Echoes of Danger
Echoes of Danger
Lenora Worth
Orphaned and determined to make a life for herself and her vulnerable brother on the Kansas prairie, rancher Dana Barlow couldn't hide from the threats against her. Her enigmatic neighbor Caryn Roark led a powerful cult and would go to any lengths to get Dana's land.What could Dana do to safeguard herself and everything she loved? Mysterious Irish businessman "Bren" offered her a wealth of possibilities, protection and love. Was he the best of Good Samaritans…or a foe with dangerous secrets?
CRITICAL PRAISE FOR LENORA WORTH:
“Suitable for CBA readers, this title is also a good pick for romance collections and those who enjoyed Kristen Heitzmann’s Halos or Hannah Alexander’s Hideaway.”
—Library Journal on After the Storm
“Worth takes readers on a thrilling ride….”
—Romantic Times on After the Storm
“…an inspirational romance and mystery thriller rolled into one… For a sweet, heartwarming story that is full of suspense, I recommend After the Storm.”
—Romance Reviews Today on After the Storm
“Talented new writer Lenora Worth combines heart-stealing characters and a tragic secret to make this page turner worth every reader’s while.”
—Romantic Times on The Wedding Quilt
“Ms. Worth puts a most unique spin on the secret baby theme to make this wonderul love story positively shine.”
—Romantic Times on Logan’s Child
“Lenora Worth creates another gem—a great, easy, entertaining read for everyone, inspirational or not.”
—Romantic Times on His Brother’s Wife
Echoes of Danger
Lenora Worth
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The end of the matter; all has been heard.
Fear God, and keep His commandments;
for this is the whole duty of man. For God
will bring every deed into judgment, with every
secret thing, whether good or evil.
—Ecclesiastes 12:13–14
To my friend Jean Duncan.
You’re not in Kansas anymore and you left Louisiana
for Texas. Jean, I miss you and wish you well.
And to Tom Palczynski—
a great teacher and a good friend.
Contents
Chapter One (#ua94f95d3-e2e0-544a-91fc-0927dfad6f05)
Chapter Two (#u8d233fef-548c-564a-a725-f431d5747266)
Chapter Three (#u44e59148-9a3a-541f-993d-8bb54dc8fae5)
Chapter Four (#ucb405a3a-92eb-531b-bcaf-14e98cd42025)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“He’s dead, Dana. Murdered. He’s murdered!”
Dana Barlow looked at her twelve-year-old brother Stephen’s tear-streaked face and wondered how life could be so cruel. She’d always been honest with Stephen, while trying to make allowances for his physical problems. She’d have to be honest with him now.
“I know, Stevie,” she said, looking down at the bloody carcass of one of their two prize Brangus breeding bulls. Thinking of all the money wasted, of all the time spent in caring for this eleven-hundred-pound animal, she wanted to sit down and cry like a baby. But she couldn’t do that. Stevie was watching her; she was the only family he had and she had to stay sane for his sake.
Why, God? she asked silently.
“Who’d go and do a thing like that, anyway?” Stephen said in a voice edged with pain and anger. “Don’t nobody around here act like that, Dana. Everybody knows Otto was my favorite. He won the Grand Championship! Otto was Stephen’s favorite!”
Dana watched as her brother rocked back and forth, holding his hands to his stomach, repeating that same phrase over and over, his mind recoiling into its own little world. A world of autism.
Dana looked around the stark, flat Kansas prairie, her eyes scanning the rippling waves of bluestem for any signs of intruders, but the wind, dancing and prancing with unabashed boldness, was the only thing moving through the tallgrass. Stephen, highly intelligent and highly perceptive, was right. Prairie Heart, Kansas, was about as mid-America as you could get and none of the five hundred or so residents would be so mean-spirited and uncaring as to deliberately kill a prize bull, especially when the whole town knew how important the animal was to Dana and Stephen’s livelihood. Who would commit such a crime?
Dana’s green eyes shifted to the west, where thunderclouds darkened the sky with an ominous intensity, to the distant steeple of the Universal Unity Church. The religious complex bordered her hundred acres of land on two sides. And the church’s leader, a woman named Caryn Roark, had been badgering Dana for months. Caryn wanted Dana’s land.
Only, she wasn’t going to get it.
Could this be Caryn’s way of trying to nudge Dana into selling? Why would the woman resort to such a thing? When the church had taken up residence a few years back in an old farmhouse on the neighboring Selzer place, Dana hadn’t paid much attention to the comings and goings. She was a Christian, and a firm believer in the live and let live theory. As long as the strange cult members left her alone, she’d do the same by them. But lately, Caryn’s followers had been harassing several of the local farmers. And now, many of the small struggling landowners living around Prairie Heart had given in to Caryn’s tempting offers to buy their land.
“We’re the only ones left,” she said out loud, her words flying on the rising wind.
Stephen looked away from Otto’s bloated, bullet-ridden body. “You’ll find them, won’t you, Dana? Dana will find the bad guys.” He rose, sniffing back tears, smearing his dusty face in the process. Jerking his green-and-white Kansas Co-op cap down over his green eyes, he stalked to his sister. “You already know who done this, don’t you?”
Dana kicked at the tallgrass at her feet, scaring a concealed walking stick out of his hiding place. Stephen automatically tried to catch the spindly bug, but the creature sauntered away, so he turned back to his sister.
“Tell me, Dana.”
Dana sighed long and hard. The school counselor and his former teachers at Prairie Heart School, where Stephen had attended before she started homeschooling him, might think Stephen was a slow learner, but sometimes Dana thought the boy was smarter than any of them. His autism was mild, a form of what the doctors termed Asperger’s syndrome. In spite of his odd social behavior and awkward motor skills, he had a way of seeing through the clutter right to the truth, and he was very clever at picking up signs or figuring out puzzles. Since the night three years ago when their parents had been killed in a car accident along the long stretch of state Highway 56 that had once been the Santa Fe Trail, Dana had never lied to him.
But she didn’t have any easy answers for something this awful.
“No, Stevie, I don’t know who did it. But I’m sure going to find out. I’m going into town to talk to the sheriff, then I’ll send Doc Jeffers around to take Otto away.”
Stephen glanced down at the big, dark-skinned animal. “I’ll sure miss you, old fella.”
Trying to find any excuse to take the boy’s mind off his loss, Dana tossed back her chin-length reddish-brown curls and playfully snatched her brother by one ear. “Hey, remember why I was headed to town in the first place?”
Stephen smiled then, his green eyes matching a lone cottonwood tree’s rustling leaves. “Yeah, sure. You gonna buy my new Ruby Runners, right? I get to stay with Mrs. Bailey.”
“That’s right,” she said, leading him to the old Chevy truck that had belonged to their daddy. “They’re on order and should be here today, and thanks to that pig you sold at the spring fair, we’ve got the money now.”
Stephen gave her a lopsided high five. “Yeah, and I’ll run twice as fast, I bet, huh, Dana? I’ll be ready for that track meet over in Kansas City, won’t I, Dana?”
As usual, Stephen’s mind wandered from current pain to future pleasure, so for a brief time, he forgot that big Otto had been brutally murdered. Dana hadn’t forgotten, though. She planned to make a stop on the way to town. It was high time she paid the devout folks at Universal Unity Church a little neighborly visit.
An hour later, Dana waited in the whitewashed reception room of the newly built offices of the Universal Unity Complex, which now consisted of a magnificent glass-and-stone chapel, a long white row of three-storied dormitories and Caryn Roark’s own private quarters—a modern, stark white mansion setting where old Hiram Selzer’s 1885 farmhouse had stood for over a hundred years. The farmhouse was long gone, old Hiram was long dead, and this rambling complex seemed out of place in rural Kansas.
Eyeing her surroundings with distaste, Dana shifted in the white leather chair where a young girl in a flowing blue dress had guided her. Everything in this place was a stark, crisp white. White-on-white carpets and tiled floors, white drapery and heavy silken sheers, white leather and wood furniture. Even the flowers were white—azaleas and gardenias growing in stone pots, petunias and roses cascading out of huge planters—except for one lone, stark amaryllis sitting on the table near Dana’s chair. That heavily blooming flower was white with threads of red and pink stripes shooting out over its lush blossoms. The lily looked strangely out of place.
Dana felt out of place herself in her T-shirt, faded jeans and heavy work boots. But, hey, why should she feel disoriented? This was her home, not theirs. She’d been born and raised here—born in the house she now lived in, and raised by two wonderful, loving people who had met their Heavenly Maker on a rain-slick road in the middle of a cold, dark night. No, she didn’t have any reason to feel out of place, but she had a whole lot of reason to feel cheated and fighting mad.
When she looked up to see Caryn Roark approaching her down a sweep of wrought-iron spiral stairs, she wondered if she’d somehow stepped into the twilight zone. The woman was downright spooky.
Caryn had platinum-blond hair that was coiled up on top of her head and threaded with brilliant golden braids of rope. She wore all white—of course—a flowing sweater-type material that looked comfortable but would probably be hot if she decided to venture out of the cool confines of her air-conditioned palace. Overall, Dana supposed Caryn was an attractive woman, until you looked into her eyes. They were a clear, cold blue, and coupled with the woman’s long, beaked nose, presented a chilling countenance.
Evil. Dana didn’t know why the word popped into her head, but it did. And it stayed with her the whole time Caryn glided toward her to extend a bejeweled hand complete with silvery painted fingernails.
“Hello, Dana Barlow. So good of you to come by. Now, what can I help you with today? Are you interested in attending some of our enlightening services here at Unity?” Caryn stood back, her hand trailing over the amaryllis while she waited, her gaze expectant.
Dana knew instantly that this was no ordinary church, not at all like the small wooden church she’d attended all her life on the outskirts of Prairie Heart. She got the feeling Sunday school here would take on a whole new meaning.
Clearing her throat, Dana got right to the point. “No, Ms. Roark—”
“Caryn, please.”
“Caryn, I’m not here to attend services, but thanks for asking. I came because I’m concerned about something I found on my land today.”
Caryn settled herself on a thronelike chair by a ten-foot window, her face serene, her eyes keen, her slightly foreign accent held in check. “Oh, and what might that be?”
“A dead Brangus breeding bull.”
Caryn looked appalled. “Oh, how dreadful. We’re all vegetarians here, so I do not tolerate hurting God’s creatures.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “What does this horrible crime have to do with me, my dear?”
Dana leaned forward in the squeaky leather chair. “I believe it has everything to do with you. I think someone from your complex deliberately shot my animal.”
Caryn’s eyes lifted slightly, the only sign that Dana’s direct accusations had affected her. “Tell me who did this, and I will take swift action!”
Dana gave her a skeptical look, wondering if she practiced that stilted, phony voice in front of the mirror each day. “Will you really? Or did you order this slaughter?”
The other woman didn’t move a muscle, but she looked as dangerous as the rolling clouds floating by on the horizon. “Why would I order such a thing?”
Dana tapped the fingers of one hand on the arm of her chair. “Oh, maybe to convince me that I need to sell my land to you after all?”
Caryn rose to stand behind her chair, so she could look down on Dana. “You really should attend one of our services. You seem to be holding a lot of anger inside, young lady.”
Dana rose, too. “I’m angry. That’s a fact. But I’m not one to hold anything inside. And I’m warning you, if I find one more dead head of cattle on my land, I’ll have Sheriff Radford investigate this whole place.”
With that she turned to leave, but Caryn’s shout halted her.
“Miss Barlow, you’ve just made a grave error in misjudging me.”
Dana turned in time to see the look of pure malice shaping the woman’s flawless complexion. “Are you threatening me?”
“I am the law here,” the woman said in a rasping voice. “How dare you talk to me that way!”
“I’m not one of your groupies!” Dana shouted back, her own anger and frustration matching that of the other woman. “You don’t fool me, and you’ll never get my land.”
Caryn’s cackle echoed over the distant sound of thunder. “Oh, yes, I will. You’ll see. Soon, you and that retarded brother of yours will be out on the side of the road.”
Dana could take anything anyone dished out, but nobody picked on her brother. Stepping back into the polished foyer, she glared across the marble floor at Caryn. “You stay away from Stephen. He’s just a boy. He’s never done anything to you or any of your people.”
Caryn’s smile was triumphant. Dana guessed she’d been looking for a weak spot. The woman’s next words proved it.
“If you care about your special little brother, you’ll be careful. I don’t take to false accusations.”
Dana pointed a finger at the stone-faced woman. “And I don’t take to people destroying what’s mine. If I see any of your people on my property, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.” And forgive me, Lord, for even suggesting that.
With that, she turned and slammed the glass door, rattling the thick panes against their heavy brass hinges.
A storm was brewing. Dana knew enough about Kansas weather to realize it was going to be an ugly one. She could hear the echo of distant thunder miles away, carrying through the lifting wind. She was a mile from town, though, and if she hurried, she could get those Ruby Runners she’d promised Stephen, and maybe have a quick word with the sheriff.
Actually, storm or not, she wasn’t ready to head back to the farm yet. Finding Otto dead, and then the confrontation with that horrible woman, had left her too keyed up to face the mounting problems her little bit of land was causing her. If she didn’t do something quick, they’d lose everything and then Caryn would come in and take Dana’s property. Dana couldn’t let that happen. She’d fought too hard since her parents’ deaths to give up now. And she didn’t like being bullied.
At first she’d thought about selling and moving to Kansas City. She’d majored in business administration at Kansas State, so she had the credentials to find a decent job in the big city, and her sweetheart from high school, Tony Martin, was already there and earning a good living as a computer analyst. They’d been engaged and had big plans to marry and move to Kansas City, until Dana’s parents had died. Tony hadn’t wanted the burden of raising a hyper preteen with learning problems and the mannerisms of a kindergartner.
Now Stephen depended on her, and he loved the farm. She hadn’t wanted to uproot him, so based on some advice from the local bank president, and after consulting with Stephen’s doctors, she’d made a decision to keep the farm. And had instantly gone into debt by borrowing money to raise enough cattle to get a small herd going. She had fifty head of prime Brangus heifers, steers, calves and two bulls—make that one bull now.
Still in shock, she couldn’t believe Otto was gone. She didn’t need this right now, not when things were just starting to turn around. Pulling the old rickety Chevy into the parking place by the general store, Dana glanced at the erratic sky, then rushed inside out of the wind. She’d get the shoes, then go talk to the sheriff.
Not that that would do much good. Sheriff Radford was getting old and he just didn’t care much about random crimes against animals. People didn’t fare much better, but then nothing much more exciting than a rowdy cowboy at the pool hall around the corner ever stirred the mundane daily life of this prairie town. But still, a dead prize-breeding bull wasn’t exactly something to turn the other cheek about.
“Honey, you look like you got the weight of the world on your pretty shoulders,” Emma Prager said from behind the counter and her ample bosom. “What’s eating my little Dana?”
“Just about everything,” Dana said, afraid if she laid her burdens at kind Emma’s matronly feet, she’d burst into tears. “I lost Otto today, Emma. Somebody shot him.”
“Goodness-a-mercy!” Emma exclaimed, bringing up the head of the one other paying customer in the cluttered store, and catching the attention of the regulars at the dominoes table in the small café at the back. “What an awful thing to happen, and you trying to hang on to that place with every ounce of gumption you got.” Heaving a heavy breath, she came around the counter. “I do declare, what’s the world coming to! Did you tell old Radford yet?”
“I’m headed over there now,” Dana said, spotting the blazing red Ruby Runner emblem on a nearby shoebox. Emma had promised to hold the athletic shoes for her. “I came by to get our Ruby Runners—I thought maybe it’d cheer Stephen up, since I promised him I’d get them today.”
“Got ’em right here,” Emma said, turning her bulk to get the pair of shoes she’d saved for Dana. “One size fourteen youth. That child is steady growing, I tell you!”
Emma’s straight, scrawny husband, Frederick, came plowing through the curtained door leading to their living quarters in the back of the cluttered store, the German still in his accent coming out strongly. “Get you home, little girl. Tornado’s a-coming. Spotted it due west about ten miles from here.”
“She don’t have time,” Emma said, dropping the package she was about to hand Dana. “We gotta get in the cellar!”
Everyone started running toward the back of the old store. Confused, Dana searched for her package on the counter at about the same time the other shopper, a young man in grubby jeans and a blue T-shirt, grabbed a similar package and fled out into the storm before Emma could herd him around. The two old-timers who’d been heavy into their dominoes game sprinted for Frederick’s storm cellar.
Dana looked around, then grabbed the only package left on the counter. But Dana didn’t follow Emma and Frederick. “Stephen!” she said, her voice rising. “He’s at home with Mrs. Bailey. I have to get back!”
“He knows what to do,” Frederick shouted over the roar of the approaching storm. “You come in the cellar with us.”
“I can’t,” Dana replied, hoping, praying that Stephen and the frail neighbor woman would be able to get in the cellar and lie down under the blankets they kept down there for just such emergencies.
There was no time for anything else but prayer. The twister was sending its calling card, sucking the old general store into a vortex of rumbling fury. Dana ran to her truck, willing the ancient contraption to crank. The sound of glass shattering and trees snapping left little doubt that this storm was doing some serious damage, but she didn’t heed the storm’s wrath. She planned to outrun it.
And she almost did. But it seemed as if the storm wanted her and her alone. She watched in her rearview mirror as the twister followed her out of town, hurling and hissing like a giant snake as it chased her down the county road.
“Dear God, help me,” she prayed out loud, her heart beating so hard she knew she’d surely die of a heart attack if the storm didn’t kill her first. She knew she should stop the truck and dive for the nearest ditch, but she had to get back to Stephen. Mrs. Bailey was great in helping to homeschool the boy, but the aging senior citizen was a nervous wreck in any little storm. She’d go into a tizzy and be useless, especially with a storm as powerful as this twister headed right toward the farm.
Dana rounded the dirt drive to the farmhouse, her foot pushing the gas pedal beyond its endurance, the truck’s sturdy tires squealing their displeasure at being forced to turn so quickly.
She didn’t make the turn. The truck careened out of control and did a fishhook, spewing mud and rocks toward the tornado like a runt fighting off a bully. Dana screamed and tried to hold on to the swirling steering wheel, but without power-steering the truck got the best of her. The last thing she remembered was the door flying open, then her whole world went black.
She was dreaming, of course. That had to be it. She felt strong arms pulling her down, down into the wet bluestems; she heard a soothing male voice close to her ear, telling her to hold on, hold on. Then a powerful body covered hers, warming her, comforting her, protecting her as the storm swirled around her. Dana kept her eyes tightly shut, afraid to open them and find out if this was really happening.
The storm hit. She could feel the wind sucking at her skin, could feel the debris cutting against her hair and her exposed hands and arms, could taste the dust and rain and power, but somehow she knew she was safe. That strange, lilting voice, that warm, clinging body—who was he and why was he holding her so close she could hear the echo of his heartbeat over the dangerous rush of the storm?
It was all over in a matter of minutes. Nothing seemed real. It was as if Dana was dreaming a bad dream where she’d woken abruptly only to find that she hadn’t been dreaming at all.
She was alive and this was very real. That much Dana knew as she groggily tried to open her eyes. Her head hurt with all the roaring of a tractor-pull. But over the roaring of pain, she heard another more ominous noise. Silence.
Seconds passed, as she listened to the quiet that was even more deadly than the storm’s rumbling rage. Dana didn’t like silence.
“Stephen?” she called, trying to pry herself out of the stranger’s iron grip. “Stephen, where are you?”
She looked up at the brooding, foaming dark sky. This storm wasn’t finished yet. “Stephen?” she called again, trying to raise herself up. A bump on the side of her head throbbed in protest, but she tried again until she realized that the grip on her arms was caused by a set of strong hands holding her down. A man’s hands.
She was flat on the ground, with a big man holding her there. Then Dana remembered how the man had thrown himself on top of her to shield her from the tornado.
“Stephen?” she asked again, hoping the man would tell her something about her brother.
The man lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes. The first thing Dana noticed was that his eyes were as blue-black and cloudy as the storm’s lingering coattails. The second thing she noticed was that he wore all black, from his button-down shirt to his Levi’s and boots. His long dark hair was pulled away from his face in a ponytail, but the wind coming through the open field where they lay was doing its best to unleash his thick mane.
“Who…who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Where’s my brother? Where’s Stephen?”
The big man looked down at Dana. “It’s all right, lass. You’re safe.”
He had a lilting accent that immediately flowed like a fine melody over Dana’s shot nerve endings. Scottish? Irish, maybe? What in the world was he doing holding her down in the middle of a field in Prairie Heart, Kansas?
“Who are you?” she asked again, thinking of looters and dangerous criminals and the fully loaded .38 she had in the glove compartment of her truck.
He shifted closer, giving her a black stare that left her both breathless and wondering. With one hand he touched the tender, bruised spot just over her right temple. “You’ve bumped your head. How does it feel?”
Dana swallowed back the knot of fear forming in her throat. “It’s aching, but I can handle it.” The knot came back, causing her next words to sound raw and husky. “My brother—he’s only twelve and, well, he’s a very special boy.” She inclined her head toward the farmhouse. “He’s all alone with my neighbor. She’s eighty and afraid of storms. I have to get to him.”
The stranger’s inky eyes softened as a look of concern tightened his face. “We’ll go find him.” At the apparent worry on her face, he added, “You have nothing to fear from me. I was pulled over on the road, watching the storm. I saw you wreck your truck. You were thrown out, and by the time I got to you the storm hit.”
So he’d thrown himself over her to protect her. She hadn’t been dreaming, after all. And he was still holding her, his big, powerful body still warming hers, from her hurting head down to her shaking toes. Needing to distance herself from the memory of her strange dream, she tried to wiggle away. “I’ve got to find my brother.”
The man rolled to sit up, then helped her to her feet, holding her against the remnants of the wind. “I’ll go with you.”
Shocked, Dana stepped back. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really. I just need to find my brother.”
The man looked around at the flat countryside, then back to Dana. “We’re wasting time. I’ll not let you go up to the house alone. You might not like what you find.”
Never in her life had anyone said that to Dana. He didn’t want her to go there alone. He wanted to be there with her if she found the worst. Well, she’d been through the worst. And in spite of the whole town’s support and warm, loving concern, she’d always had to face the nightmares when she was alone at night in her bed…wishing…wishing.
She looked up at the intriguing man standing before her and told herself to run, run as fast as she could. He could be a serial killer; he could be a bank robber on the run; he could be a million horrible things. But she knew instinctively that he wasn’t. She didn’t know how she knew. She just knew.
Dana said a silent prayer. Lord, I haven’t talked to You for a very long time, and You know the reasons. But I’m asking You now to protect my brother. And while You’re at it, could You give me a hint as to why this handsome, mysterious stranger is reaching out to help me?
When she turned to see the house, or what was left of the house, she understood why this man had offered to stay with her. Her home, the only home she’d ever known, was in shambles. Half the roof was gone, exposing her own bedroom to the wind and the rain. Shingles lay across the expanse of the field, and twisted ribbons of tin hung from jagged, split tree limbs all around the house. She saw her pink nightgown flying in the wind, unfurling itself like a pretty spring flag from the tip of what was left of a giant cottonwood tree.
Swallowing, she turned back to the stranger, thankful for the hand he offered her. “I’d appreciate it if you would go with me to the house, mister.”
“Call me Bren,” he said as he gently guided her up the dirt lane toward the broken house. Giving her an encouraging smile, he said, “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said, unsettled by someone else taking charge for a change. Then, “I could have faced it by myself, you know.”
“I do know,” he said, his smile making his harsh features turn handsome. “It’s no bother.” Looking toward the sky, he added, “Looks like more’s coming.”
Dana nodded, casting him a quick look. “Yep, these storms like to play tag with us sometimes.”
“My first tornado,” he admitted, his blue-black eyes scanning the horizon. “But at least I got to spend it with a beautiful woman.”
Dana looked down at her muddy boots, embarrassed by the flirtatious compliment. “Thanks for what you did.”
He gave her another direct, black stare. “You’re quite welcome.”
The small talk was almost surreal, set against the ghastly scene before them, but the meaningless chatter kept Dana on an even keel. She couldn’t take the silence.
When she did grow quiet, the man spoke softly to her. “Your brother…I wager he’s going to be just fine.”
As they approached the house, she said a little half prayer, half plea. “Oh, Lord, make it so.”
Bren, still holding her hand, helped her around to the back of the house, guiding her through the rubble that minutes before had been her home. A few feet from the white, wooden-framed house, a framed picture of her parents lay shattered and torn in the mud. Dana reached down to pick it up, a small sob catching in her throat.
The man named Bren gently took the damaged picture from her hand. “Careful, you’ll cut yourself on the glass.”
Dana wanted to laugh. If only he knew. Her cuts went much deeper than any made by a shard of glass. Nodding, she stepped over the pile of kindling that had been their breakfast table, then made her way to the closed cellar door.
“Stephen?” she shouted, afraid of what she’d hear in answer. Afraid of the silence. “Stephen Joshua Barlow, are you in there?”
Pulling away torn shingles and little bits of splintered wood, she banged on the weathered trapdoor. “Stephen Joshua Barlow, are you in there?
“Stephen, you answer me,” she called again, her voice cracking in spite of the tight rein she was trying to hold on her fear, on her pain, on her rage. Finally, falling down on her knees, she whispered, “Stephen, please, please.”
In the next instance, the door banged back on its hinges and Stephen pushed his bushy golden head up into the wind. Grinning, he didn’t even look at her as he said, “Hey, sis, where’s my Ruby Runners?”
The man standing there let out a slight gasp of surprise. Probably as glad as Dana to find Stephen alive and in one piece.
Dana grabbed Stephen in a suffocating hug, not caring that his condition sometimes made him shy away from being touched. “Oh, you’re all right! You’re okay. Is Mrs. Bailey down there with you?”
“Sure she is. I brought her here,” Stephen said, obviously surprised that she doubted him. “Stephen knows the rules. Tornado comes, get to the cellar. Tornado comes, get to the cellar.” Looking with a matter-of-fact shake of the head over to the stranger’s feet, he said, “She was so scared. She was so scared. I got kinda of scared, but I remembered everything you told me, yeah, I remembered everything.” His green eyes shone with a light of hope. “I remembered that you said Mom and Dad were always watching over us, from Heaven. Remember, you said even through a storm, they could see us. I should always look past the storm, for them.” He bobbed his head, still looking down. “Look for Mama and Daddy.”
Dana cried against his tousled hair. “I remember, Stevie.”
While Dana held Stephen, tiny Mrs. Bailey emerged up the steps, her watery eyes wide with fear, her stiff gray hair standing on end around her round face. “Land sakes, that near scared me to an early grave.”
Dana opened her arms to encircle the shaken woman. “Thank you, Mrs. Bailey. Thank you so much.”
Bren stood aside, watching the emotional reunion. Dana watched him over Stephen’s head. He looked as if he felt uncomfortable. She supposed this was unexpected for him, being here so far from his home, wherever his home was, being in on this family scene, in the middle of so much destruction.
But then Dana watched as his gaze shifted to the west, to the silvery white spire of the Universal Unity Church, which stood gleaming and intact against the backdrop of a purplish-gray sky.
Dana looked up at him, about to thank him again for helping her, but she was startled by the look in his eyes. It was a heavy blend of hatred mixed with pain. And something else. A determination that bordered on vengeance. Following his gaze, she saw the church complex off in the distance. Had Bren whoever-he-was come to visit the Unity Church?
Dana stared at him, trying to read his strange, still features. Then she looked back at the complex. And up on the top turret of the church, near the tall steeple, she thought she saw a platinum-haired woman standing there with the wings of her white robe flapping in the wind.
Chapter Two
“Looks like the Universal Unity Church survived,” Dana said, squinting toward the beautiful, untouched mansion. Before she could get a better look, the lone figure standing on the tower whirled and vanished into the dark recesses of the upstairs turret room.
Clutching Stephen close to stop his fidgeting, she looked back at the stranger, remembering he had the same accent as Caryn Roark—the woman who called herself the law. “Are you a member of that church?”
