Last Stand Ranch (14 page)

Elijah gently turned her until she was facing him, then wrapped his arms around her. It felt as if he was holding her up. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. All of this was her fault and she knew it. Ricky was seriously injured. Who knew who else was going to get hurt before all of this was over?

There was so much she wanted to go back and do differently in her life, but she couldn't. Protected in Elijah's strong embrace she gave herself over to all the anguish she could no longer keep at bay. She was falling to pieces. For the moment, she let Elijah hold her together.

FOURTEEN

E
lijah found a medic and had him look at Olivia's shoulder. The medic reached over to move her arm and Olivia yelped. “That's not a good sign,” he said.

“I told you.” Elijah crossed his arms and stared down at possibly the most stubborn woman he'd ever met. “It takes a while for a gunshot wound to heal properly.”

“You're the lady who was shot?” the medic asked, his eyes widening slightly.

Olivia nodded. “Yes. But it's been a few days. I'm okay, just a little sore.”

From what Elijah could see the wound wasn't bleeding, but that didn't mean Olivia was okay. He could tell that she'd been pushed beyond what she could stand. Running out of tears, pulling away from his embrace and pasting a forced, quivering smile on her lips didn't convince him that she was fine.

“Here, let me check out a couple of things,” the medic said as he led her to an ambulance staged on a corner of Ricky's property.

He held her good arm as he led her over. Elijah followed closely. He watched the medic take her vital signs. Her eyes were red rimmed and her nose was swollen. Her cheeks and forehead were smudged with dirt and a little blood from where she'd scraped her chin. Despite all that he couldn't remember ever seeing a more attractive woman. Attractive in the real sense. His heart was drawn to her. More than he wanted it to be. Despite what he'd told himself about getting his emotions under control, he still wanted to be with her every moment he could. It was getting harder to imagine his life without her in it.

He'd almost lost her. Right here. In a split second when he'd let his attention be diverted from looking out for her.

Angry with himself for letting this happen, he could almost see Mrs. Somerset again, burned with acid back in Afghanistan. He'd failed miserably in his duty to protect that kind, good-hearted lady. He couldn't possibly let himself fail with Olivia.

While the medic continued to chat with Olivia, Elijah pulled out his phone and did a quick lookup for a number. He turned and walked away to make a call.

After he disconnected, he walked back in time to hear the medic telling Olivia her vitals were good.

“Dr. Beamer can see you again at four-thirty,” Elijah said.

“But I was just there.” She shook her head. “I don't need to go back. I'm fine. Just a little sore.”

“You can walk okay?”

“Sure.”

He took her arm and helped her off the back of the ambulance. She winced a little bit, even though he was holding her good arm. “Do you feel like walking over there?” He nodded to indicate the corner where he'd seen the shooter. Bedford was already over there, along with some other deputies. “Or you could wait inside the shop here with Jonathan.”

She turned to him, her green-brown eyes nearly liquid with emotion. “I want to know everything that's going on. I don't want to hide from the truth. It's better for me if I know.” She cleared her throat. “Even if it's bad.”

“All right.”

He held her close beside him as they walked across the street.

The red brick building at the corner had been a bank a century ago. Now it was a furniture store. Elijah could see uniformed officers inside. Besides the county sheriff, the state highway patrol had a presence and he recognized a couple deputies from the neighboring county.

Elijah spotted Bedford on the sidewalk and walked up to him. “You have anything?”

The deputy shook his head. “We've got patrol cars out searching all over town, but there aren't any hot leads yet. Nobody saw a car speeding away. Nobody caught a glimpse of anybody with a gun fleeing the scene.”

“Does this store have video surveillance?”

“Yeah, but only a single camera. Sheriff Wolfsinger is looking at the recording.”

“The shooter could have walked through the store to the parking lot in back,” Elijah said. “If he stayed calm, no one would have noticed him with everything else going on.”

“We're talking to everyone in the store about everybody they remember seeing—whether they looked suspicious or not.”

One of the other deputies called out to Bedford and he went into the store.

All the waiting and hiding since Olivia was shot had been eating at Elijah. Protecting her had become personal. He couldn't deny it anymore. He was certain he could track the guy who was after her, whoever he was. It was getting hard to stay out of it and let law enforcement do the job.

“Let's go.” He wrapped his arm around Olivia's shoulder.

Bedford stepped out of the store and called out to them. “Don't go far. We need to get your statements.”

“Don't take too long,” Elijah answered back.

The shooter was no longer patiently waiting for a chance to get Olivia alone.

Things had just gotten a whole lot more dangerous.

