Convictions (35 page)

"We'll talk later," Hank said.

"A lot of laters," Dawn promised and kissed his cheek.

Warmth filled Olivia as she observed Hank following his sister with his gaze.

When Dawn disappeared into the kitchen, Hank turned to Olivia and grasped her hand. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine." She grinned at the croaky sound of her voice. "Honest. In fact, I'd say that I've never been finer."

Hank tilted his head to the side in question.

"When Ted grabbed me, I flashed back to that night." She paused, glad for his quiet strength. "I kept mixing up Ted for the man who assaulted me. I couldn't seem to move, even though I knew I should fight."

"You did fight." He kissed the back of her hand. "If you hadn't used that pitchfork on him, I'd be dead."

Pain pierced her at his casual comment. "And if you hadn't shown up when you did, I'd be dead."

He glanced down at their clasped hands. "I thought I was too late."

"No." She raised his chin so he met her eyes. "Just like any good hero, you arrived in the nick of time."

Instead of smiling, Hank drew away from her, and his expression clouded. "I'm no hero, Liv. You know where I was while you were solving the murders? I was ten miles away in one of your dad's pickups, debating whether to continue to Mexico or not."

Surprised but not shocked, Olivia laid her hand on his shoulder. "But you came back."

"What if I hadn't?"

The anguish in his voice nearly undid Olivia. "It doesn't matter. You did, and that's what counts." She met his gaze squarely. "You're a good man, Hank Elliott."

Sheriff Jordan interrupted them with a quiet clearing of his throat. "Olivia, that was Warden Vincent. The Feds must've called him, because he knew all about Shandler. He said to tell you he's sending a van for the prisoners. It should be here in a couple of hours."

Her heart lurched. "But they weren't involved in the murders."

Jordan grinned. "He said you'd say that, and he told me to reassure you that the early release paperwork has been started for the prisoners. They'll only be in prison long enough for the paperwork to go through—three or four days."

Olivia clapped in delight and would've cheered, but her throat hurt too much. She looked over at Hank, expecting to see his face lit with joy. Instead, he appeared preoccupied. "Did you hear?" she asked him.

He nodded and smiled, but Olivia saw the effort behind it. "That's great news."

"So why are you acting like it's not?"

"I have to get back to the office," Sheriff Jordan said somewhat awkwardly. "Tell your dad I'll stop by to see him tomorrow."

Then he shook their hands and left, leaving Olivia and Hank alone in the dining area.

"He turned out to be a pretty decent guy, for a sheriff," Hank said.

"Yes, he is." She wasn't going to allow him to change the subject. "What's going on? I thought you'd be thrilled to get your walking papers."

"I am."

"But..."

Hank stood and went to one of the windows to look outside, giving Olivia his back. "There are a lot of decisions I have to make. What kind of job to look for, how Dawn and I are going to work things out." He turned to gaze at Olivia with a hint of a smile on his lips. "What about you? You're ready to go back to Chicago and tackle the bad guys."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," he said firmly. "Trust me."

Tears stung Olivia's eyes. "Damn it, Hank. That's not fair."

He walked back to her and grasped her shoulders, holding her at arms' length. "We both have a lot of thinking to do. I care for you, but I'm a country boy at heart, Liv." He smiled to soften his words. "Let's just see what happens, okay?"

She closed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her forehead against Hank's chest. "I thought the hero rode off into the sunset with the girl at the end," she whispered, holding her tears back by sheer force of will.

"Only in fairy tales." He embraced her, laying his chin on her crown. "Follow your dream, Liv. Be the best damned district attorney in the history of Chicago."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed in his familiar scent. Suddenly she wasn't certain of anything, not even the goal she'd strived toward ever since she was a child.

What if my dreams have changed?

Chapter Twenty-four

Six
weeks later

Hank Elliott shifted the old Ford truck down to second gear as he turned onto the driveway leading to Judge Kincaid's ranch. His new blue jeans had already been washed a few times, but the pale blue shirt and tie were brand-new. Except for the one other time he'd worn them.

He smiled to himself even as his insides quaked with nervousness. Owing Judge Kincaid big time for his swift acceptance into the veterinary medicine school at Fort Collins, he wanted to thank him in person. The judge had been ecstatic to hear he was coming to visit and insisted that Hank stay for dinner and spend the night.

Judge Kincaid had sounded good—just like his old self. Hank had talked to him a week after the angioplasty, and the judge had sounded good, really good. When he'd hung up the phone, Hank had scrubbed at the damned irritating moisture in his eyes. Since then they'd talked every few days. If Hank didn't know better, he'd think Judge Kincaid had adopted him.

The only topic the judge and Hank didn't discuss any- more was Olivia. Judge Kincaid said she'd gone back to Chicago two weeks after he'd returned home from the hospital. Although Hank had told her to follow her dream, her departure without saying good-bye, even over the phone, had hurt.

