To protect a child witness

Lone Star Justice must prevail

With a killer at large, Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn must safeguard little Ben Markham—the sole survivor of a mass shooting. But allowing Ben and his beautiful aunt, Sierra Walker, into his life is riskier than Taylor imagined. While he can distract Ben with Christmas planning, Taylor can’t ignore how Sierra makes him feel. The only thing harder than protecting them is guarding his own heart…

MARGARET DALEY, an award-winning author of ninety books (five million sold worldwide), has been married for over forty years and is a firm believer in romance and love. When she isn’t traveling, she’s writing love stories, often with a suspense thread, and corralling her three cats, who think they rule her household. To find out more about Margaret, visit her website at margaretdaley.com.

Also By Margaret Daley

Lone Star Justice

High-Risk Reunion

Lone Star Christmas Rescue

Texas Ranger Showdown

Texas Baby Pursuit

Lone Star Christmas Witness

Alaskan Search and Rescue

The Yuletide Rescue

To Save Her Child

The Protector’s Mission

Standoff at Christmas

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Lone Star Christmas Witness

Margaret Daley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08656-1

LONE STAR CHRISTMAS WITNESS

© 2018 Margaret Daley

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“What do I do? Go to a hotel?”

Sierra eased down onto the couch.

As a second reporter’s car parked in front, Taylor left the window. “I have an idea. Y’all can stay with my dad. He’s a retired marine and loves children. Besides that, the holiday season is a big thing for my dad. It might help Ben to get away.” He didn’t know if it would, but his safety was the most important aspect to consider.

“We can’t impose. We can keep the blinds closed. The press might get tired of waiting.”

“First, you aren’t imposing. I’ll be there, too. Ben needs to be protected until we find the shooter. It didn’t take long for the reporters to find where y’all were. The same can be said of the killer.” Taylor sat next to Sierra on the sofa, so close a whiff of lavender teased his senses. “Let me call him and—”

A piercing scream reverberated through the house.

Dear Reader,

Lone Star Christmas Witness is my fifth book in the Lone Star Justice series, about Texas Rangers. In this story, a tragedy happens that changes my heroine’s life. Not only does she have to deal with her own grief, but also try to help her nephew who lost the only parent he’s known.

This is a story of how people handle grief. The little boy who loses his mother stops talking and withdraws. The heroine is trying to stay alive and protect her nephew while also dealing with the sudden death of her older sister, who had been more of a mother to her than a sister. Their worlds are forever changed. Not only are they affected, but the Texas Ranger dealing with the case has to finally come to terms with the death of his son several years before who was about the age of the little boy he is trying to keep alive. You can try to suppress pain, but sooner or later it bubbles up to the surface and has to be dealt with.

I love hearing from readers. You can contact me at margaretdaley@gmail.com or at PO box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101. You can also learn more about my books at www.margaretdaley.com. I have a newsletter that you can sign up for on my website.

Best wishes,

Margaret Daley

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

—Psalms 27:1

To the Texas Rangers, who work to keep the people of Texas safe

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn strode toward the clinic, ducking under the crime scene tape. A northwest wind blew, a chill in the winter air. Dread threatened to slow his pace, but he couldn’t allow that. Forty-five minutes ago, a woman reported a shooting—a madman had entered this building right before it opened and shot the six employees on the staff. Five were dead, one critically injured.

When Taylor entered the Premier Medical Clinic, the smell of copper and gunpowder accosted him. Sadly, he’d smelled those aromas too many times in his sixteen years in law enforcement. His gaze swept the reception area, pausing for a few seconds on the downed pine tree with its multicolored tiny lights twinkling among the green foliage and the many ornaments lying on the floor. Tangled in the midst of the tree lay the first victim, a middle-aged woman dressed in her nurse’s scrubs—the vision making a mockery of what Christmas stood for.

Lieutenant Nash Cartwright with the San Antonio Police Department approached Taylor, who had been called in because it was a mass shooting. “It’s good to see you.”

Taylor shook his hand, glad that Nash was the SAPD’s lead on this case. He’d worked with the lieutenant several times. “I wish under different circumstances.”

“Me, too. We don’t know much yet. An unidentified man moved methodically through the building taking out the cameras as he went and killing anyone in his path. From what little we saw on the surveillance footage before it went black, the gun had a silencer on it.”

“There wasn’t anything that could identify the suspect?”

“He knew where the cameras were and made sure we didn’t see his face even during the brief time he was caught on tape. All we know is he’s approximately six feet tall with a slender build. His clothing was all black, with a hoodie to hide his face. Nothing else.”

