling, twisting her comforter into a tangle, Ginger concluded it was time for some warm milk and a mild sedative.

Tomorrow…no, make that today, since it was after midnight…New Year’s Day, they would be in the air for a total of nine hours, with one layover in St. Louis. She hated going without sleep, because then she got cranky with the girls. She hated cranky. They didn’t deserve it.

She got out of bed and pulled on her slippers, then crept into the kitchen in her pajamas. Between hot flashes and an overly heated house, she didn’t bother with her housecoat. Wait until Willow hit the age of fifty-three, and see if she allowed Graham to keep these saunalike temperatures in this house.

While the milk heated in the microwave, Ginger swallowed a sleeping pill and rubbed her eyes. Willow and Lucy were the ones with the nightmares in this family, but considering Larry Bager’s telephone call, Ginger didn’t doubt that she might be in line for some frightening dreams.

She settled in her favorite chair at the kitchen table and took a sip of the milk. A wall of glass separated the kitchen from the deck. At this time of year, the deck furniture was stored in the basement, so she had a clear view of the lake, where the water shimmered with light from the full moon.

After talking with Larry, Graham had decided, as she’d known he would, that they could use a watchful private investigator on their trip. Ginger knew the ex-cop was a good P.I., but how was he going to keep up with a group of people who would be scattered across the whole island of Kauai?

After the wedding, Graham and Willow planned to spend most of the week together, exploring the island, in a world all their own. Preston Black, Willow’s brother, was going to help Ginger watch the girls. The planners of this exotic wedding, Helen and Steve Courtney, would also be around to act as escorts and help with whatever was needed. This wedding trip was an extravagant gift from Mrs. Engle, a wealthy lady who Graham and Willow had befriended last year, and who had spared no expense in the arrangements she’d made for their comfort and enjoyment.

The children’s days would be filled with swimming, hiking, exploring. Graham and Willow didn’t want to spend the whole time separated from the girls, so they planned to have dinner most evenings with Lucy and Brittany.

It looked as if Larry Bager would now be helping Ginger, Preston and the Courtneys babysit.

Ginger had taken a second sip of milk when she thought she heard a tap-rattle somewhere at the other end of the house. Probably the wind.

Still…

She pushed away from the table and crept through the dark, quiet house. Before leaving for the medical mission field in Belarus, Ginger had been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Ten years dealing with every situation imaginable in a foreign country had toughened her. Now, it took more than an unidentified noise in the darkness to frighten her; it took recent notification that a convicted murderer had broken out of prison.

She passed her bedroom door and skirted the bentwood coatrack in the hall when a tiny figure in white suddenly appeared, startling her.

“Brittany?” she whispered. “Honey, what are you doing out of bed?”

The child rubbed her eyes and squeezed poor Chuckles so tightly Ginger feared for his head. “Lucy woke me up and now I can’t sleep.”

Ginger took Brittany’s free hand and led her back along the hallway. “How about sharing some warm milk with me?”

“With honey?”

“Sure.” Ginger brushed long strands of Brittany’s blond hair behind her shoulders, and looked down into the child’s green eyes. This little darling looked so much like her late mother that it sometimes chilled Ginger.

The sisters looked nothing alike. Lucy had dark, soulfully deep eyes that seemed to see beneath the surface of things. Her hair was almost as dark as her eyes, her face solemn in repose, whereas Brittany always had a quick smile. Lucy remained aloof from strangers, and it often seemed to concern her when her little sister made friends easily.

The bond of love between the sisters was strong. Lucy took her role as older sister seriously. For the first few months of the girls’ life here in Hideaway, Lucy had refused to let Brittany out of her sight.

Keeping watch over the active five-year-old was quite a responsibility, and, after much pleading, Ginger had convinced Lucy that Brittany would come to no harm here in the tiny village of kind, common people.

“How did Lucy wake you up?” Ginger asked.

“She had another bad dream, and then I got into bed with her so she’d feel safe, but she left me there.”

Ginger stopped. “She left you?”

“Uh-huh. She went out to the hallway when you and Daddy were arguing.”

Ginger winced. “We weren’t arguing.” What if Lucy had overheard her talking to Graham about Rick Fenrow? “Where is she now?”

Before Brittany could answer, a scream rent the air, followed quickly by another, raising the hairs along the back of Ginger’s neck and causing her to stumble and stub her toe on the hall coatrack.

That was Lucy’s voice, raised in terror.

Another nightmare?

Ginger turned and ran back down the hallway. Graham’s door flew open and he scrambled out, nearly colliding with Ginger. The screams continued.

They reached Lucy’s room to find her standing between the beds, staring out the window. Graham grabbed her up into his arms while Ginger turned on the light. Lucy’s face was as pale as her nightgown, her dark brown eyes wide with terror, mouth open, long hair falling over her face.

“The man, Graham!” she cried, pointing toward the window. “There was a man! He was out there watching me when I opened my eyes. I saw him. He was watching me! Right in that window!”

Graham put Lucy down and grabbed the flashlight the girls kept on the stand between the beds for when the electricity went off. He rushed to the window and shone the bright beam over the yard around the side of the house, then turned and ran from the room. Within seconds, the outdoor lights flooded the yard and garden, outlining two of the horses in the corral behind the house.

Ginger heard Brittany’s cries from the kitchen. Grabbing Lucy’s hand, she hurried back to find Graham holding Brittany in his arms as he punched a number on the telephone keypad.

“Shhh, it’s okay, honey,” he whispered to Brittany. “It’s going to be okay. Lucy’s been having some bad dreams lately, you know—” His attention switched to the phone. “Greg? This is Graham Vaughn. Could you come out here? We’ve had some excitement.” He explained the situation to the sheriff in two succinct sentences, thanked him and hung up, stooping to place Brittany on her feet.

“There’ll be some men here in a couple of minutes. I’m going to go outside and check—”

“No!” Lucy cried. “What if it’s that man?” She stared, wide-eyed, at Brittany, pressing her lips together. The terror in her eyes told Ginger what she’d feared.

Indeed, Lucy had heard them earlier tonight. She obviously knew about Rick Fenrow.