“No,” he said, the one word speaking more than a lengthy explanation ever could. He stared across the field, the granite-hard expression on his face making him resemble a piece of carved flintrock. Then he turned back to Dana. “I’m not quite sure where I belong.”
A shiver dripped down Dana’s spine, a slow, trickling warning that set her nerves and her intuition on edge. Giving him a long look, she wondered again who this man was. “Look, mister—”
“Bren,” he said, repeating his name to her, his eyes lifting away from the church to pin Dana to the spot. “Call me Bren.”
Dana nodded. “Okay, Bren. Call me Dana. Look, thanks for your help. We’re okay, so you don’t have to stay with us.”
Stephen pushed away from Dana’s smothering embrace. “We ain’t okay, either, Dana. We don’t have a house no more.” He stomped his feet and flapped his hands. “House gone. House gone. Room a mess. Room a mess.”
Dana knew Stephen would keep repeating these phrases to himself while he tried to absorb this sudden shift in his orderly, structured world. “It’ll be okay, Stevie. I promise.”
Stephen kept stomping his feet. “Room a mess, Dana.”
“I’d better go see about my own house,” Mrs. Bailey said, her little legs moving across the damp earth. She took Stephen by both arms, her words loud and precise. “Stephen, listen to your sister.” Then she turned to Dana. “I’ll call you if I need you, and you do the same.”
“Wait and we’ll go with you,” Dana called.
“No need. I’m sure my son is on his way.” The spry little woman was off down the lane. “Y’all can stay at my place if need be. You know you’re always welcome.”
Dana held a hand to her eyes and glanced toward the west. It looked as if Mrs. Bailey’s small white house was in one piece, at least. She’d go check on the Baileys later. And she might have to take her dear friend up on that offer.
“Dana, what are we gonna do?” Stephen asked, bringing Dana’s attention back to their immediate problems. His agitation did nothing to calm Dana’s own jangled nerves.
Bren’s features softened as he turned his attention toward Stephen. “He’s right. Where will you go?”
Pushing away the fringe of hysteria that promised to be more intense than the storm that had just passed through, Dana looked around, knowing that they couldn’t possibly stay here tonight or any other night for a long time to come. “I don’t know. We’ve got friends in town—Emma and Frederick can take us in for a while. Or maybe Mrs. Bailey. She has a spare room.” Thinking of how hyper Stephen could get in small places, she added, “But Emma and Frederick probably would have more space.”
Bren looked back toward the church, then back at Dana. “I’ll take you to Emma and Frederick, then.”
Dana hadn’t missed the hesitation in his eyes. Why did he keep looking at that spooky church? He reminded her of a black stallion old Mr. Selzer used to let her ride—wild and proud, and forbidden since her mother was terrified of the animal. Mr. Selzer had called the horse Black Blizzard, because he was always kicking up dust. Oh, she hadn’t thought of Blizzard in years. Mr. Selzer had been forced to sell the animal to try and save his property. Why, now, of all times, did she want to sit down and cry for an animal she’d almost forgotten?
She didn’t, couldn’t sit down, and she wasn’t about to go into hysterics—yet. “I—We need to get a few things. And I want to look the place over. I have cattle…I’ll need to check on things.”
Bren took her arm, gently guiding her around to face him. “I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”
She wanted to tell this intriguing man to let her alone, to leave her to wallow in a good dollop of self-pity. She wanted to scream to the heavens and ask, “why?” But Dana knew that she wouldn’t get any answers; she’d been that route before and she’d only heard silence, the killing silence of unanswered prayers and a faith that had been tested to the limit.
Oh, well, time enough to argue with God later. Right now, Stephen was looking everywhere but at her, but she knew he was waiting for her to decide what to do about this mess. She was just too shocked to think straight.
As if sensing her shock, Bren placed a hand on each of her slumping shoulders, then leaned his head down close to her face so she was forced to look him straight in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Shooting a desperate look toward her brother, she managed to whisper, “I can’t let him see how upset I am. He has Asperger’s syndrome—it’s a very mild form of autism. He doesn’t like any sudden changes. He’ll get even more upset and scared if I break down. He’s so brave, but it’s only because he emulates me. Don’t let me lose it, okay. Help me, please.”
She’d never begged for help before in her life, and the words let a bitter gall in her throat, but this day had gone from bad to worse and it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge. She certainly wasn’t in the habit of begging strangers for help, either. But this man had saved her from that storm and he was here now. The warmth of his hands on her shoulders steadied her, while his blue-black eyes guided her like a dark beacon. She clung to that guiding, dark light, deciding she’d just have to trust him. She didn’t have much choice at the moment.
Still holding her shoulders, Bren squeezed his hands against the shivering flesh underneath her damp T-shirt. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, his eyes still locked with hers. “We’ll take care of what we can here, then I’ll take you into town, to your friend’s house. If you get scared, just look at me. I won’t leave you until I’m sure you’re all right.”
Feeling silly for being so weak, Dana lifted his hands away from her arms. “I’m not scared! I’m just so mad!”
Whirling, she blinked away the insane need to fall into his arms and cry like a baby. She wouldn’t burden this stranger with her troubles, but she would take advantage of his generosity. For her brother’s sake.
Marching to where Stephen sat rocking and digging with precise movements through the remnants of what had once been his prize collection of baseball cards, she patted the boy on the head. “Up, up, Stevie. Let’s see what we can salvage before that second line of thunderstorms returns.”
Stephen hurled himself up, clutching a stack of soggy cards, his eyes brimming with tears. “Need to fix these, Dana. Need these straight. They’re all wet. I don’t like them wet. I want them dry.”
“Won’t hurt to let them dry,” Dana said, silently vowing to replace each and every one of them. Motioning to Bren, she called, “Hey, you ever herded scared cattle before?”
Bren gave her a wry smile. “I’ve herded sheep. Cattle can’t be much different, right? Just show me what to do.”
Two hours later, they stood surveying the damage once again. Tired, dirty and muddy, Dana had little hope that they could rebuild. They’d herded cattle in the pouring rain of a renegade thunderstorm, with lightning dancing to the west, just to tease them and remind them who was in charge here. Luckily, most of the cattle were now safe inside their paddocks near the lower field.
The storm had concentrated on the house and surrounding buildings. All the other livestock, some chickens and pigs and the two horses, seemed to be intact, as well, in spite of the nervous squawking and fearful grunting they’d encountered after checking what remained of the barn.
Bren had helped Dana move through the house, half of which was missing, to find enough dry clothes to last them a few days. The combination laundry room/porch on the eastern side of the house was intact, and that’s where Dana had found fresh clean jeans and T-shirts. Now Stephen was wet and complaining of being hungry, and Bren, silent and alert, was watching Dana for further instructions.
Then he did something that made her smile in spite of her problems. He turned to Stephen and said, “Did you find all of your baseball cards?”
“Not all of them,” Stephen said on a whining voice full of growing anger. “Need to find all of them.”
“I think I can help there. I know a man who has a Lou Gehrig in mint condition. Would you like to have it?”
Stephen clapped his hands. “Lou Gehrig—Henry Louis Gehrig—born June 19, 1903. The Iron Horse. First base for New York Yankees. Played 2,130 consecutive games. June 3, 1932, four home runs in one game. Baseball Hall of Fame—1939.” Stephen grinned, his eyes lighting up in a moment of clarity. “Can’t afford that card!”
“Well, just let me worry about that,” Bren said, his own voice soft with joy. Glancing at Dana, he said, “I’m impressed.”
“He has a way with remembering statistics,” she explained. “Especially baseball stats.”
“Then we have something in common,” Bren said, his own grin making him look younger and less sinister.
Surprised at how he’d calmed her brother with his elaborate promise, and how he’d silently followed her every command without question, Dana felt a firm bond with the rugged stranger. Or was he still a stranger? Maybe she should look on him as a friend, or an angel, a dark avenging angel who’d saved her from two storms, the one in the sky and the one raging in her overworked mind. Shrugging, she told herself to be practical. So the man had a few connections. No need to go staring off into fantasy land, thinking he’d come to rescue her from all her troubles.
Telling herself to stay clear, she glanced around one last time. “Well, that’s about all we can do until tomorrow. I’ll have to talk to the insurance adjuster, see where we stand. Of course the livestock will have to be taken care of—that can’t stop.”
Bren nodded. “You run this place all by yourself?”
Dana pushed back tufts of naturally curly hair. “I try.”
His gaze circled the land. “Looks like you’ve done a good job.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, until Mother Nature decided to rearrange things for me.”
His gaze touched on her face, then stayed to travel slowly down the rest of her. He took her hand. “You should get into some dry things and try to rest.”
“Sure,” she said, thinking she’d never be able to rest easy again, not after running from a twister and meeting up with an interesting stranger, all in one afternoon. Just the shock of all this, she supposed. “You don’t have to take us into town. We have the truck.” She saw the relief pour over his face and asked him, “What about you? Where are you headed?”
She felt his grip on her hand tense, saw his head swing back toward the Universal Unity Church before he looked down at her.
“To Wichita,” he said, his expression evasive. “I have business to tend to there.”
She let go of his hand, then immediately wished she hadn’t. It was a spot of warmth in this chilly, grim setting. “C’mon, Stevie,” she called, her heart breaking as he struggled with the few treasures he’d managed to save.
Together, they walked back up the lane to the pickup where Stephen deposited the photo album and baseball glove he’d found, along with some books and video game cartridges.
Dana, on the other hand, had saved very little from the house. They didn’t have anything of real value, and besides, what should she save from a pile of shattered dreams? The toaster, the working parts of a computer, the soggy white homemade prom dress she’d worn her senior year of high school, the only remaining place setting of her mother’s prized china she’d collected with S & H green stamps?
Did she take part of something to remind her of the home she’d sometimes loved, sometimes hated, or did she just throw away every broken piece and keep the bittersweet memories?
Again she felt Bren’s presence. Again she marveled at the man’s even being here. He’d saved her, no doubt. Each time she’d wanted to let go of the silent scream pitching through her mind, she’d looked to him. And he’d given her that solid, mysterious look, just as he’d promised. His eyes had calmed her, his unflinching resolve had guided her in such a way that she wondered if he ever got flustered or bent out of shape about anything. She wondered a lot of things about him, come to think of it. Like where he was from, where he was headed and why he was here to begin with. But he was about to be gone, out of her life. What would she do then?
Silly, she told herself, you’ll do what you’ve always done. You’ll survive.
“I’ll take you back to your van,” she said, indicating the sleek black vehicle still parked out on the highway.
Smiling, she hopped into the truck and waited as Bren helped Stephen stash his salvage before they both crawled inside the wide cab with her. “So,” she said after cranking the truck, “what do you do for a living?”
Bren must have seen the teasing light in her eyes as she nodded toward his van, but he didn’t smile. Instead he looked straight ahead at the gray ribbon of road. “I’m a businessman, and it’s a long and complicated story.”
And one he obviously didn’t want to talk about. “I’m not being nosy,” she said. “It’s just that you appeared out of nowhere, and well, you don’t say much, do you?”
He pushed a hand through his damp hair. “You’ve got enough on your mind, looks like to me. I won’t burden you with my sorry life.”
He was right there. She had more than enough to keep her thoughts falling on top of each other without listening to him. Yet she’d like to listen to him. His lilting, flowing dialect sounded like a sweet ballad to her ears. Pulling the truck up beside the long van, she noticed the dark-tinted windows and the gold-etched star-spangled trim work running along the sides of the sleek, mysterious vehicle. Then she saw the ancient Christian symbol of the fish centered on the windshield. That brought her a small measure of reassurance, but he certainly was a man of mystery. And now that he’d helped her settle things into some semblance of order, he seemed intent to be on his way.
She watched as he got out of the truck, wishing he didn’t have to hurry away.
Stephen called after him, “Hey, Mr. Bren? Thanks—I get that Lou Gehrig card, right? I get Lou Gehrig, for sure.”
Bren’s dark eyes fell across Stephen with a gentleness that reminded Dana of a calm midnight sky. “Don’t worry, Stephen. I know where to find you. You will get your card. You take care of yourself until we meet again.”
Stephen bobbed his head. “Me and Dana, we always take care of each other.”
Dana put the truck into neutral and hopped out to meet Bren as he rounded the front. Stopping, he tossed up a hand toward Stephen, then turned to gaze down at her.
“I’d like to thank you, too,” she said, not knowing what else to say with him looking at her as if he could read all of her thoughts. And right now, she had a lot of them running through her head.
She wanted him to tell her his sorry story, she wanted to know what kind of business he was involved in, she wanted to understand why he’d been so kind to her, and how he’d managed to make her feel safe in the middle of a raging storm. But she could only look up at him, and keep wondering.
Bren stared down at her, his dark eyes searching her face, seeming to memorize her features, which only made her more aware of him. She knew she was a mess, hair damp and probably frizzing to the high heavens, face more muddy than made-up, lips pale and wind roughened, but she didn’t stop him from looking. She studied him just as candidly. He, too, was wind tossed and dampened. She’d never seen a man with such rich, dark, too-long hair, and with eyes to match the finest black-blue velvet. He looked like some dark lord of the manor from another time.
Before she could look away, Bren reached for her and tugged her close, his fingers moving over the tender spot on her head. “If you need anything—”
“I’ll be all right,” she said into the soft cotton of his black shirt. “I’ll never forget what you did.”
He reached inside the pocket of his jeans and handed her a soggy card. “There’s a number where you can reach me—a private cell phone number. Call me if you need help. All I ask is that you don’t give that number to anyone else.” Then he let her go.
The warmth from his body left her, to be replaced with a cold, uncaring wind. She stood in the misty rain, watching as he got into the big, black van and drove away. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was watching her. Dana waited until his van was out of sight down the long straight road. Then she looked around over the torn and battered countryside, finally turning her face toward the heavens.
And off in the distance, a satin-sheened watercolored rainbow shot over the clouds, blinding her with its sparkling brilliance.
“You can stay as long as need be,” Emma said the next morning as she handed Stephen another chocolate-covered doughnut—his and Emma’s version of breakfast. Stephen champed down on the drippy confection, leaving a wide ring of chocolate around his mouth.
The Prager General Store had been spared. Except for a leaky roof where a few shingles dangled, and a strip or two of missing tin, the sturdy old building was still intact. And so it was the natural place for the townspeople to gather and talk about the storm that had swept over the area. Dana wasn’t the only victim, although from all the talk, her place had probably sustained the worst damage.
“She’s right, Dana,” Harvey Mize, one of the old-timers, said from his perch on a tall vinyl-covered barstool. “We’ll all do what needs to be done, to help you out.”
Dana looked around the cozy store. She should feel safe here, among these good people she’d known all her life. She was thankful and appreciative, but she also knew she’d have to do most of this on her own. “You’re all very kind,” she said, taking the cup of coffee Emma shoved in her hand. “I just don’t know. I don’t think we’ll be able to salvage the house. And I don’t have the money to build from scratch.” Thinking of how tired she was, she added, “Maybe I should sell the place.”
“What about insurance?” Frederick asked as he rocked back on the heels of his worn work shoes.
Dana looked down at the planked floor. “It’ll cover part of the damage, but I’ve already got a second mortgage on the house….”
The explanation was left hanging, just as the storm had left her hanging, in limbo, unsure and unprepared. Needing to be away from the pitiful looks and shifting eyes of the townspeople, she called to Stephen. “Finish your doughnut, brother. We need to go back out to check on the livestock.”
“Need a hand?” Harvey offered.
“No. I’ll call if I change my mind though,” Dana told him with a wave as she headed out the door. She’d gotten a cell phone a few months before, to keep her in touch with Stephen and Mrs. Bailey at all times. It would come in handy now, too, she reckoned.
A few minutes later, they turned the old truck in to the rocky lane leading to the shattered house. Dana saw the spot where she’d wrecked the day before, her hand automatically going to her bruised head. Thoughts of the man named Bren played through her weary mind, the memory of how he’d protected her in the storm warring with the uncertainty of her future. Stephen’s hushed words brought her mind back to the task at hand.
“It’s a mess, ain’t it, Dana? Don’t like a mess.”
She stopped the truck near the ripped, gaping remains of an ancient oak tree. In the brilliant, ironic sunlight, the damaged house looked forlorn and still, as broken as Dana’s spirit. Funny, for years before her parents’ death, she’d wanted so much to get away from this old house, to go out in the world, to find a place of her own. Right now she’d gladly give anything to have the old farmhouse back, for Stevie’s sake, if nothing else. The boy loved their home.
“Yep, it’s pretty much gone,” she said as she slammed the steering-wheel-mounted gears into park. So this is it? she asked God. This is my future? No plans for a husband and a family, no hope for a normal life like her parents had? Just a mundane existence, here in this sleepy town, waiting and wondering, hoping and praying that she could save this pitiful old farm? Was this how it was meant to be, she had to wonder.
“We still got each other,” Stephen said, his soft green eyes watching her face. “You got Stephen. Stephen’s got you. Each other, Dana.”
Seeing the solid fear in his eyes, Dana chided herself for being so bitter. Taking his hand in hers, she forced a smile. “Yeah, we sure do.” Then, looking down in the floor of the truck, she added, “And your prized Ruby Runners!” She’d forgotten all about those shoes.
Stephen’s face lit up. “Can I put ’em on?”
“They’ll get all muddy.”
“Oh, okay.” He hopped out of the truck. “But I am, when we get back to town. I am. I am.”
Relieved that he hadn’t thrown a tantrum, Dana followed. As they neared the house, she realized something was terribly wrong. Carefully making her way up onto the torn porch, she saw it immediately.
The side of the house that the storm hadn’t destroyed had been ransacked. It had been hit, but not by a storm.
“What in the world!” she shouted, her frantic words carrying out on the constant, moaning wind.
Startled, Stephen looked up at her. “What’s the matter?”
“We’ve been robbed,” she said, each word ground out between a held breath. “Somebody looted what little we had left.”
It was true. The kitchen drawers were torn out of their sockets. Silverware had been strewn all over the soggy wooden floor. Dishes were shattered, clothes strewn, closets left open and emptied, books tossed about. Nothing had been left untouched. But even more odd, nothing much had been taken.
Looking up at a fluffy white, overstuffed cloud, Dana shouted to the wind, “I can’t take much more, really I can’t!”
Stephen started to cry, the tears full-bodied and rushing, but the sound soft and keening. “I’m scared, Dana.”
Rushing to where he stood in the middle of a heap of torn books and strewn clothes, Dana pulled him into her arms. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Stephen buried his tousled head against her chest. “I miss Daddy, Dana. I wish he’d come back. He’d know what to do. And Mama, too. She’d—” he hiccuped “—she’d have this place fixed, wouldn’t she?”
Dana’s own tears tasted bitter in her mouth. It was little comfort to know that no matter how fiercely she loved her brother and wanted to protect him, she could never take the place of their parents. “Yes,” she said on a raw, torn whisper. “Yes, Stevie, Mama and Daddy would know what to do, and I’m sure they’re watching over us. But they can’t help us now. We have to take care of things ourselves.”
Lifting his head, she wiped a fat tear away from his chubby cheek. “You know I love you, don’t you?” At his bobbing nod, she continued, “And you know I’ll always, always take care of you, no matter what, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, running his T-shirt sleeve over the embarrassing tears, his eyes as bright as a summer stream. “And you do a good job. It’s just that—”
Dana finished for him. “It’s just that we’ve had one too many raw deals. This is the last straw. How could anyone rob us when it’s obvious we’ve suffered enough?”
As if by instinct, she looked toward the white brightness of the Universal Unity Church. Why did she get the gut feeling this attack had been deliberate? Maybe it was the creepy feeling in the pit of her stomach, maybe it was the memory of Caryn Roark’s unguarded expression when she hadn’t seen Dana watching. Maybe she was just going crazy. No, she wasn’t crazy. This was very real.
But why?
Was this someone’s way of kicking her while she was down? The bank might as well come on out right now and take the land, since Dana didn’t see any clear way of keeping it at this point. But this second attack of pure meanness left her more disgusted than the storm ever could. Should she question Caryn Roark again? Could it be someone from her compound, just some kids out for kicks, not willing to accept that consequences came from their random acts of terror?
Telling herself it really didn’t matter a whole lot at this point, Dana resigned herself to defeat. She couldn’t hold on to this land. Might as well accept that.
Well, whoever was behind these attacks might try to get the land, but they wouldn’t get what was left of the inside of her house. Her anger acting as a balm, she stepped back to look down at Stephen. “You okay, sport?”
He nodded. “Sorry I’m like a baby.”
“You’re not a baby. That little cry did us both good. Now here’s the plan. Remember that camping tent out in the barn?”
He nodded, his boy’s eyes lighting up. “Yeah, you won’t ever let me use the thing. Can’t put up the tent.”
“Well, today, you not only get to use it. You get to set it up.” She looked around. “Let’s see…how ’bout over there by that small cottonwood where it looks high and dry.”
“Okay, but why? Why do we need a tent, huh, Dana?”
Her eyes held a determined glint. “We’re going to sleep there tonight.”
“All right!” He danced around in a small circle. “In case they come back?”
“You got it, bud.”
Stephen regained his spunk, strutting around with a new purpose. “You gonna use the shotgun, Dana? We ain’t supposed to play with guns. No guns for Stephen.”
“I just might have to break that rule this once,” she said, her tone firm while her heart skipped and swayed like the beaten bluestems nearby. “I’ll show them they can’t get the best of us.”
The prairie at night was a live thing. Like a great rippling snake, the flat fields around the house slipped and curved and moved in a slithering symmetry. The new wheat and bluestems parried and tangled together in the whining wind, the cottonwoods moaned a soft, rustling lullaby, whispering their secrets to the bright stars that looked so close, Dana thought surely she could reach out and grab one for herself.
She’d never wished upon a star before, but tonight as she lay inside the small close confines of the sturdy tent they’d erected and stared out the opening to the night sky, she picked the evening star, and she said a little prayer for guidance, for strength, for control. Please, God, let my troubles be over. Let me find some peace, let me do the right thing, for Stephen, for myself. Let me do it right, for Mom and Dad.
She’d been thinking about moving to Kansas City for a long time. Tony called at least once a week, telling her of all the fun he was having, the restaurants, the parties, the entertainment, the wonderful social life. “You’re missing out, Dana. This is where the action is.”
Yeah, right. She knew Tony Martin. His only social life consisted of his computers and the Internet. The man lived and breathed technology. It had landed him a great, good-paying job, but it didn’t leave much room for real relationships. He was like a piece of shining tin, brilliant and gleaming on the outside, but shallow and hollow on the inside.
Which is why Dana had turned down his invitation to marry him and come live with him in the big city. Tony didn’t have an ounce of romance in him. Since he’d never taken the hint and even remotely tried to woo Dana back, since he just didn’t get that she had to have more than a live-in computer genius, since he had never once thought about anyone but himself, she’d sent him on his way, alone.
Tony was married to his work, plain and simple. He didn’t have an inkling of what was involved in hearts and flowers, and he certainly didn’t have the patience to deal with a slightly autistic, hyper preteen boy who had the emotional maturity of a seven-year-old. Stephen was one of the main reasons she and Tony weren’t together. They’d never discussed it; he’d never come right out and told her, but she knew by his words and actions that Tony didn’t want to deal with Stephen. Tony wanted her. He didn’t want her little brother.
But he was a good friend in spite of their breakup a couple of years ago, and he did have connections. And Stephen could thrive there with the proper therapy and some new doctors who actually understood his condition. Maybe it was time to cut her losses and head to Kansas City.
She glanced over toward the murky white silhouette of the Universal Unity Church, sitting in the distance like a giant piece of rock candy. The place had suffered little to no damage in the storm. Her neighbor’s good luck had held. And the strangest part, Caryn Roark had sent over two young girls with clothes and food for Dana and Stephen. She’d even extended an invitation for Dana and Stephen to stay at the church compound until they were back on their feet. Dana had declined the invitation, her memories of the meeting she’d had with Caryn Roark still fresh in her mind.
“We’re the only ones left,” Dana said again, wondering where Caryn got all the money to finance her operation. The woman was generous to a fault with the community, and that was part of what worried Dana about her neighbor. Caryn seemed to expect favors in return. “Something just doesn’t set right over there.”
Oh, well, soon it wouldn’t matter to Dana. Soon, she supposed, she and Stephen would be moving on. Once the dust settled and she found out just how much she had left and how much she could sell to make a little moving money, at least. After paying off her debts, she’d take her pittance and start over fresh somewhere else.
Only, in her heart, she wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight, even if she didn’t have much fight left. She didn’t think she had the courage or the fortitude to face such a formidable task. And she wasn’t about to go begging for charity, whatever Caryn Roark’s intentions were.
Instinctively she touched a hand to Stephen’s head, gently pushing a tuft of thick golden hair off his brow. The boy sighed again and flipped to his side in his Kansas City Royals sleeping bag.
Left alone with the stars and her worries, Dana again thought about the man named Bren. Bren. An unusual name for an unusual man. Definitely not a standard Kansas-type name. But then, she’d known from the start that Bren wasn’t from Kansas. Touching the pocket of her jeans, she remembered she had his card tucked inside. She’d kept it there, close, instead of putting it in the bottomless pit of her shoulder bag.
He’d said he’d help her. She’d been taught not to ask for help. It was going to be a long, lonely night. Or so she thought.
A creaking noise off in the distance grass made Dana’s head come up. A prickling of fear, like needles hitting the center of her spine, warned her that someone was nearby. She listened, her breath stopping, her eyes trying to penetrate the darkness, one hand on Stephen and the other one on the shotgun lying next to her left thigh.
Then everything shifted and moved. The night came to life as a brilliant light glistened near the farmhouse. A minute later an acrid smell drifted out over the prairie.
Fire. Someone was trying to burn what remained of her house!
Grabbing the shotgun, Dana pulled up out of the tent like a madwoman. “Hey, you—”
Her words were cut off by the shots that rang out into the night. Only, Dana hadn’t fired her gun yet.
Rolling back inside the tent, she hushed the now-wide-awake Stephen. “Stay down and stay quiet. Somebody’s trying to shoot us!”
Stephen buried himself inside his sleeping bag, his breath coming in great, scared huffs as his body rocked against the ground in a nervous fidget. “Dana?”
“I’m right here, sport. Just do what you’re doing. Stay hidden and don’t move.”
She watched as the fire grew stronger, leaping and dancing like a laughing demon toward the front of the house. Aiming her gun at anything, hoping to scare the intruders away, she pulled the trigger and waited for the old shotgun’s kick to bruise her shoulder. The lone shot exploded into the night. Dana sucked in the smell of gunpowder with each deep, frantic breath she took.
Then she took one long breath and shouted, “Get off my land!”
Silence from the intruder, hissing from the hungry fire.
Dana tried to raise up again, and another bullet whizzed by, this one coming from a closer angle. Stephen’s muffled cry only added to her own solid fear.
“What do you want?” Dana shouted to the wind.
A harsh laugh echoed through the night, but Dana got no answers to her question. Since Dana already had a sick inkling of who she was dealing with, the silence made her more mad than scared, even though deep down inside she knew she should be afraid.
“Leave us alone,” she called. “Can’t you just leave us alone!”
Dana heard laughter, then footfalls, as if someone were running away. Then only the hissing of the fire as it snaked up the porch railings.
A sick feeling shot through Dana’s stomach, making her want to retch. All sorts of horrible images ran through her mind. These people were mad! This wasn’t just kids out for kicks, and this certainly wasn’t a faith-abiding church like the one she’d always known. Caryn had threatened Stephen earlier and now Dana supposed she had sent her thugs to act on that threat. She had to find out if the other woman was doing this, and she had to keep Stephen safe.
“If it’s the land, you can have it,” she whispered, wishing she hadn’t been so direct yesterday with the crazed woman. But she had to wonder if there wasn’t something more here. Why would Caryn taunt her with threats against Stephen? She’d purposely pulled him out of school to avoid such teasing and taunts. These people didn’t even know Stephen.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Help us, please. She clutched Stephen close, soothing his keening cries with a murmured whisper. “It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She thought about calling for help on her cell phone, but realized it would take the volunteer firemen at least fifteen minutes to get here.
