Lifeline Echoes (37 page)

"Sandy, I'm so glad you're okay." Alice's
voice was too pleasant, but Ryan was chilled to the bone by the
crazed look in her eyes. She'd lost and she didn't even know it. He
suppressed the urge to chuck the woman over the cliff.

Dale squeezed Alice's arm higher into her
back and her next words were nothing but a strangled garble.

A state trooper stepped forward, secured
Alice with handcuffs, and took custody. A second trooper assisted
Brody into the back of his cruiser.

DC turned to Ryan and Sandy. "You up to
coming in and making a statement?"

"She needs a doctor," said Ryan.

But Sandy was already nodding her head.
"Yeah. She told me things you need to know."

****

Chapter Nineteen

A TV news truck out of Jackson was waiting
at the sheriff's office when they got back.

"So not ready for any of this," muttered
Sandy.

She hid her face against Ryan's chest and
was only vaguely aware of camera flashes and shouted questions.
Together, they pushed through the crowd of reporters and search
volunteers, into the sheriff's office.

When Ryan helped her to a metal folding
chair, Sandy caught the aroma of coffee.

"Oh man, I need some of that. Black and
extra sweet."

Mel pushed a cup into her hand and Sandy
gratefully chugged it down. As its heat coursed through her, she
felt the kick almost instantly.

On the far side of the room stood Brenda, an
apparition in a light pink dress that hung loosely, nearly to her
ankles. Her pale hair looked like wild animals had been nesting in
it. Her face was bruised and coated in a layer of dirt, streaked
with tears. She was huddled with her son, who also looked like he'd
just been in a battle with a grizzly.

Doc Trent ambled in her direction. He was
the cliché of the town doc, had probably delivered many of the
residents, and still carried a leather medical bag full of
mysteries everywhere he went. His steel-gray paintbrush mustache
and wide wrinkled face never failed to make her think of a walrus.
But his gruff mannerisms hid a heart as big as a continent.

"Let's see what you've got here." Gently, he
pulled Sandy's hair away from the back of her neck. He grunted,
poked at it.

"Ow!" Sandy ducked away from the probing
fingers.

Doc grunted again, then went digging in his
bag.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Sandy turned to
eye the old man suspiciously as he rummaged in his bag. "I'm fine.
I can clean it up when I get home."

A movement caught her eye. Ryan, finally
looking less shocky and more like himself, was trying hard not to
laugh. She glared at him through narrowed eyes.

He ignored her silent warning. "EMT Sandy's
not such a good patient. Got a lollipop in that bag, Doc?"

Smiling, the doctor pulled out an assortment
of suckers and handed her an orange one. Sandy looked from the
sucker to Ryan, then back to the sucker. Sugar won and she
unwrapped the candy, popping it in her mouth and moaning as the
sweetness washed over her tongue.

"I'm just going to clean this up a bit. It's
been bleeding but head wounds tend to do that."

"Doc," she said quietly, focusing on the
battered pair across the room. "Brenda and Ricky need you a lot
more."

"They'll be going to the
hospital as soon as DC's finished talking to them." He pulled her
hair aside. "Someone told me
you're
refusing to go anywhere but home. Now lean
forward just a bit."

Sandy caught the glint of his scissors. She
winced but did as he asked.

In the tiny room, it was impossible not to
hear what Brenda was saying. Sandy let Doc Trent cut a bit of hair
away and clean her wound, distracting herself with unashamedly
listening to Brenda's story.

"He raped me. Brody." Brenda's eyes were dry
but it was obvious she'd been crying. "The night Mac ran off. I was
fifteen. I'd never been with anyone before. He told me if I said
anything, he would find Mac and kill him. I believed him so I
pretended like nothing happened. And then I found out I was
pregnant. Everyone thought it was Mac's baby. I wanted an abortion.
I didn't want the baby. But Alice went to my mom, begged her to
make me have the baby, said it was a piece of her son. My mother
believed it was Mac's baby. And I couldn't tell anyone the truth
because I was afraid for Mac."

Gloria made a tiny sound of distress, but
her husband calmed her with a steady hand to her shoulder.