“Graham,” Ginger said, “why don’t you stay inside?” More than likely, Lucy had awakened from another nightmare, and convinced herself it was real because of what she’d overheard. More than likely.

But Ginger didn’t want to take chances. And so the four of them stayed together in the kitchen, staring out the windows, the children wide-eyed and trembling, until they heard the sound of a motor a few minutes later.

As they’d expected, the sheriff and his deputy, as well as Taylor Jackson, forest ranger, arrived in three different vehicles—Taylor’s vehicle being a boat.

This sprawling log home provided them with the best of both worlds. They lived in the country, with all the privacy they could want. They were only a quarter of a mile from downtown Hideaway by way of the shoreline, and one mile by road. Many Hideaway residents used water transportation.

The men searched the entire property. By the time they were finished, Dane Gideon, mayor of Hideaway and director of the boys’ ranch across the lake, had come over. With him were his household help, Richard Cook, and college student, Blaze Farmer, who, Ginger knew, Lucy adored. If anyone could put Lucy at ease about tonight, it would be Blaze.

All the men went over the property once again for good measure, then rejoined the family in the great room, accepting the cups of hot chocolate the girls had helped Ginger prepare.

No one was found, but Ginger couldn’t help feeling that perhaps someone just didn’t want to be found.




THREE


Ray Clyde sat reading the Springfield Daily News with his back to the window that looked out over the parking lot of the Springfield-Branson Airport. He’d received an early morning summons to Columbia Regional Hospital for one of his young patients. After finishing there, he’d decided just to drive on down to Springfield rather than go back to bed. He’d have had to get up early to make the three-hour drive, anyway.

It was never easy to get back to sleep after dealing with a child in pain, though after twenty years, he should be impervious to the cries of mother and child, the fear and panic. He wasn’t. He had decided when he first began his career that if he ever ceased to have compassion for his patients, he would retire.

He’d be working well into his seventies at this rate.

He glanced over the top of his paper as two familiar figures entered the concourse and walked toward the Delta self-check-in terminals. He smiled at the sight of Willow Traynor and her brother, Preston Black.

Willow glowed with the radiance of a woman in love. Tall and slender, with short, dark hair, she emanated self-sufficiency. This was something about which her fiancé, Graham Vaughn, occasionally complained—though always with good grace.

Neither Willow nor Preston noticed Ray, and he was glad. It meant others also might not notice him. Graham had even suggested that Ray not attempt to board until the last minute. Ray understood perfectly why his friend felt a late arrival was necessary, but he still chafed at the thought of subterfuge.

After another five minutes, the glass doors slid open again and two little girls burst into the concourse. Ray knew from photos that these children were Lucy and Brittany Jameson. They would be adopted by Graham and Willow next week, as soon as they returned from Hawaii.

“Mommy!” Brittany called, racing forward, arms outstretched.

Willow turned, a smile of delight spreading across the slightly angular features of her face. The smile transformed her somewhat solemn expression into a thing of beauty.

She and her brother, Preston, both stepped out of line and knelt to embrace the children.

Brittany, the five-year-old, looked small for her age, though Ray knew she was nearly six. It was easy to tell that she was the charmer. With long, pale hair and a wide grin, she looked much like the photos of her mother, who had been killed last year.

Lucy, in contrast, appeared older than eight and a half, not because of her size, but because her demeanor was so watchful and serious. She resembled Willow, with her dark brown hair and reserved expression, especially when she smiled, which she suddenly did at Willow, whom she obviously adored.

Preston leaned close to Lucy and asked her something. Ray couldn’t hear what he said, but Lucy placed her hands on her hips and gave him a disapproving look. “It’s not an airplane, Uncle Preston, it’s a jet.”

Preston chuckled. He, too, looked most like Willow when he smiled. It was obvious he doted on the children.

“That’s right, my dear, you set ’em straight” came a painfully familiar voice from behind the girls.

Ray looked up to see Ginger Carpenter walking through the doorway beside Graham Vaughn, her brother. Ray’s breath caught.

Ginger. A year ago, if anyone had suggested that a rift might form between him and Ginger Carpenter, Ray would have thought it was impossible. His most precious memories of their time together and their growing friendship were of her smile, her laughter, her tender compassion.

Of course, many of those same memories also included the powerful and painful attraction he had felt for her since their first meeting. By all indications, the attraction had never been reciprocated, and he hoped his rare loss of emotional control had remained undetected by his colleagues—and especially by Ginger.

He expected her to turn at any second and spot him. Fireworks would then commence.

The reason Graham preferred that the conflagration take place onboard rather than in the concourse was obvious. Graham wanted his sister to attend his wedding. If she saw Ray while she could still escape, she might do so. Graham had warned Ray that his characteristically kindhearted, forgiving sister had not forgiven Ray for their conflict last year.

Ray intended for that to change on this trip.

He continued to hold the paper, but over the top edge he watched Ginger. He had always enjoyed her sunny smile, her quick laughter, the glow of health across her fair, freckled face. This morning her golden-red hair was mingled with new silver that he hadn’t noticed a year ago. The effect was one of antiqued copper—very becoming on her. She didn’t appear well rested, however.

A strange man with dark brown hair and a black leather jacket suddenly joined the group. Lucy grabbed her sister’s arm and stepped in front of her protectively.

Ray watched the man’s face.

“Ow!” Brittany wriggled from Lucy’s grip. “Stop it, sissy, you’re hurting me.”

Lucy released her, but continued to stare at the man. As Preston and Willow had done, this man squatted in front of the girls, looking them in the eyes. “Hi. I’m Larry Bager.”

The man’s eyes were dark brown, and his well-developed muscles beneath the jacket were obvious. He had a short beard that looked unshaved rather than intentionally grown.

“I’m Lucy Jameson,” the older sister told the man. “This is my sister, Brittany.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Lucy leaned closer to him and said something Ray couldn’t hear. Larry’s gaze flicked up to Ginger, then back at Lucy. “That’s right, I’m like a bodyguard.”

