To Wed and Protect (9 page)

“But he let you down.”

She nodded her head. “He was great initially in the
days immediately following Loretta's death. It wasn't until he realized I intended to keep the kids with me that he started to freak out.”

She paused a moment and took a sip of her tea, grateful that thoughts of Ken no longer hurt at all. “He tried to talk me into putting them into foster care. He said they required more than I could give them, but what he meant was their presence in my life cramped his style. I realized then that I'd been fooling myself about my feelings for him. The easiest thing I've ever done in my life was tell him goodbye.”

Before he could respond, the kids returned to the table.

“So, do we get to have a dog?” Jason asked eagerly.

Abby gestured the kids into the booth. Jason slid in next to Luke and Jessica next to her. She eyed them both soberly, grateful to be on less treacherous ground talking about a dog with the kids instead of the past or Luke's desire for her.

“I've given this a lot of thought, and I've decided that next week, if Luke could take us to some of the dog breeders he knows, then we'll see about getting a dog.”

Jason yelped with excitement, and Jessica clapped her hands together, her button eyes shining with delight.

“Oh boy, a dog! That's a lot better than a lizard,” Jason exclaimed.

Abby checked her watch and realized it was almost three. She knew Luke played his guitar and sang at the Honky Tonk on Saturday nights and probably had
other things he wanted to do besides spend all his free Saturday time with her and the kids.

“We probably should be getting back home,” she said to Luke.

He checked his watch and nodded. “Yeah, I've got a few things to take care of before I go to work tonight.” He stood and pulled out his wallet.

“Please, let me get lunch,” she said, fumbling quickly in her purse.

“I'm not accustomed to my date paying my way,” Luke protested.

“We aren't a date,” Jason exclaimed.

Abby laughed. “That's right. We aren't a date, and I insist I pay in return for your fascinating tour of town.”

Luke grinned easily and stuck his wallet back in his pocket. “I never argue with a headstrong woman.”

Luke and the kids stood nearby while Abby paid for the meal, then together the four of them left the diner. They had just reached the car when Luke snapped his fingers. “Hey, we almost forgot what we came to town to get—the guitar strings.”

“You said the man in the general store orders them for you?” Abby asked. She knew the general store was a couple of blocks away, and she could also tell that the kids were growing tired.

“Why don't you guys go ahead and get in the car. It will just take me a couple of minutes to run and get them,” Luke suggested.

“Let's go in here and look,” Jason said, pointing to the craft store in front of where they were parked.

“Okay, if you aren't in the car, then I'll know
you're in there,” Luke said, then turned and began to walk in long, even strides away from them.

“All right, we'll take a peek around and by that time Luke will be back,” Abby said as she guided the kids to the quaint shop's door.

Inside the air was cool and sweetly fragranced by candles and potpourri. The shelves held an array of items—knitted booties and crocheted blankets, hand-sewn dolls and wooden painted trucks.

There were hand-painted bird feeders and intricate yard ornaments, flower arrangements and paintings and cross-stitched towels and T-shirts.

“Hello…hello. Welcome to My Place.” A dainty, gray-haired woman approached them, beaming a smile and bearing a platter full of cookies. “I'm Rita Sue Ellenbee, the proprietor of this establishment.”

“Hi, I'm Abby Graham and these are my children, Jason and Jessica,” Abby replied.

“Ah, yes, the town has been buzzing with the news of the pretty new widow and her lovely children. Would you like a cookie? My own special recipe of honey and oatmeal.” Rita Sue held out the platter.

“None for me, thank you,” Abby replied, then nodded at the kids, who each took one.

“Feel free to wander around. We have something for everyone in here.”

“We're just waiting for Luke,” Jason said around a mouthful of cookie.

“Luke? Luke Delaney?” Rita Sue asked, and Abby nodded.

“He's such a nice young man…a bit of the devil
in him, but just enough to make him fun. His work always sells the quickest here.”

“Really? What kind of things does Luke sell here?” Abby asked curiously.

Rita Sue placed the platter of cookies on a shelf and gestured for Abby and the children to follow her. “I haven't put out his newest work yet. He just dropped it off to me a couple of days ago.”

She led them into a back room that was obviously used for storage. Boxes and crates lined the walls, and in the center of the room set a gorgeous, solid oak dressing table. “That's Luke's work,” she said.

Abby ran her fingers across the smooth, glazed wood in surprise. “It's beautiful,” she said, awed by the workmanship displayed in the intricately carved lines and decorative etching. “He's been doing some work for me around my place, but I had no idea he was so talented.”

