Chapter Four #2
Dalton mulled over Aaron’s words as he drove to his apartment.
He thought he knew what Aaron had been trying to say.
Roxanne had suffered a lot at a young age.
That had to have affected her. But she had come here to make a fresh start.
Because of what happened all those years ago or because of something else?
He wanted to know. He felt drawn to her.
She was quiet, like him, and reserved. Debra had called her rude, but he didn’t think that was true.
Roxanne struggled with people, the way he did.
Maybe he could help her with that—and she could help him.
Roxanne paced. Ten steps to one end of her tiny home, ten steps back.
She nibbled at her thumbnail and replayed the conversation she had had with Sheriff Walker that morning over and over.
William Ledger was free—his life sentence shortened to only fifteen years.
Because of some clerical error? No one seemed clear on that part but it didn’t really matter: The end result was the same—William Ledger was a free man.
Free to hurt other children. Free to hurt her.
The sheriff had been gentle. Sympathetic. Everyone was, once they learned her story—that of a poor child who had survived a terrible experience.
But she wasn’t a child anymore. What had happened to her would always be part of her, but she didn’t want it to define her. She didn’t want people thinking about it every time they looked at her.
She stopped and took a deep breath. Now that she knew Ledger was out there, she could watch for him.
She had trained to defend herself—martial arts classes and long hours at a shooting range.
Most of all, she had learned to be aware.
To be skeptical of people’s motives and to trust her instincts.
Some people would argue that made her a cynic, but she preferred to believe it made her safe.
The sound of tires on the gravel of the driveway set her heart racing. She stood to one side of the window and peered out, and a wave of relief washed over her as she recognized the Jeep that pulled up beside the rental car she was driving until her RAV4 was repaired.
She waited until Dalton knocked before she opened the door. “Hello,” she said and put one hand to her hair. When was the last time she brushed it? Did she look as harried as she felt?
His expression was somber, tight lines at the corners of his soft green eyes. “Could I come in?” he asked. “To talk?”
“Sure.” She stepped aside and allowed him to pass.
He stopped just inside the door and looked around—at the built-in sofa, the table that extended from one wall and the two small chairs flanking it, at the L-shaped kitchen counter and gleaming, compact refrigerator and dishwasher, and at the stairs leading up to her loft bedroom.
She had tried to make the place a home, with colorful blankets and potted geraniums, and a few framed pictures on the wall. “Nice place,” he said.
She led the way to the sofa, a built-in with thick foam cushions, beneath a picture window. She sat and waited for him to tell her why he was here.
He remained standing, looking everywhere but at her. “I just came from the sheriff’s department,” he said. “They wanted me to look at some photos, see if I recognized the man I saw trying to get into your car after the accident.”
She swallowed. “They showed me photos, too,” she said. “Did you recognize anyone?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“I couldn’t be sure about the photos, either,” she said.
There had been one she thought might be Ledger but he was so much older now, and the man who had attacked her wore a mustache.
It wasn’t his appearance that made her think of Ledger, but the way he moved and the look in his eyes.
A horrible, greedy look that formed ice in the pit of her stomach.
Dalton walked to the window and looked out, his back to her.
She studied him. He was slender, but muscular, the T-shirt he wore stretched over strong shoulders and biceps.
His sandy-brown hair curled up at the back of his neck, and he wore a knotted bracelet on one wrist. Something flared low within her as her gaze roamed over him.
It had been a long time since she had been involved with a man.
The last one had broken up with her because he said she made him too nervous.
“You’re so silent,” he said. “I never know what you’re thinking. ”
Why did a lover have to know what she was thinking? Wasn’t she entitled to her own thoughts?
Dalton turned toward her once more, and she felt pressed back in her chair by the intensity of his gaze. “I looked up William Ledger online,” he said.
Of course he would. Anyone would. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he rushed to add. “But the way you said his name . . . I was worried.”
She had read the Wikipedia entry. The entries on true crime websites. She didn’t let him ask the next question. “I was Mary,” she said.