"All finished." Doc patted Sandy on the
hand. "Do you want something for the pain?"

Sandy shook her head. What she wanted was to
hear Brenda. She stood, reaching for Ryan's hand.

"I didn't know what to do," said Brenda.
"They all forced me to marry Bull, to pretend it was Bull's baby.
Even when the town talked, everyone always thought Bull was just
doing right by me for his brother. That Mac had abandoned me and
his baby."

Wrapped in his arms, Sandy felt Ryan
stiffen. She leaned back and caught his eye. "None of this was your
fault."

He nodded but said nothing. His jaw was
locked. He was breathing in rapidly thorough his teeth.

"But Bull—he . . ." Brenda's voice softened.
"Bull was nice. When he could be anyway. When he wasn't drunk, when
his mother wasn't making him—" She took a deep breath. "And then I
had Ricky and it didn't matter where he came from. I loved
him."

Gloria was crying openly. Dale looked like
he would commit murder if the MacKays were in the room.

"Alice made me do things by threatening to
hurt Ricky," said Brenda. "She said she would hurt him and then
prove it was me, that I was on drugs. People would think I was an
unfit mother. She said they'd put me away and she would have my
Ricky. She told people I was crazy. And everyone believed her.
Everyone. I was alone. I was afraid if I left she would find me and
take Ricky from me and hurt him. And when he got older, she made
him do whatever she wanted by hurting me. He'd do anything to get
her to stop."

"Oh, my," whispered Sandy, sickened at the
thought of another human being treated so badly.

Brenda turned to Sean. "She made my boy do
things, bad things, at your ranch. He started the fire because she
made him. I'm so sorry. Please, Sean, please look out for my son.
He's a good boy and he really likes you."

From the door, Penny caught DC's attention.
"The ambulance is here."

As Brenda and Ricky were taken to the
ambulance, Alice MacKay's ramblings began to filter back into
Sandy's memory. Many of them started to make sense now she'd heard
Brenda's story.

DC was suddenly in front of her. "Do you
think you can give a statement?"

Sandy nodded. She told of meeting Alice on
the road, of being assaulted. "She planned to kill me."

Standing behind her, Ryan's arms tightened
on her waist, and she covered his hands with hers.

"She started bragging about all the problems
she and Brody had caused the McGees. Alice told me they wanted to
make a deal with a coal mining company to sell their open range
land up in the mountains."

As they became clear, Sandy added details.
DC wrote on his clipboard, his face becoming more grim with each
new revelation. Sandy stopped talking, not sure how to finish. She
knew she was about to open wounds that were decades old.

"What is it, Angel?" asked Ryan.

Sandy turned to look at him, clasping his
hands in hers and squeezing. She spoke haltingly, with tears
streaming, but her gaze locked onto his. "It's about your mom." As
she talked, his face went pale, multicolored bruises standing out
in stark contrast. Sandy held onto him, letting him absorb what
she'd said.

"I'm so sorry, Ryan," she whispered.

Silently, he pulled her tightly against him,
burying his face in her hair. He was shaking like he'd never be
able to stop.

"Alice?" Sean appeared too stunned to be
angry. He looked like he was leaning on his father for support, but
Sandy's sharp eyes could see it was mutual.

Justin's face was unreadable, but through
the sadness in his eyes, she saw strength. He was going to be there
for his sons the way he always had been.

"What's going to happen to Brenda?" Sandy
asked. "And to Ricky?"

"God only knows," Sean answered.

"Mac's gonna take care of them." Ryan
finally broke his silence. "I'll set up a trust fund for the boy.
Make sure they have a good lawyer and they both get the help
they'll need to get through."

"Mac's insurance payout." Sean nodded in
approval. "He would've agreed."

The world began to spin, blur together in a
whirl of color. She leaned into Ryan's arms. "Please take me
home."

****

Dark wood paneling and walls the color of a
clear Wyoming sky faded into focus. Late afternoon sunlight
filtered through cream-colored curtains, illuminating the room in a
golden glow. Ryan's bedroom.

Sandy stretched, inhaling deeply. The soft
sheet gliding over her bare arms and legs was like a lover's kiss.
The scent of him lingered enticingly in her nostrils. Ryan's
bed.