When she was sure it was safe, Dana pulled her brother’s covers off his head. “I’ve got to put out the fire, Stevie. Can you stay here?”
“No.”
Afraid to leave him alone, but even more afraid to take him out in the open, she wrapped an arm around him. “We’re going to crawl through the grass to the house.”
“Okay,” he said, this new challenge temporarily calming his earlier fears.
“We need to stop that fire from spreading,” she explained. She saw his eyes in the moonlight, saw the fear mirrored there inside him. “Stevie, you have to be brave. We’re going to get away from here and go to the sheriff.”
“Okay,” came the feeble reply. “I’ll be brave. Stephen can be brave.”
“Okay,” Dana echoed, the shotgun clutched close. “Stay low and stay right beside me,” she said as she inched her way out of the tent, belly-crawl fashion. The going was slow, and the fire was fast. The wind picked up, causing Dana to urge Stephen on beside her. Determined, she struggled to her feet, pulling Stephen up with her to run the last few yards. By the time they made it to the house, the whole remainder of the front porch was on fire. If she could only find the water hose.
They made it to the side of the house where a long spigot ran from the well to underneath the porch steps. Dana always kept a hose connected there to wash mud and dirt from their work boots.
Out of breath, her nerves tingling with fear and worry, she slid up the wall, still clutching her brother, spitting away the grass and dirt they’d gathered on the way. Behind them, the fire hissed and curled, its wrath causing beams to pop and aged frames to cave in like kindling.
“It’s all right, sport,” she said on a windy breath. “All I have to do is turn the water on and we can wash down most of the porch. Maybe we can save it.”
She stood, looking around to make sure the intruders were gone. Then she groped for the long thick noose of the hose, searching in the dark for the fat coil of rubber. Her hands reached out to emptiness. They’d disconnected the hose. It was nowhere in sight.
Above them, the fire rose up, triumphant in its snap-happy victory. The sound of bursting glass shattered the night, and Dana watched as the blue lace curtains of her parents’ bedroom curled and crumbled, too dainty, too delicate, to survive the heat of the angry, leaping flames.
Chapter Three
“So you’re telling me that you can’t do anything to help me?”
Dana looked at the robust face of Sheriff Horace Radford and wondered why she’d even bothered to drive over the speed limit, straight to his house about five miles up the road, and pull him out of what looked like a sound sleep. The man didn’t seem to care one way or the other about all the happenings out on her land.
Remembering how he’d only shrugged and told her how sorry he was about Otto when she’d talked to him yesterday after the tornado, she wished the man hadn’t been reelected. She certainly hadn’t voted for him. Oh, he’d promised her a full investigation, but having a tornado drop down on his town’s doorstep had given him a pretty good excuse to sit on his hands. But having her house deliberately burned to the ground meant Dana didn’t have the same luxury.
“It’s all gone, Sheriff,” she said now, her voice still and resigned. “And I found this note underneath my windshield wipers.”
She read aloud the cryptic note. “‘You have something that belongs to us. Until we find it, watch out for your brother.’” The note had ended with a Bible verse, Proverbs 18:21. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”
Reading it again gave Dana the creeps and put a solid fear in her heart. They thought Dana had something of theirs, and they were threatening her brother to get it. The verse was almost like a warning, telling her not to speak. But what did they think she would have to speak about?
“That don’t make much sense,” the sheriff said after Dana read him the note.
“No, but it’s a threat. I don’t know what they think I have of theirs. Surely you can send some men out to look around. I saw them set the fire, so I know it wasn’t an accident, and I believe these people are a part of the Universal Unity Church. That’s the only ones I can think who’d do something such as this.”
“Dana, Dana,” he said, raising a beefy hand to ward off any further protests, “I’m sure sorry you’ve had all these troubles, sugar. I hate that you’ve lost your house, honey. But you can’t go around accusing people without some sort of proof.”
Dana stepped closer to the sheriff, her footfalls causing his creaky front porch to groan in sleepy protest, her face just inches from the oblong pink wart growing on his crusty nose. “Look at me, Sheriff Radford,” she said on a slow, even keel. “I’ve got dirt all over me. That’s from trying to save my house. Stephen and I fought that fire as hard as we could, but we couldn’t save anything. That’s because they cut off my water supply.” Lowering her eyes to the peeling green paint on the floor, she added, “I couldn’t even get inside to the phone, not that that would have mattered. My line’s been down since the storm. And my cell phone didn’t help. It was too late to call the fire department.”
The sheriff patted her on the arm, then pulled his dirty plaid flannel robe closer around his puffy white-haired chest. “I’m sorry, honey. Do you have a place to stay?”
Dana gave him another disbelieving stare. “Are you listening to me? They looted and then burned down my house and shot at us!” Her voice rose an octave higher with each word.
Sheriff Radford rubbed the salt-and-pepper beard stubble on his fat jaw. “It don’t sound good, do it? But I declare, I ain’t never heard of any trouble from that Unity woman and her kids. You sure you saw some of them?”
“Yes, I saw two young men dressed the way they all dress, from what I could tell. I’ve been thinking maybe it’s some sort of revenge against me, maybe because I talked to her the other day about my bull getting killed. But why they’ve decided to pick on me is beyond reason. Whoever sent them meant business. They tore up what was left of my house and burned the rest. Now everything I had is gone.”
“Think you could identify them if you saw them again?” the sheriff asked, his beefy hand still rubbing a hole in his unshaven face as he pondered all the details.
Glad that he was finally comprehending what she was trying to tell him, Dana pushed on. “Maybe. It was dark and I only got a glimpse, but I could tell from their actions, they looked young—two of them, dressed in what looked like baggy clothes and big coats—that much I remember.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m pretty sure they shot my breeding bull, and now this. And they looted the house right after the storm. I can’t imagine what they’re looking for, though.”
The old man leaned back against the planked side of the house wall. “I’ll go ‘round and have a talk with some of your neighbors first thing in the morning. Maybe somebody saw something.”
“Talk?” Dana pushed smoke-scented hair out of her eyes. “These people killed an expensive animal and then destroyed what little was left of my home. And that’s just this week. Goodness knows what they’re planning next. You need to do more than talk. If these kids are from that church, you need to arrest them before somebody else gets hurt.”
“I can’t arrest anybody until I have proof!” he shouted, his eyes bulging. At Dana’s look of surprise, he added, “And you’d better stop accusing Ms. Roark’s pack. That woman has become a pillar of this community and she’s got lots of money tied up in that place out there. We have to consider all the angles before we go blazing in on a high horse, accusing her of things.”
Dana gave him a puzzled look. “I’m not accusing her. I just think somebody living there isn’t exactly nice. And I think she needs to know about it. When I talked to her yesterday, she practically threatened Stephen herself.”
“I can’t believe it’s anybody from her place,” the sheriff responded, shaking his head. “That woman makes them kids behave. Holds them to a tight schedule and has them praying all day and night. They plum don’t have time for much outside activity.”
It suddenly hit Dana why the sheriff was being so indifferent toward her. The Roark woman had helped the man get reelected. That, plus the fact that the sheriff was lazy and didn’t really want to put himself in any danger, made Dana think she could give up ever finding the criminals who’d destroyed her home. No, Sheriff Radford wouldn’t make any effort to arrest someone who might put his own life in danger. He only worked enough to keep himself supplied in liquor and cigarettes.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, just to test his thin mettle.
“I’ll post guards on your land,” he supplied, pleased that he’d done his sworn duty. “Keep any mischief-makers away.”
“Mischief?” Dana laughed bitterly. “I’d call arson and slaughter a little more than mischief, Sheriff.”
“Crazy kids,” he said, shaking his head. “Are you sure you got a good look at them?” he asked again, his words stretching out in a long whine.
“Not a real good one,” she admitted. “They stayed hidden like the cowards they are, but I saw them in the light from the fire.” She glared pointedly at him. “And you’re just as big a coward. You’ve sold out the people of Prairie Heart, Sheriff. How do you sleep at night?”
Anger puffed his face to a glowing red. From the yellowed glow of the porch light, Dana saw she’d struck her mark. The man sure didn’t have a poker face.
“I do what has to be done,” he said in a wheedling voice, “to keep the peace around here. And since you ain’t got one dab of proof against anybody, I suggest you stop barking up the wrong tree.”
Dana lifted a finger to his chest, poking him as she spoke. “Oh, you’re right about that. I am barking up the wrong tree. I’ve lost everything, but you don’t care, do you?” Pushing him away with a repulsive jab, she added, “I guess I’ll have to deal with this on my own.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Dana,” he warned. Then his wide face took on a sympathetic demeanor. “How ’bout I give you a little money to tide you over?”
Dana wanted to spit at him. He was telling her not to do anything stupid, when he was the biggest idiot of all! “No, thanks. I don’t want your money, Sheriff. I’d prefer some justice, though.”
Looking affronted, he said, “You don’t know Caryn the way I do. She’s a very peace-loving woman. She wouldn’t do something like this.”
Dana was already heading back to the truck, where Stephen sat watching. Then she turned to glare back up at him. “You know, I never once accused her of any wrongdoing. I just happen to believe it’s someone living on her property. Seems you’re mighty worried about that woman. Sure makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”
“I ain’t hiding nothing,” Sheriff Radford called out a little too defensively. “And just to prove it, I’ll send them deputies out right now.”
“I feel better already,” Dana called. She got in the truck and slammed both palms against the steering wheel, a fresh batch of tears brimming down her cheeks. She was going to have to take Stephen to a safe place. And she needed some time to think about what to do next. She was going to have to ask Tony Martin for help sooner than she’d planned.
Dawn greeted them as they entered Kansas City by way of Interstate 35. They’d left Prairie Heart behind. They’d left their little corner of the Flint Hills behind. They’d left their charred and splintered farmhouse behind. They’d left their home, their land, their life, behind.
Dana had made a snap decision, based on a long stretch of determination. She only hoped Tony would welcome them and help them. Maybe, at least, Stephen would be safe in the city until she could figure out what to do next.
After waking Emma and Frederick to ask them to look after her stock, she’d discussed her options with them. She still had her cattle; she could try to save them at least.
“We’ll herd them over to Harvey’s place,” Frederick assured her. He called several burly, dependable, well-armed men to meet him at the crack of dawn. He’d get the animals to a safe pasture. “And I don’t mind shooting any trespassers, thieves, or travelers, not one bit.”
“Tell the men I’ll pay them all back, somehow,” Dana promised. “When this mess is settled.”
“That Sheriff Radford,” Emma hissed, her pink foam curlers contrasting sharply with her bright red-and-yellow-flowered housedress. “We’ll vote that lazy old man out come next election!”
“Somebody’s got him in their pocket,” Dana explained, her instincts telling her that someone was Caryn Roark. “Voting doesn’t count out as nicely as cold cash.”
“Where you going, child?”
“Kansas City. To see Tony.”
Emma smiled knowingly. “‘Pride goeth before a fall.’”
“I don’t have any pride left, that’s for sure,” Dana said. “I don’t have anything.”
“Poor child. We could take care of you two. You know you can stay with us, don’t you?”
“I won’t put you in danger. I’m going to fight this, Emma, but I have to come up with a plan. I can’t fight if I don’t have any ammunition, and if I don’t know who I’m fighting.”
“Bless your heart. You be careful, you hear?”
“I’m afraid for Stevie,” Dana replied by way of an explanation.
Emma nodded. Family came first, no matter the cost. “Go to Tony then. Let him help you. He’s always wanted you with him, anyway.”
Dana looked away. “But he doesn’t want Stevie.”
“If he loves you, he’ll take Stevie, too.”
And so Dana and Stephen had taken off into the night, fleeing. Dana had never run from anything, not hard work, not tragedy, not her responsibilities, but now, for Stephen’s sake, she was officially on the lam.
She couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before she found her way home again.
“Do people really get up this early?” Tony asked, one eye cocked toward the digital clock over his elaborate computer system. “And did I ask you yet, what in the world are you doing here, and what’s that smell?” He held two long, white fingers to his nostrils, pinching them together while making a disgusted face.
Dana pushed Stephen onto a nearby black leather sofa, ignoring the clutter of newspapers and high-tech magazines littering one corner. “Try to go back to sleep, sport.” Then she turned to Tony again. “Tony, we need your help. Otto got shot, then half the house got blown away in a tornado, then they burned down the rest. Somebody’s trying to either scare us or get something from us. Or just plain murder us.”
Tony was wide-awake now. “All of this happened in Prairie Heart? Maybe I’m living in the wrong town.”
Dana looked over at the man she’d once thought she loved. Thank goodness she’d figured out it wasn’t love that held her to Tony. Convenience, friendship, companionship, loyalty—it was all of these, but not love. She hadn’t realized that until this moment, when in the light of harsh morning, she saw him for himself.
He was handsome, in a scrawny Nicholas Cage kind of way. He looked like a Kansas farm boy, but he had the brains of a rocket scientist. His entire head was covered with red tufts of thick, coarse hair that looked like rusty steel wool. Dana had never once seen him comb it. He wore a holey Star Trek T-shirt that featured a faded Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk. Tony was a Trekkie, but he was also a Techie. People teased her brother, calling him a geek, but Tony was the real geek. He was very smart. Too smart.
In their junior year of high school, he’d been one of the best basketball players on the team. But during a play-off game, he’d been fouled and injured. Laid up with a broken ankle, he’d turned to his computer for comfort. Since then, he lived and breathed technology. His ankle still gave him trouble now and then, but he was in pretty good shape considering he rarely moved from his desk except to go down to the nearby park and shoot a few hoops with the inner-city boys.
Tony didn’t drive a car; he cruised the Internet. Even now, his e-mail was signaling that he had an incoming message. He ignored it, a rare concession to Dana’s paying him a visit, and took another less sleepy look at her. “You’ve been through a fire.”
“Yes,” she said, plopping her elbows on her knees so she could bury her smutty face in her hands. “I’ve been through more than a fire. I’ve been through the worst kind of destruction.”
“I’ll make coffee,” he said, tugging at his faded red sweat-pants. “Then you tell me exactly what’s going on.”
She did, spilling the entire story out between fits of crying and fits of anger. “This woman wants to either scare us or kill us, for some reason. They said I had something they needed. They torched my house. And I know in my heart these people shot Otto. But the worst of it—they said they’d get Stephen.” Glancing over at her sleeping brother, she whispered, “You know how he is. He’s friendly to everybody. He’s too innocent to know that some strangers are dangerous. I had to get him away from there.”
Tony nodded to the same rhythm his fingers drummed on the cracked yellow countertop of the island bar that served as dining table and control station central in his kitchen. “Yeah, I know how he is. That boy’s a handful, for sure. What can I do?”
She pushed back a red-brown wave of hair, the hurt of his jab toward Stephen’s hyperactive nature making her feel small and doubtful about asking for his help. “Just let me stay here a couple of days. I need a place to hide, while I decide what to do. I went to the sheriff, but there’s no help there. He might be in cahoots with Caryn Roark. He thinks I’m just ranting because I’m under so much stress—ha, this is beyond stress.”
“Yeah, I’d say you’ve been through it.” Tony took her empty coffee cup and uneaten cornflakes. “Go take a long shower and let me absorb the scarce data you’ve given me, then we’ll talk some more after you’ve rested.” When she glanced at her brother, he added, “Stevie’s okay. He can clean up when he wakes up.”
Dana nodded, then rose to move down the short hallway to Tony’s bedroom, her entire body sore and bruised, her entire system begging for a meltdown. She turned at the bathroom door. “Thanks, Tony.”
He winked. “Hey, I’ve been trying to get you to Kansas City. I’m sorry about things, but I’m glad to have you here.” His computer beeped and said something and he absently turned back to the blinking lights of his monitor. Somebody badly wanted him to respond to his e-mail.
Dana came out of the bedroom feeling refreshed if not recharged. She wore her only other set of clothes, a pair of Levi’s and a T-shirt with a huge sunflower painted on the front. Now she needed to find something for Stephen to wear when he got up.
Digging through the tote bag she’d brought, she found Stephen’s new Ruby Runner shoes. They were clean and smoke-free at least. But Emma had given Stephen the wrong pair of shoes. This wasn’t the pair Dana had ordered. These shoes were the latest model, more expensive and much more cushioned than the ones she could afford, but they were the right size at least. They were white with a wide red triangle that resembled a real ruby on either side—the symbol of all Ruby Runner shoes. That same design pattern was molded on the thick soles, too. Stephen would love that continuing pattern.
As Dana turned the shoes over in her hands, the little ruby designs seemed to glow from inside. She was too tired to appreciate it, however. “Fancy,” she mumbled, thinking Emma normally didn’t order such expensive shoes. Well, she certainly couldn’t return them now. She’d settle up with Emma later.
Coming out of the bedroom, Dana saw that Stephen was still asleep, and he still smelled of smoke. She’d have to get him cleaned up and into his new shoes. That would perk him up. She was worried about how all of these changes were going to affect her brother. He didn’t take change very well. Kids like Stephen needed routine and structure; in fact, they demanded it.
She looked from her brother to Tony. Still in his T-shirt and sweats, he was engrossed in the many machines that covered one wall of his tiny apartment. Three monitor screens, several powerful system units and a whole lot of multimedia equipment—scanners, fax machines, telephones, modems, printers and cell phones—all sat like dominoes, leaning here and there, arranged in and on each other, just waiting to set things in motion with the touch of a button.
Dana had never understood computers. Her father had bought her one years ago, at Tony’s insistence, and she had used it to keep up with the farm’s business. Other than that, gadgets didn’t impress her much. They did Tony, however. He was almost like an appendage of his many machines. A walking, talking computer, programmed and ready to run as soon as he saw the blinking cursor. He didn’t even know anyone else was in the room.
“Tony?” she called.
His long fingers danced across the keyboard in front of him, his thick glasses reflected the bright green lettering on the screen he was studying so intensely. His hair seemed to be glowing, as if the entire process demanded that the energy flow directly through his fingers into his brain, bypassing his heart and soul. “Tony?”
“What? Huh?” Absently he held up one hand.
How many times had Dana seen him do that? How many times had she left him in his room back in Prairie Heart, with his machines and his programs? They’d start out studying for a test, and he’d invariably wind up at the computer, under the pretense of typing up some study sheet. Before long, Dana would be left with her textbooks and Tony would be lost in the vast world of a tiny one-inch microchip.
A girl couldn’t compete with that kind of power.
“Tony?” she said again. “Is there any way we could pull up my bank account? I don’t know how much cash I can get my hands on.”
Now she had his attention. Next to setting up computer systems, Tony loved nothing better than hacking into one.
“Sure,” he said, his eyes already back on the screen before him. He was in a chat room on the Internet, and apparently the conversation was lively. “Just give me the name of the bank and your account number.”
Dana dug through her purse and handed him her checkbook. She stood over his shoulder, waiting for him to take the information. “Here.”
Tony stopped typing, then pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I got the funniest message on e-mail. Wanna read it?”
This was part of the routine. Tony loved sharing his e-mail.
“Okay.” Dana took the printout he handed her, not really interested, but needing something to focus on. The words on the page brought her head down. With both hands clasping the sheet of paper, she brought it closer to her face, so she could be sure of what she was reading.
“‘What’s more precious than rubies and gold?’”
Somewhere in the tired recesses of her mind, Dana connected on the familiar, but it slipped away in a pool of cold fear. She didn’t like the tone of this message.
“Who sent this?” she asked Tony, her eyes shifting from the words to the back of his head.
“Don’t know,” he admitted. “They didn’t sign it and I couldn’t trace it. Got jammed out on the first try. Whoever it is, they’re good. They don’t want to be found. But it’s pretty obvious they’re using a forged e-mail address. Their IP numbers are way off and they used a single cap in the address for the Received heading—Uareit.” Still keying in information, he added, “Pretty weird name, though, huh? Almost as if they’re saying ‘You are it.’”
Dana sank down in an old overstuffed beige plaid armchair. “Yeah, too scary. I think this message was sent to me, Tony. I think I am it.”
Tony’s head peeled around. “You? How? Who knows you’re here?”
“Only Emma and Frederick,” she said. “And they don’t know a thing about e-mail.”
“That’s for sure.” He went back to his typing. “Hey, maybe you’re just tired. Getting a little paranoid?”
“Maybe,” she said, her eyes automatically going to Stephen. “And maybe not. Have you ever heard of the Universal Unity Church?”
Tony frowned, squinted, scratched his head. “Rock band?”
“No.” Dana smiled in spite of herself. “My threatening neighbor is Caryn Roark. She’s the leader of some weird church group—a cult, maybe—and she’s been my neighbor for three years now. They have a big compound over there, behind closed gates and tall stone fences, but I’ve never bothered them and up until this week, they’ve never bothered me, other than constantly making me offers to buy my land.” Shaking her head, she added, “I did sort of threaten her the other day, since I’m sure someone from her compound shot my bull. They claim I have something they need, but I don’t have a clue what that might be. And if that’s true, why would they go to all that trouble—destroying my house—when they could just as easily have confronted me and asked for whatever they think I have.”
“Let’s do a little search,” Tony said, his fingers already doing the walking across his keyed-up keyboard. “See what we can find. If this church lady is as high and mighty as you make her out to be, there should be plenty of information about her online. Especially if she tries to win over recruits to her way of thinking.”
Knowing that would be the only way Tony would be impressed or willing to help, Dana shrugged. “I would like to know more about her. I just don’t trust the woman. But I can’t understand what she wants from me, other than my land. I guess she decided since I was so angry, she’d run me off, even if it meant nearly killing Stevie and me.”
Tony grinned, then rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Well, if this Caryn is on the Net, I’ll find out everything we can. I’ve got sources in places where no source would dare show up.”
“What if they find us first?” Dana asked. “I think they know I’m here.”
“What can they do, but send a few hits on the e-mail?”
“They might send more than messages,” Dana replied in a whisper. “They might come after us.” Her eyes centered on her brother. “They might come after Stevie.”
The day progressed without any more excitement. Much to Tony’s dismay, Stevie ran around in his Ruby Runners, practicing sprinting. Her friend and her brother had always irritated each other.
“Hey, watch the cords, kid. One trip and you’ll unhinge part of my system. My clients wouldn’t like it if I lost part of their records.”
Dana realized they’d already overstayed their welcome. Tony bit his nails and worked—drinking massive amount of black coffee as he tapped into Dana’s sparse bank account and informed her that she had about ninety-eight bucks in her checking account and about five hundred dollars in her savings. Not much.
“If someone’s tracing you, they’ll know the minute you withdraw any money,” he explained. “Better just let me loan you some cash. What are you going to do, anyway?”
Dana didn’t know. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I only know that I’ve got to prove they’re coming after me. If she wants my land, the bank will practically hand it to her now. I borrowed money against the house to buy the two bulls, but now I can’t make the loan payments. Tony, I’m afraid not just for Stephen, but for everyone in Prairie Heart. That woman could take over the whole town.”
Tony scratched a hand through his wiry head. “Relax, doll face. I’ve got my markers out there. We’ll see what we come up with.”
That gave Dana another idea, something that she’d kept in the back of her thoughts. Now instinct told her to pursue it. “Can you pull up information on someone else for me?”
“Give me a name.”
“Bren.” She pulled the card out of her pocket. “He told me not to give anybody this number, but I have to know who he is. He helped us out after the tornado hit.” Quickly she explained meeting the mysterious man and how he’d been so kind to Stephen and her. “He said he had to go to Wichita on business.” She looked down at the card in her hand. “Brendan Donovan. Wichita Industries. That and a phone number are all I have.”
Tony snorted a laugh. “Good one, Dana. Yeah, right.”
“No, I’m serious,” she said, wondering why he thought this was so funny.
“The Brendan Donovan?” Tony asked, his face turning a blotchy red. “Are you sure?”
“That’s the man’s name,” she replied.
“Okay, if you say so,” Tony said, scratching his head. “But I can’t imagine why the wealthy, worldly Mr. Brendan Donovan, better known as the ‘Geek from Ireland,’ would be out on a county line road in rural Kansas. Maybe it was someone pretending to be him.”
Dana studied her friend, suspicious of that bright knowing light in Tony’s eyes. To her way of thinking, Brendan Donovan was anything but a geek. The man oozed handsome. “What do you know about him?”
“Enough,” Tony replied, already focusing on the task at hand. “Let me pull up a few things and then I’ll explain.”
A few hours later, Tony emerged from his corner with printouts an inch thick. “Very interesting. When you make someone mad, you go for the big guns, huh?”
Dana dropped the magazine she’d been leafing through. “What’d you find?”
Tony settled down in the plaid chair and adjusted his bifocals. “Universal Unity Church—founded by Caryn Roark. Started in Europe, specifically Ireland, has ties with extremists groups, cultlike following, over a thousand sworn members worldwide, very secretive, very powerful. Members have to swear loyalty to the church and give up all worldly goods. Had some run-in with parents who claim she’s brainwashing their teenagers. Moved to rural Kansas about three years ago to start a new arm of church. Still has headquarters in Ireland, but has a growing following in United States. Claims to have channeling powers, uses the occult and spirituality to convey her messages to believers.” He stopped, tipping his head so he could see Dana over his bifocals. “And here’s the part I especially like—owns stock in various companies, including technology and activewear.”
Dana sat listening, surprise and disbelief growing with each word. Now she let out a shocked breath. “I knew she was powerful, but I had no idea. You’re telling me I’m in a lot of trouble, right?”
Tony bobbed his head. “Yes, I guess that’s what I’m telling you, doll face. Should have kept better tabs on your neighbor, I reckon. And probably shouldn’t have picked a fight with her over a dead bull.”
Dana dropped her head into her hands. “They moved into the Selzer place a few years back, not long after my parents were killed. They didn’t bother me and I tried to stay clear of them, until she tried to buy my land. Ever since I turned her down, she’s been rather cool toward me, but no one from over there has ever harassed me before.”
“But they may have shot your bull?”
“Yes,” Dana said, groaning. “I told you, I went there the other day, after Otto was shot. I told her I thought someone from her complex had done it.”
“And you threatened her.”
Dana thought back over the conversation. “Yes, I guess I did get a tad mad. But she was so smug, so high and mighty! Okay, I did suggest it might be someone from her group. She didn’t take too kindly to that, either.”
Tony gave her a worried look. “Dana, this doesn’t sound too pretty. No wonder Sheriff Radford didn’t get all bothered about the looting and fire.”
“No, because she’s probably paying for his extra little luxuries,” Dana said on a hiss. “He kept trying to protect her, assured me she’d have nothing to do with something like this. I can’t believe this. Why would she get so angry just because I suggested this might be someone from her complex? And why do they think I’m hiding something they need?”
Tony’s white teeth played across his bottom lip. “Maybe because she knew you were correct in that suggestion, and it made her look bad? Maybe because she was afraid you had figured some things out? Maybe they’re saying they know you have proof and they want that proof?”
“What things, what proof?” Dana shouted, getting up to pace around the room. “I was trying to mind my own business. I never once messed with those people until they messed with me.”
“Maybe this Roark woman has something to hide, besides murdering animals and setting fires, and she thinks you know more than you really do.”
Dana’s head shot up. “That has to be it. Here I was thinking it’s just about the land, but they came in and tore up my house, so they were obviously looking for something.”
“What could you possibly have that they’d want, though?” Tony wondered. “If this woman is as powerful as this report claims, then she doesn’t need anything else.”
Dana shook out her wavy mane. “Technology and active-wear? Pretty strange for someone who forces her followers to live in virtual poverty.”
“Or virtual reality,” Tony added. “If she’s into technology, there’s no telling what she’s got going on. She might be conning them with this spirituality gig. I’ll bet she uses technology to conjure up all sorts of dire things.”
Dana shivered. “You mean she uses scare tactics?”
He nodded. “Yes, mind control, hypnosis, brainwashing. Dana, you’ve got yourself into some pretty heavy stuff here.”
Dana shot him a wry look. “I went to see her because I was concerned. I must have opened up a whole new can of worms by threatening her, but I never meant for it to go this far.”