* * *

“I know you'd rather go back to Aunt Claudia's house right now, but this makes things easier.” Elijah drove his truck down the last couple of yards to the front of his family's house. “At least for the next few hours until things settle down.”

Olivia nodded, even though she was fairly sure he wasn't looking at her. She certainly wasn't looking at him. He'd started badgering her to go to the Morales ranch rather than back to Claudia's house from the moment they left the doctor's office.

As she expected, the doctor told her today's shooting incident hadn't done any serious damage to her preexisting wound. Olivia had suggested she get a customer loyalty punch card for future use. Maybe the fifth treatment for getting shot at could be free.

It was either laugh or cry. But right now she wasn't laughing or crying. She was angry. She clenched her fists on the seat beside her until they went numb, and then let go, hoping the release would drain away some of the rage building within her. It didn't. She wasn't angry with Elijah. She was just angry with...
everything
.

“I told you if it made things safer for Aunt Claudia I'd come back to your house,” Olivia finally responded.

“It makes things safer for you, too.”

“You don't know that.” She pressed her lips together and turned to him. His calm certainty was getting on her nerves. “Nobody knows what's going to happen next.” She heard the shakiness in her voice and it fueled her anger. She turned back to glare through the front windshield at the Morales house. Its windows glowed with light in the early evening darkness.

How long was this going to go on? She was sick of being afraid. Tired of seeing other people get hurt. Angry enough to fight back. But she didn't know how or where to strike.

“The shooter might have killed Ricky,” she said. Ricky wasn't out of the woods. He'd rallied on the way to the hospital, only to suddenly lapse back into unconsciousness. Last she heard, he'd been rushed into surgery.

A cold, sinking feeling crept through her, clinging to her head and the pit of her stomach. A sweet, kind, innocent man had been gravely injured simply because he was standing close to her at the wrong time.

“Ricky has a wife he adores and two little girls.” Elijah spoke sharply, as though he thought Olivia was suggesting the young mechanic might die on purpose. “He's not giving up without a fight.”

“A fight he wouldn't have to face if I weren't here.”

“But you are here. We
want
you here.”

She scoffed. The words came out so quickly it had to be one of the routine lines he gave everybody he helped. She reminded herself that all he'd done for her was routine—the same care he'd give to anyone. It wasn't personal.

Up ahead, the porch light was on. After the shotgun blasts, the day had taken such a frantic, terrifying turn that she wasn't sure what time it was. Six or seven o'clock, maybe.

True to his word, Deputy Bedford had gotten their statements fairly quickly. Bobby, Mark and Linda had met them outside the sheriff's substation and were following along behind them now, just to make sure they made it to the house okay. Jonathan and Vanessa had gone straight to the Morales place after Jonathan gave his statement.

Someone was trying to kill Olivia, yet at the same time complete strangers had appeared in her life to look out for her. She'd had someone by her side from the moment she'd first reached the outskirts of Painted Rock. She couldn't make sense of the greater plan, but all the help that had come her way couldn't be sheer coincidence. That thought helped to soften the edge of her anger. A little.

They pulled up to the house and Jonathan stepped through the front door onto the porch. Elijah parked the truck. Bobby, Mark and Linda drove their motorcycles around to a pole barn near the kitchen area of the house where there was a side entrance.

“Let me get your door,” Elijah said. “I don't want you to move your arm.”

He came around and helped her out of the truck. “You feel okay?”

“I feel fine,” she said, not wanting to complain that the scrapes on her hands and face had started to sting a little. And she had a headache. She was so tired she could barely lift her feet. She was starting to tremble again, too. Fear and a sense of dark hopelessness gnawed at her. This was never going to end. Not until the shooter got what he wanted.

Elijah held her good arm as they started up the steps to the porch. His quiet strength showed her own dissolving defenses for what they were. Insubstantial and mostly faked. A sob grabbed hold of the center of her chest, like a clenched fist. Fear and anger threatened to choke her, but she didn't know how to let go of them. Especially not with a tough guy who'd been through a lot worse right there to witness her behavior.

When they reached the top step, Elijah stopped and turned to face her, wrapping both of his arms around her and pulling her carefully to his chest. Her face pressed into the warm skin of his neck just below his chin.

“Take a breath,” he said quietly.

She tried to, but it was more of a gasp. Fear and anger fought inside her, and the trembling sensation she'd felt earlier became more of a shake. Hot tears collected in the corners of her eyes and rolled down her face.

“Try again.”

With the second breath she felt stronger. She knew she had to do something to get this horrible, knotted-up feeling outside of her. Otherwise the black despair she'd felt in Las Vegas would come back with a vengeance.

