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“We need to get a few things straight, Ray Clyde.” Ginger kept her voice low.
“What is it we need to get straight?” Ray asked.
“These two little girls are precious to me,” she said quietly. “They don’t need to be used as pawns so you can try to make amends with me.”
There was a slight hesitation, then, “You know better.” His voice chided but remained gentle, maybe a little sad. “Let’s be honest with one another for a moment. You feel you need to place some distance between the two of us on this trip, and so you must make sure I don’t bond with Lucy or Brittany.”
“You have a problem with that?” she asked.
“I do. A considerable amount as a matter of fact.”
Ginger shifted in her seat. No one else had quite the same knack of rendering her speechless like he did.
HANNAH ALEXANDER
is the pseudonym of husband-and-wife writing team Cheryl and Mel Hodde (pronounced Hoddee). When they first met, Mel had just begun his new job as an E.R. doctor in Cheryl’s hometown, and Cheryl was working on a novel. Cheryl’s matchmaking pastor set them up on an unexpected blind date at a local restaurant. Surprised by the sneak attack, Cheryl blurted the first thing that occurred to her, “You’re a doctor? Could you help me paralyze someone?” Mel was shocked. “Only temporarily, of course,” she explained when she saw his expression. “And only fictitiously. I’m writing a novel.”
They began brainstorming immediately. Eighteen months later they were married, and the novels they set in fictitious Ozark towns began to sell. The first novel in the Hideaway series, published in the Steeple Hill Single Title program, won a prestigious Christy Award for Best Romance in 2004.
Death Benefits
Hannah Alexander
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.
—Proverbs 3:5–6
With thanks to Ray and Clydene Brown, real, live heroes who were there for us in our time of need.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
On New Year’s Eve, Lucy Jameson dreamed she saw her dead mama’s face in the fire. Mama had a pretty face, with eyes the color of sunshine through leaves, eyes that filled with love when she smiled. That was what Lucy missed the most about her—the smile, the love.
Mama didn’t always smile, though.
In the fire, her eyes looked scary, and her mouth moved as if she might be shouting—though no sound came from her lips. She acted this way when she needed to get high. Soon, if she got high, she’d be happy for a few days.
Lucy wasn’t supposed to know about these things, because she was only eight and a half. Some kids just knew, whether they were supposed to or not.
Mama stepped out of the fire and came toward Lucy, her hands black and smoking. Her feet burned into the wooden floor, spreading flames with every footstep.
Lucy gasped and sat up in bed, trying to scream as her eyes flew open in the dark. The sound came from her mouth like the chirp of a cricket. She knew it was her own voice; there weren’t any crickets outside the window the week after Christmas in Hideaway, Missouri.
She hated these dreams worst of all. They made her remember the bad times, when her mother was scary-mad, when she slapped and screamed at Lucy and Brittany and called them nasty names. That was when Mama hated them.
“Sissy?”
Lucy winced at Brittany’s frightened voice. “I’m here.”
“What was that noise?”
“It’s okay, it was me.” Good thing she sounded normal again, not like the screechy cry from her dream.
There was a whisper of covers, then a thud of bare feet as Brittany dropped from her own bed and crossed to Lucy’s.
She climbed up beside Lucy without asking permission.
Lucy pulled the blankets back and helped her settle under them. Even though Brittany kicked the covers off, and sometimes even snored, Lucy didn’t mind. Much. Brittany couldn’t help it, she was only five. She wouldn’t be six until February.
Brittany squirmed close, right into Lucy’s face. Eeww! Her breath stank.
“Did you have another bad dream?”
“Guess so.” Lucy protected her nose with a handful of blanket.
“Was it about Mama again?”
Why did Aunt Ginger’s spaghetti make their breath smell like this?
Brittany tugged at Lucy’s arm. “Huh? Was it?”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “Now be quiet or everybody will wake up and nobody’ll get back to sleep and we’ll be tired all day tomorrow.”
Brittany shifted…settled…shifted…settled, then snuggled close to Lucy’s side. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day. Mama used to let us stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve.”
“But we never got up early on New Year’s Day to catch a plane to Hawaii when Mama was alive.”
Brittany sighed. “No.”
“You’ll want to be awake for the airplane ride, so go back to sleep.” They’d never flown.