Lucy nodded, apparently satisfied. “Is that like a bouncer? I went to work with Mama sometimes, and she introduced me to the bouncer at the bar where she worked.”

Again, Larry nodded. “I’m the man to come to if you get scared of anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

Larry straightened and looked around. “Hey, boss,” he said to Graham, “where’re those trip escorts we’re supposed to have flying with us?”

“I just got a call from Helen Courtney,” Graham said. “She told me they had some car trouble and they’re running late, but they’ll be on the flight with us.”

Larry was close enough to Ray when he drew Graham aside that Ray could hear them. “You check ’em out? Are they legit?”

“One of my renters, Mrs. Engle, set us up with them. They’ve been on board with this plan for several weeks, coordinating our requests.”

Larry glanced in Ray’s direction and his eyes narrowed, as if some inner radar ignited his suspicion. “Can’t be too careful.”



Lucy grabbed her sister’s hand. “Brittany, you’ve got to stay with us, okay?” Lucy said. “No wandering off, and you can’t talk to strangers. I mean it.”

“Okay.” Brittany turned and smiled up at Larry Bager, even though she’d just met him. “My teacher says airplanes are as safe as riding a school bus.”

Lucy nudged Brittany. “School bus? Not even close. You aren’t with a bunch of kids on this flight. These are grown-ups, and you know what Mama always said about talking to strangers, especially grown-ups.”

Aunt Ginger gave Lucy one of her raised-eyebrow looks over her shoulder. “Stop with the fear tactics, my dear. It’ll only make things worse.” She gave a sharp nod.

Lucy knew what the nod meant. It meant: Especially after scaring Brittany to death last night.

But that hadn’t been a dream standing in the window, and Lucy knew it, no matter how much Aunt Ginger tried to convince her everything was okay.

Lucy had seen Rick Fenrow. She knew the difference between a dream and a real man. She could close her eyes and see that face. Shaggy black hair, shaggy black eyebrows that looked like caterpillars. White face.

Brittany probably didn’t even remember how scared everybody had been last night. Those kinds of things never bothered her much. Why should they? Lucy was always there to make sure nobody hurt her. Brittany didn’t know everything about Mama’s killer.

Last night, even with Blaze Farmer and Dane Gideon standing guard at opposite ends of the house until morning, Lucy hadn’t been able to sleep.

Why couldn’t Blaze come with them to Hawaii? Blaze was strong and kind, and he didn’t think he was too good to talk to little girls.

But Blaze had already agreed to take care of the farm for Graham while they were gone, so he couldn’t go with them.

Lucy kept a lookout for the man she’d seen last night. Once in the jet, settled in her seat by the window, she studied everyone who entered.

Aunt Ginger sat in the seat between Lucy and Brittany. Uncle Preston sat directly across the aisle from them, with Willow and Graham in front of him.

Once, Lucy had asked if Aunt Ginger and Uncle Preston were boyfriend and girlfriend. Aunt Ginger had laughed, saying that, biologically, she was old enough to be Uncle Preston’s mother.

Lucy didn’t know what biologically meant, but Uncle Preston had a girlfriend now. Her name was Sheila, and she was nice.

Aunt Ginger had said more than once that she wasn’t a romantic type. She said she knew better than to make that mistake again. Graham laughed at her, but she talked as if she meant it. She said, “Graham Vaughn, don’t you go trying to set me up with any of those friends of yours. I’m out of commission, and I like it that way.”

Two old people sat down next to Uncle Preston, introducing themselves as Helen and Steve Courtney, the travel coordinators and escorts. The woman immediately started talking to Brittany, who chattered away, as if they were old friends or something. The dummy! If Rick Fenrow himself ever tried to take Brittany’s hand and lead her away, she would probably go with him, chattering to him until he cut her throat.

Lucy and Larry Bager would have their hands full with Brittany.

Helen and Steve Courtney were even older than Aunt Ginger, who liked to brag that she “needed to be accorded respect because of her advanced age of fifty-three.” Lucy didn’t know what accorded meant, and she griped at Aunt Ginger for using big words without explaining them.

Helen Courtney had a camera, and she started taking pictures of everything and everybody, especially Graham and Willow, Lucy and Brittany, right there on the jet.

The Courtneys made Lucy nervous. Why did Helen Courtney have to take so many pictures?

“Honey, I’m going to be taking all the pictures you’ll ever want on this trip,” she explained, patting Willow’s hand. “I’ll even catch some shots you’ll want to erase, but not many! I know my stuff. I’m making memories for a lifetime, you know.”

Lucy studied the woman. She seemed to smile all the time. She had a lot of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and she wore more makeup than Aunt Ginger or Willow ever did.

“I love your hair,” Aunt Ginger told Helen. “It’s the perfect shade for you.”

Helen laughed. “Oopsie! You caught me there.” She patted her hair as if it might be out of place. “Fresh from the bottle.”

Lucy stared at the woman’s hair. Must be a big bottle. Was she bald under there?

Helen’s husband, Steve, had gray hair and lots of wrinkles around his eyes, too. He didn’t smile as much as Helen. Lucy was relieved that he didn’t look anything like the man at the window last night.

Larry Bager sat in the seat behind Helen. He didn’t say much, but he stared at every person who got on the airplane.

Brittany suddenly looked up from her unzipped backpack, eyes wide, mouth open with horror. “Oh no! Aunt Ginger, I forgot to pack Chuckles! You told me to be sure to pack him and I forgot! Did you pack him? You did, didn’t you Aunt Ginger? Huh?”



Ginger had realized last night that this wasn’t going to be an easy trip. With the lack of sleep and the fright the girls—and she and Graham—had endured, her mind hadn’t been as sharp as she’d have liked. But this? It was inexcusable.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, but—”

“No!” Brittany wailed. “We can’t go without Chuckles! We’ve got to go back and get him, we’ve got to!”

It seemed the eye of every person in the aisles around them turned to see what Ginger was going to do about the panicky child. Some passengers were amused, some irritated.

Brittany started to cry.

Lucy tapped Ginger on the arm. “Aunt Ginger.” She held up her backpack, and slowly unzipped the largest compartment.