So she did something ridiculous. It had absolutely no logic to it. She just decided on impulse to do it. She moved away from Elijah, reached down, pulled off a shoe and threw it as hard as she could at a nearby shed. It hit with a satisfying thud.

She immediately felt better. So she took off her other shoe and did the same thing. Another hard throw. Another thud. And an absurd feeling of relief.

“Do you feel better?” Elijah asked after giving her a minute or two to soak up the feeling.

“I do.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I feel better.”

“Good.”

She looked up into his dark eyes. She'd gotten so much better at reading the emotion there. He wasn't overly expressive, and that had been unnerving at first. Now it was comforting. At the moment she could see compassion there. But there was something else, too. Determination.

“I'm going to find whoever's doing this,” he said.

Olivia shook her head. “No. We need to let the cops do their job.”

He looked away, toward the shed. “Are you going to want those shoes back?”

She looked down at her stocking feet. “Well, I paid eighty-five bucks for them and I've only had them a couple of months.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “I'll go get them later.”

“Thanks.”

He reached out and ran the back of his finger along her cheek down to her chin. The surface of her skin warmed.

“Ahem.” Jonathan stepped out from the shadows.

Olivia immediately backed away from Elijah. Elijah shot his brother an annoyed look.

“Sorry,” Jonathan said, a nervous smile on his face. “I was already out here when you two walked up.”

“It's all right,” Olivia said. “It's been a rough day.”

“Yeah, it has.” Jonathan turned to his brother. “Mom's right. You really know how to find trouble.”

“Remind her not to worry.”

“She's edgy because she's been fielding calls from Ricky's grandma for the last couple of hours. That's why I came out here to talk to you. You said you wanted to know as soon as there was any news.”

“What's happened?” Olivia felt her stomach twist. “How is he?”

“He made it through surgery.”

Hope began to blossom deep inside Olivia where there'd been none just a short time ago. “So he'll be okay?”

Jonathan shrugged. “We've just got to wait and see.”

FIFTEEN

“H
ow did the shooter get away without anyone seeing him?” Joe Morales asked a short time later. “It was broad daylight. Literally in the middle of town.”

“I've been thinking about that, Dad.” Elijah set his coffee cup on the end table beside him.

His mom's reaction to every crisis was to make a big dinner. Several people from church and from Vanquish had stopped by to offer their prayers and support, but all of them had resisted Julie's efforts to feed them and had kept their visits short. Once things settled down, Olivia, Claudia, Vanessa and the Morales family finally had a chance to eat. Bedford had called in the middle of dinner to say he and Sheriff Wolfsinger were coming over. Now everybody was in the expansive Morales living room, waiting for the lawmen to show up.

“A person can disguise their appearance easily enough,” Elijah said, stretching out his legs and putting his booted feet on his chair's matching ottoman. “But hiding a shotgun? And hiding it quickly?” He shook his head. “I saw the cops looking around in the bushes to see if he'd tossed it. They haven't found anything, as far as I know.”

“And why a shotgun?” Joe added. “It's hardly discreet, especially in that setting. That's raising the ante pretty dramatically. Why?”

Joe sat on one of the living room's long leather couches with Julie close beside him, her feet tucked beneath her. Elijah's mom wasn't someone who liked to sit still. Not unless she was very tired. Or very worried.

“Calling in the FBI has probably put the shooter in a panic,” Elijah said. “He's desperate to finish the job before they get here.”

He glanced at Olivia, sitting on the other couch with Claudia and Vanessa beside her. Her eyes were downcast and she looked pale. The uplifting effects of her outburst on the porch had vanished. She was worried about Ricky. They all were.

“Bedford and Wolfsinger are turning in at the gate,” Jonathan said, looking at the screen of his laptop.

A few minutes later Jonathan got up to open the door for them.

“Sorry to bother you. I know it's been a long day.” Sheriff Wolfsinger was first through the door, his movements sharp and impatient. Bedford followed him in, taking off his cowboy hat and nodding a greeting to the group.

“We have some follow-up questions for Elijah and Olivia,” Wolfsinger said.

Olivia sat up a little straighter. “I want to do anything I can to help.”

Jonathan gave up his chair to the sheriff so he could sit close to her. Bedford remained standing and pulled a small notepad and pen out of his pocket. His demeanor was even more rigid than usual. The set of his jaws was tense and his eyes were narrowed. Elijah could read the signs. The deputy was angry and frustrated over what was happening in his town and wanted to bring it to an end.

“Tell me again what happened in Las Vegas,” Wolfsinger said.

“Vegas?” Olivia said, her voice sounding puzzled. “Don't you want to know about what happened today?”

