Convictions (16 page)

"Just like you let Olivia make her own decisions?" Hank knew he was pushing, but acid churned in his stomach, fueling the fear for his sister's safety.

The older man stiffened. "Don't presume to know what's going on with my daughter."

"I don't have to presume. I read the paper, too." Hank turned away and hollered, "Dawn! Where are you?"

They continued on, with Hank calling out Dawn's name every minute or two.

"You don't know everything," Kincaid said, startling Hank. "Her mother was killed by an armed robber in a convenience store when she was a child. Olivia saw it happen."

Hank cringed inwardly, imagining the young girl watching her mother die. She must've been terrified.

"After that, Olivia put all her energy into becoming a prosecutor," the judge continued. "She never did the things normal kids did that gave their parents gray hairs. She was the perfect daughter: responsible, studious, the top of her class."

Hank had no trouble seeing Olivia as a serious child, and for some reason it bothered him.

"I didn't see her much after she left home to attend college, then law school. But I was proud of her. What man wouldn't be proud of a child who followed in his footsteps?" The older man's voice resonated with pride, but there was also a trace of unexplained bitterness. "Three months ago I got a call from the Chicago district attorney telling me my daughter had been attacked. I flew there immediately and found a shell of the girl I knew. That bastard hurt more than her body. He stole her confidence as well as what made her who she was. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch."

Hank's hands tightened on the reins, understanding the rage that Judge Kincaid must've experienced. What if it had been Dawn who was attacked?

"Yes, I make decisions for my adult daughter, but only because she gave me that right." Pain was evident in Kincaid's steely voice. "God knows I don't want it. I want the Olivia who fought tooth and nail to get into the district attorney's office, then put her heart and soul into putting criminals behind bars."

Stunned by the judge's passionate speech, Hank stared straight ahead, unable to think of anything to say. His mind swirled with memories of the prosecutor who'd put him behind bars and how angry he'd been by the man's ability to turn Hank's innocence into guilt.

Try as he might, he couldn't imagine Olivia twisting the truth like his prosecutor had. But he also remembered what she had said while they'd been waiting for the sheriff.

"This isn't who I am."

Did that mean the feelings Hank had for her were for someone who didn't exist?

Hank heard the dull report of a shot and jerked back on the reins. "Did you hear that?"

Kincaid drew up alongside him. "Hear what?"

Another shot sounded.

"Gunshot." Hank's heart lodged in his throat even as he tapped his heels against his horse's sides. Judge Kincaid was right beside him as they rode hard for the canyon's exit.

It seemed to Olivia she'd spent all night sitting in vehicles. She crossed her arms and glared out the windshield. Her leg ached, and she had to keep shifting to relieve the stiffness.

Turning on the dome light, she checked her watch. Almost three a.m. Dawn had been missing for over two hours. She switched off the light and stretched her bad leg so her heel rested on the passenger side floor. The doors were locked, but she'd lowered the two front windows an inch or so to keep the glass from fogging up.

At first, she'd jumped at every little noise, but now she was only tired and bored. And stiff and cold. Peering outside, she searched for returning men, but there was nothing to see.

It wouldn't hurt to get out and walk around to shake off the exhaustion that tugged at her. But what if the man who killed Melinda was out there?

Olivia's gut instinct argued against her rationality. She was out here with no other living person in sight. A two-minute stretch outside the vehicle should be safe enough. Besides, she had protection.

She picked up the revolver from where it lay on the passenger seat and checked the chamber. There was a cartridge in it. If someone attacked her, all she had to do was squeeze the trigger.

Feeling more confident with the weapon, Olivia eased open her door and stepped out onto the damp soil. She stumbled slightly but quickly caught herself. The air was cold but refreshing after the staleness of the vehicle's interior.

With the revolver in her right hand, she stretched her arms upward. The kinks and knots in her back, shoulders, and neck began to unravel. She walked around the vehicle, then over to Dawn's mare and spoke soothingly to the animal. As she stroked the horse's neck, she gazed out at the shadowy darkness surrounding her. Nothing moved. For a moment, it seemed like she and the mare were the only two living creatures left on earth.