“Smart move. Are you sure someone from this church could have had Otto done in?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not completely sure, but that was the only explanation. I’m sitting right in the middle of their complex, so they’d have to cross my land to get back and forth on the property. I just figured one of her wards decided to have target practice on old Otto. We both know there’s nothing for miles and miles around. It can get pretty boring out there, especially for those kids from the big city.”
Tony squinted at her. “You said your property is surrounded by church property?”
“Yes,” Dana replied, nodding. “Everybody else either lost out or had to sell out. The church has bought up just about every bit of land there is to have out there.”
Tony leaned back in his swivel chair. “And she’s offered to buy your place?”
“She’s hinted at it very strongly, but I never offered to sell.”
“You thought about it, though. Maybe now would be a good time to do just that. Maybe that’s all she’s after.”
“I am the only holdout,” Dana said. “And she does seem to want all the land around there. But I don’t want to lose it, not even now. And I certainly don’t intend to be bullied out of my daddy’s land.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “You don’t have many choices left, sugar. Time was, you would have gladly sold that land to anyone with a good offer—let alone someone trying to kill you.”
“That was before,” she said, looking over to where Stevie sat playing a maze-type video game with Tony’s state-of-theart gadgets. “When Mom and Dad died, Stevie didn’t take it so well, remember. I couldn’t uproot him so soon after all that. He loves the farm, so I stayed. And I’ll keep on staying until he’s better able to handle a move.”
“I’ve heard this tale before,” Tony reminded her. “That’s all very noble, but it also means you don’t have a life. And we both know that’s why you and I aren’t together today.”
She made a hushing sound. “I don’t want to get into that, Tony. Stevie and I are a package deal, take it or leave it. You chose to leave it.”
He twisted his lips tightly together and shrugged. “But hey, you’re here now, both of you.”
“Not for long,” she reassured him. “I’ve been thinking about my options. I can’t get the sheriff to help me. I don’t have much money. The creditors and the bank are probably closing in right now. If this Roark woman bides her time, she’ll have my land anyway.”
“So—” Tony raised both hands and let them drop on the worn chair arms “—exactly what are your options?”
She gave him a direct look. “What’d you find out about my friend Bren?”
Tony sat up straight, then eyed her curiously. “Oh, that one. Well, as I said, when you play, you run with the big dogs.” He shifted through his download to find what he was looking for. “Bren, from Wichita—if I have the right Bren from Wichita based on the phone number and full name of Brendan Donovan on that card—is one powerful dude, too. And he seems to be the same Brendan Donovan I’ve heard so much about over the years. I read all about him in my techno magazines. That is what they can find on him. The man is very reclusive and secretive, and very powerful in the technology world.”
That caught Dana’s attention. She had mixed feelings about the stranger, and she had to know more before she followed through on her plan. “Tell me.”
“Wichita Industries is a catch-all name for various businesses and holdings owned by Brendan Donovan. He has so many holdings and companies, it’s hard to say what all he does own. In Wichita, he for sure owns a private airplane factory, which he bought out when it was going under a few years back. Donovan Aer—spelled A-E-R—builds private airplanes for people who have lots of money to spend, but there is a small chain of computers and software equipment under that name, too. So that’s probably why your friend Bren was headed to Wichita. Checking on business, I guess.”
Dana took a sip of Coke, the syrupy sweetness hitting her churning stomach at the same time her doubts hit home. “Okay, but what was he doing on a county road in the middle of Kansas?”
Tony grinned. “I’m getting there, sweetheart. It seems Brendan Donovan is the heir to a vast fortune, which he’s doubled over the years. The man’s into everything, technology—there’s that word again—manufacturing, airplanes, land…Oh, and this is a really good one—shoes.”
Dana scrunched her brow. “Shoes?”
“Yep.” Tony playfully kicked one of her feet with his own bare toes. “He owns Ruby Athletics, doll face. He owns the very shoes your brother is wearing, the hottest active shoes on the market right now, the Ruby Runners.”
Dana looked down at her brother’s feet, not believing what Tony had just told her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I don’t kid when I’m reading a printout,” Tony informed her. “And as to why he was on that road the other day, I think I can help you there, too. Did he happen to express any interest in your friend Caryn’s church?”
“Not really. He said he didn’t have a church home.” But she remembered how he’d stared across the prairie at the church. Dana sat up, waiting for Tony to spill the rest of his findings. “What about it?”
Tony’s smile was pure enticement. “Just as I suspected when you mentioned his name, and now that I know we’re talking about the same Brendan here, our friend Bren hails from the same hallowed ground as your enemy Caryn. In fact, if my research is correct, why, they’re practically neighbors; they both own estates in County Cork.”
“Ireland?” Dana asked in a whisper.
“Ireland,” Tony repeated dramatically. “Now, how’s that for coincidence?”
Chapter Four
Dana jumped up to pace around the unlit, windowless room. “It might be just that, a coincidence.” She refused to believe Bren could be mixed up with the likes of Caryn Roark.
Tony dropped the papers on top of a pile that seemed to be growing from the dark brown carpet next to the chair. “Yeah, but what are the odds of two people from Ireland being in rural Kansas at the same time?”
Dana whirled to face him. “Caryn didn’t speak with an Irish accent.” Trying to remember how the woman had sounded, she admitted, “She is very cultured. Very formal. Maybe there was a trace, but Bren—he could definitely be Irish.”
“Maybe he was visiting the complex,” Tony offered as he popped the top on a soda, then took a huge swig. “Hey, I’m hungry. Want Chinese or pizza for dinner?”
Dana continued to pace. “I don’t care.”
“Pizza,” Stephen said from his crossed-legged stance on the floor in front of the television. “Stephen wants pizza.”
Dana watched as Tony conjured up the nearest pizza joint on one of his monitors and ordered a large with everything. She had to wonder if he ever left his apartment.
Having provided dinner, Tony turned back to her, his eyes as bright as the simulated picture of fish swimming on the monitor behind him. “Hey, you don’t want to believe this man is in with Roark, I know. But it sure looks that way. I’ve heard things about Brendan Donovan—how he doesn’t like to be in the limelight, how he shuns publicity, and maybe this is why. Maybe he’s one of her followers.”
Dana watched the bubbles floating on the screen behind Tony. “No, he was interested in the church, but when I asked him if he was a member, he…he said no.”
Tony’s lips tipped up at the corners. “Could he have been lying?”
She shook her head. “It was the way he said no, and the way he looked. I got the feeling he did not approve of the church at all.”
“Then why was he there?”
“I don’t know.” She sank back down on the couch. “All I know is that he protected me during the storm, and he helped us afterward. He even told me if I needed anything to call—”
Tony groaned, lifting his eyes to give her a long stare. “And you’re thinking about doing just that?”
She shrugged. “Well, I was. He seemed secure. I believe he’ll help me.”
“A perfect stranger! Get real, Dana.”
Before she could respond, a message came through on the e-mail again. Tony jumped over to the terminal to read it out loud.
“‘What is the most important thing in life? To lay down one’s life for a brother.’”
Dana looked around as if someone were watching them. “She knows I’m here, Tony.” Lowering her voice, she whispered, “She knows and she’s threatening Stevie again. She’s aware of his problems, and she could easily influence him if she gets her hands on him. I’ve got to get away from here!”
Tony grabbed her to pull her around. “Hold on. Where will you go?”
“I don’t know,” she said, a mortal fear pumping through her system. “I don’t know.”
“What’s the matter?” Stephen asked, his attention diverted completely from his video game to Dana’s frightened face. “Dana’s sad. What’s wrong, Dana?”
“Nothing, Stevie. I’m just worried, is all. Your pizza will be here soon.”
Stephen watched his sister. “You sure, Dana? You sure you’re all right?”
Tony clapped his hands together. “She’s just being a drag,” he said. “Hey, ready to take on the champ, pal?”
“Yeah,” Stephen said, “but I’m warning you. I’m real good at video games.”
“Give me that other control,” Tony said, his tone mockdeadly. “I’ll take you on anytime, anywhere.”
Dana, thankful that Tony was at least trying to pacify Stephen, thought back over the message they’d just received. How did Caryn Roark know she was here? Maybe she’d asked around town and found out that Dana and Tony were friends. Maybe she’d had them followed. Or maybe not. That would be too obvious for someone like Caryn Roark. No, whatever method she was using, Dana was sure it was very underhanded and very secretive. And very high-tech, since someone had obviously found a way to get to Tony’s computer files. But why was the woman still after her? She’d won, hadn’t she? Dana had lost the farm and she’d run away, to protect her brother, to think her way through this, to save her sanity. What more could the woman want?
What if the woman didn’t stop until she had Stephen?
“I can’t let that happen,” Dana said out loud.
Luckily Tony was making such a ruckus with Stephen, neither of them heard. They didn’t hear the doorbell, either.
“I’ll get it,” Dana said. “Probably the pizza man.”
“There’s a twenty on the counter,” Tony said, his eyes never leaving the blur of speeding cars on the television screen.
Dana opened the door and absently took the warm pizza box, her mind preoccupied with other things. Then she handed the delivery boy his money, her eyes touching on his briefly. He looked familiar—
“Thank you,” the boy said, a serene smile plastered across his skinny face. He left so quickly, Dana didn’t connect on why he looked familiar. Shutting the door, she said, “This is one large pizza, and heavily loaded from the weight of it.”
“Set it on the coffee table,” Tony said over his shoulder. “We’ll be there as soon as I finish winning this race.”
“Right.” Looking for a fairly level spot on all the magazines and papers on the long, beat-up table, Dana dropped the pizza box on top. That’s when the lid popped open just enough for her to see the gadget inside.
“Tony,” she said, her heart jumping right along with whatever was in the box. “Tony, come here a minute.”
“Hold on.”
“Now, Tony.”
Something in the panicked tone of her voice got Tony’s attention. “Pause it, Stevie,” he said as he pushed up off the floor. “What’s the matter—no jalapeños?”
Dana pulled him close. “No, something we didn’t order. Listen.”
He did, his eyes widening as they locked with hers. “Get Stevie,” he said, “and go, go as fast as you can. Get out of the building. It might be nothing, just a joke. Just go and I’ll come down and get you after I check it out.”
“I can’t leave you,” she said, her hands clutching his arm. “Come with us.”
“No way. I can’t let anything happen to my equipment.”
“Forget the computers. Come on, Tony!”
He leaned toward the box. “Go on. I know a little bit about detonating bombs. I learned it on the Internet. Go! I’ll call 911, I promise.”
Afraid to leave, but even more afraid to stay, Dana lifted Stephen up. “Listen, sport, I want you to come with me for a few minutes.”
Stephen looked confused. “Hey, what about my pizza? I want pizza.”
“We’ll eat when we get back,” she explained. “Right now I want to try out your new runners. We haven’t really had a chance to go for a good run since we got them.”
“Dana, now?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m hungry and I want to finish this game.” He placed his arms over his chest in a defiant stance.
The box ticked away.
“Now, Stephen. Don’t ask questions, just come on.”
“But I don’t want to run. It’s getting dark out there and we don’t know our way around. You told me, never run in the dark.”
“We’ll be okay. Now, don’t argue with me, Stephen.”
Throwing his controller down in a fit of anger, Stephen glared at his sister. “I don’t want to go.”
“But you are, sport.” Eyeing Tony, who stood staring at the ticking pizza box, she heaved Stephen by the collar, praying he wouldn’t have a tantrum. “We’ll just go around the corner.”
She reached the door, grabbed her purse and took one last look at Tony. “Be careful,” she said. “Call a bomb squad or something—call somebody, Tony!”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, his grin fixed and unsure. “Go, and Dana, you be careful, too.”
“Okay.” She felt the tears pressing at the back of her eyes. “Ready, Stevie?”
“No, no. Don’t want to go.”
“You don’t get to decide,” Dana replied. “We have to leave now, Stephen.”
They made it to the small lobby, where a security guard nodded indifferently at them.
Dana called to the man, “I think we’ve got a bomb threat in apartment 201.”
The guard snapped to attention, automatically reaching for the nearest phone. “Hey, wait a minute!” he shouted to Dana.
She didn’t stop. She pulled Stephen along at a brisk trot, mindless of his complaints. The city was dark and misty. It had been raining. Car lights flashed in her face, but Dana didn’t notice. She looked down the nearly deserted street.
She turned back to get a grip on her exact location, taking one last look at the apartment building. Then the earth shook and in a matter of seconds, part of the building blew up and out into the sky. The blast sent glass flying and bricks falling. Somewhere someone screamed and a baby began to cry.
Frozen in horror at first, Dana sprang to life. “Tony!” she cried as she ran back toward the building. “Tony!”
Stephen screamed, too, then began to cry. “Dana? What happened? Where’s Tony?” His screams turned into a high-pitched wail that would only get worse if she didn’t calm him down.
People began to run out into the streets, pushing and shoving, questioning. Dana held Stephen close, watching as the remainder of the building settled back into itself, hissing and burning. What used to be Tony’s apartment was now a hollowed-out hull with charred, tangled computer equipment strewn across its blank face. The air was heavy with smoke and falling cinders, the acrid smell cutting off her frightened breath. Closing her eyes, she bit back the tears wailing inside her. A silent scream roared through her pounding head. This scene was too familiar. This was too soon, too quick, too much.
Tony was dead, and it was her fault. All her fault.
“I have to find him,” she said out loud, grabbing Stephen to pull him back toward the building.
Sirens blared all around her; paramedics arrived in ambulances, pushing the sightseers and shocked neighbors aside.
“Tony,” she said, trying to tell someone, anyone, where he was. “Tony is in there.”
“Step aside, ma’am,” a young fireman said. “We’ll find your friend, but you can’t go in there.”
Shocked, Dana could only nod. She gripped Stephen so hard, he cried out again. Easing up a little, she held him close, her eyes searching the crowd. Maybe Tony had gotten out, too.
Please, God, let him be okay.
Then she spotted the pizza delivery boy in the crowd. He raked a hand through his bob of a haircut, then leaned back nonchalantly on the fender of her parked truck. He gave her the same serene grin she remembered from—
“From Emma’s store,” she said in a shaky whisper. The other customer. The one who’d run out when the storm had hit.
One of Caryn Roark’s boys.
A chill careened down Dana’s back. They not only knew where she was; they had planted a bomb just for her.
“I’m sorry, Tony,” she whispered to the horrid scene in front of her. “I’m so sorry.”
With that she waited, watching the grinning boy as she talked quietly to Stephen. “Listen, sport. We’re going to have to get away from here, because, well, some bad people are after us and we’ve got to find a safe place.”
“Mean people?” He sniffed and looked up at her, his body rocking back and forth in shock.
She nodded, her eyes watching the teenager across the way. She couldn’t lie to Stephen, and she couldn’t do anything more for Tony. They had to run, to get away, and she needed Stephen to understand the urgency of their situation. “We’ve got to sneak away, somewhere where they can’t find us.”
“What about Tony? Don’t leave Tony, Dana.”
She swallowed hard, her hand tightening on her brother’s shoulder. Stephen wasn’t supposed to be in such situations. He wasn’t supposed to be removed from his daily routines. And without his medication, he’d soon be bouncing off the walls. If she couldn’t handle all of this, how in the world would her little brother? “I don’t know about Tony,” she admitted. “I hope he got out.”
“Do we have to leave now?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so. We can’t take the truck, but don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
She tugged him close, her eyes on the teenager standing in the crowd, watching her every move. Her gun was in the truck. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, Stevie.” She directed him around, away from the bomb scene. “We’re going to start running. We’re gonna run faster than we ever have. I want you to concentrate, like you do when you’re in track, or playing football. I want you to run as fast as you can, but don’t leave me. Don’t let go of my hand, okay. We have to stay together, no matter what. Okay?”
“Okay. Good thing I’ve got on my Ruby Runners. Yeah, Ruby Runners are fast.”
Thinking of Brendan Donovan, Dana nodded. “Yeah, let’s just hope they live up to their name.”
And so they ran, following the yellow ribbon of the street-lights, following the dirty gray-black ribbon of the sidewalks. They turned a corner that circled to the back of the apartment complex. She didn’t know where they were going, but she had to get away from that pimply-faced teenager with the stringy brown hair and the vacant eyes.
“Did you find her?” Caryn Roark asked into the slim, silver phone at her ear.
“Yes and no,” came the shaky reply. “We found her and we tried to scare her.”
“That doesn’t sound promising,” Caryn replied into the phone, the rage inside her simmering in a calm facade of control. “What happened?”
“We followed her from the sheriff’s house, all the way into Kansas City. She went to an apartment downtown. We monitored the apartment and we were able to get into the electronics system. We sent your messages via e-mail, hoping she’d leave and we could nab her outside. But she didn’t leave. Until a few minutes ago.”
“Where is she now?”
“Uh, we don’t know. The bomb—”
“You set off a bomb? You idiot, you could have killed them both. I need them alive and shaken, not dead and completely stiff. How else will I find what I need?”
“We were only trying to scare her out of the building, but it went off and…Derrick made it too powerful…and the building blew up. She got away in all the confusion and now we’ve lost her.”
Caryn glanced around the stark white of her office. Everywhere she looked chrome and glass reflected her image back at her. Forcing a serene look back to her face—she didn’t need extra wrinkles over this bit of trouble—she said into the phone, “You’d better find Dana Barlow and that stupid brother of hers. Do you understand me? Bring them to me alive. No more shooting or bombs, or you will be sorry you ever failed me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Caryn hung up the phone, then placed her fingers together. Admiring the smooth creamy tone of her perfectly manicured fingernails, she sat down in the white leather chair behind her desk, then glanced at the clock. “Almost time for late prayers. I’d better calm myself down.”
After all, it wouldn’t do to upset the children unnecessarily. No, that wouldn’t do at all.
Dana looked over her shoulder, thinking they’d outsmarted the smirking youth who’d been caught in the sway of the crowd gathering to view the bombing sight. She didn’t see anyone behind them.
“Ahhh!”
Stephen’s scream and the tug of his body being pulled away from hers brought her head around.
Someone was holding her brother.
“Let him go,” she said to the dirty mass of a man standing in front of her. Winded and tired, she squinted at the huffing figure holding her squirming brother. “Tony?”
“It’s me, doll face.”
Dana threw herself into Tony’s arms, tears of relief streaming down her face as she reached around Stephen to hug Tony. “You’re all right. Thank goodness! How did you get out of there?”
“Can’t breathe,” Stephen said, his hands flapping between them.
Tony pushed Stephen back toward Dana, then bent over to take a deep, calming breath. He was covered in dirt and soot from his head to his feet. His left temple was cut and bleeding, his bifocals were bent, but all in all, he seemed to be okay.
“Well,” he began, breathing between words, “when I opened the box, I realized the bomb was too complicated for me—not your average-grade pipe bomb, more like an alarm-clock bomb. So I grabbed my cell phone and I hauled myself away. I took the back stairs, screaming and yelling to people as I went. I dialed 911, told them I had a bomb ticking in my apartment, then I got outta there.”
Dana sighed long and hard. “And just in time. Oh, Tony, if anything had happened to you…”
“Hey, I’m all right. My computers are gone, but don’t look so sad. I’ve got a back-up system at the main office downtown. And I’m fully insured. They haven’t won yet.”
“Why are they after us?” Stephen asked, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Why, Dana? Why?”
Dana gave her brother a worried look, then followed it with one to Tony. Too scared to stay out in the open, she pulled them both over to a cluster of trees that formed the beginnings of a huge park. A sign a few feet away announced the fenced area as the Wyandotte County Lake And Park Grounds. “We don’t know why they’re after us,” she tried to explain. “But I think our neighbor is trying to scare me. I made her mad, and apparently, she doesn’t forgive and forget.”
“But she runs a church,” Stephen said, thoroughly confused. “Church people are supposed to follow the ways of the Lord, and forgive everyone. Should forgive, Dana.”
“Not this particular church lady, sport. For some reason, she’s got it in for us.” She didn’t dare tell him that Caryn had threatened him.
Slumping down against an ancient oak tree, Stephen asked, “Dana, are we ever gonna get back home? Stephen wants to go home.”
Dana brushed his hair out of his face. “Sure we are, sport. Sure we are. But it might be a while, and I can’t promise we’ll have anything left to go back to. You just hang in there, okay.”
Stephen looked around. “This place is spooky. I want my baseball cards.”
Hoping to distract him, Dana pointed to his shoes. “Boy, you ran so fast in those Ruby Runners.”
Stephen stared down at his feet. “Ruby Runners. Yeah, I have Ruby Runners. I like them. They make pretty noise.”
Dana figured her brother was talking about how his new shoes squeaked. “That will stop once you get them broken in.”
Tony stood and took in their surroundings. “The park’s okay, but sometimes vagrants do hang out in there.” He lifted his chin toward a secluded spot behind a service building, then his eyes flashed wide. “Hey, I know someone who might be able to help us. He lives on the edge of the park.”
“Are you sure?” Dana asked, afraid to trust too many people. Or cause anyone else to get hurt.
“Yeah.” Tony nodded as he stretched and brushed at his clothes. “He’s a retired police officer who doesn’t always play by the book, if you get my drift. Leo will know what to do.” Then he stopped and gave Dana a sharp-angled look. “But I have to warn you, Leo is really weird. I met him when I went to fix a computer at a local church. He was attending an AA meeting there. Helped me move some tables so I could get to the plugs. We kinda clicked, but he’s out there, if you know what I mean.”
“Great,” Dana said, too tired and worried to argue. “That’s comforting.”
Tony took her by the hand. “But I trust him, Dana. He’s helped me out of a lot of tight spots.”
Dana decided that was good enough for her. Tony didn’t trust that easily.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, turning to grab Stephen by the hand.
“C’mon, there’s a hole in the fence over there where I climb through to go jogging sometimes. We’ll cut through and be inside the park. We’ll be safe there, at least. We can call Leo from my cell phone.”
“No,” Dana said. “What if they trace it?”
“Good point.” He put the phone back in his shirt pocket. “If they found you here, and planted a bomb in a pizza I ordered online, then it stands to reason they can find us anywhere.” Then he shrugged. “Leo’s house is just on the other side of the park.”
“Let’s head deeper into the park,” she said, taking Stephen by the arm. “At least out in the woods they can’t link us to any computers.”
They hurried along, following a trail that circled the lake. The woods were quiet, except for a few nocturnal animals here and there.
“Sure is dark,” Stephen whispered, his hand clutching Dana’s arm. “Don’t like dark, Dana.”
“Lots of shadows,” Tony added, sticking close to Stephen’s other side. “Nothing to worry about, sport.”
“Hope they didn’t see us come in here,” Dana whispered back.
“Are there any bears in here?” Stephen wanted to know.
“Nah, but we might run into a deer or a fox. Maybe a really mean squirrel or two.”
“Hush,” Dana said, smiling for the first time in a long time. Then she thought about the bomb again. “That was definitely a strong message back there. I hope no one was hurt or killed because of that bomb.”
“Well, we can’t get information out here,” Tony said, his tone mourning the loss of his lifestyle. “They destroyed my computers!”
Tony guided them through the vast park until they reached the other side of the perimeter. “There,” he said, motioning toward a street beyond the fence. “I know another place where we can climb through the fence.”
They headed up a hill where a clump of trees formed black shadows on either side. The scent of decayed leaves assaulted Dana as she tried to catch her breath. Giant sycamore trees stood sentinel, their pale gray bark looking ghost-white in the muted moonlight. The night was so still, Dana could hear their breathing growing more rapid, could hear the patter of their shoes on the worn, cushioned path. It was if they were alone in the center of the world.
“Through here,” Tony said, guiding them behind a clump of hedges that covered a torn part of the fence.
Soon they were in a small yard that backed up to the park. Dana squinted toward the square, squatty house in front of them.
“Let’s just see if Leo’s home,” Tony said. But he didn’t sound very confident.
They were halfway up on the back porch when a huge figure jumped out in their path, growling and snarling at them like a madman. They all three screamed in unison, then clung to each other, Dana holding tight to Stephen while Tony held tight to her.
Dana took in the sight before her, thinking this had to be some kind of macabre dream and that surely she’d wake up in her bed, in her little farmhouse, all safe and sound.
The man was huge. The moon acted as a spotlight as he bent forward. His shirt gaped open to reveal a tattooed chest. That massive chest was heaving up and down as he stared at them, his eyes holding them penned with an unnerving glare. His hair was a mixture of gray and black, and hung around his face in flowing straight locks. He wore twin white feathers on either side of his parted hair. They hung down around his ears, making him look like a giant winged bird. A pair of army fatigues covered his legs, and heavy hiking boots encased his feet. Each time he inched toward them the silver bangles on his massive arms jingled a warning.
For a full minute, the man stared at them and they stared back. In her mind, Dana kept thinking they should run, but her feet wouldn’t obey the shouting command.
Finally Stephen spoke. “An Indian. We found an Indian.”
The man stepped forward again, and they all retreated another inch. “You’re trespassing,” he growled.
“Leo, it’s me, man,” Tony said, his voice shaky at best. “It’s Tony. We were in that building back there—the one that blew up. Someone planted a bomb in my apartment—actually, in my pizza.”
“This is Leo?” Dana whispered, her arms protecting Stephen as he stared up at the imposing man in front of them.
“Yep,” Tony said, indicating the little frame house behind the man. “He lives right here. But he likes to roam the park at night sometimes.”
“Uh-huh,” Dana replied. “And he’s supposed to help us?”
The man stared at them, then snarled. “Get out of here, Tony.”
“Okay.” Tony tugged at Dana’s arm. “Let’s go.”
“But what about—”
“He might be having a flashback,” Tony said under his breath. “We don’t even want to be here for that, trust me.”
“Then let’s go,” Dana said, frightened all over again.
They were just about to do that when more sirens blasted through the night, startling all of them. Dana, Tony and Stephen took that as their cue, and started to make tracks back toward the woods.
Dana ran right smack into the strange man. He’d also heard the sirens, and now he was trying to block their way. He grabbed Dana to keep them both from toppling over.
“Let me go!” Dana shouted, her eyes widening as she stared up at the man. Even in the darkness, she could see the fear in his eyes. “Please, let me go,” she said again, hoping this weirdo wouldn’t harm them.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, his eyes brightening like a shard of crystal. “Hear them? They’re looking for me.”
Tony stepped forward. “Yeah, and they’re coming to take you away. Let her go, man.”
The man looked at Tony as if he’d just noticed he even existed. “They won’t get me if they can’t find me.”
Tony seized that notion. “Yeah, well, if you don’t let us go, they will find us, Leo. And they’ll find you, too. And it doesn’t look like any of us want to be found just yet. We came to you for help, man. Can you understand that at least?”
The man jerked his head around. “You hiding out?”
Dana didn’t dare make a quick move. She’d heard about people like this man. People who lived in their own little worlds; people who went berserk and killed everyone in sight. People who lived in the park, in the dark, people who lived on the fringes of reality. From the way he was dressed, and the way he acted, she’d say this man was on the verge of some sort of rampage, and she didn’t want to stick around to find out what it was.
“We’re trying to get away,” she said in a calm voice, her body protecting Stephen behind her. “So we do need to keep moving.” Inching closer, she added in a whisper, “And you’re frightening my little brother. Mister, we’ve had one really bad week, and you’re not helping matters.”
The man waited for the sirens to die down, then he released her to step back. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I used to be a cop, and when I hear that sound, well, it reminds me of things I don’t want to think about.”
Stephen’s eyes lit up. “A cop? Wow! Policemen are our friends.” He shook his head back and forth. “Got to get away from bad people. Bad people are after us. Policemen are our friends.”
Dana grabbed her brother by the collar. “Hush, Stevie. Let’s just get going now.”
Leo lifted his head. “What kind of bad people?”
Tony sighed, then wiped a hand across his dirty brow. “Look, Leo, we don’t want any trouble. We have to keep moving. This woman and her brother are being harassed by some strange cult—the Universal Unity Church—and we need to get out of here.”
“Caryn Roark, the woman who speaks with a false face,” the man said, nodding his head in slow motion. “I’ve heard stories about her.”