Hearing the confused vulnerability in her voice was like a punch in the gut for Elijah. But hard as it was, he kept his mouth shut. If the sheriff's department was on the trail of something, Elijah wasn't going to get in their way.

“Is there
anything
you haven't mentioned?” Wolfsinger asked. “A detail I might need to know to save your life?”

“Do you usually accuse the victim?” Vanessa snapped. She stood up from the couch and walked around to stand directly behind Olivia.

“When we aren't making headway in an investigation, it often pays to back up and reexamine things from the beginning,” Wolfsinger said evenly. He turned his full attention back to Olivia. “Perhaps we should talk in private.”

“Certainly not without her lawyer present.” Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest. Elijah could see why they called her a pit bull back in Vegas. “Have you checked on any of the names I gave you?”

“Yes,” Bedford answered. “One of the men is a month overdue in checking in with his parole officer. There's an arrest warrant out for him but he was last seen in Rhode Island and he's had some pretty substantial health problems. I can't imagine him hiking the hills around here. The rest of the names on your list are accounted for.” He returned his attention to Olivia. “We checked with the Feds to see if either of the professional killers we were concerned about were under surveillance at the time of the shooting. Just in case it actually was one of them. They'll get back to us.”

Elijah was listening, but at the same time his mind was replaying what had happened. He'd heard the first blast, shoved Olivia to the ground and thrown himself on top of her, covering her head and tucking down his own head. But then he'd looked up. And seen...what?

A swinging gray coat. A glimpse of someone's back as they disappeared around the corner. At that point he'd started to check on Olivia and the others. But he'd already told Bedford about all that.

“What leads do you have?” Elijah asked, rejoining the conversation. “You must have found some eyewitnesses by now. Physical evidence. Something.”

“We've got very little,” Wolfsinger answered. “People were minding their own business before the shooting. When the shots started, they took cover. Nobody saw anything. The guy just vanished.”

“What about video cameras?” Olivia asked. “Security systems from the stores nearby?”

Vanessa eyed Wolfsinger and Bedford, and put a hand on Olivia's shoulder. “I'm sure they're already looking at that.”

“The store on the corner only had one functioning camera and the images it captured weren't helpful.” Bedford turned to Olivia. “When we put together what's been happening with what you tell us is the complete truth, it doesn't make much sense.”

“The attacks seem emotionally driven and definitely not the work of a professional,” Wolfsinger interjected. “Since all the potential enemies you told us about have been tracked down and accounted for, we think there must be someone you intentionally, or unintentionally, didn't tell us about.”

“You think criminals always make sense?” Vanessa snapped.

“Ma'am, if I assume the person I'm after is crazy and acting completely randomly, there's not a whole lot I can do,” Wolfsinger responded without taking his eyes off Olivia. “I work under the assumption that there's some piece of information or some bit of physical evidence I need to find that will tie the whole thing together. And then I'll catch my man. Or woman.”

Wolfsinger stood, pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and jotted something on the back. Then he handed it to Olivia. “This is my personal cell number. If you think of something you want to tell me, call me.”

Elijah could see Vanessa's eyes narrow. Wolfinsger's implication that Olivia was hindering the investigation by keeping secrets didn't make Elijah happy, either. But he understood the sheriff was just trying to do his job.

“I'm sure I don't need to tell you to be careful, but I'll do it, anyway,” Wolfsinger said to Olivia as he and Bedford walked to the door. Wolfsinger hit a button on his phone and had it up to his ear before Olivia could respond. He walked outside.

Bedford lingered for a moment, running his hand through his dark blond hair before putting his cowboy hat back on. “You guys okay?” he asked, glancing at both Olivia and Elijah.

“We're all right,” Olivia answered. “It's Ricky and his family who need your prayers.”

“They've already got them.”

“I should probably send the word out to everybody in Vanquish that we're not doing the fund-raiser next week,” Jonathan said after Elijah closed and bolted the door behind Bedford. “Just so we have enough people available if we need their help.”

“No.” Olivia shook her head. “I can't ask everyone to be on call indefinitely.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Other than the two mornings a week when I go to work, I'm not going to ask anyone from Vanquish to follow me around. I'll just come with you wherever you guys need to go. We can't let this creep ruin your fund-raiser. A lot of people depend on your support.”

“Let's give it a little time and then make our decision.” Elijah didn't want to speak his thoughts aloud, but their plans would depend on whether or not Ricky pulled through.

“Can we go back to Aunt Claudia's house now?” Olivia asked. She looked down at her torn, grimy jeans and blouse. “I want to shower and change and climb into bed and hide there for the next week.

“Sure,” Elijah said. He knew the feeling.