“I don’t know if I can sleep now. You scared me awake.” Still, she yawned.
Lucy felt Brittany’s teddy bear Chuckles being squeezed between them, his soft fur comforting as it had always been when they were alone at home, when Mom had been out somewhere in the night.
Lucy rubbed Brittany’s head with gentle strokes and waited until her breathing grew deeper. Even when Brittany said she couldn’t sleep, she always did.
“A dream,” Lucy whispered to herself, remembering the angry face of her mother. “She’s dead. It’s okay now. She’s dead.” And then she cried, hating herself for saying that.
Willow Traynor was going to become their new mother next week. She wouldn’t do the things Mama did, because she’d never done them.
Willow didn’t look anything like Mama—Mama was pretty—but Willow was gentle, and when she spent time with Lucy and Brittany, it was as if she really wanted to be with them. She never yelled, and she hugged them a lot. She didn’t take drugs, and she never slapped them. Willow made Lucy feel special.
As soon as Graham and Willow got married and everyone got home from the honeymoon, then Willow would move in here with Lucy and Brittany and Graham. Then, the week after that, the adoption would be final, and they would be a family.
Graham and Willow were going to be the most wonderful mother and father in the world. Lucy knew she could learn to feel safe with them.
She glanced across the room and barely saw the outline of Brittany’s bed, the pile of blankets looking like a jumble of little hills in the moonlight.
Brittany had her own bedroom in this house, but even after all these months, Lucy and Brittany wanted to stay together. The same people who said Lucy was too mature for an eight-and-a-half-year-old couldn’t believe Brittany was almost six. She was small for her age.
Light came in under the door, and it was brighter than the night-light, so that meant someone was up.
The surface of the lake, down the hill from the big log house where they lived, reflected lights from the boys’ ranch on the other shore, where Blaze Farmer lived.
Lucy loved Blaze. When she grew up, she was going to marry him.
On any other night, if the lights were on at the ranch, it meant that it wasn’t midnight yet. The boys all had to be in bed by eleven, even Blaze, who helped with the younger boys when he wasn’t working at the clinic or in college. Tonight, all the boys got to stay up late because of New Year’s Eve.
Lucy realized, since she’d heard no footsteps rushing down the hallway, that her cries from the nightmare hadn’t been loud enough to be heard through the house. Sometimes, she screamed loud enough to wake Aunt Ginger or Graham. Then Aunt Ginger would place Brittany in bed with Lucy, and spend the rest of the night in Brittany’s bed. She’d done that a few times since Mama died last spring.
Aunt Ginger said Lucy had never had the chance to be a child, and that she should learn to be one now. Lucy didn’t know what she meant.
Sometimes, when Lucy woke up from a bad dream and couldn’t stop shaking, she’d creep down the dim corridor to Aunt Ginger’s room. She never made any noise, but sat on the floor in the corner, listening to Ginger breathing…sometimes snuggling into the clothes Ginger’d tossed off when she changed into her pajamas. The smell of Aunt Ginger made her feel safe.
Lucy would miss Aunt Ginger when she moved out.
Tonight wasn’t a good night to wake her up, but if someone was already up anyway…
With slow, careful movements, Lucy pushed the covers back and slid to the floor. Had to be quiet. Brittany shouldn’t wake up again. If she did, she might never get back to sleep.
Lucy opened the door, holding her breath. No sound came from the bed. She crept out into the hallway, but the telephone rang in the front room. She stopped, startled, then glanced back at her sister. No movement.
Who could be calling at this time of night?
Ginger Carpenter reached for the cordless phone beside her chair in the great room of her brother’s lodge—that was how she would have to think of it from now on. No longer home. This would be her last night here.
Curious about who might be calling to wish them Happy New Year, she gave one final, longing glance toward the glow of the full winter moon over the lake.
She would miss this place. After the wedding in Hawaii, Ginger would move into Willow’s condo off Lakeshore Drive. It was situated in a nice area, but it wouldn’t have what Graham’s roomy log house had—two little girls who had taken up so much of her time…and her heart…for the past nine months.
She answered the phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was blocked. “Yes.”
“Ginger Carpenter, that you?” came a deep, gravelly voice that she was too tired to recognize.
“That’s right.”
“Larry Bager here.”