Two fuzzy golden ears popped up, and Lucy pulled the teddy bear out.

Brittany squealed with delight. Helen Courtney clapped, and several people around them laughed.

Ginger threw her arms around her little heroine and kissed her on the forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re the best big sister in the world.” She leaned back and enjoyed the glow of satisfaction she saw in Lucy’s dark eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

A smile actually spread across Lucy’s face. Ginger wished she could see that smile more often. This quiet little girl had been through so much in the past nine months. The ordeal of her mother’s murder, living with strangers, and now being afraid of her mother’s killer, had matured her far beyond her years. Ginger grieved that tragic loss of innocence.

At least the incident with Chuckles had distracted Lucy from her morbid search for Rick Fenrow—for the moment. That was Larry’s job, and from the looks of it, he would do it well.

Brittany held her teddy bear up for Helen’s inspection. “His name is Chuckles, because he used to laugh when I squeezed his paw.”

Helen reached out and squeezed the bear’s paw. Nothing happened.

“He doesn’t laugh anymore,” Brittany explained. “Lucy says he’s grieving because Mama died.”

“I’m sure he is.” Helen’s voice caught, and her face suddenly lined with sorrow.

Brittany nodded. “He stopped laughing the day Mama died.”

Ginger glanced at Larry, then at the people coming on board. She, too, felt a compelling need to protect these children, at any cost.

Her gaze traveled down the queue, then stopped at a familiar face. She caught her breath as she studied the big man with black hair, dark blue eyes, and shoulders as broad as a linebacker’s.

“No,” she whispered. Ray Clyde. Of all people, what was her worst enemy on earth doing on this flight?



Ray grimaced when a teenager stepped backward onto his foot, but the pain wasn’t as sharp as the look in Ginger Carpenter’s eyes when she caught sight of him from her seat near the middle of the main cabin.

He hadn’t expected anything else. And how could he blame her? If he was in her position, he’d probably feel the same way.

He’d hoped for a meeting under better circumstances, however. Graham had warned him not to try to contact her in any way.

How had it come to this?

An elderly lady turned in the aisle to ask if someone could place her suitcase in the overhead compartment. Glad for the distraction, Ray hurried to her aid. This day had suddenly grown a lot more interesting…and a lot more volatile.




FOUR


Ginger steadied herself, sure she’d felt the jet shift, though the door remained open and people continued to enter.

She blinked and tried to refocus, but still he was there. No mistake about it. It was Dr. Ray Clyde. As usual, he stood taller than every other man by at least a couple of inches. His size, his voice, his rugged-but-attractive face and demeanor all drew attention to his commanding presence.

He’d been her director when she was on the mission field in Belarus. At one time, she’d believed they had a special relationship—not romantic, perhaps, but she’d thought they were the best of friends. He seemed to be such a caring man, and at one time she’d thought he’d cared deeply about her—at least as a friend.

Then came the betrayal.

The line of passengers entering the jet came to a standstill while an elderly woman asked for help placing her luggage in an overhead compartment. Ray helped her, of course. Ray was always jumping to someone’s aid. Everyone’s but Ginger’s.

After easily lifting the piece of luggage for the lady, he accepted her thanks with a silent nod, then looked up and caught Ginger’s gaze. Ginger could not look away. All the pain and fury of his betrayal surfaced, and her hands clenched at her sides.

She broke the connection at last, and unbuckled her seat belt. She stood and turned to glare at Graham across the aisle.

As if he’d been waiting for her to react, he looked up at her, then winced at the look on her face. Willow, seated beside him, saw her, too, and her blue-gray eyes filled with compassion—but not surprise.

Both of them had known Ray would be here.

Ginger felt doubly betrayed. Whatever was going on, Willow was obviously as involved as Graham.

Ginger could say nothing in this crowd, in front of the girls, with several strangers within earshot. She couldn’t protest, couldn’t threaten to take the girls and deplane, as much as the idea tempted her at this moment. But her anger continued to grow. How dare they?

Graham sighed, got up, and stepped across the aisle, leaning close to Ginger’s ear. “I gather there’s a problem.”

“How insightful of you,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t you try to tell me Ray Clyde’s presence on this jet is coincidence.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“What’s he doing here?”

There was a hesitation, then Graham said softly, “He’s going with us to Hawaii.”

Though she’d already guessed what her brother would say, she caught her breath sharply. Betrayal, indeed. “Did you tell him to wait and board at the last moment so I couldn’t change my mind about going?”

Graham winced again. “I knew the timing would be tight, since he had to drive down from Columbia after a meeting this morning.”

“I’m sure you counted on it.” A wave of heat spread over her face and neck, and for once, it wasn’t a hot flash. How dare he?

“Sorry, Ginger,” he said softly. “I wanted to discuss it with you, but I knew you would find some reason to back out if you discovered he was coming.”

“You’ve got that right.” She looked down at Brittany, who sat happily playing with her bear, and then glanced around at Lucy, who was watching her with curiosity.

She must not lose her temper further. Graham obviously had used the seating arrangements for his purpose, as well.

Ginger was going to have to torture her brother at a later date.

“Ray has been a good friend of mine for many years.” Graham kept his voice low. “I couldn’t exclude him from this wedding. It’s too important. He was there for me when I needed a friend after the divorce.”

Ginger gritted her teeth. “I was there for you, too. Just because I was halfway around the world—”

“I know you were there in spirit. Ray let me stay at his place until I could find my own. Ray gave me references when I needed a new job. He’s been supportive from the—”

“Please stop.” Ginger closed her eyes. It hurt to hear her beloved brother singing the praises of a manipulative, hard hearted…

“He isn’t the jerk you believe him to be,” Graham said.

For Ginger, two nightmares were coming true in a few short hours. Rick Fenrow was out of prison, and her backstabbing ex-director was undermining her relationship with her brother. How could Graham do this to her?

“So he’s in the wedding party,” she said.

Graham nodded.

“And what part does he play?”

Graham looked over his shoulder at Willow, then back at Ginger. “He’s going to be best man.”

