Daughter of Texas (12 page)

Excited energy radiated from Corinna. “They found him?”

“Not yet. But we have a name. Eddie Jimenez. Ring any bells?”

She shook her head. “How is he connected to my father?”

“Don't know. But I intend to find out.”

 

The next day when Ben picked her up at Gisella's to take her to the Arneson River Theatre, she'd asked
him to stop by the shelter on the way. He waited outside because of the no-men-inside rule.

“You'll get to watch the performance on video.” Corinna stood with her back to the cold fireplace while the occupants of the shelter gathered in the living room around her. The worn furniture needed replacing and the carpet could use a shampoo. Corinna would make sure some of the proceeds from the benefit went to sprucing them up, as well as the kitchen remodeling and five new beds already planned.

“But it won't be the same,” whined twelve-year-old Claire. Tall for her age and gangly with long dark hair, the young girl chafed at being cooped up in the shelter. Corinna sympathized with the girl, knowing how limiting the shelter was. But the safety of the women and children depended on those limits.

Corinna exchanged a sympathetic glance with the girl's mother, Pat. She had taken her daughter and five-year-old son out of a highly volatile situation where her husband's drinking had careened out of control.

“Honey, it's not safe,” Pat stated quietly, resting a hand on her son's shoulder. His arm still sported a cast from her husband's alcohol-induced temper.

“Is it safe for us?” Gretchen asked her mother, Carol.

“Not yet, dear.” Carol smoothed her daughter's curls from her face.

Anguish that these women and children suffered tore through Corinna. From the day she'd found out about the shelter five years ago, she'd wanted to do something to help. Volunteering her time to teach had been rewarding, but with money so tight in this economy, Corinna and
some of the other volunteers brainstormed other ways to help. The idea for the benefit had been born.

Corinna had pleaded her case with the dance company and had been gratified when every dancer had said they would participate voluntarily. Through her father's connections with the city, they'd secured the theatre for the show. Other volunteers had worked tirelessly to promote the event and make it the social occasion for all of San Antonio.

But it meant that the recipients of the proceeds couldn't come out of hiding since the shelter's name was on everything. Some of these women had husbands or boyfriends who were searching for them. Annie Nelson had been adamant that the location of the shelter remain a secure oasis for those who sought help. Corinna wished she could do more.

“Why don't we send Miss Corinna off with a prayer?” Annie asked as she came to stand beside Corinna.

Uncomfortable with the idea, Corinna tried not to grimace. She still felt at odds with God. She wasn't really sure she could trust in Him. But she sure wouldn't do anything to convey her negative feelings in front of the children.

She knew for many of the refugees seeking solace at the shelter, having faith in a loving God who was bigger and better than anything on earth, was sometimes the only sense of hope they had.

Just because her own faith had faltered didn't mean she had the right to make others stumble.

Several children raised their hands, eager to be called on to say the prayer as was tradition in the shelter. Annie winked at Corinna and then pointed to a little red-haired
boy with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “Joshua, would you like to say the prayer?”

The boy's face lit up. “Yes, ma'am.” He bowed his head.

For a moment Corinna hesitated. She hadn't prayed since before her father's death. She wasn't ready to talk to God. Her gaze collided with Gretchen's big blue, curious eyes. A softening spread over Corinna's heart. Just enough that she could bow her head and close her eyes.

“Dear Father God, please be with Miss Corinna and the other dancers tonight. Don't let anyone fall and get hurt. Let the people pay lots of money so we can get a new kitchen. Amen.”

Corinna pressed her lips tight to keep from chuckling at the innocent request for funds as she murmured “Amen.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Joshua. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Pleased with himself, the boy grinned back. His mother, a thin woman who still showed signs of abuse in the black and blue marring the skin around her left eye mouthed
Thank you
to Corinna. Aching for her, Corinna acknowledged the woman's gratitude with a slight nod.

Annie put her arm around Corinna's shoulders. “Let me walk you out.” At the door, Annie said, “You tell your fella he best keep you safe tonight.”

“Do you mean Captain Fritz?”

“I do mean that tall, handsome specimen of male beauty who came to check up on you. I wasn't so sure of him at first, but…” She tsked. “That man has it bad
for you. He saved your life and was so sweet to the kids. He's a keeper.”

Corinna could feel her cheeks heat up. “It's not like that.”

Annie's shrewd gaze pinned Corinna in place. “Honey, I saw the way you were looking at that cowboy when he was charming little Gretchen. There's no way I'm believing you aren't sweet on him, too.”

Well, that was unexpected and disconcerting. Corinna hadn't realized her feelings had been so transparent. But more important, could what she said about Ben be true?

A spurt of hope blossomed in her chest, making her heart rate pick up. She couldn't wait to find out.