Warmth flowed over her with the memories of
his loving touches the night before, when he'd patiently taken care
of her, wiping her tears and drawing her a bath, and then giving
her privacy. He'd left a pair of sweat pants and a soft white
undershirt in the bathroom, and when she rejoined him in his
bedroom, he'd brushed out her hair. She'd never felt so pampered in
her life.

All night long, he'd held her lightly
against his chest. He had shushed her with soft whispers, and every
time she'd startled herself into wakefulness, he'd soothed her back
to sleep with long delicate strokes along her arm. He hadn't made
love to her, and he hadn't wanted to talk about anything. "We have
all our tomorrows to talk, Chicory. I just need to hold you
tonight."

But now she was awake and he was nowhere to
be seen. Where was he? Her Ryan, who was also her Mick? How had she
not recognized his voice? How had she not known him? She sighed,
thinking about her body's instant reaction to his. Had some part of
her recognized him all along?

She ached for him, desperately needed to see
him, touch him. To make sure she hadn't been the victim of a cruel
dream.

Putting a hand to the base of her skull, she
felt the lump and winced. Okay, that part at least hadn't been a
dream. Gingerly, she shook her head, pleased when the movement was
painless. She closed her eyes and laid back against the pillow,
wishing she had her makeup and some fresh clothing.

"You've been one hard lady to find,
Angel."

Sandy's heart pounded madly. Her body began
a slow all-over tingle. She kept her eyes closed, delighting in the
sound of his voice.

A slow smile curved her lips gently upward.
"Do I hear a sexy cowboy lurking nearby?"

Sweeping her eyes open, she turned to regard
Ryan McGee. Lounging casually against the doorframe, he was all
masculine cowboy in his faded blue jeans and pale blue denim shirt
with the sleeves rolled over muscular biceps. Her eyes drifted
downward, sliding over his waist to his lean hips. She licked her
lips hungrily, eliciting a husky chuckle from him as he noted the
direction of her gaze.

Feeling the heat of excitement surge through
her, she flashed back to his face, mentally tracing the shape of
his mouth, his jaw, his cheekbones. His eyes appeared drawn and
tired, and his face still bore the fading bruises and the C-shaped
cut Bull had put there.

"Angel," he said, and the voice of one man
collided with the face of another man, merging into one
reality.

"You're beautiful," she said.

That earned her another chuckle. "I'm the
one supposed to be saying things like that to you."

"Then you'd better get to it, don’t you
think?"

"You're beautiful." He stepped across the
threshold and set an overnight bag on the floor. "Mel sent over a
few things from your place. She said I'm to reassure you she put
your best makeup in here."

Sandy didn't take her eyes off him. "Go
Mel."

He hovered just at the door, emotions
playing across his face. Incredulity. Uncertainty. And love. So
much love she almost forgot to breathe.

"I can't believe I didn't recognize you," he
whispered.

"I didn't recognize you either." Sandy
frowned. "But you said your name was Mickey. You let me call you
Mick."

Ryan's wince became a sheepish smile tugging
at her heart.

"I said I was McGee. I don't think I ever
gave you my first name." Looking at the hardwood floor, he scuffed
the toe of his boot along an old crack. Then he looked up and met
her gaze. "And I . . . kind of liked when you started calling me
Mick—felt like your own personal name for me."

Tears welled. Seven years of pain spilled
over her cheeks. "Ry, back in L.A., I would have been there. I
would have come to you and stayed until you told me to leave . . .
They told me no one made it out. They said they got through and
found everyone dead."

****

Ryan crossed the room and sat carefully on
the edge of the bed, his heart crowding his chest at the sadness in
Sandy's voice. He surveyed the bruises on her face. She'd almost
been killed because of him, not once but twice. And still she was
here with him, wanted to be here.

He traced a finger along her forearm. "I
fell a little further down—a lot further down. But falling probably
saved my life. I survived, Angel." His voice was choked with every
emotion he'd felt for the past seven years. "They found me almost a
day later. I held on for you."

"But I wasn’t there," she whispered, her
eyes mirroring distress.