Ginger caught her breath. Of course. She was going to be matron of honor, and Ray would be best man. “What a wonderful way to begin a marriage, when the main witnesses to the wedding hate each other.”

“That isn’t true, Ginger. Ray holds no animosity toward you at all. In fact, he’s eager to make amends.”

“I thought Preston was going to be best man,” she said. After all, Willow’s brother should hold that place of honor.

“I had initially asked Ray to do the honors, and then there was a glitch, and he thought he was going to have to fly to Africa. That was when I asked Preston. The situation changed, and Ray was able to join us, after all. I think Preston was glad to be relieved of any responsibility.”

“You’d better find yourself another matron of honor, then, Graham.”

“Please, sis, don’t be this way.”

Ginger turned to look at Ray once more. He was advancing slowly down the aisle, waiting patiently as people in front of him took their time stowing their carry-on luggage.

He caught her gaze again, his dark blue eyes probing—perhaps to gauge the force of her reaction? How could he not know what it would be? Did he expect her to welcome him with open arms?

“Ginger,” Willow called, patting the seat beside her. “Come sit with me a minute. We need to talk.”

Ginger hesitated. She didn’t want to talk, she wanted to scream. If it were anyone but Willow…

She crossed the aisle and sat in the seat Graham had vacated. “Don’t you think this is an awkward time to be explaining things? Am I a child who has to be manipulated?”

Willow spread her hands. “Well, in this instance—”

“Don’t you start with me, too. Graham is bad enough, but I know he’s a control freak. I’d have thought better of you.”

“Give it some time, okay?” Willow said. “Preston’s been willing to stand in as best man for Graham, but he knew Graham had asked Ray. Believe me, I know my brother. Preston wasn’t disappointed to be given the chance to step down.”

“No one thought about giving me the chance to step down.”

“I wanted you to be there for me.”

Ginger didn’t want to argue, especially with Willow. Graham and Willow deserved their wedding trip to go smoothly. After all the suffering they had gone through in the past years, Willow and Graham needed something to go right.

But this…this was far from acceptable.

“This was what you and Graham and Preston were talking about on Christmas Day when I walked into the room and everyone fell silent,” Ginger said.

“Sorry. I really hated keeping it from you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Again, irritation prickled along Ginger’s skin. “You know, my brother hasn’t changed as much as he wants to believe. Unfortunately, I think his tactics are rubbing off on you. Now both of you are controlling the lives of others.”

“Then I guess that’s a trait that runs in the family,” Willow said drily. “I seem to remember a lady who refused to take no for an answer when I needed a place to stay after the cabin burned last spring. I was a complete stranger to you, and you took me in.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Ginger said. “Don’t you think a fifty-three-year-old woman should be given the option to choose with whom she spends her time?”

Willow finally had the grace to look abashed. “Of course.”

“Except when it comes to me, is that right?” Ginger asked.

“I think we all tend to take extra liberties when it comes to close family members, who we know will have to forgive us, because they have such a forgiving nature.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Ginger warned. “It won’t work. My conflict with Ray Clyde is my business and no one else’s.”

“Then you’ll be happy to keep it to yourself until after the wedding, right?” Willow’s tone grew slightly sharper.

A familiar, masculine scent of spice alerted Ginger that Ray had reached them. She looked up at him looking down at her.

“Hello, Ginger,” he said quietly.

She nodded, startled at the look of vulnerability in those eyes.

Graham rose from Ginger’s seat across the aisle and greeted Ray, pumping his hand. They were best friends reuniting after a long time apart. It stung. It did more than sting, it stabbed at her.

Her brother had no idea what kind of game he was playing this time, but he wasn’t going to win. If he had some crazy notion of mediating a peace, he was in for a disappointing trip.




FIVE


Ray Clyde had always been able to read Ginger Carpenter’s thoughts in her face. It wasn’t a difficult accomplishment, nor was it even necessary most of the time. Ginger rarely minced words, and she seldom concealed her emotions. She said what she thought.

Today, Ray was glad he wasn’t sitting near her for the first leg of the flight. Judging by the daggers she shot at him with her glare, he might be bleeding profusely by the time they reached Lambert International in St. Louis.

Quiet, watchful Lucy tapped Ginger on the arm.

The daggers left Ginger’s eyes, and that same gaze filled with gentleness and love as she listened to the child.

Ray was lost once again. He had known it would happen. He’d been half in love with the talkative and strong-willed woman since their first meeting. The more he’d come to know her, the more he’d admired her vibrant spirit and caring heart.

But it was also her caring heart that had placed a wedge between them later, when he was forced to make a difficult decision. Ginger had always been passionate about what she believed in—a trait that he found extremely attractive, even though it created complications from time to time.

Ray and Ginger had become good friends during her time in Belarus. They had even shared a few friendly meals together when she was home on furlough, and Ray had enjoyed it much more than was comfortable—he’d always wanted more time with her. He’d known, however, that the clinic she directed in Minsk was the top priority in her life. He’d always honored that priority and admired her dedication to it.

Ray’s place was not in Belarus, but in Columbia, Missouri. Located in the center of the state and the center of the United States, Columbia enabled him to be on a flight anywhere in the country or the world in a short period. This way he could keep his finger on the pulse of GlobeMed.

His personal mission was located right there in Columbia. Young doctors came straight out of med school and residencies in that university town, hungry for work and experience, and idealistic about the future. Ray’s goal was to reach as many of them as possible before their idealism gave way to materialism. His desire was to show as many young doctors as he could the joys of true service.

Yearlong mission trips in places of greatest need—mostly third world countries torn by war and famine—gave these doctors not only valuable experience working with the sickest of patients, but a better grasp of the needs of the larger world that didn’t revolve around a life of ease and luxuries.

If only those young grads would realize what was truly important in life. It was not the size of their homes, or the number of cars, or bank balances they could acquire. Their true calling was to touch and heal the hurting, no matter the financial reward.

Sometimes, in his efforts to reach the most people, Ray knew he failed others. It broke his heart that Ginger thought she had been a casualty of that mission.

After the jet took off and the seat belt light went off, Graham came down the aisle and slid into the empty seat across from Ray.