 

The open-air venue of the Arneson River Theatre situated on the south side of the San Antonio River made for a security nightmare. The balmy evening only added to making Ben's nerves stretch so taut he was sure they'd snap at any second.

SAPD and the Rangers were patrolling the vicinity, each having memorized Jimenez's face. Ben surveyed the structure from his vantage point behind a tall free-standing floodlight set in a recessed spot off to the right of the stage. At the moment only half the lights were turned on.

There were no wings on stage to speak of. Behind the stage, serving as the only backdrop, was a tall brick wall with three mission-style bell tower arches. A theater house with a red-tile roof sat adjacent to the stage which served the purposes of a backstage. With the added draw of tonight's benefit performance, the grassy
sloped seating area for 800 facing the stage overflowed with attendees. The river separated the audience from the stage, allowing the tour cruise boats to pass by.

Ben wasn't as concerned about the multitude of paying audience members—every person had been scanned with a wand and their belongings searched—as he was about the walking paths and the canal. There was no way to control who wandered by on the concrete trail that wound behind the stage or who had access to the stone footbridge connecting the two sides of the river. The mayor had refused his request to restrict access to the trails or to stop the flat-bottom boat tours from cruising down the river past the edge of the stage.

Frustrated with the limits to their security measures, Ben had stationed officers at both the entrance and exit points for the cruise boats, along the winding paths, on the rooftops of the restaurants and strategically around the theatre. They were as ready as they could be. Hopefully, Jimenez would show himself. And not hole up with a high-powered scope rifle. Ben's blood ran cold.

The dancers waited inside the theatre building to the left of the stage. Gisella was there with Corinna. She was safe for now. He had a direct line of sight to the door where the dancers would emerge as he waited for the show to begin.

A female local news anchor stepped to center stage with a handheld microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Addison Reese, your host this evening. Welcome and thank you for attending tonight's benefit show for Miriam's Shelter. I'd like to introduce you to a very special lady who can tell you about this amazing shel
ter. Please welcome one of San Antonio's own, Prima Ballerina Miss Corinna Pike.”

Ben stiffened. She hadn't mentioned she'd be addressing the audience. “Everyone stay alert,” Ben ground out into the mic attached to his collar.

The hairs on his nape rose. His heart rate sped up. Standing still on stage would make her easy pickings for a well-aimed shot.

T
he side door of the theatre building opened and Corinna floated out on slippered feet. The wispy material of her costume fluttered around her knees as she came to stand beside the host. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek bun. Light glinted off something sparkly in her hair and the tight bodice of the leotard glittered with sequins and jewels.

The creamy white of her slender neck and gracefully sloped shoulders made her seem otherworldly compared to the big-haired, smartly dressed TV gal. Corinna's heavily made-up eyes and ruby-red lips emphasized her lovely cheekbones. Ben couldn't take his eyes off her. Affection for this beautiful woman expanded in his chest. The audience thundered with applause.

Corinna took the microphone and the clapping died down. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you for giving so generously to a worthwhile cause. The Miriam Shelter is a sanctuary for battered women and children. Our mission at the shelter is to stop domestic violence and to support families, by providing the essential tools for self-reliance through the delivery of emergency shelter, transitional housing, education, effective parenting
education, and timely intervention with children and youth.”

Earnestness rang in each word. Ben's respect grew. After all she'd been through with her father's death and being targeted herself, she could have hid away from the world. Not put herself out here to help others. It would have made his job easier if she hadn't been so strong, so brave. But then she wouldn't have been Corinna. The woman he'd fallen in love with.

“Your donations tonight and in the future will make the difference in many lives,” she continued. “And there are many volunteer opportunities available.”

Her expression softened. “I volunteer my time by giving dance lessons to the children. I can't express how much joy I receive from watching these kids blossom as they escape their circumstances for a short time through dance. It's a true blessing. Now I'd like to introduce Madame Martin, the artistic director of the San Antonio Ballet Company.”

Applause filled the air. Madame Martin glided out of the building and toward center stage.

The ear bud inside Ben's ear crackled. “We've got a commotion at point Bravo,” Trevor said.

Point Bravo was on the other side of the theatre building. Adrenaline spiked in Ben's blood. “Jimenez?”

“No. Some other guy. I'll check out what's happening.”

Just as Madame Martin took the microphone from Corinna, a man in jeans and a T-shirt came running from around the building and onto the stage heading straight for Corinna. Trevor and several uniformed SAPD officers rounded the building in hot pursuit.

Exclamations and gasps from onlookers echoed over the water. Madame Martin screamed. Corinna was left exposed when Addison scrambled back, but she didn't cower away. She stood her ground looking ready to fight.

