Convictions (10 page)

"Congratulations." Dawn's voice oozed with sarcasm. "Don't bother inviting me to your getting-out party." She turned away.

Before Hank could stop himself, he grabbed Dawn's wrist.

"Mr. Elliott," Olivia cried out.

He glanced at her, noting her pale complexion and wide, frightened eyes. "Stay out of this, Ms. Kincaid," he said with a layer of steel. Then, remembering the article about her attack, he felt the need to reassure her and added softly, "This is between my sister and me."

Olivia glanced at Dawn, whose stony expression gave nothing away. "Dawn?" she asked deliberately.

The girl relinquished her glare long enough to say, "It's all right, Olivia."

Hank knew Olivia wasn't completely convinced, but she eased off to stand by the kitchen—close enough to observe but far enough away that she wouldn't overhear a low conversation. He gave her a tight nod of gratitude, but she only folded her arms beneath her breasts and narrowed her eyes. Even with the bombshell of seeing his sister here, Hank felt a jolt of awareness for Olivia settle in his gut.

Peeling his gaze away from her, he focused on his little sister, who had matured into a beautiful young woman. "What happened to you? After you turned eighteen, you disappeared." Concern and anger made his words come out like an accusation.

Dawn pulled away from him. "Why do you suddenly care about me now? You didn't give a damn six years ago when you got yourself thrown in prison."

He jerked back, as if her words had slapped him. "I was innocent, Dawn. I never robbed that store." He reached for her, and she retreated a step. Anguish churned in his gut at her rejection. "You have to believe me, Pumpkin, I didn't deserve to go to prison."

She blinked at his use of the nickname he and his parents had called her since she was a baby. For a moment, Hank thought he was getting through to her, but her next words dashed his hope.

"The jury thought you did, which left me a ward of the state," Dawn said. "Do you know what that was like? Do you have any idea how many places I've lived since you left? Everything I loved was taken away from me. Everything!" A tear rolled down Dawn's cheek, and she dashed it away with an angry swipe of her hand. "You were the only family I had, and you left me."

Hank's heart ached for what she'd endured. "If I could change the past, I'd never have given Carl a ride to the store." He held out his hands, imploring her to believe him. "I swear to you, I didn't know he was going to rob it and use me as his wheelman."

Dawn sniffed, but there was only disdain and antagonism in her face. "Same old tune, Hank. And I'm sick and tired of hearing it. That's why I disappeared when I turned eighteen. I couldn't stand to see you anymore after the hell you put me through. I have my own life now, and I don't need you." She paused and fixed him with a cold glare. "I don't
ever
need you again."

Dawn spun around and ran out of the building.

Ice settled in Hank's heart. He dropped into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands. Just as he'd lost the family ranch and his self-respect, the sweet little sister he'd known was gone, too. Another casualty of his imprisonment.

His lungs felt tight, and it was impossible to drag air into them. Moisture burned his eyes, but he savagely fought the tears into submission.

A touch on his arm startled him.

"I'm sorry," Olivia said, standing above him.

"Yeah, so am I," Hank said gruffly. He stood, ignoring the dull ache in his chest. "I bet I'm living down to your expectations of me."

Olivia's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."

He laughed, but it was a jagged, scathing sound. "You can add abandoning a thirteen-year-old sister to my list of crimes."

"From what I heard, you didn't abandon her." Her cheeks reddened, as if she'd just realized she'd admitted to eavesdropping on their conversation.

"She believes I did." Hank turned away from Olivia to step out onto the porch and gaze at the mountains, where the sun sank toward the peaks. She followed him. "Hell, maybe she's right. I'd known Carl since we were in kindergarten. He always was a troublemaker, even back then. But it was a small school, and there wasn't a whole lot of choice in friends." He shrugged, remembering some of the wilder things he himself had done in high school.

"In our senior year, he got a girl pregnant and married her. I didn't see him much after that. Until I came home from college after Mom and Dad were killed in a car accident. Dawn was only twelve, and I was twenty-three." Rancor welled in his throat. "I went from being a carefree college student to becoming a surrogate parent and running a ranch overnight.