Scuffling caught Olivia's attention, and she froze in mid-pet.

Olivia wrapped both hands around the revolver and strained to hear the sound again. When she did, she turned in the direction the odd noise emanated from.

"It could be just a coyote or skunk," she said under her breath. But her thundering heart didn't buy it. She stifled the urge to call out in case the murderer was searching for a second victim.

Her palms grew damp from sweat. Moving with infinite care, Olivia stepped back toward her father's vehicle.

Something scraped against rock.

Olivia peered into the murkiness and struggled to see what lay hidden by the shadows. Fear pulsed through her veins, and momentary dizziness plagued her.

"Keep it together," she murmured to herself between uneven pants. "It could just be one of the men."

Like Mantle.

If anybody on the ranch killed Melinda, Olivia would bet it was Mantle. The man made her skin crawl.

She took another step backward, and her foot landed on a rock. Her ankle turned slightly, enough to make her flail out an arm to find her balance. She risked a glance behind her, and her stomach dropped when she realized her objective was still fifty feet away.

Grasping the revolver between her hands, she slowly turned in a circle. A shadowy movement caught her eye, and she brought the gun to bear on it.

"Olivia," came a woman's voice. "Is that you?"

Trembling, Olivia lowered the weapon. "Dawn?"

"Oh, God, it is." The girl lurched out of the shadows toward her.

Olivia caught Dawn's arm. "Are you hurt?"

Dawn shook her head and managed a shaky smile. "Only my pride."

Olivia nearly staggered in relief. "Everyone is out looking for you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. My horse stumbled. I wasn't expecting it." She shook her head wryly. "A good rider always expects it."

"Mistakes happen. I'm just glad that you're all right." Olivia guided her toward her father's vehicle. "Get in. I'll start the engine so you can warm up."

After Dawn was ensconced in the SUV, Olivia went back outside. She wanted to let the men know Dawn was found, and the only way she could think of was to fire a couple of rounds in the air. She did so, flinching at the loud reports that broke the silence.

Back in the SUV, she placed the weapon under the driver's seat. Warm air blew full force from the vents. Dawn needed what Olivia had needed earlier: a hot shower and dry clothes. Hopefully, it wouldn't be long before her father and the others returned.

"I feel so stupid," Dawn said, pushing back the wet strands of hair from her dirt-streaked face. "I wanted to help and only made it harder on your father and everyone else."

"Weren't you riding with Barton?" Olivia asked curiously.

The girl's face reddened. "I haven't ridden a horse in about five years, and Johnny rode like he'd been born in the saddle. When we saw a group of cattle, we went in opposite directions to gather them. Once we had them together, I told him to take them by himself and I'd check for stragglers."

"And that's when you were thrown?"

Dawn wrapped her arms around herself. "Yes. Stupid of me."

Olivia rubbed the girl's arm. "Quit beating yourself up. Even the best riders make mistakes."

A tear slid down Dawn's grimy cheek. "Do you think your dad will fire me?"

"No, of course not. He'll understand." Olivia gave her a teasing smile. "But he probably won't let you play cowboy again."

"Cowgirl." Dawn's moisture-filled eyes held a hint of feistiness.

Olivia laughed, and the knot of worry in her chest unraveled.

Abruptly Olivia's door was jerked open, and a man's face peered at them. Olivia screamed, and her mind flashed back to that horrifying night. Seeing her attacker's sneer; hearing his spewed filth; feeling his fists and feet against her stomach, her face, her whole body. Then the excruciating pain of a bat striking her knee.

She curled into herself, shielding her head with her arms and drawing her knees to her chest.

"Move over. Let me talk to her." Arms enfolded her. "It's all right, Liv. You're safe."

The soothing voice crooned close to her ear, and she fought to escape the suffocating memories. The scent of horses, leather, and familiar aftershave completed her journey to reality... and sanity.

"Dad?" she whispered.

"Are you all right, Liv?" her father asked. He loosened his arms around her.

It took her a few moments to remember where she was.

"It happened again." Disgust roughened her voice. "The flashback."

Why did she keep remembering? Why couldn't she put the attack behind her?