“That went over well, I think,” Graham said drily.

“Could’ve been worse,” Ray agreed.

Graham chuckled. “I consider it an achievement that she didn’t grab the girls and leave.”

“Definitely encouraging. Tell me something, Graham. Did you ask me to be your best man for the sole purpose of helping me work out the knots between your sister and myself?”

“I asked you to be my best man years ago, remember? After my divorce, when I was staying with you. I told you if I ever got married again, you would be my best man, and you said I would be yours. So now you need to give me a chance to return the favor.”

Ray gave him a look. “That’s what I thought.”

“Ginger’s frustrated, Ray. I’ve tried to keep her busy at my clinic, and she’s been working some hours at the Hideaway Hospital when the girls are in school. But I know Ginger. She’s restless. She’s never come to terms with what happened last year. I’d like to see her do that.”

“I thought you had her working with you at your free clinic.”

Graham sighed and sat back, shaking his head at the flight attendant with the beverage cart. “That isn’t the kind of challenge she needs. It isn’t as satisfying as we had first hoped. There are so many who aren’t willing to pay their own way, when they are perfectly capable of doing so. Ginger’s spent more time screening patients for genuine need than she’s spent in the treatment room.”

“I would imagine she’s good at it. She’s always had a knack for reading a person’s thoughts. Uncanny.” Uncomfortable, too.

“Last week she had to inform a businesswoman who makes more than a hundred fifty thou a year that she wasn’t eligible for a free elective surgery,” Graham said.

“Hasn’t the woman ever heard of insurance?”

“Her complaint was it costs too much. Ginger’s tired of it. Her most fulfilling task lately has been caring for Lucy and Brittany, and this trip represents the end of that role. Willow’s ecstatic about the adoption. Ginger, on the other hand, has been despondent for days.”

“What about you?” Ray asked, studying Graham’s pensive expression. “You’re not adopting the girls just to please Willow, are you?”

“No. I honestly can’t imagine life without those two little girls in it now. Their primary residence has been with Ginger and me, and I find myself resenting the time I have to spend at work because I can’t spend it with the people I love, both Willow and the children.”

Ray smiled at his friend. “I couldn’t be happier for you, Graham. It’s been a long time coming.”

Graham nodded. “The time was right, as it never had been before.”

Ray and Graham had met fourteen years ago, when Graham was in surgical residency. Even then, Ray had sought opportunities to help recruit the brightest and best for GlobeMed. To his disappointment, Graham was snatched by one of the most sought-after surgical practice groups in Springfield, Missouri, as soon as he was out of residency.

Because of their continued friendship, however, Ray knew Graham’s most cherished desire was to have a family. His first wife had chosen not to have children. When she divorced him, it had hit him hard, and he had given up on his dream.

Willow Traynor was an answer to Ray’s prayers for his friend. The widow of a murdered cop, she had lost their baby when her husband’s murderer ran her down with a car nearly three years ago. Last year, that vicious murderer had hunted her down in Branson and tried, again, to destroy her life, and the lives of those around her.

Some might say Lucy and Brittany’s mother had been collateral damage, because she had interfered with Willow’s stalker—had even tried to warn Willow about the danger while in a drugged stupor. That drugged stupor had cost the poor woman her life.

Since last April, Willow had blossomed with the friendship of Graham and Ginger, and the adoration of those two little girls. From what Ray had heard about the children, their lives were far better now than when they were with their confused and drug-addicted mother. But try telling that to Lucy and Brittany. Graham had told Ray last week that Lucy still had nightmares about her mother’s death.

“After this week,” Graham said, “Ginger will be lost without the girls.”

“That’s a bad place for Ginger to be.” Ray had never known anyone with such a need to care for someone.

He’d never known someone who drew him so.

“I’m not really trying to matchmake,” Graham said. “Though I’m sure that’s what Ginger thinks I’m doing.”

Ray shot a wicked grin at Graham. “Ginger knows her brother pretty well, I think.”

Graham chuckled. “Honestly, matchmaking’s Willow’s territory.”

“And you think she might have something like that in mind?”

“It’s possible.”

Ray shook his head. “You’ve never been a good liar. You’re in this up to your eyeballs, I can tell.”

“I don’t like to see my sister so miserable.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, she appears to be pretty miserable now that I’ve boarded.”

“A good heart-to-heart could unravel a few tangles, I think,” Graham said.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to try to convince me to send her back to Minsk.”

“Not at all,” Graham said quickly. “I want her stateside. That heart trouble she had last year spooked me, even though it turned out to be a harmless arrhythmia. What I want is to see her forgive you.”

“I’d like that, too.” Ray sighed, frowning at the puzzle that had confused him since his conflict with Ginger last March. “I’ve never known her to hold a grudge. She’s changed her guiding principle at this stage in her life—and the grudge is with me. It isn’t a comfortable place to be.”

“She’s been hurt deeply. I’d like to see you two work out whatever complications have developed between you.”

Ray nodded. Ginger Carpenter would be a definite complication on this trip. “I’ll see what I can do, but don’t get your hopes up.”



Ginger glanced over her shoulder and saw Ray and Graham with their heads together. As she continued to watch suspiciously, Ray glanced up and caught her gaze.

She held it. He needed to understand that she wasn’t going to just forget the past as if it hadn’t happened. She’d love to be able to do just that, but it would be dishonest. She’d tried to forgive, just as the Bible said to do. She’d even heard the reminder in church yesterday—forgive your enemy.

Forgive. The minister had said nothing about forgetting, and that was good, because she thought that was a stupid idea. If someone stabs you in the back, are you smart to forget, and give them the chance to do it again?

She wasn’t that kind of fool. She’d done a lot of stupid things in her life, but she’d learned from her mistakes, especially the one she’d made with Ray Clyde.

Ray’s expression told her that he and her brother were discussing her blatant, rude response to Ray’s presence. Fine. Let ’em talk.

The plane landed, they de-boarded, and Ginger took Brittany’s hand to keep her close. The child had a tendency to wander away.

Lucy suddenly gasped and dragged Ginger to a stop.