“Luke could make a good living just building furniture, but he doesn't seem to have any real ambition that way,” Rita Sue said. “He brings me a piece every couple of months, and it usually sells the first day I put it out on the floor. I'm always harping at him to make them faster, but he just grins that devilish grin of his that tells me he's going to do it in his own time, his own way.”

Abby smiled. “Thank you for showing it to me. And now we'd better get outside. Luke will be looking for us.”

They walked toward the front door, where a young couple was just entering. Rita Sue grabbed her platter of cookies and went to greet the new couple.

Abby gazed out the plate glass window as the kids stopped to look at a display of tissue-paper flowers. She didn't want Luke to have to come in search of them.

Main Street was busy, and it was obvious many people had come out to enjoy the pleasant day. Several men sat outside the barbershop on a bench, and a young couple walked leisurely hand-in-hand, apparently window-shopping.

At the corner, the sheriff stood chatting with another man, and as Abby's gaze swept over them, her blood froze and her breath.

No. Her mind screamed in denial as she stared at the man with the sheriff. It couldn't be. Her heart banged painfully in her chest.

She drew a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She could only see the man's profile. She had to be mistaken. It couldn't be him…just somebody who resembled him.

“No,” she whispered. No, it couldn't be him. Fate wouldn't be so cruel, and she had tried to be so very careful. When he turned, she'd see that it wasn't him at all.

Then he turned, and she saw him fully. It was him. Her heart once again boomed in frantic rhythm as her blood turned icy cold in her veins.

Somehow, some way, Justin Cahill, the man who had murdered her sister, the father of the children she claimed as her own, was here in Inferno.

And he could only be here for one reason. He knew they were here. He had found them.

T
he minute Luke saw Abby sitting in the car, he knew something was wrong. She wasn't just pale—she looked positively ill.

The kids both seemed okay. They were buckled into the back seat, each of them looking at books Abby had bought for them earlier in the day.

But Abby definitely was not okay. He threw the guitar strings on the seat between them and slid behind the steering wheel. “What's going on?” he asked.

“Nothing. Everything is fine…just fine,” she replied, a sharp edge in her voice. “I just really need to get home right away.”

“All right, we're on our way.” He started the engine and pulled away from the curb, aware of her gaze darting frantically out the front window, then out the side.

The tension rolling from her was thick enough to
cut, and he could hear her taking shallow little breaths, as if she were fighting off sheer hysteria. As they drove away from town, she constantly turned in her seat to check the road behind them.

“Abby, what's going on?” he asked again, unease rising in him as he recognized that the emotion that darkened her eyes appeared to be fear. “Did somebody say something to you? Did something happen while I was gone?”

“Is something wrong?” Jason asked from the back seat.

“No, honey. Everything is fine…just fine,” Abby said to him. “I'll tell you later,” she said in a low voice to Luke.

The drive was finished in silence. Abby continued to twist in her seat and look out the rear window as Luke tried to figure out what might have happened in the space of the few minutes he'd been getting the guitar strings.

When they reached the house, Abby opened the front door and told the kids to go inside and turn on the television or play in their rooms, then she stepped out on the porch with Luke.

Her eyes still held an edge of panic, and her delicate hands worried themselves, clenching and unclenching, twisting and wringing.

“I have to think,” she said absently and paced the front porch. “We have to go…we have to leave here.”

“What are you talking about?” He stepped closer to her and grabbed her hands in his. “What do you mean, leave here? Where are you going?”

“I don't know…we just…we just have to go. We
have to get out of here.” Her hands were cold as ice and trembled unsteadily. She tried to pull them away, but he held on tight.

“Why? Why do you have to leave? For God's sake, Abby, tell me what's going on.”

Tears formed in her eyes as she gazed at him. “I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone. I'm afraid…” The tears trickled from her eyes and fell down her cheeks. “Please, let me go so I can get the kids ready to leave. If we stay here, I'll lose everything, and the children will be lost.”

“I'm not going to let you go until you tell me what's going on.” Luke squeezed her hands. “Abby, you can trust me. Maybe I can help.”

She drew a deep breath. “You can't help,” she said with an edge of bitterness. “Nobody can help.”

“Try me,” Luke exclaimed. “Trust me.” He dropped her hands and grabbed her shoulders.