Oh. Of course. How could she have forgotten that extremely masculine voice? Larry. Mr. Tough Guy himself. “Why is an undercover investigator calling here at this time of night?”
“I have to clue you and Graham in on some things.”
“What things?” she asked. What was her brother up to this time? When he’d first hired Larry last year, it was to shadow Willow Traynor without her knowledge—for her own protection, of course, but she hadn’t been happy about it. It had taken some hard convincing for Willow to trust Graham Vaughn again.
“Is the boss around?” Larry asked. “He needs to hear this, too.”
Any other time, Ginger would have rolled her eyes at the man’s standard reference to her brother, but something in his voice alerted her. “Larry,” she said, “what’s going on? Just tell me, okay? Graham’s already asleep. I was getting ready to turn in, myself. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Hawaii, right?”
She paused. How did he know about that? “That’s right. Please don’t tell me Graham’s contacted you about something and hasn’t told us.”
“Not yet he hasn’t. That’s what I called about. I saw the wedding announcement in the paper, and I made a few inquiries. If I could find out so easily, I’m afraid somebody else could’ve seen it, too.”
“Someone like who?”
“Sandi Jameson’s killer.”
Ginger frowned, confused. “So? That man’s in prison. Why should it matter?”
There was silence, and Ginger felt a knot of tension tighten in her stomach. “Larry? Please tell me that monster is in prison.”
A tired sigh. “I didn’t figure you’d get a call from the police in Kansas. State line and all that. Nobody wants to step on anyone else’s toes. But I’d’ve thought somebody’d at least give you guys the heads-up.”
“Are you trying to tell me Rick Fenrow has been let out of prison?”
“Nobody let him out, that’s for sure. He broke out.”
The fingers of Ginger’s left hand tingled. She realized her grip on the receiver might crack the hard plastic, and she shifted to the other hand.
“Ginger? You there?”
This couldn’t be happening. “When?”
“Two days ago. He was in the infirmary—”
“Why did they allow a convicted killer to work in the infirmary? Are they crazy?” And why hadn’t someone called them sooner? This was unconscionable.
“I didn’t say he was working there, I said he was there.” Larry sounded tense, himself. “He purportedly injured his leg. From there he coaxed a medical supply delivery lady to slip him out underneath her truck.”
“How did he convince her to do that?”
“What can I say? Bad boys do seem to have their charm for some women. I’ve seen it happen too many times. She’s been arrested.”
“Shouldn’t someone have checked the truck before they allowed it to leave the prison grounds?”
“Yep. The guard who neglected that part of his job has been fired.”
Somehow, that failed to comfort Ginger. “But they haven’t found Fenrow?” The tingle of alarm spread over her shoulders and down her back.
“Not a clue where he went,” Larry said gently. “Look, the boss is going to need to know about this, that crazy loon could be headed toward Hideaway with revenge on his mind.”
Ginger shot a sudden glance out into the darkness beyond the bay window and the deck. “Let me talk to Graham. I’ll have him call you back.”
“You do that. I have a feeling I’m going to need to pack for a trip to Hawaii for some protective surveillance.”
Ginger hung up. Had it been anyone else, she’d be tempted to suspect he was making it all up to con them into taking him with them to Hawaii. Larry Bager had the chutzpah to pull it off, too, but he wasn’t the type. She knew for a fact he didn’t like flying, and he didn’t like water.
She decided to check into Rick Fenrow’s whereabouts before waking Graham, but she had an awful tightening in her gut that told her Larry Bager knew exactly what he was talking about. Last year’s horror was paying another visit.
TWO
Lucy inched along the broad hallway as Aunt Ginger talked to somebody on the telephone, then Lucy crouched behind the coats on the hall stand when Aunt Ginger hung up and hurried in Lucy’s direction.
Aunt Ginger wouldn’t be mad at Lucy for being up, because she knew Lucy often couldn’t sleep. But Lucy realized from the tone of Aunt Ginger’s voice that something was going on. She knew from past experience that no one would tell her what it was.
Nobody ever told Lucy anything around here. They thought they were protecting her, when really they were killing her. Curiosity was an awful thing to die from.
Aunt Ginger knocked on Graham’s door.
There was no answer. Aunt Ginger always joked about how easy Graham could wake up if he received an emergency call from a patient, but try to wake him up any other time, and it was like waking the dead.