Fear squeezed Ben's insides. He leapt into action, running toward the man and tackling him hard on the slick stage floor. The stench of alcohol gagged Ben as he flipped the guy onto his stomach, yanked the man's arms behind his back and secured his wrists with a knee to his spine. Ben took the handcuffs offered by an SAPD officer.

“Hey!” the man protested. “You gotta tell me where my wife is.”

“Dude, I don't know anything about your wife,” Ben growled and snapped the cuffs in place while helping Trevor haul the guy to his feet and off the stage. This was clearly not the show anyone came for and he had to get back to his spot to protect Corinna.

“She's at the Miriam Shelter! They gotta let me see her.” The man bucked and fought.

Disdain filled Ben. The guy was obviously the drunken, abusive husband of one of the women at the shelter. “Take him away.”

Two uniformed officers dragged the screaming man away.

“Sorry about that,” Trevor said. “Guy sucker punched me.”

Ben noticed the spot along Trevor's jaw that was now red but would soon darken into a nasty bruise. Tension mounted inside Ben but he held on to his anger. Greg had tried to coach Trevor often enough for Ben to know
telling Trevor he should have been more alert wouldn't accomplish much. And the guy wondered why he'd been passed over for a promotion.

They needed to get moving and back into position. “Resume your post.”

Trevor nodded and loped off and around to the back stage. Ben turned to Corinna. Her eyes were wide and her face pale. “You okay?”

She nodded. “A little shook up.”

Madame Martin said something in Corinna's ear. Corinna nodded. “The show goes on,” Madame stated.

Ben inclined his head and resumed his post.

Lifting the microphone, the older woman addressed the crowd, “Well, that was unexpected. But such is the world we live in, and our resolve is strengthened to assure the existence of safe havens such as Miriam's Shelter. Tonight you are in for a treat. Never performed before a live audience, I invite you to enjoy Pastiche, a ballet written and performed by the San Antonio Dance Company.”

The lights went dark. Music filled the air.

A restless anticipation gripped Ben.

In the dim glow from the moon, he could see dancers taking their places. Slowly the stage lights rose, revealing an ensemble of twenty dancers. Corinna stood near the back of the group on the other side of the stage. They moved in unison to the music. Ben forced himself not to lose himself in Corinna's enchanting movements, but turned his attention to the crowd, searching for any suspicious actions.

When familiar music floated on the air, Ben couldn't help but focus on Corinna as she took centerstage along
with her dance partner. Her fluid, graceful movements mesmerized Ben. A smile tugged at his mouth as his gaze followed her leaps across the stage.

Then a flash of light glinting off something to the left of the stage on the footbridge caught his eye. Heart racing, he stared hard at the spot on the bridge where he thought he'd seen something. Onlookers crowded along the ledge. He searched the people, trying to discern what had caught his attention.

Something wasn't right.

“Anderson, the footbridge,” Ben said into his mic.

“Will do.” Anderson's voice sounded in Ben's ear-piece.

The hairs on the back of Ben's neck rose.

“Gun!” Anderson's voice shouted into Ben's ear.

Pedestrians screamed. Pandemonium broke out.

Ben didn't hesitate. He vaulted onto the stage a second time and hurtled toward Corinna. He grabbed Corinna midleap and pushed her to the ground, covering her body with his just as the loud crack of a gun echoed off the brick bell arches. Searing pain blasted through Ben's side and spots of light exploded behind his eyelids. Corinna squirmed beneath him, shouting his name.

He wanted to reassure her she was safe, but the pain radiating from his side stole his breath and his words. All he could manage was a groan. He sent up a silent plea.

Don't let her be hurt, Lord.

The pinpricks of light winked out and blackness claimed him.

 

Terrified by the gun blast, Corinna pushed at Ben's heavy body. He didn't move. A horrifying thought crashed through her mind. He'd been shot.

“Ben!” she shouted. She squirmed, trying to move him off of her. He wouldn't budge. A sob tore from her.

“Please, dear God, don't let him die!”

The prayer was wrenched from her soul, releasing a floodgate of love and terror. She had never wanted to go to this horrible place of fear and grief again.

But she could no longer deny the emotion pressing on her heart, demanding to be acknowledged, to be released.

Aching warmth swept through her, filling every part of her being. She'd fallen in love with Ben.

Fallen in love with the goodness inside of him. The honor and integrity so innately a part of him. He was like her father, yet so much more. Ben was everything she could ever hope for in a man. Kind and caring. Loyal and brave.

And now he'd been shot. Her world set on the edge of collapse all over again.

Suddenly they were surrounded, and hands tugged at her, pulling her free. Ben was lifted away. Corinna saw the horror-filled gazes of the two Rangers who hadn't gone chasing after the shooter as they gathered around their captain. Tears burned her eyes.

Madame Martin's arms wrapped around Corinna. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. Not physically. But her heart had frozen with agonizing dread. She couldn't lose Ben, too.
Regret that she hadn't told him of her feelings tumbled in her stomach.