For a long moment she gazed into his eyes, as if assessing him to see if he was worth her trust. Finally, he felt the tension in her ebb slightly. “Justin Cahill has found us.” The words were whispered hoarsely as if torn from enormous force.

“Justin Cahill?”

“The kids' father.”

Luke frowned in confusion. “But I thought…you said he'd disappeared.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders.

“He's not disappeared anymore. He's here in Inferno, and he can only be here for one reason. He wants his children,” she exclaimed, her voice laced with undisguised bitterness. “I put all my faith in the
judicial system, and it let me down.” She moved to the porch railing and stared into the distance.

She looked so fragile, so small and helpless, Luke's heart ached for her. He moved to stand next to her. “What happened?”

“Justin was arrested for the murder of my sister, and I was granted temporary custody of the children. The murder case was handled by an overeager assistant district attorney. She charged Justin with first-degree murder and refused to consider including any lesser charges. She was so certain she'd get him.”

“But she didn't.”

Abby turned to face him, her eyes tortured pools of emotion. She worried a slender hand through her hair.

“No, she didn't. In her defense, it looked like an open-and-shut case. After all, she had two little eyewitnesses to the crime, and even though Jason and Jessica were horribly traumatized, she was certain that by the time the trial took place they would be able to testify.”

“But they weren't.”

“Jessica quit talking altogether, and whenever Linda, that was the assistant DA, tried to talk to Jason, he'd fly into rages and tears. Finally I told her she couldn't use them, that she'd have to figure out the case without their testimony. She remained confident. They had Justin's fingerprints in Loretta's apartment and a neighbor's testimony that he'd thought he'd seen Justin lurking around just before the murder took place.”

“And that wasn't enough to see him convicted?”

“At the last minute Justin produced an alibi witness for the time of the murder.” Abby's voice rang with
festering anger. “A young woman came forward to testify that Justin was with her the entire night of the murder. The case fell apart after that.”

Once again she directed her attention to the distance, and her fist hit the porch railing in barely contained rage. “I had told Linda from the very beginning that first-degree murder wasn't the right charge. She couldn't prove premeditation, and I begged her to include lesser charges for the jurors to consider. But she didn't want to hear it. She was so damned confident that she could turn the jury her way.”

“But she didn't,” Luke concluded softly.

All the anger, all the bitterness seemed to fall away from her, leaving her looking painfully vulnerable, achingly defenseless. “No, she didn't.”

As Abby's eyes filled once again with tears, Luke drew her into his arms and held her tight.

“Two months ago the verdict came in…a hung jury, a mistrial. I was at my apartment with the kids when Linda called to give me the bad news.” She shuddered, her voice muffled by his chest. “And Linda told me unless new information came to light, they weren't going to try him again. I knew the moment he got released he'd come looking for me…come looking for his kids. So I packed up and ran, and I've been running every since.”

She lifted her head and through the haze of her tears a steely strength shone. “By taking the kids and running, I know I broke the law. But I had no other choice. I will not allow him to have Jason and Jessica. He's a brutal, hateful man, and he'll destroy them. I had to break the law in order to save them from him.
He's a murderer, and he only wants them for two reasons—actually, two million and one reasons.”

“Two million and one?”

She nodded and stepped out of his embrace. “First and foremost, I know he wants them to make sure they continue their silence about the night of Loretta's death. But the main reason he wants them in his custody is that each of them has a trust fund of a little over a million dollars apiece.”

Luke whistled, shock sweeping through him. “I guess that gives him a little over two million reasons to want to be a good daddy.”

“Justin was never a good daddy,” she said, her eyes flashing with a renewed burst of anger. “He was cold, and brutal, and authoritarian. The kids were terrified of him before the night he killed my sister, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure they stay safe from him.” Once again she threaded her fingers through her hair, then turned toward the front door. “I can't waste any more time. I've got to get the kids packed, and we need to get out of here.”

She started for the door, but Luke stopped her by grabbing her arm. “So that's it? You just run?”

“That's right,” she replied, her chin raised in mute defiance.

“And when he finds you again?”

“We run again…and we keep running until we find a place where he won't be able to find us.” Her chin went a notch higher. “I don't care how many laws I have to break to keep those babies safe.”

“And what kind of a life is that for your kids?”

The chin that had a mere moment before been raised
in stubborn bravado lowered, and her eyes flickered with a haunting deep pain. “It's better than what Justin will give them,” she said softly, her voice quivering with the depth of her emotion.

“But is it good enough? Always in hiding, afraid if Justin doesn't find you the law will? What kind of a life is that?”