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Lenora Worth
Orphaned and determined to make a life for herself and her vulnerable brother on the Kansas prairie, rancher Dana Barlow couldn't hide from the threats against her. Her enigmatic neighbor Caryn Roark led a powerful cult and would go to any lengths to get Dana's land.What could Dana do to safeguard herself and everything she loved? Mysterious Irish businessman "Bren" offered her a wealth of possibilities, protection and love. Was he the best of Good Samaritans…or a foe with dangerous secrets?
CRITICAL PRAISE FOR LENORA WORTH:
“Suitable for CBA readers, this title is also a good pick for romance collections and those who enjoyed Kristen Heitzmann’s Halos or Hannah Alexander’s Hideaway.”
—Library Journal on After the Storm
“Worth takes readers on a thrilling ride….”
—Romantic Times on After the Storm
“…an inspirational romance and mystery thriller rolled into one… For a sweet, heartwarming story that is full of suspense, I recommend After the Storm.”
—Romance Reviews Today on After the Storm
“Talented new writer Lenora Worth combines heart-stealing characters and a tragic secret to make this page turner worth every reader’s while.”
—Romantic Times on The Wedding Quilt
“Ms. Worth puts a most unique spin on the secret baby theme to make this wonderul love story positively shine.”
—Romantic Times on Logan’s Child
“Lenora Worth creates another gem—a great, easy, entertaining read for everyone, inspirational or not.”
—Romantic Times on His Brother’s Wife
Echoes of Danger
Lenora Worth
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The end of the matter; all has been heard.
Fear God, and keep His commandments;
for this is the whole duty of man. For God
will bring every deed into judgment, with every
secret thing, whether good or evil.
—Ecclesiastes 12:13–14
To my friend Jean Duncan.
You’re not in Kansas anymore and you left Louisiana
for Texas. Jean, I miss you and wish you well.
And to Tom Palczynski—
a great teacher and a good friend.
Contents
Chapter One (#ua94f95d3-e2e0-544a-91fc-0927dfad6f05)
Chapter Two (#u8d233fef-548c-564a-a725-f431d5747266)
Chapter Three (#u44e59148-9a3a-541f-993d-8bb54dc8fae5)
Chapter Four (#ucb405a3a-92eb-531b-bcaf-14e98cd42025)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“He’s dead, Dana. Murdered. He’s murdered!”
Dana Barlow looked at her twelve-year-old brother Stephen’s tear-streaked face and wondered how life could be so cruel. She’d always been honest with Stephen, while trying to make allowances for his physical problems. She’d have to be honest with him now.
“I know, Stevie,” she said, looking down at the bloody carcass of one of their two prize Brangus breeding bulls. Thinking of all the money wasted, of all the time spent in caring for this eleven-hundred-pound animal, she wanted to sit down and cry like a baby. But she couldn’t do that. Stevie was watching her; she was the only family he had and she had to stay sane for his sake.
Why, God? she asked silently.
“Who’d go and do a thing like that, anyway?” Stephen said in a voice edged with pain and anger. “Don’t nobody around here act like that, Dana. Everybody knows Otto was my favorite. He won the Grand Championship! Otto was Stephen’s favorite!”
Dana watched as her brother rocked back and forth, holding his hands to his stomach, repeating that same phrase over and over, his mind recoiling into its own little world. A world of autism.
Dana looked around the stark, flat Kansas prairie, her eyes scanning the rippling waves of bluestem for any signs of intruders, but the wind, dancing and prancing with unabashed boldness, was the only thing moving through the tallgrass. Stephen, highly intelligent and highly perceptive, was right. Prairie Heart, Kansas, was about as mid-America as you could get and none of the five hundred or so residents would be so mean-spirited and uncaring as to deliberately kill a prize bull, especially when the whole town knew how important the animal was to Dana and Stephen’s livelihood. Who would commit such a crime?
Dana’s green eyes shifted to the west, where thunderclouds darkened the sky with an ominous intensity, to the distant steeple of the Universal Unity Church. The religious complex bordered her hundred acres of land on two sides. And the church’s leader, a woman named Caryn Roark, had been badgering Dana for months. Caryn wanted Dana’s land.
Only, she wasn’t going to get it.
Could this be Caryn’s way of trying to nudge Dana into selling? Why would the woman resort to such a thing? When the church had taken up residence a few years back in an old farmhouse on the neighboring Selzer place, Dana hadn’t paid much attention to the comings and goings. She was a Christian, and a firm believer in the live and let live theory. As long as the strange cult members left her alone, she’d do the same by them. But lately, Caryn’s followers had been harassing several of the local farmers. And now, many of the small struggling landowners living around Prairie Heart had given in to Caryn’s tempting offers to buy their land.
“We’re the only ones left,” she said out loud, her words flying on the rising wind.
Stephen looked away from Otto’s bloated, bullet-ridden body. “You’ll find them, won’t you, Dana? Dana will find the bad guys.” He rose, sniffing back tears, smearing his dusty face in the process. Jerking his green-and-white Kansas Co-op cap down over his green eyes, he stalked to his sister. “You already know who done this, don’t you?”
Dana kicked at the tallgrass at her feet, scaring a concealed walking stick out of his hiding place. Stephen automatically tried to catch the spindly bug, but the creature sauntered away, so he turned back to his sister.
“Tell me, Dana.”
Dana sighed long and hard. The school counselor and his former teachers at Prairie Heart School, where Stephen had attended before she started homeschooling him, might think Stephen was a slow learner, but sometimes Dana thought the boy was smarter than any of them. His autism was mild, a form of what the doctors termed Asperger’s syndrome. In spite of his odd social behavior and awkward motor skills, he had a way of seeing through the clutter right to the truth, and he was very clever at picking up signs or figuring out puzzles. Since the night three years ago when their parents had been killed in a car accident along the long stretch of state Highway 56 that had once been the Santa Fe Trail, Dana had never lied to him.
But she didn’t have any easy answers for something this awful.
“No, Stevie, I don’t know who did it. But I’m sure going to find out. I’m going into town to talk to the sheriff, then I’ll send Doc Jeffers around to take Otto away.”
Stephen glanced down at the big, dark-skinned animal. “I’ll sure miss you, old fella.”
Trying to find any excuse to take the boy’s mind off his loss, Dana tossed back her chin-length reddish-brown curls and playfully snatched her brother by one ear. “Hey, remember why I was headed to town in the first place?”
Stephen smiled then, his green eyes matching a lone cottonwood tree’s rustling leaves. “Yeah, sure. You gonna buy my new Ruby Runners, right? I get to stay with Mrs. Bailey.”
“That’s right,” she said, leading him to the old Chevy truck that had belonged to their daddy. “They’re on order and should be here today, and thanks to that pig you sold at the spring fair, we’ve got the money now.”
Stephen gave her a lopsided high five. “Yeah, and I’ll run twice as fast, I bet, huh, Dana? I’ll be ready for that track meet over in Kansas City, won’t I, Dana?”
As usual, Stephen’s mind wandered from current pain to future pleasure, so for a brief time, he forgot that big Otto had been brutally murdered. Dana hadn’t forgotten, though. She planned to make a stop on the way to town. It was high time she paid the devout folks at Universal Unity Church a little neighborly visit.
An hour later, Dana waited in the whitewashed reception room of the newly built offices of the Universal Unity Complex, which now consisted of a magnificent glass-and-stone chapel, a long white row of three-storied dormitories and Caryn Roark’s own private quarters—a modern, stark white mansion setting where old Hiram Selzer’s 1885 farmhouse had stood for over a hundred years. The farmhouse was long gone, old Hiram was long dead, and this rambling complex seemed out of place in rural Kansas.
Eyeing her surroundings with distaste, Dana shifted in the white leather chair where a young girl in a flowing blue dress had guided her. Everything in this place was a stark, crisp white. White-on-white carpets and tiled floors, white drapery and heavy silken sheers, white leather and wood furniture. Even the flowers were white—azaleas and gardenias growing in stone pots, petunias and roses cascading out of huge planters—except for one lone, stark amaryllis sitting on the table near Dana’s chair. That heavily blooming flower was white with threads of red and pink stripes shooting out over its lush blossoms. The lily looked strangely out of place.
Dana felt out of place herself in her T-shirt, faded jeans and heavy work boots. But, hey, why should she feel disoriented? This was her home, not theirs. She’d been born and raised here—born in the house she now lived in, and raised by two wonderful, loving people who had met their Heavenly Maker on a rain-slick road in the middle of a cold, dark night. No, she didn’t have any reason to feel out of place, but she had a whole lot of reason to feel cheated and fighting mad.
When she looked up to see Caryn Roark approaching her down a sweep of wrought-iron spiral stairs, she wondered if she’d somehow stepped into the twilight zone. The woman was downright spooky.
Caryn had platinum-blond hair that was coiled up on top of her head and threaded with brilliant golden braids of rope. She wore all white—of course—a flowing sweater-type material that looked comfortable but would probably be hot if she decided to venture out of the cool confines of her air-conditioned palace. Overall, Dana supposed Caryn was an attractive woman, until you looked into her eyes. They were a clear, cold blue, and coupled with the woman’s long, beaked nose, presented a chilling countenance.
Evil. Dana didn’t know why the word popped into her head, but it did. And it stayed with her the whole time Caryn glided toward her to extend a bejeweled hand complete with silvery painted fingernails.
“Hello, Dana Barlow. So good of you to come by. Now, what can I help you with today? Are you interested in attending some of our enlightening services here at Unity?” Caryn stood back, her hand trailing over the amaryllis while she waited, her gaze expectant.
Dana knew instantly that this was no ordinary church, not at all like the small wooden church she’d attended all her life on the outskirts of Prairie Heart. She got the feeling Sunday school here would take on a whole new meaning.
Clearing her throat, Dana got right to the point. “No, Ms. Roark—”
“Caryn, please.”
“Caryn, I’m not here to attend services, but thanks for asking. I came because I’m concerned about something I found on my land today.”
Caryn settled herself on a thronelike chair by a ten-foot window, her face serene, her eyes keen, her slightly foreign accent held in check. “Oh, and what might that be?”
“A dead Brangus breeding bull.”
Caryn looked appalled. “Oh, how dreadful. We’re all vegetarians here, so I do not tolerate hurting God’s creatures.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “What does this horrible crime have to do with me, my dear?”
Dana leaned forward in the squeaky leather chair. “I believe it has everything to do with you. I think someone from your complex deliberately shot my animal.”
Caryn’s eyes lifted slightly, the only sign that Dana’s direct accusations had affected her. “Tell me who did this, and I will take swift action!”
Dana gave her a skeptical look, wondering if she practiced that stilted, phony voice in front of the mirror each day. “Will you really? Or did you order this slaughter?”
The other woman didn’t move a muscle, but she looked as dangerous as the rolling clouds floating by on the horizon. “Why would I order such a thing?”
Dana tapped the fingers of one hand on the arm of her chair. “Oh, maybe to convince me that I need to sell my land to you after all?”
Caryn rose to stand behind her chair, so she could look down on Dana. “You really should attend one of our services. You seem to be holding a lot of anger inside, young lady.”
Dana rose, too. “I’m angry. That’s a fact. But I’m not one to hold anything inside. And I’m warning you, if I find one more dead head of cattle on my land, I’ll have Sheriff Radford investigate this whole place.”
With that she turned to leave, but Caryn’s shout halted her.
“Miss Barlow, you’ve just made a grave error in misjudging me.”
Dana turned in time to see the look of pure malice shaping the woman’s flawless complexion. “Are you threatening me?”
“I am the law here,” the woman said in a rasping voice. “How dare you talk to me that way!”
“I’m not one of your groupies!” Dana shouted back, her own anger and frustration matching that of the other woman. “You don’t fool me, and you’ll never get my land.”
Caryn’s cackle echoed over the distant sound of thunder. “Oh, yes, I will. You’ll see. Soon, you and that retarded brother of yours will be out on the side of the road.”
Dana could take anything anyone dished out, but nobody picked on her brother. Stepping back into the polished foyer, she glared across the marble floor at Caryn. “You stay away from Stephen. He’s just a boy. He’s never done anything to you or any of your people.”
Caryn’s smile was triumphant. Dana guessed she’d been looking for a weak spot. The woman’s next words proved it.
“If you care about your special little brother, you’ll be careful. I don’t take to false accusations.”
Dana pointed a finger at the stone-faced woman. “And I don’t take to people destroying what’s mine. If I see any of your people on my property, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.” And forgive me, Lord, for even suggesting that.
With that, she turned and slammed the glass door, rattling the thick panes against their heavy brass hinges.
A storm was brewing. Dana knew enough about Kansas weather to realize it was going to be an ugly one. She could hear the echo of distant thunder miles away, carrying through the lifting wind. She was a mile from town, though, and if she hurried, she could get those Ruby Runners she’d promised Stephen, and maybe have a quick word with the sheriff.
Actually, storm or not, she wasn’t ready to head back to the farm yet. Finding Otto dead, and then the confrontation with that horrible woman, had left her too keyed up to face the mounting problems her little bit of land was causing her. If she didn’t do something quick, they’d lose everything and then Caryn would come in and take Dana’s property. Dana couldn’t let that happen. She’d fought too hard since her parents’ deaths to give up now. And she didn’t like being bullied.
At first she’d thought about selling and moving to Kansas City. She’d majored in business administration at Kansas State, so she had the credentials to find a decent job in the big city, and her sweetheart from high school, Tony Martin, was already there and earning a good living as a computer analyst. They’d been engaged and had big plans to marry and move to Kansas City, until Dana’s parents had died. Tony hadn’t wanted the burden of raising a hyper preteen with learning problems and the mannerisms of a kindergartner.
Now Stephen depended on her, and he loved the farm. She hadn’t wanted to uproot him, so based on some advice from the local bank president, and after consulting with Stephen’s doctors, she’d made a decision to keep the farm. And had instantly gone into debt by borrowing money to raise enough cattle to get a small herd going. She had fifty head of prime Brangus heifers, steers, calves and two bulls—make that one bull now.
Still in shock, she couldn’t believe Otto was gone. She didn’t need this right now, not when things were just starting to turn around. Pulling the old rickety Chevy into the parking place by the general store, Dana glanced at the erratic sky, then rushed inside out of the wind. She’d get the shoes, then go talk to the sheriff.
Not that that would do much good. Sheriff Radford was getting old and he just didn’t care much about random crimes against animals. People didn’t fare much better, but then nothing much more exciting than a rowdy cowboy at the pool hall around the corner ever stirred the mundane daily life of this prairie town. But still, a dead prize-breeding bull wasn’t exactly something to turn the other cheek about.
“Honey, you look like you got the weight of the world on your pretty shoulders,” Emma Prager said from behind the counter and her ample bosom. “What’s eating my little Dana?”
“Just about everything,” Dana said, afraid if she laid her burdens at kind Emma’s matronly feet, she’d burst into tears. “I lost Otto today, Emma. Somebody shot him.”
“Goodness-a-mercy!” Emma exclaimed, bringing up the head of the one other paying customer in the cluttered store, and catching the attention of the regulars at the dominoes table in the small café at the back. “What an awful thing to happen, and you trying to hang on to that place with every ounce of gumption you got.” Heaving a heavy breath, she came around the counter. “I do declare, what’s the world coming to! Did you tell old Radford yet?”
“I’m headed over there now,” Dana said, spotting the blazing red Ruby Runner emblem on a nearby shoebox. Emma had promised to hold the athletic shoes for her. “I came by to get our Ruby Runners—I thought maybe it’d cheer Stephen up, since I promised him I’d get them today.”
“Got ’em right here,” Emma said, turning her bulk to get the pair of shoes she’d saved for Dana. “One size fourteen youth. That child is steady growing, I tell you!”
Emma’s straight, scrawny husband, Frederick, came plowing through the curtained door leading to their living quarters in the back of the cluttered store, the German still in his accent coming out strongly. “Get you home, little girl. Tornado’s a-coming. Spotted it due west about ten miles from here.”
“She don’t have time,” Emma said, dropping the package she was about to hand Dana. “We gotta get in the cellar!”
Everyone started running toward the back of the old store. Confused, Dana searched for her package on the counter at about the same time the other shopper, a young man in grubby jeans and a blue T-shirt, grabbed a similar package and fled out into the storm before Emma could herd him around. The two old-timers who’d been heavy into their dominoes game sprinted for Frederick’s storm cellar.
Dana looked around, then grabbed the only package left on the counter. But Dana didn’t follow Emma and Frederick. “Stephen!” she said, her voice rising. “He’s at home with Mrs. Bailey. I have to get back!”
“He knows what to do,” Frederick shouted over the roar of the approaching storm. “You come in the cellar with us.”
“I can’t,” Dana replied, hoping, praying that Stephen and the frail neighbor woman would be able to get in the cellar and lie down under the blankets they kept down there for just such emergencies.
There was no time for anything else but prayer. The twister was sending its calling card, sucking the old general store into a vortex of rumbling fury. Dana ran to her truck, willing the ancient contraption to crank. The sound of glass shattering and trees snapping left little doubt that this storm was doing some serious damage, but she didn’t heed the storm’s wrath. She planned to outrun it.
And she almost did. But it seemed as if the storm wanted her and her alone. She watched in her rearview mirror as the twister followed her out of town, hurling and hissing like a giant snake as it chased her down the county road.
“Dear God, help me,” she prayed out loud, her heart beating so hard she knew she’d surely die of a heart attack if the storm didn’t kill her first. She knew she should stop the truck and dive for the nearest ditch, but she had to get back to Stephen. Mrs. Bailey was great in helping to homeschool the boy, but the aging senior citizen was a nervous wreck in any little storm. She’d go into a tizzy and be useless, especially with a storm as powerful as this twister headed right toward the farm.
Dana rounded the dirt drive to the farmhouse, her foot pushing the gas pedal beyond its endurance, the truck’s sturdy tires squealing their displeasure at being forced to turn so quickly.
She didn’t make the turn. The truck careened out of control and did a fishhook, spewing mud and rocks toward the tornado like a runt fighting off a bully. Dana screamed and tried to hold on to the swirling steering wheel, but without power-steering the truck got the best of her. The last thing she remembered was the door flying open, then her whole world went black.
She was dreaming, of course. That had to be it. She felt strong arms pulling her down, down into the wet bluestems; she heard a soothing male voice close to her ear, telling her to hold on, hold on. Then a powerful body covered hers, warming her, comforting her, protecting her as the storm swirled around her. Dana kept her eyes tightly shut, afraid to open them and find out if this was really happening.
The storm hit. She could feel the wind sucking at her skin, could feel the debris cutting against her hair and her exposed hands and arms, could taste the dust and rain and power, but somehow she knew she was safe. That strange, lilting voice, that warm, clinging body—who was he and why was he holding her so close she could hear the echo of his heartbeat over the dangerous rush of the storm?
It was all over in a matter of minutes. Nothing seemed real. It was as if Dana was dreaming a bad dream where she’d woken abruptly only to find that she hadn’t been dreaming at all.
She was alive and this was very real. That much Dana knew as she groggily tried to open her eyes. Her head hurt with all the roaring of a tractor-pull. But over the roaring of pain, she heard another more ominous noise. Silence.
Seconds passed, as she listened to the quiet that was even more deadly than the storm’s rumbling rage. Dana didn’t like silence.
“Stephen?” she called, trying to pry herself out of the stranger’s iron grip. “Stephen, where are you?”
She looked up at the brooding, foaming dark sky. This storm wasn’t finished yet. “Stephen?” she called again, trying to raise herself up. A bump on the side of her head throbbed in protest, but she tried again until she realized that the grip on her arms was caused by a set of strong hands holding her down. A man’s hands.
She was flat on the ground, with a big man holding her there. Then Dana remembered how the man had thrown himself on top of her to shield her from the tornado.
“Stephen?” she asked again, hoping the man would tell her something about her brother.
The man lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes. The first thing Dana noticed was that his eyes were as blue-black and cloudy as the storm’s lingering coattails. The second thing she noticed was that he wore all black, from his button-down shirt to his Levi’s and boots. His long dark hair was pulled away from his face in a ponytail, but the wind coming through the open field where they lay was doing its best to unleash his thick mane.
“Who…who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Where’s my brother? Where’s Stephen?”
The big man looked down at Dana. “It’s all right, lass. You’re safe.”
He had a lilting accent that immediately flowed like a fine melody over Dana’s shot nerve endings. Scottish? Irish, maybe? What in the world was he doing holding her down in the middle of a field in Prairie Heart, Kansas?
“Who are you?” she asked again, thinking of looters and dangerous criminals and the fully loaded .38 she had in the glove compartment of her truck.
He shifted closer, giving her a black stare that left her both breathless and wondering. With one hand he touched the tender, bruised spot just over her right temple. “You’ve bumped your head. How does it feel?”
Dana swallowed back the knot of fear forming in her throat. “It’s aching, but I can handle it.” The knot came back, causing her next words to sound raw and husky. “My brother—he’s only twelve and, well, he’s a very special boy.” She inclined her head toward the farmhouse. “He’s all alone with my neighbor. She’s eighty and afraid of storms. I have to get to him.”
The stranger’s inky eyes softened as a look of concern tightened his face. “We’ll go find him.” At the apparent worry on her face, he added, “You have nothing to fear from me. I was pulled over on the road, watching the storm. I saw you wreck your truck. You were thrown out, and by the time I got to you the storm hit.”
So he’d thrown himself over her to protect her. She hadn’t been dreaming, after all. And he was still holding her, his big, powerful body still warming hers, from her hurting head down to her shaking toes. Needing to distance herself from the memory of her strange dream, she tried to wiggle away. “I’ve got to find my brother.”
The man rolled to sit up, then helped her to her feet, holding her against the remnants of the wind. “I’ll go with you.”
Shocked, Dana stepped back. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really. I just need to find my brother.”
The man looked around at the flat countryside, then back to Dana. “We’re wasting time. I’ll not let you go up to the house alone. You might not like what you find.”
Never in her life had anyone said that to Dana. He didn’t want her to go there alone. He wanted to be there with her if she found the worst. Well, she’d been through the worst. And in spite of the whole town’s support and warm, loving concern, she’d always had to face the nightmares when she was alone at night in her bed…wishing…wishing.
She looked up at the intriguing man standing before her and told herself to run, run as fast as she could. He could be a serial killer; he could be a bank robber on the run; he could be a million horrible things. But she knew instinctively that he wasn’t. She didn’t know how she knew. She just knew.
Dana said a silent prayer. Lord, I haven’t talked to You for a very long time, and You know the reasons. But I’m asking You now to protect my brother. And while You’re at it, could You give me a hint as to why this handsome, mysterious stranger is reaching out to help me?
When she turned to see the house, or what was left of the house, she understood why this man had offered to stay with her. Her home, the only home she’d ever known, was in shambles. Half the roof was gone, exposing her own bedroom to the wind and the rain. Shingles lay across the expanse of the field, and twisted ribbons of tin hung from jagged, split tree limbs all around the house. She saw her pink nightgown flying in the wind, unfurling itself like a pretty spring flag from the tip of what was left of a giant cottonwood tree.
Swallowing, she turned back to the stranger, thankful for the hand he offered her. “I’d appreciate it if you would go with me to the house, mister.”
“Call me Bren,” he said as he gently guided her up the dirt lane toward the broken house. Giving her an encouraging smile, he said, “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said, unsettled by someone else taking charge for a change. Then, “I could have faced it by myself, you know.”
“I do know,” he said, his smile making his harsh features turn handsome. “It’s no bother.” Looking toward the sky, he added, “Looks like more’s coming.”
Dana nodded, casting him a quick look. “Yep, these storms like to play tag with us sometimes.”
“My first tornado,” he admitted, his blue-black eyes scanning the horizon. “But at least I got to spend it with a beautiful woman.”
Dana looked down at her muddy boots, embarrassed by the flirtatious compliment. “Thanks for what you did.”
He gave her another direct, black stare. “You’re quite welcome.”
The small talk was almost surreal, set against the ghastly scene before them, but the meaningless chatter kept Dana on an even keel. She couldn’t take the silence.
When she did grow quiet, the man spoke softly to her. “Your brother…I wager he’s going to be just fine.”
As they approached the house, she said a little half prayer, half plea. “Oh, Lord, make it so.”
Bren, still holding her hand, helped her around to the back of the house, guiding her through the rubble that minutes before had been her home. A few feet from the white, wooden-framed house, a framed picture of her parents lay shattered and torn in the mud. Dana reached down to pick it up, a small sob catching in her throat.
The man named Bren gently took the damaged picture from her hand. “Careful, you’ll cut yourself on the glass.”
Dana wanted to laugh. If only he knew. Her cuts went much deeper than any made by a shard of glass. Nodding, she stepped over the pile of kindling that had been their breakfast table, then made her way to the closed cellar door.
“Stephen?” she shouted, afraid of what she’d hear in answer. Afraid of the silence. “Stephen Joshua Barlow, are you in there?”
Pulling away torn shingles and little bits of splintered wood, she banged on the weathered trapdoor. “Stephen Joshua Barlow, are you in there?
“Stephen, you answer me,” she called again, her voice cracking in spite of the tight rein she was trying to hold on her fear, on her pain, on her rage. Finally, falling down on her knees, she whispered, “Stephen, please, please.”
In the next instance, the door banged back on its hinges and Stephen pushed his bushy golden head up into the wind. Grinning, he didn’t even look at her as he said, “Hey, sis, where’s my Ruby Runners?”
The man standing there let out a slight gasp of surprise. Probably as glad as Dana to find Stephen alive and in one piece.
Dana grabbed Stephen in a suffocating hug, not caring that his condition sometimes made him shy away from being touched. “Oh, you’re all right! You’re okay. Is Mrs. Bailey down there with you?”
“Sure she is. I brought her here,” Stephen said, obviously surprised that she doubted him. “Stephen knows the rules. Tornado comes, get to the cellar. Tornado comes, get to the cellar.” Looking with a matter-of-fact shake of the head over to the stranger’s feet, he said, “She was so scared. She was so scared. I got kinda of scared, but I remembered everything you told me, yeah, I remembered everything.” His green eyes shone with a light of hope. “I remembered that you said Mom and Dad were always watching over us, from Heaven. Remember, you said even through a storm, they could see us. I should always look past the storm, for them.” He bobbed his head, still looking down. “Look for Mama and Daddy.”
Dana cried against his tousled hair. “I remember, Stevie.”
While Dana held Stephen, tiny Mrs. Bailey emerged up the steps, her watery eyes wide with fear, her stiff gray hair standing on end around her round face. “Land sakes, that near scared me to an early grave.”
Dana opened her arms to encircle the shaken woman. “Thank you, Mrs. Bailey. Thank you so much.”
Bren stood aside, watching the emotional reunion. Dana watched him over Stephen’s head. He looked as if he felt uncomfortable. She supposed this was unexpected for him, being here so far from his home, wherever his home was, being in on this family scene, in the middle of so much destruction.
But then Dana watched as his gaze shifted to the west, to the silvery white spire of the Universal Unity Church, which stood gleaming and intact against the backdrop of a purplish-gray sky.
Dana looked up at him, about to thank him again for helping her, but she was startled by the look in his eyes. It was a heavy blend of hatred mixed with pain. And something else. A determination that bordered on vengeance. Following his gaze, she saw the church complex off in the distance. Had Bren whoever-he-was come to visit the Unity Church?
Dana stared at him, trying to read his strange, still features. Then she looked back at the complex. And up on the top turret of the church, near the tall steeple, she thought she saw a platinum-haired woman standing there with the wings of her white robe flapping in the wind.
Chapter Two
“Looks like the Universal Unity Church survived,” Dana said, squinting toward the beautiful, untouched mansion. Before she could get a better look, the lone figure standing on the tower whirled and vanished into the dark recesses of the upstairs turret room.
Clutching Stephen close to stop his fidgeting, she looked back at the stranger, remembering he had the same accent as Caryn Roark—the woman who called herself the law. “Are you a member of that church?”
“No,” he said, the one word speaking more than a lengthy explanation ever could. He stared across the field, the granite-hard expression on his face making him resemble a piece of carved flintrock. Then he turned back to Dana. “I’m not quite sure where I belong.”