Olivia's phone rang. “It's Larry,” she said, looking down at the screen before she answered. She became very still after a short exchange of greetings. “I understand,” she said a minute later. She disconnected and stood staring at the floor. “He said in consideration of everything that's happened, the board of directors doesn't want me working at Golden Sands anymore.”

Everyone in the room was silent. Elijah tried to think of something to say to make her feel better, but the words wouldn't come.

She finally lifted her face to look at him. Her eyes were watery and her nose was red. “My chance at starting a new job, restarting a meaningful career is all gone.” Her tone was flat and bitter. “Whoever is doing this has finally succeeded in taking everything away from me.”

* * *

“This is a bad idea.” Olivia gazed uneasily around the interior of the Painted Rock High School gymnasium, site of the Vanquish the Darkness annual fall festival. Her eyes looked especially large in her pale, thin face. Ricky was on the road to recovery, but worry over him had taken its toll on her nevertheless. Meanwhile, worry over Olivia had convinced Elijah he needed to take her someplace with a lighthearted atmosphere.

“Look at all the people here.” She faced Elijah. “What if the jerk who's after me takes another shot while I'm here?”

“All the members of Vanquish know to keep an eye out for trouble. They're watching the entrances, the parking lot and the field out back where the rest of the festival is set up.”

Elijah hoped a description of all the precautions they'd taken would make her feel better. And the truth was, she wouldn't be any safer at Claudia's house or the Morales ranch than she was here. No amount of safeguards could stop someone truly determined to do harm. “Sheriff Wolfsinger sent a reserve deputy. He's parked outside on the south lawn. The kids can sit in his patrol car and hit the siren if they want to.”

“How can anybody keep an eye out for the shooter when they don't even know who they're looking for?” Olivia asked.

“Sadly, that's something professionals have to do all the time these days.”

They walked to the middle of the cavernous gym. Bright balloons and glittery streamers hung from the crossbeams just below the ceiling, gently swaying in the delicate shifting currents of the room. When Olivia stopped, Elijah took an extra half step to bring himself closer to her. Maybe in a few days, when she'd had time to recover, he'd tell her a little bit about his time overseas. Maybe tell her a story or two about a brother-in-arms who hadn't made it back. But he'd keep it light. Make it a funny story. So many of the things he remembered were sad, but when he tried, he could think of memories that made him laugh or smile, too. It might be time to share a couple of them, to remember those old friends in a happier light, for a change. See how things went.

“Hey, you were the one who insisted we not cancel this shindig.” He nudged Olivia lightly with his elbow. “And you were right.” He gestured toward a grinning boy sitting in a chair, having his face painted so he looked like a lion. “That little guy is having fun. Maybe you could have a little fun, too.”

She looked at the boy, but her expression didn't change.

“I should have left town after Larry fired me.” She frowned and looked over at two girls and a mom playing a ring-toss game. “I shouldn't have let you talk me into staying.”

“I know Vanessa invited you to go back to Las Vegas with her when she left, but hiding out in her apartment is hardly a golden opportunity. You'd only do the same thing you're doing here. Stay inside or under guard until the shooter is caught.”

She was on the verge of leaving town. Elijah could sense it. And if she wanted to go, there wasn't a thing he could do to stop her. Well, he
could
stop her, but it might get him thrown in jail.

The sheriff's department hadn't given out any public information since the downtown shooting other than to confirm that the FBI profiler would be arriving in town within a couple of days.

Elijah glanced over at Olivia. Maybe the festival was too much, too soon.

“If you want to get out of here, I can take you back to our ranch or Aunt Claudia's house.”

“No, thanks. I'm all right.” She glanced toward Linda and Jonathan by the side and back doors, and Mark at the front entrance. “You go ahead and mingle. There are plenty of people keeping an eye on me.” She lifted her chin and forced a thin smile.

“Pshew! I made it!” Claudia marched up carrying a couple of shopping bags overflowing with stuff she'd made out of colored yarn. Elijah's parents followed behind her, toting more overflowing bags.

“It's good to see you out of the house, honey.” Claudia bent down and gave Olivia a peck on the cheek. She turned to Elijah. “Where do I set up?” She set down a bag and dug a card out of her skirt pocket. “I'm at table twenty-four. Is that in here or outside?”

One of the festival organizers suddenly appeared at her side, smiling. “I can help you.”

Startled, Olivia jolted away from the man and stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

“What?” Elijah looked at the man. Jason Ruger was a Painted Rock native who'd lived in town for all his sixty-three years. He was no threat. “Is there something about Jason that looks familiar?” Elijah demanded. “Something about his appearance that reminds you of the shooter?”