Stranger on Raven's Ridge (19 page)

His eye twitched, but he didn't reply or look at her.

“Why don't you sit at the table? There are markers and paper.
Maybe you can draw about Christmas.”

Again, he didn't move.

Miles touched his son's shoulder. “Why don't you draw the bike
Santa brought you?”

Again, no response.

“Come on, sport.” Miles took his arm and led the boy to the
table. Timmy slumped down in the chair, but he didn't pick up the markers. He
simply stared at the blank paper as if he was too weighted down to move.

“I need to talk to your daddy for a minute,” Jordan said,
giving his arm a soft pat. “We'll be outside that door if you need us, all
right?”

His eyes twitched sideways toward her this time.
Frightened.

She rubbed his shoulder gently. “I promise. We're not going
anywhere but right outside the room.” She gestured toward a glass partition.
“See that glass? We'll be in there so if you need us, just call or tap on the
glass and we'll come back.”

He didn't respond, just tucked his knees up and began to rock
back and forth. His bony little body was wound so tight that Jordan felt the
tension thrumming through him.

“If you want to draw, that's fine,” she said again, using a
quiet voice. “If not, you can look out that window and watch the pretty horses
running around.”

The fact that he didn't turn to look at them worried her. But
she simply smiled, then ushered his father into the hallway and into the other
room.

When she closed the door, Miles immediately angled his head to
watch his son through the partition. Jordan's chest squeezed.

Miles McGregor was one of the biggest, toughest-looking men
she'd ever met. He was not only a cowboy, but Brody had told her he was a cop
who chased down the dregs of society.

Miles was also hurting inside and felt powerless to help his
son. That made them kindred spirits.

“Tell me what happened,” Jordan said gently.

He slanted her a condescending look. “I thought you said Brody
filled you in.”

Jordan simply folded her arms. “Yes, but I want to hear it from
you. Everything from the day Timmy's mother died to how and where you found
Timmy to what the doctors said.”

A muscle jumped in his chiseled jaw. “You can read the police
report.” He yanked an envelope from inside his denim jacket pocket. The movement
revealed the weapon he had holstered to his side. “Here's the doctor's report,
too.”

Jordan forced a calm into her voice. “I will read it, but it's
important I hear what you have to say.”

“Why? All I need for you to do is to get Timmy to look at this
picture.” He yanked another envelope from his jacket, pulled out a photograph
and slapped it on the table. “If he can identify this man as his mother's
killer, then I can put him back in jail where he belongs.”

Jordan gritted her teeth. “So Timmy witnessed the murder?”

Miles gave a clipped nod, the pain so intense in his eyes that
it nearly robbed her breath. “I believe so, but he hasn't spoken since that day.
That's why I need you to get him to talk.”

Jordan glanced through the window at Timmy, her heart aching
for the boy. “I understand your impatience,” she said. “But Timmy has undergone
a terrible shock. It may take him time to open up.”

Miles glared at her. “I don't have
time.
”

Jordan's anger rose. “Then you'd better damn well find it,
because the important thing here is that your son heal.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes flaring with rage. “The
important thing is keeping Timmy safe. This man Robert Dugan is a cold-blooded
killer. He threatened me in court, he slit Timmy's mother's throat, and if he
knows Timmy is a witness, he'll probably come back to kill him.”

* * *

T
IMMY
ROCKED
HIMSELF
back and forth in the chair. He thought the lady
said something to him. Something about horses. But he couldn't make out her
words. It was too noisy in his head. Voices...things crashing...the
screaming.

And he couldn't see any horses.

All he saw was the red.

Red blotches...black blotches...more red...more black...

Someone else was in the room with him, too. His daddy...at
least he thought it was his daddy...

No, he was mad at him. He hadn't come home...

His eyes blurred and then it was dark. So dark everything went
black.

Like night all the time. Scary night.

Scary night when the monsters came...

He buried his head in his arms and rocked harder. Pushed at his
ears to make the noises be quiet.

He didn't want to see the monsters. They were bad. They were
going to get him.

He had to run....

But he couldn't run...he couldn't move. Couldn't do nothing to
stop the noises and the dark from coming...

Or the red from splattering the walls...

Or his mommy's cries...

ISBN: 9781460307069

Copyright © 2013 by Jacqueline Goff

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.Harlequin.com