A shiver dripped down Dana’s spine, a slow, trickling warning that set her nerves and her intuition on edge. Giving him a long look, she wondered again who this man was. “Look, mister—”
“Bren,” he said, repeating his name to her, his eyes lifting away from the church to pin Dana to the spot. “Call me Bren.”
Dana nodded. “Okay, Bren. Call me Dana. Look, thanks for your help. We’re okay, so you don’t have to stay with us.”
Stephen pushed away from Dana’s smothering embrace. “We ain’t okay, either, Dana. We don’t have a house no more.” He stomped his feet and flapped his hands. “House gone. House gone. Room a mess. Room a mess.”
Dana knew Stephen would keep repeating these phrases to himself while he tried to absorb this sudden shift in his orderly, structured world. “It’ll be okay, Stevie. I promise.”
Stephen kept stomping his feet. “Room a mess, Dana.”
“I’d better go see about my own house,” Mrs. Bailey said, her little legs moving across the damp earth. She took Stephen by both arms, her words loud and precise. “Stephen, listen to your sister.” Then she turned to Dana. “I’ll call you if I need you, and you do the same.”
“Wait and we’ll go with you,” Dana called.
“No need. I’m sure my son is on his way.” The spry little woman was off down the lane. “Y’all can stay at my place if need be. You know you’re always welcome.”
Dana held a hand to her eyes and glanced toward the west. It looked as if Mrs. Bailey’s small white house was in one piece, at least. She’d go check on the Baileys later. And she might have to take her dear friend up on that offer.
“Dana, what are we gonna do?” Stephen asked, bringing Dana’s attention back to their immediate problems. His agitation did nothing to calm Dana’s own jangled nerves.
Bren’s features softened as he turned his attention toward Stephen. “He’s right. Where will you go?”
Pushing away the fringe of hysteria that promised to be more intense than the storm that had just passed through, Dana looked around, knowing that they couldn’t possibly stay here tonight or any other night for a long time to come. “I don’t know. We’ve got friends in town—Emma and Frederick can take us in for a while. Or maybe Mrs. Bailey. She has a spare room.” Thinking of how hyper Stephen could get in small places, she added, “But Emma and Frederick probably would have more space.”
Bren looked back toward the church, then back at Dana. “I’ll take you to Emma and Frederick, then.”
Dana hadn’t missed the hesitation in his eyes. Why did he keep looking at that spooky church? He reminded her of a black stallion old Mr. Selzer used to let her ride—wild and proud, and forbidden since her mother was terrified of the animal. Mr. Selzer had called the horse Black Blizzard, because he was always kicking up dust. Oh, she hadn’t thought of Blizzard in years. Mr. Selzer had been forced to sell the animal to try and save his property. Why, now, of all times, did she want to sit down and cry for an animal she’d almost forgotten?
She didn’t, couldn’t sit down, and she wasn’t about to go into hysterics—yet. “I—We need to get a few things. And I want to look the place over. I have cattle…I’ll need to check on things.”
Bren took her arm, gently guiding her around to face him. “I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”
She wanted to tell this intriguing man to let her alone, to leave her to wallow in a good dollop of self-pity. She wanted to scream to the heavens and ask, “why?” But Dana knew that she wouldn’t get any answers; she’d been that route before and she’d only heard silence, the killing silence of unanswered prayers and a faith that had been tested to the limit.
Oh, well, time enough to argue with God later. Right now, Stephen was looking everywhere but at her, but she knew he was waiting for her to decide what to do about this mess. She was just too shocked to think straight.
As if sensing her shock, Bren placed a hand on each of her slumping shoulders, then leaned his head down close to her face so she was forced to look him straight in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Shooting a desperate look toward her brother, she managed to whisper, “I can’t let him see how upset I am. He has Asperger’s syndrome—it’s a very mild form of autism. He doesn’t like any sudden changes. He’ll get even more upset and scared if I break down. He’s so brave, but it’s only because he emulates me. Don’t let me lose it, okay. Help me, please.”
She’d never begged for help before in her life, and the words let a bitter gall in her throat, but this day had gone from bad to worse and it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge. She certainly wasn’t in the habit of begging strangers for help, either. But this man had saved her from that storm and he was here now. The warmth of his hands on her shoulders steadied her, while his blue-black eyes guided her like a dark beacon. She clung to that guiding, dark light, deciding she’d just have to trust him. She didn’t have much choice at the moment.
Still holding her shoulders, Bren squeezed his hands against the shivering flesh underneath her damp T-shirt. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, his eyes still locked with hers. “We’ll take care of what we can here, then I’ll take you into town, to your friend’s house. If you get scared, just look at me. I won’t leave you until I’m sure you’re all right.”
Feeling silly for being so weak, Dana lifted his hands away from her arms. “I’m not scared! I’m just so mad!”
Whirling, she blinked away the insane need to fall into his arms and cry like a baby. She wouldn’t burden this stranger with her troubles, but she would take advantage of his generosity. For her brother’s sake.
Marching to where Stephen sat rocking and digging with precise movements through the remnants of what had once been his prize collection of baseball cards, she patted the boy on the head. “Up, up, Stevie. Let’s see what we can salvage before that second line of thunderstorms returns.”
Stephen hurled himself up, clutching a stack of soggy cards, his eyes brimming with tears. “Need to fix these, Dana. Need these straight. They’re all wet. I don’t like them wet. I want them dry.”
“Won’t hurt to let them dry,” Dana said, silently vowing to replace each and every one of them. Motioning to Bren, she called, “Hey, you ever herded scared cattle before?”
Bren gave her a wry smile. “I’ve herded sheep. Cattle can’t be much different, right? Just show me what to do.”
Two hours later, they stood surveying the damage once again. Tired, dirty and muddy, Dana had little hope that they could rebuild. They’d herded cattle in the pouring rain of a renegade thunderstorm, with lightning dancing to the west, just to tease them and remind them who was in charge here. Luckily, most of the cattle were now safe inside their paddocks near the lower field.
The storm had concentrated on the house and surrounding buildings. All the other livestock, some chickens and pigs and the two horses, seemed to be intact, as well, in spite of the nervous squawking and fearful grunting they’d encountered after checking what remained of the barn.
Bren had helped Dana move through the house, half of which was missing, to find enough dry clothes to last them a few days. The combination laundry room/porch on the eastern side of the house was intact, and that’s where Dana had found fresh clean jeans and T-shirts. Now Stephen was wet and complaining of being hungry, and Bren, silent and alert, was watching Dana for further instructions.
Then he did something that made her smile in spite of her problems. He turned to Stephen and said, “Did you find all of your baseball cards?”
“Not all of them,” Stephen said on a whining voice full of growing anger. “Need to find all of them.”
“I think I can help there. I know a man who has a Lou Gehrig in mint condition. Would you like to have it?”
Stephen clapped his hands. “Lou Gehrig—Henry Louis Gehrig—born June 19, 1903. The Iron Horse. First base for New York Yankees. Played 2,130 consecutive games. June 3, 1932, four home runs in one game. Baseball Hall of Fame—1939.” Stephen grinned, his eyes lighting up in a moment of clarity. “Can’t afford that card!”
“Well, just let me worry about that,” Bren said, his own voice soft with joy. Glancing at Dana, he said, “I’m impressed.”
“He has a way with remembering statistics,” she explained. “Especially baseball stats.”
“Then we have something in common,” Bren said, his own grin making him look younger and less sinister.
Surprised at how he’d calmed her brother with his elaborate promise, and how he’d silently followed her every command without question, Dana felt a firm bond with the rugged stranger. Or was he still a stranger? Maybe she should look on him as a friend, or an angel, a dark avenging angel who’d saved her from two storms, the one in the sky and the one raging in her overworked mind. Shrugging, she told herself to be practical. So the man had a few connections. No need to go staring off into fantasy land, thinking he’d come to rescue her from all her troubles.
Telling herself to stay clear, she glanced around one last time. “Well, that’s about all we can do until tomorrow. I’ll have to talk to the insurance adjuster, see where we stand. Of course the livestock will have to be taken care of—that can’t stop.”
Bren nodded. “You run this place all by yourself?”
Dana pushed back tufts of naturally curly hair. “I try.”
His gaze circled the land. “Looks like you’ve done a good job.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, until Mother Nature decided to rearrange things for me.”
His gaze touched on her face, then stayed to travel slowly down the rest of her. He took her hand. “You should get into some dry things and try to rest.”
“Sure,” she said, thinking she’d never be able to rest easy again, not after running from a twister and meeting up with an interesting stranger, all in one afternoon. Just the shock of all this, she supposed. “You don’t have to take us into town. We have the truck.” She saw the relief pour over his face and asked him, “What about you? Where are you headed?”
She felt his grip on her hand tense, saw his head swing back toward the Universal Unity Church before he looked down at her.
“To Wichita,” he said, his expression evasive. “I have business to tend to there.”
She let go of his hand, then immediately wished she hadn’t. It was a spot of warmth in this chilly, grim setting. “C’mon, Stevie,” she called, her heart breaking as he struggled with the few treasures he’d managed to save.
Together, they walked back up the lane to the pickup where Stephen deposited the photo album and baseball glove he’d found, along with some books and video game cartridges.
Dana, on the other hand, had saved very little from the house. They didn’t have anything of real value, and besides, what should she save from a pile of shattered dreams? The toaster, the working parts of a computer, the soggy white homemade prom dress she’d worn her senior year of high school, the only remaining place setting of her mother’s prized china she’d collected with S & H green stamps?
Did she take part of something to remind her of the home she’d sometimes loved, sometimes hated, or did she just throw away every broken piece and keep the bittersweet memories?
Again she felt Bren’s presence. Again she marveled at the man’s even being here. He’d saved her, no doubt. Each time she’d wanted to let go of the silent scream pitching through her mind, she’d looked to him. And he’d given her that solid, mysterious look, just as he’d promised. His eyes had calmed her, his unflinching resolve had guided her in such a way that she wondered if he ever got flustered or bent out of shape about anything. She wondered a lot of things about him, come to think of it. Like where he was from, where he was headed and why he was here to begin with. But he was about to be gone, out of her life. What would she do then?
Silly, she told herself, you’ll do what you’ve always done. You’ll survive.
“I’ll take you back to your van,” she said, indicating the sleek black vehicle still parked out on the highway.
Smiling, she hopped into the truck and waited as Bren helped Stephen stash his salvage before they both crawled inside the wide cab with her. “So,” she said after cranking the truck, “what do you do for a living?”
Bren must have seen the teasing light in her eyes as she nodded toward his van, but he didn’t smile. Instead he looked straight ahead at the gray ribbon of road. “I’m a businessman, and it’s a long and complicated story.”
And one he obviously didn’t want to talk about. “I’m not being nosy,” she said. “It’s just that you appeared out of nowhere, and well, you don’t say much, do you?”
He pushed a hand through his damp hair. “You’ve got enough on your mind, looks like to me. I won’t burden you with my sorry life.”
He was right there. She had more than enough to keep her thoughts falling on top of each other without listening to him. Yet she’d like to listen to him. His lilting, flowing dialect sounded like a sweet ballad to her ears. Pulling the truck up beside the long van, she noticed the dark-tinted windows and the gold-etched star-spangled trim work running along the sides of the sleek, mysterious vehicle. Then she saw the ancient Christian symbol of the fish centered on the windshield. That brought her a small measure of reassurance, but he certainly was a man of mystery. And now that he’d helped her settle things into some semblance of order, he seemed intent to be on his way.
She watched as he got out of the truck, wishing he didn’t have to hurry away.
Stephen called after him, “Hey, Mr. Bren? Thanks—I get that Lou Gehrig card, right? I get Lou Gehrig, for sure.”
Bren’s dark eyes fell across Stephen with a gentleness that reminded Dana of a calm midnight sky. “Don’t worry, Stephen. I know where to find you. You will get your card. You take care of yourself until we meet again.”
Stephen bobbed his head. “Me and Dana, we always take care of each other.”
Dana put the truck into neutral and hopped out to meet Bren as he rounded the front. Stopping, he tossed up a hand toward Stephen, then turned to gaze down at her.
“I’d like to thank you, too,” she said, not knowing what else to say with him looking at her as if he could read all of her thoughts. And right now, she had a lot of them running through her head.
She wanted him to tell her his sorry story, she wanted to know what kind of business he was involved in, she wanted to understand why he’d been so kind to her, and how he’d managed to make her feel safe in the middle of a raging storm. But she could only look up at him, and keep wondering.
Bren stared down at her, his dark eyes searching her face, seeming to memorize her features, which only made her more aware of him. She knew she was a mess, hair damp and probably frizzing to the high heavens, face more muddy than made-up, lips pale and wind roughened, but she didn’t stop him from looking. She studied him just as candidly. He, too, was wind tossed and dampened. She’d never seen a man with such rich, dark, too-long hair, and with eyes to match the finest black-blue velvet. He looked like some dark lord of the manor from another time.
Before she could look away, Bren reached for her and tugged her close, his fingers moving over the tender spot on her head. “If you need anything—”
“I’ll be all right,” she said into the soft cotton of his black shirt. “I’ll never forget what you did.”
He reached inside the pocket of his jeans and handed her a soggy card. “There’s a number where you can reach me—a private cell phone number. Call me if you need help. All I ask is that you don’t give that number to anyone else.” Then he let her go.
The warmth from his body left her, to be replaced with a cold, uncaring wind. She stood in the misty rain, watching as he got into the big, black van and drove away. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was watching her. Dana waited until his van was out of sight down the long straight road. Then she looked around over the torn and battered countryside, finally turning her face toward the heavens.
And off in the distance, a satin-sheened watercolored rainbow shot over the clouds, blinding her with its sparkling brilliance.
“You can stay as long as need be,” Emma said the next morning as she handed Stephen another chocolate-covered doughnut—his and Emma’s version of breakfast. Stephen champed down on the drippy confection, leaving a wide ring of chocolate around his mouth.
The Prager General Store had been spared. Except for a leaky roof where a few shingles dangled, and a strip or two of missing tin, the sturdy old building was still intact. And so it was the natural place for the townspeople to gather and talk about the storm that had swept over the area. Dana wasn’t the only victim, although from all the talk, her place had probably sustained the worst damage.
“She’s right, Dana,” Harvey Mize, one of the old-timers, said from his perch on a tall vinyl-covered barstool. “We’ll all do what needs to be done, to help you out.”
Dana looked around the cozy store. She should feel safe here, among these good people she’d known all her life. She was thankful and appreciative, but she also knew she’d have to do most of this on her own. “You’re all very kind,” she said, taking the cup of coffee Emma shoved in her hand. “I just don’t know. I don’t think we’ll be able to salvage the house. And I don’t have the money to build from scratch.” Thinking of how tired she was, she added, “Maybe I should sell the place.”
“What about insurance?” Frederick asked as he rocked back on the heels of his worn work shoes.
Dana looked down at the planked floor. “It’ll cover part of the damage, but I’ve already got a second mortgage on the house….”
The explanation was left hanging, just as the storm had left her hanging, in limbo, unsure and unprepared. Needing to be away from the pitiful looks and shifting eyes of the townspeople, she called to Stephen. “Finish your doughnut, brother. We need to go back out to check on the livestock.”
“Need a hand?” Harvey offered.
“No. I’ll call if I change my mind though,” Dana told him with a wave as she headed out the door. She’d gotten a cell phone a few months before, to keep her in touch with Stephen and Mrs. Bailey at all times. It would come in handy now, too, she reckoned.
A few minutes later, they turned the old truck in to the rocky lane leading to the shattered house. Dana saw the spot where she’d wrecked the day before, her hand automatically going to her bruised head. Thoughts of the man named Bren played through her weary mind, the memory of how he’d protected her in the storm warring with the uncertainty of her future. Stephen’s hushed words brought her mind back to the task at hand.
“It’s a mess, ain’t it, Dana? Don’t like a mess.”
She stopped the truck near the ripped, gaping remains of an ancient oak tree. In the brilliant, ironic sunlight, the damaged house looked forlorn and still, as broken as Dana’s spirit. Funny, for years before her parents’ death, she’d wanted so much to get away from this old house, to go out in the world, to find a place of her own. Right now she’d gladly give anything to have the old farmhouse back, for Stevie’s sake, if nothing else. The boy loved their home.
“Yep, it’s pretty much gone,” she said as she slammed the steering-wheel-mounted gears into park. So this is it? she asked God. This is my future? No plans for a husband and a family, no hope for a normal life like her parents had? Just a mundane existence, here in this sleepy town, waiting and wondering, hoping and praying that she could save this pitiful old farm? Was this how it was meant to be, she had to wonder.
“We still got each other,” Stephen said, his soft green eyes watching her face. “You got Stephen. Stephen’s got you. Each other, Dana.”
Seeing the solid fear in his eyes, Dana chided herself for being so bitter. Taking his hand in hers, she forced a smile. “Yeah, we sure do.” Then, looking down in the floor of the truck, she added, “And your prized Ruby Runners!” She’d forgotten all about those shoes.
Stephen’s face lit up. “Can I put ’em on?”
“They’ll get all muddy.”
“Oh, okay.” He hopped out of the truck. “But I am, when we get back to town. I am. I am.”
Relieved that he hadn’t thrown a tantrum, Dana followed. As they neared the house, she realized something was terribly wrong. Carefully making her way up onto the torn porch, she saw it immediately.
The side of the house that the storm hadn’t destroyed had been ransacked. It had been hit, but not by a storm.
“What in the world!” she shouted, her frantic words carrying out on the constant, moaning wind.
Startled, Stephen looked up at her. “What’s the matter?”
“We’ve been robbed,” she said, each word ground out between a held breath. “Somebody looted what little we had left.”
It was true. The kitchen drawers were torn out of their sockets. Silverware had been strewn all over the soggy wooden floor. Dishes were shattered, clothes strewn, closets left open and emptied, books tossed about. Nothing had been left untouched. But even more odd, nothing much had been taken.
Looking up at a fluffy white, overstuffed cloud, Dana shouted to the wind, “I can’t take much more, really I can’t!”
Stephen started to cry, the tears full-bodied and rushing, but the sound soft and keening. “I’m scared, Dana.”
Rushing to where he stood in the middle of a heap of torn books and strewn clothes, Dana pulled him into her arms. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Stephen buried his tousled head against her chest. “I miss Daddy, Dana. I wish he’d come back. He’d know what to do. And Mama, too. She’d—” he hiccuped “—she’d have this place fixed, wouldn’t she?”
Dana’s own tears tasted bitter in her mouth. It was little comfort to know that no matter how fiercely she loved her brother and wanted to protect him, she could never take the place of their parents. “Yes,” she said on a raw, torn whisper. “Yes, Stevie, Mama and Daddy would know what to do, and I’m sure they’re watching over us. But they can’t help us now. We have to take care of things ourselves.”
Lifting his head, she wiped a fat tear away from his chubby cheek. “You know I love you, don’t you?” At his bobbing nod, she continued, “And you know I’ll always, always take care of you, no matter what, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, running his T-shirt sleeve over the embarrassing tears, his eyes as bright as a summer stream. “And you do a good job. It’s just that—”
Dana finished for him. “It’s just that we’ve had one too many raw deals. This is the last straw. How could anyone rob us when it’s obvious we’ve suffered enough?”
As if by instinct, she looked toward the white brightness of the Universal Unity Church. Why did she get the gut feeling this attack had been deliberate? Maybe it was the creepy feeling in the pit of her stomach, maybe it was the memory of Caryn Roark’s unguarded expression when she hadn’t seen Dana watching. Maybe she was just going crazy. No, she wasn’t crazy. This was very real.
But why?
Was this someone’s way of kicking her while she was down? The bank might as well come on out right now and take the land, since Dana didn’t see any clear way of keeping it at this point. But this second attack of pure meanness left her more disgusted than the storm ever could. Should she question Caryn Roark again? Could it be someone from her compound, just some kids out for kicks, not willing to accept that consequences came from their random acts of terror?
Telling herself it really didn’t matter a whole lot at this point, Dana resigned herself to defeat. She couldn’t hold on to this land. Might as well accept that.
Well, whoever was behind these attacks might try to get the land, but they wouldn’t get what was left of the inside of her house. Her anger acting as a balm, she stepped back to look down at Stephen. “You okay, sport?”
He nodded. “Sorry I’m like a baby.”
“You’re not a baby. That little cry did us both good. Now here’s the plan. Remember that camping tent out in the barn?”
He nodded, his boy’s eyes lighting up. “Yeah, you won’t ever let me use the thing. Can’t put up the tent.”
“Well, today, you not only get to use it. You get to set it up.” She looked around. “Let’s see…how ’bout over there by that small cottonwood where it looks high and dry.”
“Okay, but why? Why do we need a tent, huh, Dana?”
Her eyes held a determined glint. “We’re going to sleep there tonight.”
“All right!” He danced around in a small circle. “In case they come back?”
“You got it, bud.”
Stephen regained his spunk, strutting around with a new purpose. “You gonna use the shotgun, Dana? We ain’t supposed to play with guns. No guns for Stephen.”
“I just might have to break that rule this once,” she said, her tone firm while her heart skipped and swayed like the beaten bluestems nearby. “I’ll show them they can’t get the best of us.”
The prairie at night was a live thing. Like a great rippling snake, the flat fields around the house slipped and curved and moved in a slithering symmetry. The new wheat and bluestems parried and tangled together in the whining wind, the cottonwoods moaned a soft, rustling lullaby, whispering their secrets to the bright stars that looked so close, Dana thought surely she could reach out and grab one for herself.
She’d never wished upon a star before, but tonight as she lay inside the small close confines of the sturdy tent they’d erected and stared out the opening to the night sky, she picked the evening star, and she said a little prayer for guidance, for strength, for control. Please, God, let my troubles be over. Let me find some peace, let me do the right thing, for Stephen, for myself. Let me do it right, for Mom and Dad.
She’d been thinking about moving to Kansas City for a long time. Tony called at least once a week, telling her of all the fun he was having, the restaurants, the parties, the entertainment, the wonderful social life. “You’re missing out, Dana. This is where the action is.”
Yeah, right. She knew Tony Martin. His only social life consisted of his computers and the Internet. The man lived and breathed technology. It had landed him a great, good-paying job, but it didn’t leave much room for real relationships. He was like a piece of shining tin, brilliant and gleaming on the outside, but shallow and hollow on the inside.
Which is why Dana had turned down his invitation to marry him and come live with him in the big city. Tony didn’t have an ounce of romance in him. Since he’d never taken the hint and even remotely tried to woo Dana back, since he just didn’t get that she had to have more than a live-in computer genius, since he had never once thought about anyone but himself, she’d sent him on his way, alone.
Tony was married to his work, plain and simple. He didn’t have an inkling of what was involved in hearts and flowers, and he certainly didn’t have the patience to deal with a slightly autistic, hyper preteen boy who had the emotional maturity of a seven-year-old. Stephen was one of the main reasons she and Tony weren’t together. They’d never discussed it; he’d never come right out and told her, but she knew by his words and actions that Tony didn’t want to deal with Stephen. Tony wanted her. He didn’t want her little brother.
But he was a good friend in spite of their breakup a couple of years ago, and he did have connections. And Stephen could thrive there with the proper therapy and some new doctors who actually understood his condition. Maybe it was time to cut her losses and head to Kansas City.
She glanced over toward the murky white silhouette of the Universal Unity Church, sitting in the distance like a giant piece of rock candy. The place had suffered little to no damage in the storm. Her neighbor’s good luck had held. And the strangest part, Caryn Roark had sent over two young girls with clothes and food for Dana and Stephen. She’d even extended an invitation for Dana and Stephen to stay at the church compound until they were back on their feet. Dana had declined the invitation, her memories of the meeting she’d had with Caryn Roark still fresh in her mind.
“We’re the only ones left,” Dana said again, wondering where Caryn got all the money to finance her operation. The woman was generous to a fault with the community, and that was part of what worried Dana about her neighbor. Caryn seemed to expect favors in return. “Something just doesn’t set right over there.”
Oh, well, soon it wouldn’t matter to Dana. Soon, she supposed, she and Stephen would be moving on. Once the dust settled and she found out just how much she had left and how much she could sell to make a little moving money, at least. After paying off her debts, she’d take her pittance and start over fresh somewhere else.
Only, in her heart, she wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight, even if she didn’t have much fight left. She didn’t think she had the courage or the fortitude to face such a formidable task. And she wasn’t about to go begging for charity, whatever Caryn Roark’s intentions were.
Instinctively she touched a hand to Stephen’s head, gently pushing a tuft of thick golden hair off his brow. The boy sighed again and flipped to his side in his Kansas City Royals sleeping bag.
Left alone with the stars and her worries, Dana again thought about the man named Bren. Bren. An unusual name for an unusual man. Definitely not a standard Kansas-type name. But then, she’d known from the start that Bren wasn’t from Kansas. Touching the pocket of her jeans, she remembered she had his card tucked inside. She’d kept it there, close, instead of putting it in the bottomless pit of her shoulder bag.
He’d said he’d help her. She’d been taught not to ask for help. It was going to be a long, lonely night. Or so she thought.
A creaking noise off in the distance grass made Dana’s head come up. A prickling of fear, like needles hitting the center of her spine, warned her that someone was nearby. She listened, her breath stopping, her eyes trying to penetrate the darkness, one hand on Stephen and the other one on the shotgun lying next to her left thigh.
Then everything shifted and moved. The night came to life as a brilliant light glistened near the farmhouse. A minute later an acrid smell drifted out over the prairie.
Fire. Someone was trying to burn what remained of her house!
Grabbing the shotgun, Dana pulled up out of the tent like a madwoman. “Hey, you—”
Her words were cut off by the shots that rang out into the night. Only, Dana hadn’t fired her gun yet.
Rolling back inside the tent, she hushed the now-wide-awake Stephen. “Stay down and stay quiet. Somebody’s trying to shoot us!”
Stephen buried himself inside his sleeping bag, his breath coming in great, scared huffs as his body rocked against the ground in a nervous fidget. “Dana?”
“I’m right here, sport. Just do what you’re doing. Stay hidden and don’t move.”
She watched as the fire grew stronger, leaping and dancing like a laughing demon toward the front of the house. Aiming her gun at anything, hoping to scare the intruders away, she pulled the trigger and waited for the old shotgun’s kick to bruise her shoulder. The lone shot exploded into the night. Dana sucked in the smell of gunpowder with each deep, frantic breath she took.
Then she took one long breath and shouted, “Get off my land!”
Silence from the intruder, hissing from the hungry fire.
Dana tried to raise up again, and another bullet whizzed by, this one coming from a closer angle. Stephen’s muffled cry only added to her own solid fear.
“What do you want?” Dana shouted to the wind.
A harsh laugh echoed through the night, but Dana got no answers to her question. Since Dana already had a sick inkling of who she was dealing with, the silence made her more mad than scared, even though deep down inside she knew she should be afraid.
“Leave us alone,” she called. “Can’t you just leave us alone!”
Dana heard laughter, then footfalls, as if someone were running away. Then only the hissing of the fire as it snaked up the porch railings.
A sick feeling shot through Dana’s stomach, making her want to retch. All sorts of horrible images ran through her mind. These people were mad! This wasn’t just kids out for kicks, and this certainly wasn’t a faith-abiding church like the one she’d always known. Caryn had threatened Stephen earlier and now Dana supposed she had sent her thugs to act on that threat. She had to find out if the other woman was doing this, and she had to keep Stephen safe.
“If it’s the land, you can have it,” she whispered, wishing she hadn’t been so direct yesterday with the crazed woman. But she had to wonder if there wasn’t something more here. Why would Caryn taunt her with threats against Stephen? She’d purposely pulled him out of school to avoid such teasing and taunts. These people didn’t even know Stephen.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Help us, please. She clutched Stephen close, soothing his keening cries with a murmured whisper. “It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She thought about calling for help on her cell phone, but realized it would take the volunteer firemen at least fifteen minutes to get here.
When she was sure it was safe, Dana pulled her brother’s covers off his head. “I’ve got to put out the fire, Stevie. Can you stay here?”
“No.”
Afraid to leave him alone, but even more afraid to take him out in the open, she wrapped an arm around him. “We’re going to crawl through the grass to the house.”