Lucy thought of her dream about Mama. It would be horrible to wake the dead. But Graham wasn’t anything like Mama. And he was really alive.
Lucy’d never had a father before. She didn’t know what she was going to call Graham after the adoption was final. “Daddy” sounded too childish, but Aunt Ginger reminded her that she was a child, and that “Daddy” was a good name for a real father who loved his little girls.
If Graham wanted her to call him Daddy, that was what she’d do. It was what Brittany already called him, but Lucy had decided she was going to do this right. When Graham and Willow were married, when they came back and signed the adoption papers, then they’d all be a family, and then Lucy would call Graham and Willow what they should be called.
Sure, Lucy already called Aunt Ginger “Aunt.” And she called Willow’s brother, Preston, “Uncle.” But a mother and father were different from other relatives.
Graham finally muttered something from his bedroom that Lucy didn’t quite hear, and Aunt Ginger opened the door and stuck her head through. “Graham, something’s come up. You need to call your pee eye.”
Lucy wrinkled her nose. Eeww!
Graham muttered something she couldn’t hear.
Aunt Ginger went inside, and Lucy crept closer to the door. She hadn’t been able to hear what the call was about earlier, but she could tell Aunt Ginger was upset. Her words were clipped, her voice higher and her speech faster than usual.
“Fenrow’s out of prison,” she said. “He broke out.”
“What do you mean, broke out?” Graham nearly shouted.
“Shhh! You’ll wake the girls.”
“Did Larry say how it happened? Are you sure this isn’t some practical New Year’s Eve joke? He’s not drunk, is he?”
“He didn’t sound like it. He told me someone sneaked the man past the guards. He’s thinking about joining us in Hawaii for protective surveillance.”
“How could the guards have allowed Fenrow to slip past them?” Graham asked. “What could they have been thinking? Rick Fenrow, of all people!”
Lucy heard the name clearly. She knew it well. Even though no one would tell her exactly how Mama was killed, Lucy knew, because she’d heard them talking. That man, that Rick Fenrow, was in jail because he killed Mama and tried to kill Willow.
Leaning her forehead against the smooth wood of the hallway wall, Lucy thought she was going to throw up. They were talking about a murderer! And he was out of prison?
“I told Larry you would probably call him back,” Aunt Ginger said.
Graham sighed, and there was a long silence. “Larry’s presence in Hawaii will put a damper on the whole celebration.”
“Isn’t it better than the alternative?” Aunt Ginger asked.
“We don’t need a reminder about what happened last year. Fenrow surely can’t follow us to Hawaii.”
“And yet, we don’t need to take chances with our lives,” Aunt Ginger said. “You know how vindictive Fenrow can be. The man’s crazy, Graham, and Larry knew we were going to Hawaii tomorrow, though no one told him. If Larry can find out, so can Fenrow.”
Lucy swallowed hard. Last year, Rick Fenrow had set fire to the cabin where Willow was staying with her brother, Preston. Rick Fenrow was evil and wicked, and evil people always wanted to hurt and kill.
“He killed Sandi Jameson to keep her from talking to Willow,” Aunt Ginger said. “You know what he’s capable of. We have to think of the children. And Willow. They need protection. We all do.”
“Larry wasn’t able to protect Sandi last year.” Graham’s voice sounded louder and closer. He’d gotten out of bed.
“You didn’t hire him to protect her,” Aunt Ginger said. “You hired him to protect Willow.”
“He didn’t even do a good job of that.”
“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Aunt Ginger said. “Maybe he would have had more luck if Willow had cooperated and told him about the situation before she went barging into it.”
Lucy scowled at this criticism against her soon-to-be new mother.
“He knows what to expect now,” Aunt Ginger said. “So do the rest of us.”
“Fenrow’s always been a loose cannon,” Graham grumbled. “What makes you think we can predict his actions any more this year than we did last year?”
“Maybe this is one of those times we need to have some faith,” Aunt Ginger said. “We all believe you and Willow and the girls were meant to become a family. If that was God’s intent, then it will happen. So maybe you need to have some faith that He will be your protector. However, we can take some steps to protect ourselves.”
While Aunt Ginger kept preaching to Graham—that’s what Mama would have called it—Lucy tiptoed back to her bedroom and slipped through the doorway.