“It’s him, Aunt Ginger. It looks just like him!” Pointing at a slender, dark-haired man in the concourse, Lucy shook with fear.




SIX


Ginger had grown so attuned to Lucy and Brittany that she had known before Lucy even stopped her that she was suddenly in a panic. Her eyes, glistening with fear, were so wide, her expression so vulnerable that it broke Ginger’s heart.

Ginger followed Lucy’s line of vision, and indeed, saw a teenager who looked a lot like Rick Fenrow. He had thick, black hair, a pale, almost gaunt face, and eyebrows that looked like untamable caterpillars.

“No, honey. It’s okay,” she said, squatting to face Lucy, to hold her gaze and assure her she was safe. “That young man isn’t Rick.”

Lucy stared into her eyes, sober, serious, probing, as if attempting to discern if Ginger was merely trying to placate her.

“You’ve seen Rick Fenrow, Lucy,” she said softly. “We both know what he looks like, and if that was him,” she said, pointing at the kid, “I’d be calling for the police. You can trust me. Rick is older than this young man by at least ten or fifteen years.”

Lucy blinked then and sighed quietly, and Ginger saw some of the tension leave her face. “Okay.”

Ginger glanced up to find Ray’s gaze on her again, and the expression on his face suggested that he was trying to determine the wisdom of joining her in her efforts to reassure Lucy.

Did he know about the prison break? He looked confused.

“He’s a doppelgänger,” Ginger said.

Lucy frowned. “Huh?”

Ginger tried not to smile. Whenever Lucy heard a new word, she was distracted for hours trying to pronounce it and understand it. “That means you’re looking at someone who seems familiar, but really isn’t. That young man over there isn’t Rick, because he’s a kid. See, those are probably his parents with him.” She pointed to a middle-aged couple walking beside the youngster. To Lucy, of course, a teenage boy would look like a grown man.

What concerned Ginger was that Lucy obviously did know what Rick Fenrow looked like. That might be because she remembered him from last year, when he lived in the same apartment complex. It might also be because she’d gotten a good look at him in the window last night.

Ginger didn’t want to even think about that.

Oh, Lord, protect us.



Lucy watched the dopoganer—or whatever it was Aunt Ginger called him—hand his ticket to somebody in a uniform, then follow a line of people out of sight. He didn’t look at Lucy once.

Maybe that was because he really didn’t know her. Or maybe it was because he didn’t want her to know he knew her. What if he was pretending? What if he came back and grabbed her or Brittany when no one was looking?

Trying to think like a killer wasn’t easy.

She wanted to watch to make sure he didn’t come back, but Willow took her by the hand.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’ve got a short layover, and a lot of walking to do to get to our next gate.”

Graham picked up Brittany and carried her on ahead of them. Uncle Preston walked on Lucy’s other side, with his hand on her shoulder and his other hand holding his cell phone while he talked to his girlfriend, Sheila.

Uncle Preston was big and strong. Lucy felt safe with him.

She felt safe with Willow, too. Willow was tall and strong and brave.

Last year, the night the fire broke out at Uncle Preston’s cabin, Willow had broken into the apartment to rescue Lucy and Brittany because she couldn’t get them to answer the door. She had been the first person to discover they were alone at night while Mama worked. That was when she argued with Mama, and then started babysitting them so they wouldn’t be alone.

Lucy looked at Willow’s arm, and with her fingers she traced the scar Willow had gotten from cutting herself on the window when she broke in to save them. “Does this still hurt sometimes?”

Willow smiled down at her. “Nope. It doesn’t even itch now.”

Lucy would never tell anybody this, but she loved looking at that scar. Every time she saw it, she remembered that Willow would do anything to protect her and Brittany. And that was even before she was going to adopt them.

“Are Brittany and me in danger?” Lucy asked softly.

Willow’s steps slowed and stopped, and she knelt down to look into Lucy’s eyes, right there in the middle of that crowded hallway in the airport. Lucy had heard people say she looked as if she could be Willow’s daughter, with the same dark eyebrows and hair.

Lucy wanted to look like Willow. She wanted to act like her, too, strong and kind and brave. And she never wanted to do drugs or act crazy, like Mama.

“Honey, I know you were frightened last night,” Willow said gently. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m also sorry you overheard about Rick Fenrow’s prison break. But you need to understand how much we love you. We aren’t going to take any chances with you and Brittany, believe me.”

“Do you think he’s following us?”

“It doesn’t seem possible he could know where we’re going, but we’ve got Larry with us, just in case. He’s keeping watch on us.”

“You’re scared of Rick Fenrow, too, aren’t you?” Lucy asked.

Instead of denying it, Willow drew Lucy close and hugged her.

“Okay, ladies,” Larry Bager said, his voice gruff. “There’ll be time for heart-to-hearts later. Our flight’s already boarding. Better pick up the pace.”

Willow never answered Lucy’s question, which meant the answer was yes. Why didn’t grown-ups ever admit to kids when they were afraid?

Lucy thought she knew why. Mama used to say, “Why should I try to explain something to you when you can’t possibly understand it, anyway? It’s grown-up stuff, and you’re a kid. If you try to be a grown-up before you’re ready, you’ll get stupid and mess everything up. So let me be the grown-up for a while longer, okay?”

Mama was really scared the morning before she died. When grown-ups got scared, it meant there was something to be afraid of.



Ray deliberately placed himself behind Ginger as they waited to board, and he noted how hard she was trying to ignore him. He smiled to himself every time he caught her watching him from the periphery of her vision.

Last year at this time, had they been in this same situation, Ginger would have already known how he had enjoyed his trip so far, what he intended to accomplish for the remainder of the trip, and what she could do to help facilitate his time in Hawaii.

She would also have gathered the same information about every other person traveling with her. Ordinarily. Even taking into account her awkwardness with him, she seemed distracted.

He turned to look at her, and their gazes met briefly. To his surprise, for a moment, she didn’t look away. A ridge of worry formed between her brows.

“Ginger?” he asked softly. “Is something wrong? Something besides just—” he held his palm up and waved it between the two of them “—just this.”