"It was almost a year later when I ran into Carl. The ranch was getting farther and farther in debt, and I didn't know a damned thing about raising a teenaged girl. When he suggested we buy some beer and get drunk, I couldn't get him over to the store fast enough." He chuckled without humor. "And the rest, as they say, is history."

Olivia didn't speak, and only the rustling of leaves outside broke the silence. Hank tipped his head back and closed his eyes, wishing like hell the earth would open up and swallow him. But with his luck, it'd spit him right back out.

"Were you really innocent?" Olivia's quiet voice drifted to him.

He sneered. "Innocent isn't a word people would use to describe me."

"You know what I mean." A shred of impatience cut through her tone.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and turned to face her. Her complexion wasn't as wan, and her clear blue eyes didn't hold the shadows he'd seen so often before.

"I was guilty of ignorance and bad judgment," he confessed. "And if that was worth six years in prison, then I guess I got what I had coming." Even he cringed at the bitterness in his voice.

Before Olivia could say anything more, the men headed their way for dinner. Hank barreled through the incoming group to escape to the barracks he shared with the other convicts.

"Mr. Elliott," Olivia called after him.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, noting how the sun's slanted rays wrapped her in an odd, ethereal glow, like she wasn't real. But Hank knew how real she truly was.

"You didn't get any dinner," she said.

"I'm not hungry, ma'am."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, and he turned away. All he wanted was to be alone to think about his sister and her harsh words—words he deserved more than he cared to admit.

After over a year of worrying about Dawn and wondering if she was safe, he'd stumbled across her purely by accident. He still didn't know what she was doing with her life or why she was working at the ranch, but he was determined to find out. As long as she worked there, he could keep an eye on her and try to talk with her.

And maybe someday she'd forgive him.

"Are you all right, Miss Olivia?" Buck asked as he joined her on the porch.

She drew her gaze from Hank's retreating form and nodded at the foreman.

"What's Elliott's problem?"

"The girl Dad hired to help me is his sister. They hadn't seen each other in some time," she answered him.

Buck swore under his breath. "Sounds kind of fishy to me. Her taking a job at the one ranch where her brother is working."

Although troubled by the coincidence, Olivia said, "I doubt if she's here to help him escape."

"You don't know that. Does the judge know about them being family?"

"Not yet. I'll tell him."

Buck scowled. "Don't wait too long. Who knows what they might be up to. Could be like that time—" He coughed and scratched his cheek. "I'd best go eat. Night, Miss Olivia."

Watching his retreat into the dining room, she pondered his obvious slip. What did he mean? Had something happened that she didn't know about?

She'd ask her father tonight if he'd ever had trouble with a convict in the program. If he had, why hadn't he told her? Or maybe he had, and she'd forgotten.

Guilt assailed her. She'd always looked forward to getting a letter or e-mail from her father while she was in Chicago, but more often than not, she'd read the note quickly, then put the contents out of her mind. There was always so much work at the DA's office, and she'd never been able to catch up. Looking back, it was hard to believe how much her life had revolved around her job. Her personal life was almost nonexistent. The first dates she'd had rarely evolved into a second or third. Not that she blamed them—she'd told each man flat out that her career would always take priority.

Olivia wondered if maybe it was because those men had never made her feel much of anything. Unlike Hank, who made her feel too much.

Someone walked across the yard toward her, and she recognized Dawn's petite form.

"I'm sorry," Dawn said as she joined Olivia on the porch.

"For what?"

"For making you witness that little family reunion." Her lips curled into a grimace.

"You didn't seem very happy to see him."
Understatement of the year.

"Would you be happy to see someone who abandoned you?"

"It wasn't like he had a choice."

The flash in Dawn's hazel eyes reminded Olivia too much of her brother.

"He had a choice, and he made the wrong one," Dawn said.

"It seems odd that you just happened to get a job at the same place where your brother is working," Olivia said, not bothering to hide her suspicion.