"It's okay, honey."

Irrational anger surged through her, and she pushed away from her father but couldn't go far in the driver's bucket seat. "No, it's not all right. One minute I'm fine, and the next, I'm a basket case."

"I'm sorry I scared you," came a low voice from the passenger side.

She shifted so she could make out Hank standing outside the open window. She glanced from his somber expression to her father's severe one. "What happened?"

"I surprised you," Hank said. "And it must've reminded you of..."

He let the sentence hang, but Olivia could fill in the blanks. She'd thought Hank was her attacker and had freaked out. God, he must think she was certifiable.

"Dawn found her way back here," Olivia said, needing to change the topic.

Hank's gaze swung to his sister, who was leaning away from the passenger door, as if trying to keep as far from her brother as she could. "I see that," he said impassively.

Despite her own emotional shakiness, Olivia saw the hurt in his eyes. She clasped Dawn's hand and spoke to the girl. "He was frantic with worry for you."

Dawn stared at the dashboard.

"What were you thinking?" Hank suddenly demanded of his sister. "You could've been killed out there."

Dawn's eyes snapped with anger equal to her brother's as she leveled her gaze on him. "I was thinking I could help. I didn't plan on falling off the damned horse."

"But you did, and you were damned lucky you weren't hurt. Or murdered."

Dawn laughed without humor. "There's no one out here but us."

Hank's jaw muscle clenched and unclenched. "We found a woman's body tonight, only a few miles from here."

Dawn's mouth dropped open, and she turned to Olivia for confirmation.

"It's true," Olivia said quietly. "She was murdered."

In the silence that followed, she heard the low murmur of men's voices. Olivia peered past Hank to see the gathering of hired hands and their horses. How long had the men been there? Long enough to witness her breakdown?

"Let's get back to the house and get some sleep. I think we can all use it," Olivia's father said. He turned to someone behind him. "Buck, did the cattle get moved out of the canyon?"

"All but maybe a straggler or two," Buck replied. "Do you want me to send a few men back in?"

"No. Have everyone head home."

"Yes, sir."

As Buck carried out the orders, Olivia got out of the SUV to let her father drive. "I'll ride in the backseat."

"Are you sure you're all right?" her father asked.

She managed a weak smile. "I'll be fine after twelve hours of sleep."

She climbed into the backseat and moments later, her father turned around and drove back to the ranch. Olivia turned to look out the back window, and in the shadowy night, she could make out Hank's lone figure watching them.

Chapter Twelve

Although she'd gotten to bed sometime after four a.m., Olivia was awake at eight thirty. Listening to the silence of the house, she figured her dad and Dawn were still asleep. She moved and stifled a groan at the aching stiffness of her bad leg. Unable to find a comfortable position, she knew it would be a waste of time to lie in bed any longer.

Cobwebs filled her head after a restless night of half-remembered nightmares. As she showered, her mind cleared and focused on the mystery of Melinda's death. She'd told Hank it could've been someone on the ranch. What she hadn't said was he and his fellow convicts were probably prime suspects. But what would've been the motive? Rape? Olivia didn't like to dwell on that possibility, but it was too apparent to reject. She wondered if Sheriff Jordan would allow her to see the medical examiner's report.

Her mind racing with different scenarios, she quickly dressed and hobbled down the hallway. Once in the kitchen, she realized she wasn't hungry. She made a pot of coffee, moving quietly so she wouldn't wake her father or Dawn. She would have breakfast later with them once they woke.

As she waited for the coffee to finish, she glanced out the kitchen window. Nothing stirred except for one person who stepped out of the convicts' barracks carrying his boots. Her heart kicked up a notch when she recognized Hank's familiar tall, lean body.

Knowing Hank would appreciate some coffee, she filled two thermal travel mugs and headed outside. She lifted her face to the sun that shone from a sky so blue it almost hurt her eyes. After three straight days of rain, the warmth and sunshine felt heavenly.

Her courage wavered for a moment, then she limped across the yard to the porch where Hank sat in one of the warped wooden chairs. Ignoring the quiver in her knees, she carefully climbed the steps.