She attempted to jerk her arm from his grasp. She obviously didn't want to hear what he had to say, but he held tight. “Abby, there's got to be another way. You can't condemn those kids to a life on the run.”

“I tried the other way,” she cried and this time managed to tear her arm from his grip. “I trusted the system to do the right thing, to put him in prison and keep him away from the children. But it failed me. It failed them. The day he walked out of that courtroom acquitted, he regained the right to have his children. And he's a murderer. He beat my sister to death in a fit of rage!”

“But the children have a right to have a normal life, with a permanent home and the same school, the same friends and a dog.”

A sob caught in her throat as she slumped against the front door, utter defeat on her features. “Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I want that for them? But I don't know what to do. Justin could show up here at any minute and demand I give him his children, and legally, he'd have that right.”

Luke had never wanted to help anyone more than he wanted to help her and the children at that moment. “Maybe it's time you stand and fight.”

She sniffled and straightened. “But I have no tools, no weapons to fight him.”

“Yes, you do,” Luke protested. “You have two very powerful tools. You have Jason and Jessica. Even though they might not be ready or willing to talk about the night of their mother's murder, surely they'd be willing to tell a judge they want to remain living with you. And I happen to be related to the best lawyer in the state, my sister, Johnna. I can call her right now, and she'll start the ball rolling in getting you permanent custody.”

For the first time since they'd left town, a tiny ray of hope shone from her eyes. Once again Luke placed his hands on her shoulders, felt the warmth of her sun-kissed skin beneath his fingertips. “Abby, stay. Fight. Give Jessica and Jason a chance for a normal childhood.

Luke wasn't sure why, but it suddenly seemed overwhelmingly important that the children got the opportunity to have good childhoods, the kind Luke had never had.

“You'll call your sister?” she said, the first real sign that she was contemplating his words.

“Right now, if you want me to.”

Again tears welled in her eyes. “I'm so scared, not for me, but for Jessica and Jason.”

He pulled her to his chest, and she came willingly into his embrace. He stroked a hand through the shiny silk of her hair and hoped to hell he hadn't just given her the worst advice in the world.

 

The attractive woman with boyishly short dark hair flew through the front door when Abby opened it,
bringing with her a dynamic energy that Abby found oddly comforting. “Johnna McCain,” she said and grabbed Abby's hand in a strong grasp.

“I'm Abby. Abby Graham.”

“Nice to meet you, Abby.” Johnna's gaze shot to her brother, who was seated on the sofa. “You said it was an emergency, so I got here as fast as I could.”

“Please, have a seat,” Abby said as she gestured Johnna toward the chair across from the sofa. As she sat, Abby sank down on the sofa next to Luke, her nerves raw and on edge.

For the past hour, while they'd waited for Johnna to arrive, Abby had expected at any moment a knock on the door and the unwelcome presence of Justin Cahill demanding his children.

She was also more afraid than she'd ever been in her life that she was making a bad decision, trusting when she should be running. What if she didn't win this fight? What if this was the biggest mistake she'd ever made in her life?

“So, what's going on?” Johnna asked, looking first at Abby, then at Luke. “What's the big emergency?”

Abby drew a deep breath and for the second time that day bared the secrets that had driven her actions for the past two months. She told Johnna about the debacle of a trial, how when the verdict of a mistrial had been announced, Abby had packed the kids up and spent the next six weeks traveling from motel to motel, seeking anonymity and safety.

After six weeks, disheartened by the lifestyle of constantly being on the move and living out of boxes
and suitcases, Abby had remembered her inheritance from her crazy uncle Arthur and had come here.

“Didn't you think Justin Cahill might be able to trace you here?” Johnna asked as she looked up from the notes she'd been taking on a legal pad.

“Uncle Arthur died when Justin was already in jail. This place was left to Loretta and me, and since Loretta was dead, it all became mine. I didn't think Justin knew anything about the inheritance.”

“Apparently he learned something, otherwise there would be no reason for him to be in Inferno,” Luke said.

“Where is Justin's home? Where were you all living when the crime occurred?”

Abby was grateful for the way Johnna phrased the question. It was easier to think of it as the crime than the murder of her sister. “We were all living in Kansas City, Missouri.” She shot an apologetic look at Luke. “I told you Chicago, but that was a lie.”

He nodded, appearing unsurprised by this information.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Johnna said. “Legally you were granted temporary custody when Justin was arrested and put into jail.”