“Was the door unlocked?” Taylor glanced at the security system pad near the front door.

“Don’t know. The alarm was off when we arrived.”

Taylor had briefly noticed a rear parking lot, most likely where the employees parked, which probably meant there was another entrance there. “Even with a silencer, you can hear the muffled shots. But no one escaped the building out the back door?”

“Right. It was blocked by a big trash bin. One male doctor was killed trying to leave.”

Taylor glanced down the hallway and saw another body by the exit, the door opened partially but a large garbage bin against the wall on the outside. “So, the killer came in and left by the front entrance. Any surveillance cameras outside in the parking lots in the back or front?”

“Yes, but taken down beforehand. I just sent some officers out to canvass the other businesses on the street, but with this clinic set back from the road and not surrounded by close neighbors, we might not get anything. And there are no traffic cams on this side street that could show us cars turning into the clinic. We’ll look later at other traffic cams in the general area during the time frame and try to identify the license numbers.”

“Who reported this shooting?”

“The first patient of the day, at eight. An older woman—Gladys Mills. She’s outside in a car with a female officer. She was shaken up and could only tell us she didn’t see anyone leaving the building or hanging around.”

Its location had made this place an easier target, Taylor knew. But he wondered whether this attack was random or targeted. “Any drugs taken?”

Nash frowned. “No. The drugs were locked up, and there are no signs the locks were tampered with, so we can rule that angle out.”

Taylor moved down the hall to the man by the rear door, dressed in a white coat. He stooped and examined the body, facedown, with an entry bullet hole in his back. “The only doctor here?”

“No, Dr. Noah Porter runs the clinic with one other doctor—a female, Dr. Kathleen Markham.”

“Is she one of the dead victims?”

“Yes. She was still in her office.” Nash gestured to a shorter corridor off the main one. “At the end.”

The door was open, but from this view Taylor couldn’t see the victim. “Are all the employees here today? Most clinics, even small ones, have more than six employees.”

“No. There are two not here if the information we’ve dug up is right. One is a male nurse, Colin Brewer, and the other is Sierra Walker, who manages the clinic. I have two officers tracking down the missing employees.”

“Good.” It was possible one of them or both were involved in the shooting or at the very least might have information that could help this investigation. “I especially want to talk to the office manager. This could have been done by a disgruntled employee—past or present. Knowing why will help us find this guy. Where are the other two dead victims?”

“There.” Nash pointed to the counter in the middle of the building where the nurses probably worked.

Taylor walked around a large booth to find two women on the tiled floor—one shot in the back, the other in the chest. From what he had seen so far, the shooter was swift and accurate—possibly methodical in his execution of the crime, as though he’d planned it for a while.

Nash received a call. His frown deepened the longer he listened to the caller. When it ended, he took a few seconds to gather himself, then said, “The sixth victim died on the way to the hospital. She never regained consciousness. Mindy Carson worked the front desk where she was found alive.” He started to walk away, then turned back to Taylor. “Look around. I’ll be in the lobby.”

As Taylor walked toward the female doctor’s office, he couldn’t shake his bad feeling, a growing hollowness in his gut. If this wasn’t a current or former disgruntled employee, then what drove a person to kill all these people who were healers trying to help others get well? The shooter hadn’t come in while patients were here. He’d done this before they opened the clinic. This wasn’t a random choice. The shooter wanted one or all of these people dead.

He stepped into Dr. Markham’s office, noting the lock on the door had been shot out, and paused a few feet inside, scanning the medium-sized room. A woman in her thirties, wearing a white coat, lay on the floor near a bank of windows that didn’t open. Trapped in her office with no way out. He covered the distance to the doctor, who lay faceup, an entry wound to her heart. She hadn’t suffered at least.

As he gazed at a face caught in a look of terror, he whispered, “Who wanted you dead?” He wished the victim could tell him.

The sound of faint whimpers wafted to Taylor. He stiffened and whirled around, every part of him on alert. But the room was empty. His gaze swept more carefully over the office, stopping at a framed picture on Dr. Markham’s desk of her and a little boy.

Did he imagine the noise?

Again, he surveyed the area, looking for any place to hide. The only furniture was a desk with two chairs in front and one behind, as well as a sideboard along the opposite wall with more photos of the doctor and the boy with a few including another woman. He strode over to the piece of furniture for a closer look. The sideboard had drawers down the middle, and cabinets on the sides with louvered doors. He opened the nearest cupboard. Files, books and magazines were crammed inside. He moved to the other one on the left and swung the door wide.