A soft, trembling whisper from the darkness reached her. “Sissy?”
Lucy gasped, nearly wetting her pants. Brittany stood like a ghost just inside the door, clutching Chuckles by an ear, sucking the fingers of her other hand.
“What are you doing up?” Lucy snapped at her.
Brittany took the fingers out of her mouth. “You left! I s-scared! I woke up and…and…you—”
“Okay. It’s okay now.” Lucy put an arm around Brittany’s shoulders, feeling bad for snapping. Brittany had outgrown baby talk most of the time, except when she was scared, then she forgot. Sometimes she still sucked her fingers.
“Be quiet and get back to bed.” Lucy took Brittany by the shoulders and nudged her in the direction of her own bed.
“Can I…can I sleep with you some more?”
“Not if you’re going to keep getting up and scaring me like this.”
“But you left!”
“I’m back now, okay?”
“I heard Aunt Ginger and Daddy talking—”
“They’re planning our trip. And we’re missing out on sleep. I want to be awake for the trip tomorrow. Now get into bed and sleep!”
After an hour of staring at the dark ceiling, twisting her comforter into a tangle, Ginger concluded it was time for some warm milk and a mild sedative.
Tomorrow…no, make that today, since it was after midnight…New Year’s Day, they would be in the air for a total of nine hours, with one layover in St. Louis. She hated going without sleep, because then she got cranky with the girls. She hated cranky. They didn’t deserve it.
She got out of bed and pulled on her slippers, then crept into the kitchen in her pajamas. Between hot flashes and an overly heated house, she didn’t bother with her housecoat. Wait until Willow hit the age of fifty-three, and see if she allowed Graham to keep these saunalike temperatures in this house.
While the milk heated in the microwave, Ginger swallowed a sleeping pill and rubbed her eyes. Willow and Lucy were the ones with the nightmares in this family, but considering Larry Bager’s telephone call, Ginger didn’t doubt that she might be in line for some frightening dreams.
She settled in her favorite chair at the kitchen table and took a sip of the milk. A wall of glass separated the kitchen from the deck. At this time of year, the deck furniture was stored in the basement, so she had a clear view of the lake, where the water shimmered with light from the full moon.
After talking with Larry, Graham had decided, as she’d known he would, that they could use a watchful private investigator on their trip. Ginger knew the ex-cop was a good P.I., but how was he going to keep up with a group of people who would be scattered across the whole island of Kauai?
After the wedding, Graham and Willow planned to spend most of the week together, exploring the island, in a world all their own. Preston Black, Willow’s brother, was going to help Ginger watch the girls. The planners of this exotic wedding, Helen and Steve Courtney, would also be around to act as escorts and help with whatever was needed. This wedding trip was an extravagant gift from Mrs. Engle, a wealthy lady who Graham and Willow had befriended last year, and who had spared no expense in the arrangements she’d made for their comfort and enjoyment.
The children’s days would be filled with swimming, hiking, exploring. Graham and Willow didn’t want to spend the whole time separated from the girls, so they planned to have dinner most evenings with Lucy and Brittany.
It looked as if Larry Bager would now be helping Ginger, Preston and the Courtneys babysit.
Ginger had taken a second sip of milk when she thought she heard a tap-rattle somewhere at the other end of the house. Probably the wind.
Still…
She pushed away from the table and crept through the dark, quiet house. Before leaving for the medical mission field in Belarus, Ginger had been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Ten years dealing with every situation imaginable in a foreign country had toughened her. Now, it took more than an unidentified noise in the darkness to frighten her; it took recent notification that a convicted murderer had broken out of prison.
She passed her bedroom door and skirted the bentwood coatrack in the hall when a tiny figure in white suddenly appeared, startling her.
“Brittany?” she whispered. “Honey, what are you doing out of bed?”
The child rubbed her eyes and squeezed poor Chuckles so tightly Ginger feared for his head. “Lucy woke me up and now I can’t sleep.”
Ginger took Brittany’s free hand and led her back along the hallway. “How about sharing some warm milk with me?”
“With honey?”
“Sure.” Ginger brushed long strands of Brittany’s blond hair behind her shoulders, and looked down into the child’s green eyes. This little darling looked so much like her late mother that it sometimes chilled Ginger.