"I happened to be in Walden to visit a friend from college, but she was on vacation with her family. I decided to check out the ads on the post office bulletin board to see if I could find a job when I ran into your father."

Olivia narrowed her eyes, noting how Dawn kept her gaze aimed over Olivia's shoulder. The girl was lying, but why? Should she tell her father? Or merely keep an eye on her? Then another thought struck Olivia. "Why is your last name different than Hank's?"

Dawn slid her hands into her back jeans pockets and scuffed a tennis shoe against the wood floor. "Williams was my mom's maiden name. I didn't want Hank to find me.

"But it seems you found him."

The girl wrinkled her nose. "Bad luck, pure and simple. Are the men done eating yet?"

There was nothing subtle about her changing the topic. "Not yet," Olivia replied.

"It won't hurt to go in there and start gathering the plates."

Olivia latched onto Dawn's arm. "No. I don't want you getting close to the men."

"They aren't going to do anything." Exasperation crept into the girl's voice.

Olivia knew she was overreacting and that Dawn was probably right, but it still didn't ease the irrational fear that clenched her insides. If only her father had brought back someone more Connie's age, she wouldn't have to worry so much. She forced her voice to remain calm. "I know your brother is one of the convicts, but you don't know the other four. It's been a long time since they've been around a woman, especially one as young and pretty as you. We don't know what they might try."

Dawn rolled her eyes but nodded. "Fine, but I can handle myself, you know." She moved to the other side of the porch, away from Olivia.

"That's what I used to say, too," Olivia whispered to the evening.

An hour later, Olivia and Dawn dried the last of the hand-washed pans and put them away. The dishwashers were both running, taking care of the dishes, cups, and silverware.

"We'll empty the dishwashers tomorrow morning," Olivia said to Dawn.

The girl yawned. "I can't believe how tired I am."

Olivia smiled. "I'm pretty exhausted myself."

"But you have an excuse. You're old." Dawn's eyes twinkled impishly.

Olivia laughed and was surprised at how good it felt. "I'm only eleven years older than you."

The girl sobered. "That makes you a year younger than my brother."

The lighthearted moment disappeared, and Olivia and Dawn left the cookhouse together.

"Does it hurt much?" Dawn asked quietly, glancing down at Olivia's leg.

"More than it did this morning," Olivia admitted.

"Are you sure you should be on it as much as you were today?"

Surprised and touched by the girl's concern, Olivia answered, "After a good night's sleep, it'll be fine."

Once they entered the house, Dawn said, "I'm going to unpack, then go to bed."

"You're more than welcome to watch TV and help yourself to anything in the kitchen," Olivia said.

"Thanks, but I'll pass tonight."

"There are towels in the linen closet at the end of the hall."

Dawn nodded. "Good night."

"Good night," Olivia echoed.

She heard a muffled clatter from the kitchen and hobbled over to the doorway. Her father was stirring something in a pan on the stove.

"Hey, Dad," Olivia said in greeting.

Startled, he turned toward her and put a hand over his heart. "Give your old man a heart attack, why don't you?" he teased.

She grinned, crossed the floor, and kissed his cheek. "You're as healthy as a horse."

His smile grew. "I've seen some pretty sick horses in my time."

She slapped his arm playfully, then leaned over the pan. "Tomato soup? I should've saved you some dinner from the cookhouse."

"Nah, this is fine. Sometimes I get a hankering for tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich." He shrugged as if embarrassed. "It reminds me of your mother."

Olivia studied her father for a moment, noticing for the first time the deeply etched lines in his brow and at the corners of his eyes. There was also something else, a sadness in the curve of his lips.

"You still miss her," she said, surprised.

He handed her the wooden spoon. "Here, make yourself useful."

Olivia stirred the soup as her father made a cheese sandwich and slapped it in a frying pan.

"I miss her every single day," he finally said. "It seems lately I've been missing her even more. It's been twenty-two years. You'd think it'd become less painful rather than more."

Tears pricked Olivia's eyes, and she blinked them back. Laying a hand on her father's arm, she said, "Maybe it's because you have more time to think about her than before you retired."