A child was curled into a tight ball, his head buried against his knees. Another whimper escaped the kid’s mouth as he tried to crouch even more into a protective cocoon.

Taylor squatted in front of the child. “You’re safe. I’m Texas Ranger Blackburn, and I won’t let anything happen to you.” A lance pierced his heart as he waited for the boy to trust him. Finally, the child looked up, and Taylor recognized him as the boy from the photographs. Dr. Markham’s son probably. He could only imagine the horror this young child went through when the killer came into the office. Did he see or hear anything through the slats in the cabinet door?

Taylor wondered who the other woman in a couple of the photographs was. She looked like Dr. Markham. She looked too old to be her child. A sister maybe?

“No one is going to hurt you. I promise. You’re safe.” Taylor held out his hand.

The brown-haired child didn’t move.

Taylor withdrew his cell phone and called Nash rather than leave the child alone to find the lieutenant. “Will you send a police officer to find Kathleen Markham’s residence and see if there’s a family member there?”

“Why?”

“I found Dr. Markham’s son in her office.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.” As Taylor disconnected, he held out his hand again toward the child. “Come on out. You’re safe.”

But the kid quickly turned his face away from Taylor.

He settled himself on the floor by the child. He didn’t want him to feel he was alone nor did he want to force him out of the cabinet. Taylor glanced up at the photo of Dr. Markham, the boy and a young woman who had long blond hair and a smile that lit her whole face. She had her arm around the kid, looking down at him. Suddenly a thought struck him. What if the boy was this lady’s son, not Dr. Markham’s?

Sierra Walker left the Premier Medical Clinic’s accountant’s office, relieved to get the necessary paperwork to him for the end of the year. She hurried toward her car, the cold wind whipping her long blond hair about her face and sending a shiver down her spine. Reaching her Mustang, she opened the driver’s side door and slipped behind the steering wheel.

She hoped Kat could figure out what was wrong with Ben. Probably a cold or possibly the flu. After her nephew had spent yesterday at the clinic, sleeping most of the time in one of the exam rooms, Sierra had told her sister that she’d take Ben with her today and work at home when she finished meeting with the accountant.

When she turned onto the street that led to work, the sight of police cruisers parked along the street in front of the clinic with lights flashing sent terror snaking down her spine. A small crowd stood behind a makeshift barricade.

She parked along the street, then dug her cell phone out of her purse. Her hands shook as she called her sister, her full attention glued to the police going in and out of the building. When Kat didn’t answer, she stuffed her phone back into her handbag and scrambled from her car.

Her pace, matching her pounding heartbeat, quickened with each step she took toward the barricade. She fought her way through the throng, praying everyone was all right, especially Kat and Ben. They were her only family. Her sister was the one who rescued her when she started down the wrong path. She owed her so much.

She reached the cordoned-off area and ducked under the barrier. A police officer immediately confronted her. “Ma’am, you aren’t supposed to be here. Please stay behind the barricade.”

“I work here. What happened? Is everyone all right?”

“Who are you?”

“Sierra Walker. I’m the office manager, and my sister, Dr. Markham, works here, too.”

“Can I see some identification?”

With trembling hands Sierra dug into her purse and presented her wallet with her driver’s license.

“Come this way.”

As she walked beside the officer, she scanned the scene and realized that something really bad had happened for this kind of all-out response and interest from bystanders. The nearer she came to the entrance, the more distress wrapped around her and squeezed the breath from her lungs, making her chest hurt.

The officer stopped while a gurney with a closed body bag was wheeled from the building.

“Please tell me if my sister and her son are okay.” She didn’t know how the words passed her tight throat.

He didn’t answer but continued to make his way into the clinic as the gurney was rolled toward a waiting vehicle. Sweat popped out on Sierra’s forehead in spite of the cold weather. The stench assailed her senses as she moved farther inside. Her stomach roiled.

When the sight of a body’s shape taped on the bloodstained floor by the Christmas tree across from the receptionist’s desk transfixed Sierra, she stopped as though frozen in place. Who was dead? Mindy, the receptionist? Mindy was one of her best friends. They often shared lunch here at the clinic or the café across the street. Then Sierra thought of all the other people she worked with who could be on that gurney, and her heart broke into pieces.

The officer glanced back. “I’m taking you to someone who can answer your questions.”