There was no doubt he loved her, but he couldn't live in a place like Chicago. It would be too much like a prison for someone who'd grown up on a ranch, and Hank had had more than his share of prison. The one thing he did do, though, was follow his own advice. He'd be thirty-five by the time he got his veterinary license, but he wouldn't let bitter regrets cloud his future.

He'd considered blacksmithing, but Ted Shandler's specter would always be there. On last count, Ted had confessed to murdering six women and three men in an area encompassing Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Nebraska, and Kansas. The bodies had been buried in remote areas, the locations of which Ted had given to the federal agents.

Judge Kincaid told Hank that Ted had been abused as a child, locked in the barn by his mother for days at a time. His only friends had been the horses locked in with him. Ted's first victim had been his mother, who'd ridden a horse lame, then had it put down. The horse had been one of young Ted's companions. Now Ted would spend the rest of his life in a mental institution.

Hank shoved the gloomy thoughts aside. There was too much to look forward to, including seeing Dawn again. She still worked at Judge Kincaid's ranch but would quit in two weeks to return to college in Fort Collins. He'd talked to her often on the phone. After he assured Dawn he wouldn't be an overbearing big brother, she agreed to rent an apartment with him while they attended school. It would be a good way for them to become reacquainted.

The only dark spot in Hank's future was Olivia's absence.

He made the final curve, and the ranch came into sight. A rental van was parked in the yard, and he wondered if the judge was getting rid of some things. He found a place to park out of the way and stepped out of his truck. Buck and Slim were each carrying a box from the van to the house.

"Look who finally made it," Buck greeted him. "Grab the last box and bring it on in."

With a chuckle, Hank loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. He picked up the deceptively heavy box and nearly groaned. It had to be books. He carried it to the porch and paused a moment. This was the first time he'd been back since the prison bus had taken him, Reger, Lopez, and Barton back to await their freedom.

"You going to stand around all day or come on in?"

Hank spotted Olivia, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, standing in the doorway. His heart leapt into his throat at the vibrancy in her eyes and face. Unable to speak, he followed her inside, noticing her limp was barely discernible.

"Just set it with the rest of them." Olivia motioned to a stack of three boxes by an empty bookshelf in the living room.

Moving like a robot, Hank piled it on the others. The stack shifted precariously, and he grabbed at the top box to steady it. Olivia's hands closed over his, also intent on keeping the boxes from toppling.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"I'll set it on the floor," Hank murmured.

She stepped back so he could do so.

Once the crisis was past, Hank couldn't help but study Olivia, remembering how soft her lips had been, the little cries of passion as they'd made love, her fierce need to help him. "What's going on, Olivia?" he asked, wishing his voice sounded steadier.

She shrugged and looked away, but not before he spotted the flush in her cheeks. "I've moved back."

Shock washed through him. "But your job..."

"I quit." She brought her gaze back to his. "I went back and realized it wasn't what I wanted anymore." She wrapped her arms around her trim waist and gave him a quirky grin. "In those immortal words of somebody, the thrill was gone."

Hank didn't know what to say.

"I'm going to help Dad administer the work release program, and I'll be working part-time in Fort Collins as an assistant district attorney," she confessed. She looked up at him. "I hear you've been accepted into the vet program at Fort Collins. Funny how that worked out."

Hank never thought of himself as slow, but he'd been about a mile behind Olivia. He finally caught up. His lips tugged upward. "Yeah, funny."

Olivia brushed her foot across the carpet and took a casual step toward him. "I think Dad's expecting you and Dawn to come home over the holidays and semester breaks. Weekends, too."

Hank stepped forward. "He is, is he?"

Olivia moved another foot closer. "Oh, yeah, definitely."

"What about his daughter? What does she expect?"

Her toes touched his. "I think she expects you to kiss her." She grasped his tie and tugged.

Grinning, Hank cupped her face in his palms and met her expectations, plus a little more.

"You know I love you," he whispered.

"I kind of figured that out." She traced his lower lip with her finger. "I figured something else out, too."

"What's that?"

"I love you, too."

"I kind of figured that," Hank said, brushing the tip of her nose with his.

"Did you figure out that Barton is working here?" she asked.

Hank rested his forehead against hers and groaned softly. "My sister and an ex-con."

"Ex-cons aren't bad. I happen to find a certain one pretty damned hot, myself."

Olivia kissed his neck, and Hank decided he'd postpone the big brother talk with Dawn. Indefinitely.

MAUREEN McKADE began her professional writing career when she sold her first Western historical romance manuscript in October 1995. That book,
Winter Hearts,
was twice a national awards finalist, first in The Golden Heart, then as a finalist in RWA's RITA awards in the Best First Book category.

Since then she's written numerous books and also penned a short story for the anthology
How to Lasso a Cowboy.

Maureen and her husband, a retired Air Force officer, along with their dog and cat, live on forty peaceful, nature-filled acres in western North Dakota.

You can contact Ms. McKade and keep up with her latest news at her website
www.maureenmckade.com
.