“Okay,” he said, this new challenge temporarily calming his earlier fears.
“We need to stop that fire from spreading,” she explained. She saw his eyes in the moonlight, saw the fear mirrored there inside him. “Stevie, you have to be brave. We’re going to get away from here and go to the sheriff.”
“Okay,” came the feeble reply. “I’ll be brave. Stephen can be brave.”
“Okay,” Dana echoed, the shotgun clutched close. “Stay low and stay right beside me,” she said as she inched her way out of the tent, belly-crawl fashion. The going was slow, and the fire was fast. The wind picked up, causing Dana to urge Stephen on beside her. Determined, she struggled to her feet, pulling Stephen up with her to run the last few yards. By the time they made it to the house, the whole remainder of the front porch was on fire. If she could only find the water hose.
They made it to the side of the house where a long spigot ran from the well to underneath the porch steps. Dana always kept a hose connected there to wash mud and dirt from their work boots.
Out of breath, her nerves tingling with fear and worry, she slid up the wall, still clutching her brother, spitting away the grass and dirt they’d gathered on the way. Behind them, the fire hissed and curled, its wrath causing beams to pop and aged frames to cave in like kindling.
“It’s all right, sport,” she said on a windy breath. “All I have to do is turn the water on and we can wash down most of the porch. Maybe we can save it.”
She stood, looking around to make sure the intruders were gone. Then she groped for the long thick noose of the hose, searching in the dark for the fat coil of rubber. Her hands reached out to emptiness. They’d disconnected the hose. It was nowhere in sight.
Above them, the fire rose up, triumphant in its snap-happy victory. The sound of bursting glass shattered the night, and Dana watched as the blue lace curtains of her parents’ bedroom curled and crumbled, too dainty, too delicate, to survive the heat of the angry, leaping flames.
Chapter Three
“So you’re telling me that you can’t do anything to help me?”
Dana looked at the robust face of Sheriff Horace Radford and wondered why she’d even bothered to drive over the speed limit, straight to his house about five miles up the road, and pull him out of what looked like a sound sleep. The man didn’t seem to care one way or the other about all the happenings out on her land.
Remembering how he’d only shrugged and told her how sorry he was about Otto when she’d talked to him yesterday after the tornado, she wished the man hadn’t been reelected. She certainly hadn’t voted for him. Oh, he’d promised her a full investigation, but having a tornado drop down on his town’s doorstep had given him a pretty good excuse to sit on his hands. But having her house deliberately burned to the ground meant Dana didn’t have the same luxury.
“It’s all gone, Sheriff,” she said now, her voice still and resigned. “And I found this note underneath my windshield wipers.”
She read aloud the cryptic note. “‘You have something that belongs to us. Until we find it, watch out for your brother.’” The note had ended with a Bible verse, Proverbs 18:21. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”
Reading it again gave Dana the creeps and put a solid fear in her heart. They thought Dana had something of theirs, and they were threatening her brother to get it. The verse was almost like a warning, telling her not to speak. But what did they think she would have to speak about?
“That don’t make much sense,” the sheriff said after Dana read him the note.
“No, but it’s a threat. I don’t know what they think I have of theirs. Surely you can send some men out to look around. I saw them set the fire, so I know it wasn’t an accident, and I believe these people are a part of the Universal Unity Church. That’s the only ones I can think who’d do something such as this.”
“Dana, Dana,” he said, raising a beefy hand to ward off any further protests, “I’m sure sorry you’ve had all these troubles, sugar. I hate that you’ve lost your house, honey. But you can’t go around accusing people without some sort of proof.”
Dana stepped closer to the sheriff, her footfalls causing his creaky front porch to groan in sleepy protest, her face just inches from the oblong pink wart growing on his crusty nose. “Look at me, Sheriff Radford,” she said on a slow, even keel. “I’ve got dirt all over me. That’s from trying to save my house. Stephen and I fought that fire as hard as we could, but we couldn’t save anything. That’s because they cut off my water supply.” Lowering her eyes to the peeling green paint on the floor, she added, “I couldn’t even get inside to the phone, not that that would have mattered. My line’s been down since the storm. And my cell phone didn’t help. It was too late to call the fire department.”
The sheriff patted her on the arm, then pulled his dirty plaid flannel robe closer around his puffy white-haired chest. “I’m sorry, honey. Do you have a place to stay?”
Dana gave him another disbelieving stare. “Are you listening to me? They looted and then burned down my house and shot at us!” Her voice rose an octave higher with each word.
Sheriff Radford rubbed the salt-and-pepper beard stubble on his fat jaw. “It don’t sound good, do it? But I declare, I ain’t never heard of any trouble from that Unity woman and her kids. You sure you saw some of them?”
“Yes, I saw two young men dressed the way they all dress, from what I could tell. I’ve been thinking maybe it’s some sort of revenge against me, maybe because I talked to her the other day about my bull getting killed. But why they’ve decided to pick on me is beyond reason. Whoever sent them meant business. They tore up what was left of my house and burned the rest. Now everything I had is gone.”
“Think you could identify them if you saw them again?” the sheriff asked, his beefy hand still rubbing a hole in his unshaven face as he pondered all the details.
Glad that he was finally comprehending what she was trying to tell him, Dana pushed on. “Maybe. It was dark and I only got a glimpse, but I could tell from their actions, they looked young—two of them, dressed in what looked like baggy clothes and big coats—that much I remember.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m pretty sure they shot my breeding bull, and now this. And they looted the house right after the storm. I can’t imagine what they’re looking for, though.”
The old man leaned back against the planked side of the house wall. “I’ll go ‘round and have a talk with some of your neighbors first thing in the morning. Maybe somebody saw something.”
“Talk?” Dana pushed smoke-scented hair out of her eyes. “These people killed an expensive animal and then destroyed what little was left of my home. And that’s just this week. Goodness knows what they’re planning next. You need to do more than talk. If these kids are from that church, you need to arrest them before somebody else gets hurt.”
“I can’t arrest anybody until I have proof!” he shouted, his eyes bulging. At Dana’s look of surprise, he added, “And you’d better stop accusing Ms. Roark’s pack. That woman has become a pillar of this community and she’s got lots of money tied up in that place out there. We have to consider all the angles before we go blazing in on a high horse, accusing her of things.”
Dana gave him a puzzled look. “I’m not accusing her. I just think somebody living there isn’t exactly nice. And I think she needs to know about it. When I talked to her yesterday, she practically threatened Stephen herself.”
“I can’t believe it’s anybody from her place,” the sheriff responded, shaking his head. “That woman makes them kids behave. Holds them to a tight schedule and has them praying all day and night. They plum don’t have time for much outside activity.”
It suddenly hit Dana why the sheriff was being so indifferent toward her. The Roark woman had helped the man get reelected. That, plus the fact that the sheriff was lazy and didn’t really want to put himself in any danger, made Dana think she could give up ever finding the criminals who’d destroyed her home. No, Sheriff Radford wouldn’t make any effort to arrest someone who might put his own life in danger. He only worked enough to keep himself supplied in liquor and cigarettes.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, just to test his thin mettle.
“I’ll post guards on your land,” he supplied, pleased that he’d done his sworn duty. “Keep any mischief-makers away.”
“Mischief?” Dana laughed bitterly. “I’d call arson and slaughter a little more than mischief, Sheriff.”
“Crazy kids,” he said, shaking his head. “Are you sure you got a good look at them?” he asked again, his words stretching out in a long whine.
“Not a real good one,” she admitted. “They stayed hidden like the cowards they are, but I saw them in the light from the fire.” She glared pointedly at him. “And you’re just as big a coward. You’ve sold out the people of Prairie Heart, Sheriff. How do you sleep at night?”
Anger puffed his face to a glowing red. From the yellowed glow of the porch light, Dana saw she’d struck her mark. The man sure didn’t have a poker face.
“I do what has to be done,” he said in a wheedling voice, “to keep the peace around here. And since you ain’t got one dab of proof against anybody, I suggest you stop barking up the wrong tree.”
Dana lifted a finger to his chest, poking him as she spoke. “Oh, you’re right about that. I am barking up the wrong tree. I’ve lost everything, but you don’t care, do you?” Pushing him away with a repulsive jab, she added, “I guess I’ll have to deal with this on my own.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Dana,” he warned. Then his wide face took on a sympathetic demeanor. “How ’bout I give you a little money to tide you over?”
Dana wanted to spit at him. He was telling her not to do anything stupid, when he was the biggest idiot of all! “No, thanks. I don’t want your money, Sheriff. I’d prefer some justice, though.”
Looking affronted, he said, “You don’t know Caryn the way I do. She’s a very peace-loving woman. She wouldn’t do something like this.”
Dana was already heading back to the truck, where Stephen sat watching. Then she turned to glare back up at him. “You know, I never once accused her of any wrongdoing. I just happen to believe it’s someone living on her property. Seems you’re mighty worried about that woman. Sure makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”
“I ain’t hiding nothing,” Sheriff Radford called out a little too defensively. “And just to prove it, I’ll send them deputies out right now.”
“I feel better already,” Dana called. She got in the truck and slammed both palms against the steering wheel, a fresh batch of tears brimming down her cheeks. She was going to have to take Stephen to a safe place. And she needed some time to think about what to do next. She was going to have to ask Tony Martin for help sooner than she’d planned.
Dawn greeted them as they entered Kansas City by way of Interstate 35. They’d left Prairie Heart behind. They’d left their little corner of the Flint Hills behind. They’d left their charred and splintered farmhouse behind. They’d left their home, their land, their life, behind.
Dana had made a snap decision, based on a long stretch of determination. She only hoped Tony would welcome them and help them. Maybe, at least, Stephen would be safe in the city until she could figure out what to do next.
After waking Emma and Frederick to ask them to look after her stock, she’d discussed her options with them. She still had her cattle; she could try to save them at least.
“We’ll herd them over to Harvey’s place,” Frederick assured her. He called several burly, dependable, well-armed men to meet him at the crack of dawn. He’d get the animals to a safe pasture. “And I don’t mind shooting any trespassers, thieves, or travelers, not one bit.”
“Tell the men I’ll pay them all back, somehow,” Dana promised. “When this mess is settled.”
“That Sheriff Radford,” Emma hissed, her pink foam curlers contrasting sharply with her bright red-and-yellow-flowered housedress. “We’ll vote that lazy old man out come next election!”
“Somebody’s got him in their pocket,” Dana explained, her instincts telling her that someone was Caryn Roark. “Voting doesn’t count out as nicely as cold cash.”
“Where you going, child?”
“Kansas City. To see Tony.”
Emma smiled knowingly. “‘Pride goeth before a fall.’”
“I don’t have any pride left, that’s for sure,” Dana said. “I don’t have anything.”
“Poor child. We could take care of you two. You know you can stay with us, don’t you?”
“I won’t put you in danger. I’m going to fight this, Emma, but I have to come up with a plan. I can’t fight if I don’t have any ammunition, and if I don’t know who I’m fighting.”
“Bless your heart. You be careful, you hear?”
“I’m afraid for Stevie,” Dana replied by way of an explanation.
Emma nodded. Family came first, no matter the cost. “Go to Tony then. Let him help you. He’s always wanted you with him, anyway.”
Dana looked away. “But he doesn’t want Stevie.”
“If he loves you, he’ll take Stevie, too.”
And so Dana and Stephen had taken off into the night, fleeing. Dana had never run from anything, not hard work, not tragedy, not her responsibilities, but now, for Stephen’s sake, she was officially on the lam.
She couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before she found her way home again.
“Do people really get up this early?” Tony asked, one eye cocked toward the digital clock over his elaborate computer system. “And did I ask you yet, what in the world are you doing here, and what’s that smell?” He held two long, white fingers to his nostrils, pinching them together while making a disgusted face.
Dana pushed Stephen onto a nearby black leather sofa, ignoring the clutter of newspapers and high-tech magazines littering one corner. “Try to go back to sleep, sport.” Then she turned to Tony again. “Tony, we need your help. Otto got shot, then half the house got blown away in a tornado, then they burned down the rest. Somebody’s trying to either scare us or get something from us. Or just plain murder us.”
Tony was wide-awake now. “All of this happened in Prairie Heart? Maybe I’m living in the wrong town.”
Dana looked over at the man she’d once thought she loved. Thank goodness she’d figured out it wasn’t love that held her to Tony. Convenience, friendship, companionship, loyalty—it was all of these, but not love. She hadn’t realized that until this moment, when in the light of harsh morning, she saw him for himself.
He was handsome, in a scrawny Nicholas Cage kind of way. He looked like a Kansas farm boy, but he had the brains of a rocket scientist. His entire head was covered with red tufts of thick, coarse hair that looked like rusty steel wool. Dana had never once seen him comb it. He wore a holey Star Trek T-shirt that featured a faded Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk. Tony was a Trekkie, but he was also a Techie. People teased her brother, calling him a geek, but Tony was the real geek. He was very smart. Too smart.
In their junior year of high school, he’d been one of the best basketball players on the team. But during a play-off game, he’d been fouled and injured. Laid up with a broken ankle, he’d turned to his computer for comfort. Since then, he lived and breathed technology. His ankle still gave him trouble now and then, but he was in pretty good shape considering he rarely moved from his desk except to go down to the nearby park and shoot a few hoops with the inner-city boys.
Tony didn’t drive a car; he cruised the Internet. Even now, his e-mail was signaling that he had an incoming message. He ignored it, a rare concession to Dana’s paying him a visit, and took another less sleepy look at her. “You’ve been through a fire.”
“Yes,” she said, plopping her elbows on her knees so she could bury her smutty face in her hands. “I’ve been through more than a fire. I’ve been through the worst kind of destruction.”
“I’ll make coffee,” he said, tugging at his faded red sweat-pants. “Then you tell me exactly what’s going on.”
She did, spilling the entire story out between fits of crying and fits of anger. “This woman wants to either scare us or kill us, for some reason. They said I had something they needed. They torched my house. And I know in my heart these people shot Otto. But the worst of it—they said they’d get Stephen.” Glancing over at her sleeping brother, she whispered, “You know how he is. He’s friendly to everybody. He’s too innocent to know that some strangers are dangerous. I had to get him away from there.”
Tony nodded to the same rhythm his fingers drummed on the cracked yellow countertop of the island bar that served as dining table and control station central in his kitchen. “Yeah, I know how he is. That boy’s a handful, for sure. What can I do?”
She pushed back a red-brown wave of hair, the hurt of his jab toward Stephen’s hyperactive nature making her feel small and doubtful about asking for his help. “Just let me stay here a couple of days. I need a place to hide, while I decide what to do. I went to the sheriff, but there’s no help there. He might be in cahoots with Caryn Roark. He thinks I’m just ranting because I’m under so much stress—ha, this is beyond stress.”
“Yeah, I’d say you’ve been through it.” Tony took her empty coffee cup and uneaten cornflakes. “Go take a long shower and let me absorb the scarce data you’ve given me, then we’ll talk some more after you’ve rested.” When she glanced at her brother, he added, “Stevie’s okay. He can clean up when he wakes up.”
Dana nodded, then rose to move down the short hallway to Tony’s bedroom, her entire body sore and bruised, her entire system begging for a meltdown. She turned at the bathroom door. “Thanks, Tony.”
He winked. “Hey, I’ve been trying to get you to Kansas City. I’m sorry about things, but I’m glad to have you here.” His computer beeped and said something and he absently turned back to the blinking lights of his monitor. Somebody badly wanted him to respond to his e-mail.
Dana came out of the bedroom feeling refreshed if not recharged. She wore her only other set of clothes, a pair of Levi’s and a T-shirt with a huge sunflower painted on the front. Now she needed to find something for Stephen to wear when he got up.
Digging through the tote bag she’d brought, she found Stephen’s new Ruby Runner shoes. They were clean and smoke-free at least. But Emma had given Stephen the wrong pair of shoes. This wasn’t the pair Dana had ordered. These shoes were the latest model, more expensive and much more cushioned than the ones she could afford, but they were the right size at least. They were white with a wide red triangle that resembled a real ruby on either side—the symbol of all Ruby Runner shoes. That same design pattern was molded on the thick soles, too. Stephen would love that continuing pattern.
As Dana turned the shoes over in her hands, the little ruby designs seemed to glow from inside. She was too tired to appreciate it, however. “Fancy,” she mumbled, thinking Emma normally didn’t order such expensive shoes. Well, she certainly couldn’t return them now. She’d settle up with Emma later.
Coming out of the bedroom, Dana saw that Stephen was still asleep, and he still smelled of smoke. She’d have to get him cleaned up and into his new shoes. That would perk him up. She was worried about how all of these changes were going to affect her brother. He didn’t take change very well. Kids like Stephen needed routine and structure; in fact, they demanded it.
She looked from her brother to Tony. Still in his T-shirt and sweats, he was engrossed in the many machines that covered one wall of his tiny apartment. Three monitor screens, several powerful system units and a whole lot of multimedia equipment—scanners, fax machines, telephones, modems, printers and cell phones—all sat like dominoes, leaning here and there, arranged in and on each other, just waiting to set things in motion with the touch of a button.
Dana had never understood computers. Her father had bought her one years ago, at Tony’s insistence, and she had used it to keep up with the farm’s business. Other than that, gadgets didn’t impress her much. They did Tony, however. He was almost like an appendage of his many machines. A walking, talking computer, programmed and ready to run as soon as he saw the blinking cursor. He didn’t even know anyone else was in the room.
“Tony?” she called.
His long fingers danced across the keyboard in front of him, his thick glasses reflected the bright green lettering on the screen he was studying so intensely. His hair seemed to be glowing, as if the entire process demanded that the energy flow directly through his fingers into his brain, bypassing his heart and soul. “Tony?”
“What? Huh?” Absently he held up one hand.
How many times had Dana seen him do that? How many times had she left him in his room back in Prairie Heart, with his machines and his programs? They’d start out studying for a test, and he’d invariably wind up at the computer, under the pretense of typing up some study sheet. Before long, Dana would be left with her textbooks and Tony would be lost in the vast world of a tiny one-inch microchip.
A girl couldn’t compete with that kind of power.
“Tony?” she said again. “Is there any way we could pull up my bank account? I don’t know how much cash I can get my hands on.”
Now she had his attention. Next to setting up computer systems, Tony loved nothing better than hacking into one.
“Sure,” he said, his eyes already back on the screen before him. He was in a chat room on the Internet, and apparently the conversation was lively. “Just give me the name of the bank and your account number.”
Dana dug through her purse and handed him her checkbook. She stood over his shoulder, waiting for him to take the information. “Here.”
Tony stopped typing, then pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I got the funniest message on e-mail. Wanna read it?”
This was part of the routine. Tony loved sharing his e-mail.
“Okay.” Dana took the printout he handed her, not really interested, but needing something to focus on. The words on the page brought her head down. With both hands clasping the sheet of paper, she brought it closer to her face, so she could be sure of what she was reading.
“‘What’s more precious than rubies and gold?’”
Somewhere in the tired recesses of her mind, Dana connected on the familiar, but it slipped away in a pool of cold fear. She didn’t like the tone of this message.
“Who sent this?” she asked Tony, her eyes shifting from the words to the back of his head.
“Don’t know,” he admitted. “They didn’t sign it and I couldn’t trace it. Got jammed out on the first try. Whoever it is, they’re good. They don’t want to be found. But it’s pretty obvious they’re using a forged e-mail address. Their IP numbers are way off and they used a single cap in the address for the Received heading—Uareit.” Still keying in information, he added, “Pretty weird name, though, huh? Almost as if they’re saying ‘You are it.’”
Dana sank down in an old overstuffed beige plaid armchair. “Yeah, too scary. I think this message was sent to me, Tony. I think I am it.”
Tony’s head peeled around. “You? How? Who knows you’re here?”
“Only Emma and Frederick,” she said. “And they don’t know a thing about e-mail.”
“That’s for sure.” He went back to his typing. “Hey, maybe you’re just tired. Getting a little paranoid?”
“Maybe,” she said, her eyes automatically going to Stephen. “And maybe not. Have you ever heard of the Universal Unity Church?”
Tony frowned, squinted, scratched his head. “Rock band?”
“No.” Dana smiled in spite of herself. “My threatening neighbor is Caryn Roark. She’s the leader of some weird church group—a cult, maybe—and she’s been my neighbor for three years now. They have a big compound over there, behind closed gates and tall stone fences, but I’ve never bothered them and up until this week, they’ve never bothered me, other than constantly making me offers to buy my land.” Shaking her head, she added, “I did sort of threaten her the other day, since I’m sure someone from her compound shot my bull. They claim I have something they need, but I don’t have a clue what that might be. And if that’s true, why would they go to all that trouble—destroying my house—when they could just as easily have confronted me and asked for whatever they think I have.”
“Let’s do a little search,” Tony said, his fingers already doing the walking across his keyed-up keyboard. “See what we can find. If this church lady is as high and mighty as you make her out to be, there should be plenty of information about her online. Especially if she tries to win over recruits to her way of thinking.”
Knowing that would be the only way Tony would be impressed or willing to help, Dana shrugged. “I would like to know more about her. I just don’t trust the woman. But I can’t understand what she wants from me, other than my land. I guess she decided since I was so angry, she’d run me off, even if it meant nearly killing Stevie and me.”
Tony grinned, then rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Well, if this Caryn is on the Net, I’ll find out everything we can. I’ve got sources in places where no source would dare show up.”
“What if they find us first?” Dana asked. “I think they know I’m here.”
“What can they do, but send a few hits on the e-mail?”
“They might send more than messages,” Dana replied in a whisper. “They might come after us.” Her eyes centered on her brother. “They might come after Stevie.”
The day progressed without any more excitement. Much to Tony’s dismay, Stevie ran around in his Ruby Runners, practicing sprinting. Her friend and her brother had always irritated each other.
“Hey, watch the cords, kid. One trip and you’ll unhinge part of my system. My clients wouldn’t like it if I lost part of their records.”
Dana realized they’d already overstayed their welcome. Tony bit his nails and worked—drinking massive amount of black coffee as he tapped into Dana’s sparse bank account and informed her that she had about ninety-eight bucks in her checking account and about five hundred dollars in her savings. Not much.
“If someone’s tracing you, they’ll know the minute you withdraw any money,” he explained. “Better just let me loan you some cash. What are you going to do, anyway?”
Dana didn’t know. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I only know that I’ve got to prove they’re coming after me. If she wants my land, the bank will practically hand it to her now. I borrowed money against the house to buy the two bulls, but now I can’t make the loan payments. Tony, I’m afraid not just for Stephen, but for everyone in Prairie Heart. That woman could take over the whole town.”
Tony scratched a hand through his wiry head. “Relax, doll face. I’ve got my markers out there. We’ll see what we come up with.”
That gave Dana another idea, something that she’d kept in the back of her thoughts. Now instinct told her to pursue it. “Can you pull up information on someone else for me?”
“Give me a name.”
“Bren.” She pulled the card out of her pocket. “He told me not to give anybody this number, but I have to know who he is. He helped us out after the tornado hit.” Quickly she explained meeting the mysterious man and how he’d been so kind to Stephen and her. “He said he had to go to Wichita on business.” She looked down at the card in her hand. “Brendan Donovan. Wichita Industries. That and a phone number are all I have.”
Tony snorted a laugh. “Good one, Dana. Yeah, right.”
“No, I’m serious,” she said, wondering why he thought this was so funny.
“The Brendan Donovan?” Tony asked, his face turning a blotchy red. “Are you sure?”
“That’s the man’s name,” she replied.
“Okay, if you say so,” Tony said, scratching his head. “But I can’t imagine why the wealthy, worldly Mr. Brendan Donovan, better known as the ‘Geek from Ireland,’ would be out on a county line road in rural Kansas. Maybe it was someone pretending to be him.”
Dana studied her friend, suspicious of that bright knowing light in Tony’s eyes. To her way of thinking, Brendan Donovan was anything but a geek. The man oozed handsome. “What do you know about him?”
“Enough,” Tony replied, already focusing on the task at hand. “Let me pull up a few things and then I’ll explain.”
A few hours later, Tony emerged from his corner with printouts an inch thick. “Very interesting. When you make someone mad, you go for the big guns, huh?”
Dana dropped the magazine she’d been leafing through. “What’d you find?”
Tony settled down in the plaid chair and adjusted his bifocals. “Universal Unity Church—founded by Caryn Roark. Started in Europe, specifically Ireland, has ties with extremists groups, cultlike following, over a thousand sworn members worldwide, very secretive, very powerful. Members have to swear loyalty to the church and give up all worldly goods. Had some run-in with parents who claim she’s brainwashing their teenagers. Moved to rural Kansas about three years ago to start a new arm of church. Still has headquarters in Ireland, but has a growing following in United States. Claims to have channeling powers, uses the occult and spirituality to convey her messages to believers.” He stopped, tipping his head so he could see Dana over his bifocals. “And here’s the part I especially like—owns stock in various companies, including technology and activewear.”
Dana sat listening, surprise and disbelief growing with each word. Now she let out a shocked breath. “I knew she was powerful, but I had no idea. You’re telling me I’m in a lot of trouble, right?”
Tony bobbed his head. “Yes, I guess that’s what I’m telling you, doll face. Should have kept better tabs on your neighbor, I reckon. And probably shouldn’t have picked a fight with her over a dead bull.”
Dana dropped her head into her hands. “They moved into the Selzer place a few years back, not long after my parents were killed. They didn’t bother me and I tried to stay clear of them, until she tried to buy my land. Ever since I turned her down, she’s been rather cool toward me, but no one from over there has ever harassed me before.”
“But they may have shot your bull?”
“Yes,” Dana said, groaning. “I told you, I went there the other day, after Otto was shot. I told her I thought someone from her complex had done it.”
“And you threatened her.”
Dana thought back over the conversation. “Yes, I guess I did get a tad mad. But she was so smug, so high and mighty! Okay, I did suggest it might be someone from her group. She didn’t take too kindly to that, either.”
Tony gave her a worried look. “Dana, this doesn’t sound too pretty. No wonder Sheriff Radford didn’t get all bothered about the looting and fire.”
“No, because she’s probably paying for his extra little luxuries,” Dana said on a hiss. “He kept trying to protect her, assured me she’d have nothing to do with something like this. I can’t believe this. Why would she get so angry just because I suggested this might be someone from her complex? And why do they think I’m hiding something they need?”
Tony’s white teeth played across his bottom lip. “Maybe because she knew you were correct in that suggestion, and it made her look bad? Maybe because she was afraid you had figured some things out? Maybe they’re saying they know you have proof and they want that proof?”
“What things, what proof?” Dana shouted, getting up to pace around the room. “I was trying to mind my own business. I never once messed with those people until they messed with me.”
“Maybe this Roark woman has something to hide, besides murdering animals and setting fires, and she thinks you know more than you really do.”
Dana’s head shot up. “That has to be it. Here I was thinking it’s just about the land, but they came in and tore up my house, so they were obviously looking for something.”
“What could you possibly have that they’d want, though?” Tony wondered. “If this woman is as powerful as this report claims, then she doesn’t need anything else.”
Dana shook out her wavy mane. “Technology and active-wear? Pretty strange for someone who forces her followers to live in virtual poverty.”
“Or virtual reality,” Tony added. “If she’s into technology, there’s no telling what she’s got going on. She might be conning them with this spirituality gig. I’ll bet she uses technology to conjure up all sorts of dire things.”
Dana shivered. “You mean she uses scare tactics?”
He nodded. “Yes, mind control, hypnosis, brainwashing. Dana, you’ve got yourself into some pretty heavy stuff here.”
Dana shot him a wry look. “I went to see her because I was concerned. I must have opened up a whole new can of worms by threatening her, but I never meant for it to go this far.”
“Smart move. Are you sure someone from this church could have had Otto done in?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not completely sure, but that was the only explanation. I’m sitting right in the middle of their complex, so they’d have to cross my land to get back and forth on the property. I just figured one of her wards decided to have target practice on old Otto. We both know there’s nothing for miles and miles around. It can get pretty boring out there, especially for those kids from the big city.”
Tony squinted at her. “You said your property is surrounded by church property?”