The sisters looked nothing alike. Lucy had dark, soulfully deep eyes that seemed to see beneath the surface of things. Her hair was almost as dark as her eyes, her face solemn in repose, whereas Brittany always had a quick smile. Lucy remained aloof from strangers, and it often seemed to concern her when her little sister made friends easily.
The bond of love between the sisters was strong. Lucy took her role as older sister seriously. For the first few months of the girls’ life here in Hideaway, Lucy had refused to let Brittany out of her sight.
Keeping watch over the active five-year-old was quite a responsibility, and, after much pleading, Ginger had convinced Lucy that Brittany would come to no harm here in the tiny village of kind, common people.
“How did Lucy wake you up?” Ginger asked.
“She had another bad dream, and then I got into bed with her so she’d feel safe, but she left me there.”
Ginger stopped. “She left you?”
“Uh-huh. She went out to the hallway when you and Daddy were arguing.”
Ginger winced. “We weren’t arguing.” What if Lucy had overheard her talking to Graham about Rick Fenrow? “Where is she now?”
Before Brittany could answer, a scream rent the air, followed quickly by another, raising the hairs along the back of Ginger’s neck and causing her to stumble and stub her toe on the hall coatrack.
That was Lucy’s voice, raised in terror.
Another nightmare?
Ginger turned and ran back down the hallway. Graham’s door flew open and he scrambled out, nearly colliding with Ginger. The screams continued.
They reached Lucy’s room to find her standing between the beds, staring out the window. Graham grabbed her up into his arms while Ginger turned on the light. Lucy’s face was as pale as her nightgown, her dark brown eyes wide with terror, mouth open, long hair falling over her face.
“The man, Graham!” she cried, pointing toward the window. “There was a man! He was out there watching me when I opened my eyes. I saw him. He was watching me! Right in that window!”
Graham put Lucy down and grabbed the flashlight the girls kept on the stand between the beds for when the electricity went off. He rushed to the window and shone the bright beam over the yard around the side of the house, then turned and ran from the room. Within seconds, the outdoor lights flooded the yard and garden, outlining two of the horses in the corral behind the house.
Ginger heard Brittany’s cries from the kitchen. Grabbing Lucy’s hand, she hurried back to find Graham holding Brittany in his arms as he punched a number on the telephone keypad.
“Shhh, it’s okay, honey,” he whispered to Brittany. “It’s going to be okay. Lucy’s been having some bad dreams lately, you know—” His attention switched to the phone. “Greg? This is Graham Vaughn. Could you come out here? We’ve had some excitement.” He explained the situation to the sheriff in two succinct sentences, thanked him and hung up, stooping to place Brittany on her feet.
“There’ll be some men here in a couple of minutes. I’m going to go outside and check—”
“No!” Lucy cried. “What if it’s that man?” She stared, wide-eyed, at Brittany, pressing her lips together. The terror in her eyes told Ginger what she’d feared.
Indeed, Lucy had heard them earlier tonight. She obviously knew about Rick Fenrow.
“Graham,” Ginger said, “why don’t you stay inside?” More than likely, Lucy had awakened from another nightmare, and convinced herself it was real because of what she’d overheard. More than likely.
But Ginger didn’t want to take chances. And so the four of them stayed together in the kitchen, staring out the windows, the children wide-eyed and trembling, until they heard the sound of a motor a few minutes later.
As they’d expected, the sheriff and his deputy, as well as Taylor Jackson, forest ranger, arrived in three different vehicles—Taylor’s vehicle being a boat.
This sprawling log home provided them with the best of both worlds. They lived in the country, with all the privacy they could want. They were only a quarter of a mile from downtown Hideaway by way of the shoreline, and one mile by road. Many Hideaway residents used water transportation.
The men searched the entire property. By the time they were finished, Dane Gideon, mayor of Hideaway and director of the boys’ ranch across the lake, had come over. With him were his household help, Richard Cook, and college student, Blaze Farmer, who, Ginger knew, Lucy adored. If anyone could put Lucy at ease about tonight, it would be Blaze.
All the men went over the property once again for good measure, then rejoined the family in the great room, accepting the cups of hot chocolate the girls had helped Ginger prepare.
No one was found, but Ginger couldn’t help feeling that perhaps someone just didn’t want to be found.
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