Ben had been shot protecting her. Though she couldn't see any blood, his head lolled back, his eyes closed.

EMTs pushed their way through the crowd, taking over Ben's care. They lifted his prone body to a rolling gurney.

Gisella stepped to Corinna's side. “We need to get you out of here.”

The need to be with Ben gripped her. She shook her head. “I want to go with him.”

“Not a good idea.” Gisella took her arm. “I'll take you to the hospital. But for now I have to get you out of the open.”

Watching Ben being rolled away ripped at Corinna's heart. He'd been her rock these past few weeks. Seeing him laid low was as right as a western sunrise.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she allowed Gisella to whisk her back to the shelter of the theatre house. Once inside, Corinna sank down on a red velvet bench and yanked at the laces of her toe shoes and stripped off the footwear. She grabbed her dance bag and put on her tennis shoes. Gisella wore a path on the carpeted floor as she paced waiting for word that it was secure for them to move.

Corinna jumped to her feet and paced alongside Gisella.

He can't die. He can't die.

The words repeated through Corinna's mind.

God hasn't given up on you, so don't give up on Him.
Ben's words wiped away her silent chanting.

Did she dare hope, trust that God would let Ben pull through this?

Her father's face rose in her mind. She could almost hear him say,
God will carry you through.
The same words he'd said to her after her mother died.

She'd lived in fear for so long, praying God would protect her father, yet her father was dead. Murdered. Now Ben was on his way to the hospital, shot by an assassin's bullet meant for her. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair.

Gisella touched her ear bud, clearly listening, then said, “On our way.” She motioned for Corinna to follow her. “Let's go. A car is waiting.”

Hurrying alongside the other woman, they left the building and rushed to a waiting black SUV. Daniel Riley sat in the driver's seat and Oliver Drew sat shotgun. Corinna slid into the backseat followed by Gisella.

As they rolled away from the theatre, Corinna said, “I want to go to the hospital.”

From the driver's seat, Daniel replied, “That's where we're headed.”

“Do you know…is…Ben…?”

Daniel exchanged a glance with Oliver. He shook his head. “Don't know.”

Corinna sat back and stared unseeingly out the side window at the passing traffic. Desolation and despair pressed in on her. Fear slithered in. Would she find another loved one gone when she arrived at the hospital? Would evil win again?

Deep in her soul a welling tide of need rose, clogging her throat and burning her eyes. From some long forgot
ten Sunday school lesson came a verse that bolstered her downward spiraling faith.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans for good, not evil. To give you a future and a hope.

Closing her eyes, she breathed out a barely audible prayer. “If you really mean that, please don't let this evil destroy Ben.”

Because she didn't think she could live through another loss of someone she loved.

At the hospital, Corinna was out of the vehicle before Daniel brought the SUV to a full stop. Oliver quickly followed. An empty ambulance sat at the emergency entrance. Corinna hurried through the sliding doors and rushed to the admitting desk.

A gray-haired lady sitting behind the counter smiled at her. “How can I help you?”

“Ben Fritz. He was just brought in,” Corinna nearly gasped.

The older woman's fingers played across the keyboard of the computer in front of her. Her brow wrinkled in a frown. “I'm sorry, I don't see anyone in our system with that name.”

“But he just came in,” Corinna insisted. “He was shot. He should be back with the doctors.”

“I'm sorry, Miss. I have no record of him.”

“The ambulance is here,” Oliver interjected. “Where are the EMTs?” Without waiting for an answer, Oliver peeled away from the counter and headed toward the ER doors.

“Hey, you can't go in there!” A nurse ran after him.

Confusion and alarm squeezed Corinna's lungs, trapping her breath. “How can that be?”

Daniel and Gisella raced to her side just as Oliver returned. “He's not here,” Oliver stated. “EMTs said as soon as he regained consciousness he took off.”

Their shocked faces reflected the question burning through her mind. Where could he be?

 

“I can't believe I let you talk me into this!” Anderson said with a sideways glance while expertly handling his truck at a breakneck speed.

Ben tried not wincing every time the vehicle rounded a corner or hit a rough patch of road in their pursuit of the shooter. “Wasn't like I gave you a choice. It was an order.”

“Dumb one, if you ask me,” Anderson groused.

“Not when the order leads to catching this guy. That's all that matters,” Ben stated firmly through clenched teeth.

His broken rib burned like a roaring campfire gone awry. When he'd come to in the back of the ambulance before the vehicle had left the Riverwalk, the EMTs had told him his Kevlar vest had stopped the bullet, but he'd suffered a rib fracture and they wanted to take him to the hospital for x-rays. They'd strapped tape around his midsection and instructed him to take full breaths to avoid lung complications.