“Yes,” Dana replied, nodding. “Everybody else either lost out or had to sell out. The church has bought up just about every bit of land there is to have out there.”
Tony leaned back in his swivel chair. “And she’s offered to buy your place?”
“She’s hinted at it very strongly, but I never offered to sell.”
“You thought about it, though. Maybe now would be a good time to do just that. Maybe that’s all she’s after.”
“I am the only holdout,” Dana said. “And she does seem to want all the land around there. But I don’t want to lose it, not even now. And I certainly don’t intend to be bullied out of my daddy’s land.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “You don’t have many choices left, sugar. Time was, you would have gladly sold that land to anyone with a good offer—let alone someone trying to kill you.”
“That was before,” she said, looking over to where Stevie sat playing a maze-type video game with Tony’s state-of-theart gadgets. “When Mom and Dad died, Stevie didn’t take it so well, remember. I couldn’t uproot him so soon after all that. He loves the farm, so I stayed. And I’ll keep on staying until he’s better able to handle a move.”
“I’ve heard this tale before,” Tony reminded her. “That’s all very noble, but it also means you don’t have a life. And we both know that’s why you and I aren’t together today.”
She made a hushing sound. “I don’t want to get into that, Tony. Stevie and I are a package deal, take it or leave it. You chose to leave it.”
He twisted his lips tightly together and shrugged. “But hey, you’re here now, both of you.”
“Not for long,” she reassured him. “I’ve been thinking about my options. I can’t get the sheriff to help me. I don’t have much money. The creditors and the bank are probably closing in right now. If this Roark woman bides her time, she’ll have my land anyway.”
“So—” Tony raised both hands and let them drop on the worn chair arms “—exactly what are your options?”
She gave him a direct look. “What’d you find out about my friend Bren?”
Tony sat up straight, then eyed her curiously. “Oh, that one. Well, as I said, when you play, you run with the big dogs.” He shifted through his download to find what he was looking for. “Bren, from Wichita—if I have the right Bren from Wichita based on the phone number and full name of Brendan Donovan on that card—is one powerful dude, too. And he seems to be the same Brendan Donovan I’ve heard so much about over the years. I read all about him in my techno magazines. That is what they can find on him. The man is very reclusive and secretive, and very powerful in the technology world.”
That caught Dana’s attention. She had mixed feelings about the stranger, and she had to know more before she followed through on her plan. “Tell me.”
“Wichita Industries is a catch-all name for various businesses and holdings owned by Brendan Donovan. He has so many holdings and companies, it’s hard to say what all he does own. In Wichita, he for sure owns a private airplane factory, which he bought out when it was going under a few years back. Donovan Aer—spelled A-E-R—builds private airplanes for people who have lots of money to spend, but there is a small chain of computers and software equipment under that name, too. So that’s probably why your friend Bren was headed to Wichita. Checking on business, I guess.”
Dana took a sip of Coke, the syrupy sweetness hitting her churning stomach at the same time her doubts hit home. “Okay, but what was he doing on a county road in the middle of Kansas?”
Tony grinned. “I’m getting there, sweetheart. It seems Brendan Donovan is the heir to a vast fortune, which he’s doubled over the years. The man’s into everything, technology—there’s that word again—manufacturing, airplanes, land…Oh, and this is a really good one—shoes.”
Dana scrunched her brow. “Shoes?”
“Yep.” Tony playfully kicked one of her feet with his own bare toes. “He owns Ruby Athletics, doll face. He owns the very shoes your brother is wearing, the hottest active shoes on the market right now, the Ruby Runners.”
Dana looked down at her brother’s feet, not believing what Tony had just told her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I don’t kid when I’m reading a printout,” Tony informed her. “And as to why he was on that road the other day, I think I can help you there, too. Did he happen to express any interest in your friend Caryn’s church?”
“Not really. He said he didn’t have a church home.” But she remembered how he’d stared across the prairie at the church. Dana sat up, waiting for Tony to spill the rest of his findings. “What about it?”
Tony’s smile was pure enticement. “Just as I suspected when you mentioned his name, and now that I know we’re talking about the same Brendan here, our friend Bren hails from the same hallowed ground as your enemy Caryn. In fact, if my research is correct, why, they’re practically neighbors; they both own estates in County Cork.”
“Ireland?” Dana asked in a whisper.
“Ireland,” Tony repeated dramatically. “Now, how’s that for coincidence?”
Chapter Four
Dana jumped up to pace around the unlit, windowless room. “It might be just that, a coincidence.” She refused to believe Bren could be mixed up with the likes of Caryn Roark.
Tony dropped the papers on top of a pile that seemed to be growing from the dark brown carpet next to the chair. “Yeah, but what are the odds of two people from Ireland being in rural Kansas at the same time?”
Dana whirled to face him. “Caryn didn’t speak with an Irish accent.” Trying to remember how the woman had sounded, she admitted, “She is very cultured. Very formal. Maybe there was a trace, but Bren—he could definitely be Irish.”
“Maybe he was visiting the complex,” Tony offered as he popped the top on a soda, then took a huge swig. “Hey, I’m hungry. Want Chinese or pizza for dinner?”
Dana continued to pace. “I don’t care.”
“Pizza,” Stephen said from his crossed-legged stance on the floor in front of the television. “Stephen wants pizza.”
Dana watched as Tony conjured up the nearest pizza joint on one of his monitors and ordered a large with everything. She had to wonder if he ever left his apartment.
Having provided dinner, Tony turned back to her, his eyes as bright as the simulated picture of fish swimming on the monitor behind him. “Hey, you don’t want to believe this man is in with Roark, I know. But it sure looks that way. I’ve heard things about Brendan Donovan—how he doesn’t like to be in the limelight, how he shuns publicity, and maybe this is why. Maybe he’s one of her followers.”
Dana watched the bubbles floating on the screen behind Tony. “No, he was interested in the church, but when I asked him if he was a member, he…he said no.”
Tony’s lips tipped up at the corners. “Could he have been lying?”
She shook her head. “It was the way he said no, and the way he looked. I got the feeling he did not approve of the church at all.”
“Then why was he there?”
“I don’t know.” She sank back down on the couch. “All I know is that he protected me during the storm, and he helped us afterward. He even told me if I needed anything to call—”
Tony groaned, lifting his eyes to give her a long stare. “And you’re thinking about doing just that?”
She shrugged. “Well, I was. He seemed secure. I believe he’ll help me.”
“A perfect stranger! Get real, Dana.”
Before she could respond, a message came through on the e-mail again. Tony jumped over to the terminal to read it out loud.
“‘What is the most important thing in life? To lay down one’s life for a brother.’”
Dana looked around as if someone were watching them. “She knows I’m here, Tony.” Lowering her voice, she whispered, “She knows and she’s threatening Stevie again. She’s aware of his problems, and she could easily influence him if she gets her hands on him. I’ve got to get away from here!”
Tony grabbed her to pull her around. “Hold on. Where will you go?”
“I don’t know,” she said, a mortal fear pumping through her system. “I don’t know.”
“What’s the matter?” Stephen asked, his attention diverted completely from his video game to Dana’s frightened face. “Dana’s sad. What’s wrong, Dana?”
“Nothing, Stevie. I’m just worried, is all. Your pizza will be here soon.”
Stephen watched his sister. “You sure, Dana? You sure you’re all right?”
Tony clapped his hands together. “She’s just being a drag,” he said. “Hey, ready to take on the champ, pal?”
“Yeah,” Stephen said, “but I’m warning you. I’m real good at video games.”
“Give me that other control,” Tony said, his tone mockdeadly. “I’ll take you on anytime, anywhere.”
Dana, thankful that Tony was at least trying to pacify Stephen, thought back over the message they’d just received. How did Caryn Roark know she was here? Maybe she’d asked around town and found out that Dana and Tony were friends. Maybe she’d had them followed. Or maybe not. That would be too obvious for someone like Caryn Roark. No, whatever method she was using, Dana was sure it was very underhanded and very secretive. And very high-tech, since someone had obviously found a way to get to Tony’s computer files. But why was the woman still after her? She’d won, hadn’t she? Dana had lost the farm and she’d run away, to protect her brother, to think her way through this, to save her sanity. What more could the woman want?
What if the woman didn’t stop until she had Stephen?
“I can’t let that happen,” Dana said out loud.
Luckily Tony was making such a ruckus with Stephen, neither of them heard. They didn’t hear the doorbell, either.
“I’ll get it,” Dana said. “Probably the pizza man.”
“There’s a twenty on the counter,” Tony said, his eyes never leaving the blur of speeding cars on the television screen.
Dana opened the door and absently took the warm pizza box, her mind preoccupied with other things. Then she handed the delivery boy his money, her eyes touching on his briefly. He looked familiar—
“Thank you,” the boy said, a serene smile plastered across his skinny face. He left so quickly, Dana didn’t connect on why he looked familiar. Shutting the door, she said, “This is one large pizza, and heavily loaded from the weight of it.”
“Set it on the coffee table,” Tony said over his shoulder. “We’ll be there as soon as I finish winning this race.”
“Right.” Looking for a fairly level spot on all the magazines and papers on the long, beat-up table, Dana dropped the pizza box on top. That’s when the lid popped open just enough for her to see the gadget inside.
“Tony,” she said, her heart jumping right along with whatever was in the box. “Tony, come here a minute.”
“Hold on.”
“Now, Tony.”
Something in the panicked tone of her voice got Tony’s attention. “Pause it, Stevie,” he said as he pushed up off the floor. “What’s the matter—no jalapeños?”
Dana pulled him close. “No, something we didn’t order. Listen.”
He did, his eyes widening as they locked with hers. “Get Stevie,” he said, “and go, go as fast as you can. Get out of the building. It might be nothing, just a joke. Just go and I’ll come down and get you after I check it out.”
“I can’t leave you,” she said, her hands clutching his arm. “Come with us.”
“No way. I can’t let anything happen to my equipment.”
“Forget the computers. Come on, Tony!”
He leaned toward the box. “Go on. I know a little bit about detonating bombs. I learned it on the Internet. Go! I’ll call 911, I promise.”
Afraid to leave, but even more afraid to stay, Dana lifted Stephen up. “Listen, sport, I want you to come with me for a few minutes.”
Stephen looked confused. “Hey, what about my pizza? I want pizza.”
“We’ll eat when we get back,” she explained. “Right now I want to try out your new runners. We haven’t really had a chance to go for a good run since we got them.”
“Dana, now?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m hungry and I want to finish this game.” He placed his arms over his chest in a defiant stance.
The box ticked away.
“Now, Stephen. Don’t ask questions, just come on.”
“But I don’t want to run. It’s getting dark out there and we don’t know our way around. You told me, never run in the dark.”
“We’ll be okay. Now, don’t argue with me, Stephen.”
Throwing his controller down in a fit of anger, Stephen glared at his sister. “I don’t want to go.”
“But you are, sport.” Eyeing Tony, who stood staring at the ticking pizza box, she heaved Stephen by the collar, praying he wouldn’t have a tantrum. “We’ll just go around the corner.”
She reached the door, grabbed her purse and took one last look at Tony. “Be careful,” she said. “Call a bomb squad or something—call somebody, Tony!”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, his grin fixed and unsure. “Go, and Dana, you be careful, too.”
“Okay.” She felt the tears pressing at the back of her eyes. “Ready, Stevie?”
“No, no. Don’t want to go.”
“You don’t get to decide,” Dana replied. “We have to leave now, Stephen.”
They made it to the small lobby, where a security guard nodded indifferently at them.
Dana called to the man, “I think we’ve got a bomb threat in apartment 201.”
The guard snapped to attention, automatically reaching for the nearest phone. “Hey, wait a minute!” he shouted to Dana.
She didn’t stop. She pulled Stephen along at a brisk trot, mindless of his complaints. The city was dark and misty. It had been raining. Car lights flashed in her face, but Dana didn’t notice. She looked down the nearly deserted street.
She turned back to get a grip on her exact location, taking one last look at the apartment building. Then the earth shook and in a matter of seconds, part of the building blew up and out into the sky. The blast sent glass flying and bricks falling. Somewhere someone screamed and a baby began to cry.
Frozen in horror at first, Dana sprang to life. “Tony!” she cried as she ran back toward the building. “Tony!”
Stephen screamed, too, then began to cry. “Dana? What happened? Where’s Tony?” His screams turned into a high-pitched wail that would only get worse if she didn’t calm him down.
People began to run out into the streets, pushing and shoving, questioning. Dana held Stephen close, watching as the remainder of the building settled back into itself, hissing and burning. What used to be Tony’s apartment was now a hollowed-out hull with charred, tangled computer equipment strewn across its blank face. The air was heavy with smoke and falling cinders, the acrid smell cutting off her frightened breath. Closing her eyes, she bit back the tears wailing inside her. A silent scream roared through her pounding head. This scene was too familiar. This was too soon, too quick, too much.
Tony was dead, and it was her fault. All her fault.
“I have to find him,” she said out loud, grabbing Stephen to pull him back toward the building.
Sirens blared all around her; paramedics arrived in ambulances, pushing the sightseers and shocked neighbors aside.
“Tony,” she said, trying to tell someone, anyone, where he was. “Tony is in there.”
“Step aside, ma’am,” a young fireman said. “We’ll find your friend, but you can’t go in there.”
Shocked, Dana could only nod. She gripped Stephen so hard, he cried out again. Easing up a little, she held him close, her eyes searching the crowd. Maybe Tony had gotten out, too.
Please, God, let him be okay.
Then she spotted the pizza delivery boy in the crowd. He raked a hand through his bob of a haircut, then leaned back nonchalantly on the fender of her parked truck. He gave her the same serene grin she remembered from—
“From Emma’s store,” she said in a shaky whisper. The other customer. The one who’d run out when the storm had hit.
One of Caryn Roark’s boys.
A chill careened down Dana’s back. They not only knew where she was; they had planted a bomb just for her.
“I’m sorry, Tony,” she whispered to the horrid scene in front of her. “I’m so sorry.”
With that she waited, watching the grinning boy as she talked quietly to Stephen. “Listen, sport. We’re going to have to get away from here, because, well, some bad people are after us and we’ve got to find a safe place.”
“Mean people?” He sniffed and looked up at her, his body rocking back and forth in shock.
She nodded, her eyes watching the teenager across the way. She couldn’t lie to Stephen, and she couldn’t do anything more for Tony. They had to run, to get away, and she needed Stephen to understand the urgency of their situation. “We’ve got to sneak away, somewhere where they can’t find us.”
“What about Tony? Don’t leave Tony, Dana.”
She swallowed hard, her hand tightening on her brother’s shoulder. Stephen wasn’t supposed to be in such situations. He wasn’t supposed to be removed from his daily routines. And without his medication, he’d soon be bouncing off the walls. If she couldn’t handle all of this, how in the world would her little brother? “I don’t know about Tony,” she admitted. “I hope he got out.”
“Do we have to leave now?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so. We can’t take the truck, but don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
She tugged him close, her eyes on the teenager standing in the crowd, watching her every move. Her gun was in the truck. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, Stevie.” She directed him around, away from the bomb scene. “We’re going to start running. We’re gonna run faster than we ever have. I want you to concentrate, like you do when you’re in track, or playing football. I want you to run as fast as you can, but don’t leave me. Don’t let go of my hand, okay. We have to stay together, no matter what. Okay?”
“Okay. Good thing I’ve got on my Ruby Runners. Yeah, Ruby Runners are fast.”
Thinking of Brendan Donovan, Dana nodded. “Yeah, let’s just hope they live up to their name.”
And so they ran, following the yellow ribbon of the street-lights, following the dirty gray-black ribbon of the sidewalks. They turned a corner that circled to the back of the apartment complex. She didn’t know where they were going, but she had to get away from that pimply-faced teenager with the stringy brown hair and the vacant eyes.
“Did you find her?” Caryn Roark asked into the slim, silver phone at her ear.
“Yes and no,” came the shaky reply. “We found her and we tried to scare her.”
“That doesn’t sound promising,” Caryn replied into the phone, the rage inside her simmering in a calm facade of control. “What happened?”
“We followed her from the sheriff’s house, all the way into Kansas City. She went to an apartment downtown. We monitored the apartment and we were able to get into the electronics system. We sent your messages via e-mail, hoping she’d leave and we could nab her outside. But she didn’t leave. Until a few minutes ago.”
“Where is she now?”
“Uh, we don’t know. The bomb—”
“You set off a bomb? You idiot, you could have killed them both. I need them alive and shaken, not dead and completely stiff. How else will I find what I need?”
“We were only trying to scare her out of the building, but it went off and…Derrick made it too powerful…and the building blew up. She got away in all the confusion and now we’ve lost her.”
Caryn glanced around the stark white of her office. Everywhere she looked chrome and glass reflected her image back at her. Forcing a serene look back to her face—she didn’t need extra wrinkles over this bit of trouble—she said into the phone, “You’d better find Dana Barlow and that stupid brother of hers. Do you understand me? Bring them to me alive. No more shooting or bombs, or you will be sorry you ever failed me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Caryn hung up the phone, then placed her fingers together. Admiring the smooth creamy tone of her perfectly manicured fingernails, she sat down in the white leather chair behind her desk, then glanced at the clock. “Almost time for late prayers. I’d better calm myself down.”
After all, it wouldn’t do to upset the children unnecessarily. No, that wouldn’t do at all.
Dana looked over her shoulder, thinking they’d outsmarted the smirking youth who’d been caught in the sway of the crowd gathering to view the bombing sight. She didn’t see anyone behind them.
“Ahhh!”
Stephen’s scream and the tug of his body being pulled away from hers brought her head around.
Someone was holding her brother.
“Let him go,” she said to the dirty mass of a man standing in front of her. Winded and tired, she squinted at the huffing figure holding her squirming brother. “Tony?”
“It’s me, doll face.”
Dana threw herself into Tony’s arms, tears of relief streaming down her face as she reached around Stephen to hug Tony. “You’re all right. Thank goodness! How did you get out of there?”
“Can’t breathe,” Stephen said, his hands flapping between them.
Tony pushed Stephen back toward Dana, then bent over to take a deep, calming breath. He was covered in dirt and soot from his head to his feet. His left temple was cut and bleeding, his bifocals were bent, but all in all, he seemed to be okay.
“Well,” he began, breathing between words, “when I opened the box, I realized the bomb was too complicated for me—not your average-grade pipe bomb, more like an alarm-clock bomb. So I grabbed my cell phone and I hauled myself away. I took the back stairs, screaming and yelling to people as I went. I dialed 911, told them I had a bomb ticking in my apartment, then I got outta there.”
Dana sighed long and hard. “And just in time. Oh, Tony, if anything had happened to you…”
“Hey, I’m all right. My computers are gone, but don’t look so sad. I’ve got a back-up system at the main office downtown. And I’m fully insured. They haven’t won yet.”
“Why are they after us?” Stephen asked, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Why, Dana? Why?”
Dana gave her brother a worried look, then followed it with one to Tony. Too scared to stay out in the open, she pulled them both over to a cluster of trees that formed the beginnings of a huge park. A sign a few feet away announced the fenced area as the Wyandotte County Lake And Park Grounds. “We don’t know why they’re after us,” she tried to explain. “But I think our neighbor is trying to scare me. I made her mad, and apparently, she doesn’t forgive and forget.”
“But she runs a church,” Stephen said, thoroughly confused. “Church people are supposed to follow the ways of the Lord, and forgive everyone. Should forgive, Dana.”
“Not this particular church lady, sport. For some reason, she’s got it in for us.” She didn’t dare tell him that Caryn had threatened him.
Slumping down against an ancient oak tree, Stephen asked, “Dana, are we ever gonna get back home? Stephen wants to go home.”
Dana brushed his hair out of his face. “Sure we are, sport. Sure we are. But it might be a while, and I can’t promise we’ll have anything left to go back to. You just hang in there, okay.”
Stephen looked around. “This place is spooky. I want my baseball cards.”
Hoping to distract him, Dana pointed to his shoes. “Boy, you ran so fast in those Ruby Runners.”
Stephen stared down at his feet. “Ruby Runners. Yeah, I have Ruby Runners. I like them. They make pretty noise.”
Dana figured her brother was talking about how his new shoes squeaked. “That will stop once you get them broken in.”
Tony stood and took in their surroundings. “The park’s okay, but sometimes vagrants do hang out in there.” He lifted his chin toward a secluded spot behind a service building, then his eyes flashed wide. “Hey, I know someone who might be able to help us. He lives on the edge of the park.”
“Are you sure?” Dana asked, afraid to trust too many people. Or cause anyone else to get hurt.
“Yeah.” Tony nodded as he stretched and brushed at his clothes. “He’s a retired police officer who doesn’t always play by the book, if you get my drift. Leo will know what to do.” Then he stopped and gave Dana a sharp-angled look. “But I have to warn you, Leo is really weird. I met him when I went to fix a computer at a local church. He was attending an AA meeting there. Helped me move some tables so I could get to the plugs. We kinda clicked, but he’s out there, if you know what I mean.”
“Great,” Dana said, too tired and worried to argue. “That’s comforting.”
Tony took her by the hand. “But I trust him, Dana. He’s helped me out of a lot of tight spots.”
Dana decided that was good enough for her. Tony didn’t trust that easily.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, turning to grab Stephen by the hand.
“C’mon, there’s a hole in the fence over there where I climb through to go jogging sometimes. We’ll cut through and be inside the park. We’ll be safe there, at least. We can call Leo from my cell phone.”
“No,” Dana said. “What if they trace it?”
“Good point.” He put the phone back in his shirt pocket. “If they found you here, and planted a bomb in a pizza I ordered online, then it stands to reason they can find us anywhere.” Then he shrugged. “Leo’s house is just on the other side of the park.”
“Let’s head deeper into the park,” she said, taking Stephen by the arm. “At least out in the woods they can’t link us to any computers.”
They hurried along, following a trail that circled the lake. The woods were quiet, except for a few nocturnal animals here and there.
“Sure is dark,” Stephen whispered, his hand clutching Dana’s arm. “Don’t like dark, Dana.”
“Lots of shadows,” Tony added, sticking close to Stephen’s other side. “Nothing to worry about, sport.”
“Hope they didn’t see us come in here,” Dana whispered back.
“Are there any bears in here?” Stephen wanted to know.
“Nah, but we might run into a deer or a fox. Maybe a really mean squirrel or two.”
“Hush,” Dana said, smiling for the first time in a long time. Then she thought about the bomb again. “That was definitely a strong message back there. I hope no one was hurt or killed because of that bomb.”
“Well, we can’t get information out here,” Tony said, his tone mourning the loss of his lifestyle. “They destroyed my computers!”
Tony guided them through the vast park until they reached the other side of the perimeter. “There,” he said, motioning toward a street beyond the fence. “I know another place where we can climb through the fence.”
They headed up a hill where a clump of trees formed black shadows on either side. The scent of decayed leaves assaulted Dana as she tried to catch her breath. Giant sycamore trees stood sentinel, their pale gray bark looking ghost-white in the muted moonlight. The night was so still, Dana could hear their breathing growing more rapid, could hear the patter of their shoes on the worn, cushioned path. It was if they were alone in the center of the world.
“Through here,” Tony said, guiding them behind a clump of hedges that covered a torn part of the fence.
Soon they were in a small yard that backed up to the park. Dana squinted toward the square, squatty house in front of them.
“Let’s just see if Leo’s home,” Tony said. But he didn’t sound very confident.
They were halfway up on the back porch when a huge figure jumped out in their path, growling and snarling at them like a madman. They all three screamed in unison, then clung to each other, Dana holding tight to Stephen while Tony held tight to her.
Dana took in the sight before her, thinking this had to be some kind of macabre dream and that surely she’d wake up in her bed, in her little farmhouse, all safe and sound.
The man was huge. The moon acted as a spotlight as he bent forward. His shirt gaped open to reveal a tattooed chest. That massive chest was heaving up and down as he stared at them, his eyes holding them penned with an unnerving glare. His hair was a mixture of gray and black, and hung around his face in flowing straight locks. He wore twin white feathers on either side of his parted hair. They hung down around his ears, making him look like a giant winged bird. A pair of army fatigues covered his legs, and heavy hiking boots encased his feet. Each time he inched toward them the silver bangles on his massive arms jingled a warning.
For a full minute, the man stared at them and they stared back. In her mind, Dana kept thinking they should run, but her feet wouldn’t obey the shouting command.
Finally Stephen spoke. “An Indian. We found an Indian.”
The man stepped forward again, and they all retreated another inch. “You’re trespassing,” he growled.
“Leo, it’s me, man,” Tony said, his voice shaky at best. “It’s Tony. We were in that building back there—the one that blew up. Someone planted a bomb in my apartment—actually, in my pizza.”
“This is Leo?” Dana whispered, her arms protecting Stephen as he stared up at the imposing man in front of them.
“Yep,” Tony said, indicating the little frame house behind the man. “He lives right here. But he likes to roam the park at night sometimes.”
“Uh-huh,” Dana replied. “And he’s supposed to help us?”
The man stared at them, then snarled. “Get out of here, Tony.”
“Okay.” Tony tugged at Dana’s arm. “Let’s go.”
“But what about—”
“He might be having a flashback,” Tony said under his breath. “We don’t even want to be here for that, trust me.”
“Then let’s go,” Dana said, frightened all over again.
They were just about to do that when more sirens blasted through the night, startling all of them. Dana, Tony and Stephen took that as their cue, and started to make tracks back toward the woods.
Dana ran right smack into the strange man. He’d also heard the sirens, and now he was trying to block their way. He grabbed Dana to keep them both from toppling over.
“Let me go!” Dana shouted, her eyes widening as she stared up at the man. Even in the darkness, she could see the fear in his eyes. “Please, let me go,” she said again, hoping this weirdo wouldn’t harm them.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, his eyes brightening like a shard of crystal. “Hear them? They’re looking for me.”
Tony stepped forward. “Yeah, and they’re coming to take you away. Let her go, man.”
The man looked at Tony as if he’d just noticed he even existed. “They won’t get me if they can’t find me.”
Tony seized that notion. “Yeah, well, if you don’t let us go, they will find us, Leo. And they’ll find you, too. And it doesn’t look like any of us want to be found just yet. We came to you for help, man. Can you understand that at least?”
The man jerked his head around. “You hiding out?”
Dana didn’t dare make a quick move. She’d heard about people like this man. People who lived in their own little worlds; people who went berserk and killed everyone in sight. People who lived in the park, in the dark, people who lived on the fringes of reality. From the way he was dressed, and the way he acted, she’d say this man was on the verge of some sort of rampage, and she didn’t want to stick around to find out what it was.
“We’re trying to get away,” she said in a calm voice, her body protecting Stephen behind her. “So we do need to keep moving.” Inching closer, she added in a whisper, “And you’re frightening my little brother. Mister, we’ve had one really bad week, and you’re not helping matters.”
The man waited for the sirens to die down, then he released her to step back. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I used to be a cop, and when I hear that sound, well, it reminds me of things I don’t want to think about.”
Stephen’s eyes lit up. “A cop? Wow! Policemen are our friends.” He shook his head back and forth. “Got to get away from bad people. Bad people are after us. Policemen are our friends.”
Dana grabbed her brother by the collar. “Hush, Stevie. Let’s just get going now.”
Leo lifted his head. “What kind of bad people?”
Tony sighed, then wiped a hand across his dirty brow. “Look, Leo, we don’t want any trouble. We have to keep moving. This woman and her brother are being harassed by some strange cult—the Universal Unity Church—and we need to get out of here.”
“Caryn Roark, the woman who speaks with a false face,” the man said, nodding his head in slow motion. “I’ve heard stories about her.”
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Lenora Worth
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Orphaned and determined to make a life for herself and her vulnerable brother on the Kansas prairie, rancher Dana Barlow couldn′t hide from the threats against her. Her enigmatic neighbor Caryn Roark led a powerful cult and would go to any lengths to get Dana′s land.What could Dana do to safeguard herself and everything she loved? Mysterious Irish businessman «Bren» offered her a wealth of possibilities, protection and love. Was he the best of Good Samaritans…or a foe with dangerous secrets?