She blinked, her golden-brown eyes clouding, then she glanced at the children who stood beside her and turned away.

Dark-haired, dark-eyed Lucy continued to study him as they boarded, as if he were an interesting mathematical equation on a school chalkboard.

When they reached their seats, Ray sat behind Ginger. He smiled and winked at Lucy, and she looked away.

Once again, Lucy had the window seat, and she seemed pleased with this. She had remained near an adult at all times, while watching her little sister with all the dedication of a prison guard. Ginger wasn’t the only one who seemed distracted by something, though from the little Ray knew of Lucy, he wasn’t sure if this was characteristic of her or not.

Ray glanced at Graham and Willow, sitting across the aisle from Ginger and the two little girls. Steve and Helen Courtney sat across the aisle from Ray, with Larry Bager and Preston Black in front of Graham and Willow. Someone had made a concerted effort to keep the family together. To Ray’s surprise, no one joined him. He had three seats to himself.

A flight attendant handed Lucy and Brittany blankets and pillows. Lucy wrapped herself from head to foot with the blanket, and pushed a pillow beneath her, craning to see out the window as they took off.

Before they had reached cruising altitude, Ray saw Brittany lie across Ginger’s lap, and Ginger’s head lolled sideways. He wanted to nudge her and remind her of the crick she would have in her neck if she stayed that way for long.

He remembered flying with her to Belarus a couple of times, usually overnight flights. He could never understand the logic of traveling at night. It wasn’t as if most people were going to sleep—at least, he never did. Ginger was one of the few people who seemed able to sleep anywhere, anytime. He never could.

Ginger always awakened with a stiff neck. On their second flight to Belarus, he’d given her a pillow to support her neck. She’d taken it with her on every trip after that. But she hadn’t brought it with her this time.

He glanced toward Lucy, and saw her watching him through the crack between her seat and Ginger’s. He grinned and winked at her, and she retreated back into her cocoon, hiding from the world. But why?

He unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over the seat in front of him, pressed the release and gently pushed Ginger’s seat back the two inches the airlines allotted for stretching out. Not generous, but better than nothing.

At the movement, Brittany snuggled closer to Ginger’s shoulder. Ginger’s lips parted slightly.

Ray couldn’t help watching her, moved by the vulnerability that sleep always brought. How he wished—

Her eyes opened. For a quick moment, her gaze remained tender, holding his, warming with the start of a smile.

Then those same eyes chilled, memory obviously returning. The moment ended, and Ray felt a sharp prick of sorrow.

“I didn’t want you to get a crick in your neck,” he explained, suddenly awkward.

She nodded, resettling. “Thank you.” Her tone didn’t invite further conversation.

He returned to his seat, once again saddened by the loss of their former closeness. He rebuked himself for this inability to let the past go, but logic wasn’t a part of this relationship. Had it ever been?

Lucy’s head popped over the top of her seat, and she stared at him, her gaze solemn.

“My name’s Ray,” he whispered.

She nodded, grimacing, as if to say, Of course I knew that. Do you think I’m deaf?

“I believe this must be your first flight,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes widened.

“Do you like it so far?” he asked.

She hesitated, then whispered, “Why do you want to know?”

Her question surprised him. Not something he’d have expected an eight-year-old to ask. Then he remembered about her mother. Lucy was behaving like a child whose mother had left her and her sister at home alone at night, careful to avoid talking to strangers, in case someone asked her about her home life.

“I remember my first flight.” Ray continued to whisper. “My uncle took me up when I was ten years old. He had his own airplane, and he knew I was afraid of heights, so he talked me through takeoff. I loved it immediately. He flew me over the whole town of Branson, where I grew up.”

Lucy blinked at him. “Why are you telling me about it?”

Again, her response startled him. “So you won’t be so afraid.”

The blanket she’d worn over her head slid to her shoulders. “I’m not afraid of flying.”

He leaned a little closer. “I can tell you’re afraid of something, though.”

She pulled the blanket back over her head.

“I saw how frightened you were back at the airport,” Ray said a moment later. “You haven’t relaxed since I first saw you in Springfield. Are you afraid to fly over the ocean?”

Lucy shook her head.

“I saw how tightly you held Brittany’s hand as we boarded the plane.”

“Jet. It’s a jet.”

“Oh, excuse me. You’re right, of course.”

“I know why you’re trying to be nice to me,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“You’re talking to me because you like Aunt Ginger, and you want her to like you.”

Ray laughed, hoping his laughter didn’t offend Lucy.

She smiled, as if pleased that she’d caused this kind of reaction.

“Something funny?” came Ginger’s sleep-riddled voice.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Lucy intrigued Ray. She reminded him of one of the kids at the children’s home he helped support in Columbia—the child with the abusive father. Ray knew Lucy had endured some hardships in her short childhood, as had Brittany.

More reason to do everything in his power to see to it that this experience was a good one for her.

Lucy wasn’t the only one who appeared unable to relax. Graham, Willow, Ginger, Preston, and this unexpected wild card in the mix, Larry Bager, all seemed hyperwatchful of the children, and of the crowds around them at the airport.

Ray studied the reflection of Lucy’s face as she gazed out the window. What was she thinking right now? Was she simply looking at the clouds, enjoying her first chance to observe them from above instead of below?

Or was something darker weighing on her mind?

“Lucy?” he said softly, unwilling to leave well enough alone.

A moment later, her head appeared over the top of the seat. She looked wary of him still. “How do you know our names? You said Brittany’s name, too, when you talked to me awhile ago.”

“Graham is one of my best friends, and he talks about you girls all the time.”

“He does?”

“He sure does. He’s very much looking forward to the adoption.”

Her eyes filled with sudden, surprised interest, and he could tell she was trying not to smile. “If Graham is one of your best friends, then why doesn’t Aunt Ginger like you, too?”

“Oh, well, that’s another story entirely.”

She tilted her head to one side and waited, as if ready to hear the story.

“I’ve got a lot of extra room back here,” he said. “It’s going to be a long flight. Want to spread out a little? I’ll let you have my window seat. That way Ginger and Brittany will have more room to relax and—”





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