His expression changed. Instead of the pity she had expected, she read . . .admiration? “You’re the one who got away and went for help,” he said.
She nodded. No one had ever singled out that fact before. Not right away.
“That took a lot of courage,” he said. “How old were you?”
“I was ten. I’d only been there three months.” But it was long enough. Long enough to last a lifetime.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said. “And I’m sorry to hear they let him out of prison.”
“The sheriff told you that?”
“My brother did. He’s a sheriff’s deputy. Aaron Ames.”
She remembered the deputy with dark curly hair and brown eyes. “I didn’t realize he was your brother.”
“The two of us don’t look that much alike. Though the sheriff’s office manager says we all look like we’re plotting something.” Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth and flashed in his eyes.
She found herself almost smiling in return. “Are you? Plotting something?”
“I’d like to figure out how to find William Ledger and send him back where he belongs.”
She didn’t ask whether he meant prison or hell. She sighed. “You don’t have to worry about him.”
“I’m worried for you. And Aaron said I should watch my back. Ledger knows I saw him.”
She sagged back against the sofa cushions, weak at the realization of the truth of his words. “I’m sure it was me he was interested in,” she said. “If it even was Ledger I saw.”
He sat beside her, then, his hand resting near hers, but not touching. “Why would he come after you, after so many years?”
“I’m not sure. Except . . .” She knotted her hands together, trying to find words for the jumbled thoughts that had been tumbling in her head since yesterday.
“He always talked of me and Alice as belonging to him. Not as if we were his children, but his possessions. He owned us and we owed him for taking care of us.”
He tensed, his fingers digging into the sofa cushion. “That’s sick.”
She nodded. “The one time he said anything to me after I escaped, he said, ‘How could you leave me when I gave you everything?’ Maybe that’s what’s driving him now. He thinks of me as his and he wants me back.”
“He can’t have you.”
The declaration was so forceful it surprised her.
Dalton Ames hardly knew her. But at the same time, she was touched by his protectiveness.
She brushed her fingers against the back of his hand, like a child daring herself to get too close to a hot stove.
Dalton’s skin didn’t burn her, but she felt the heat of him moving through her, the thrill of the contact awakening parts of her too-long dormant.
“Thank you. I don’t intend to let him have me. ”
He relaxed a little and turned to look at her again. “How do you think he found you? Aaron said you changed your name, and you just arrived in Eagle Mountain.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was following me, but I think I would have noticed. I’m really careful about things like that. And maybe it wasn’t even him. Maybe I just imagined it was him.”
“You didn’t imagine someone running you off the road,” he said. “It would be a big coincidence to have a complete stranger do that. Do you really think it wasn’t Ledger?”
She shook her head. “I knew it was him the moment our eyes met. The way he looked at me, and his smile . . .” She shuddered.
Dalton put his arm around her. The gesture surprised her, but it had been so natural and, well, kind.
He struck her as the type who would patiently listen to lonely people talk for hours or be quick to comfort a child.
She leaned against him, braced by his solid form.
This was exactly what she needed, to feel that there was something strong between her and danger.
But after a moment she forced herself to pull away.
She couldn’t afford to depend on Dalton.
It wasn’t fair to involve him in her problems.
He looked around the room. “How are you going to protect yourself, out here alone?” he asked.
She credited having a brother who was a cop with inspiring this question.
“There are heavy-duty locks on the doors and windows,” she said.
She had considered installing an alarm system, but living so far from town, she wasn’t sure how useful such a system would be.
“I have a brown belt in jujitsu, and I have a gun. And the sheriff has promised to have deputies patrol in the area regularly.”
“Okay, I’ll admit I’m impressed.” He grinned, and the expression was genuine. They locked eyes and she vibrated with awareness. What had May said—smolder? She felt as if she might give off sparks at any moment.
Then a sound distracted her. “Someone’s coming,” she said, and jumped up and hurried to check the window.