She heard the words he said, but they seemed to come to her as if she were in a long tunnel and he was at the other end.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Sierra closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she opened them again, a man over six feet tall, dressed in a long-sleeve white shirt, with a blue tie, an off-white cowboy hat and tan pants, headed toward her. Her focus latched onto the circular star badge he wore slightly to the left, over his heart. A Texas Ranger—which usually meant not a routine crime.

The Texas Ranger with deep green eyes and dark brown hair held out his arm. “Sierra Walker?”

She shook his hand. “Yes. What has happened here?” Her voice quavered, and she swallowed hard, trying to prepare herself for the worst—Mindy was in the body bag.

“There’s no good way to say this. A shooter came to the clinic right before it opened and shot everyone who was here. Is Dr. Kathleen Markham your sister? That’s what the officer said.”

Fear froze her lungs. “Yes. Is she hurt bad?” Please don’t let her be the person in the body bag.

“I’m Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn. Let’s go in here.” He motioned toward a room behind the receptionist desk.

Part of the area was partitioned for her workplace. “My office is back there.” Moving forward, Sierra made the mistake of glancing down the main hallway, and when her eyes lit on a male body by the back door, she stumbled.

A hand grasped her arm, and the Texas Ranger stopped her from falling. Heat flushed her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting that. Who is it? Dr. Porter?”

He looked down at her. “Yes, it’s him.”

She stared into those green eyes, and in that moment, she knew no one survived the mass shooting. Kathleen! Ben! Mindy and the others. Tears sprang into her eyes and blurred her vision. “Is my sister’s body still here?”

“No. It was the first one removed. Let’s go to your office.” He gestured to the room filled with file cabinets.

Sierra nodded. As she made her way there, she averted her face and wiped the wet tracks from her cheeks. She couldn’t even bring herself to ask about Ben. She’d helped raise her seven-year-old nephew since he was born, especially while Kathleen was a resident with long hours then when she started the clinic. For his first few years, Sierra’s life had revolved around him.

As Texas Ranger Blackburn closed the door, she leaned against her desk to help support her. A huge lump clogged her throat, and she gulped—several times—before she felt she could ask him the question she’d never thought she would say. “My nephew, Ben, was here with his mom. Is he—”

The Texas Ranger closed the space between them, his green eyes softening. “Ben is the only person who survived.”

At first, she thought she hadn’t heard correctly. She started to question him, but his look of compassion gave her hope. “How?”

“He hid in a cupboard in your sister’s office. Most likely the shooter didn’t know he was there.”

Opposite emotions—happiness for Ben and a deep sadness for Kat—assailed her. She shut her eyes and tried to compose her thoughts. “Where is he? Can I see him?”

“Soon. First, you and I need to talk.”

“But he has to be frightened. What has he said?”

“Nothing. Since I took him from the cupboard, he hasn’t cried or said anything.”

“He’s in shock.”

“Yes, and we have someone with him right now.” He gestured toward a chair nearby. “Sit. Let’s talk. The child psychologist I called will be through soon.”

Everything around Sierra vanished, and all she saw was the law enforcement officer, taking a seat across from her. How had she ended up sitting down? She didn’t even remember doing that. She had to be dreaming. Any moment she would wake up and see Kathleen and Ben.

“Ms. Walker, are you okay?” Concern laced the Texas Ranger’s deep voice.

She blinked, and reality zoomed into focus. “No. What do you want to ask me? I want to be with Ben as soon as possible. He has to feel...” As numb and lost as I am?

“Were you at the clinic at any time this morning?”

“No. I left our house and went right to an eight o’clock meeting with the clinic’s accounting firm. The meeting was over at ten thirty, and I came straight here.”

“What’s the name of the accounting firm?”

For a few seconds, she became defensive, her hands curling into a ball. How in the world could he think she might have something to do with the killings? She cared for everyone at the clinic, especially Mindy, and her sister had been more like a mother to her since their mom died when Sierra was twelve.

“Jones Smith Accounting. We’ve been a client for the past five years. Zachery Jones was the partner I met with this morning. He’ll verify I was there between eight and ten thirty.”

The Texas Ranger wrote down the information she gave him, then glanced up.

She rose partway. “Now can I see Ben?”

“I know this is hard, but I have a few more questions. Have there been any threats against the clinic or one of the employees recently?”

She sat back down, trying to remember, but her mind felt as though it were on overload. She shook her head. “I don’t think...” Something nagged at her, but the thought stayed at the back of her mind, vague and muddy.

“What is it?” the Texas Ranger prompted.

She tried to focus, rubbing her forehead, and then she recalled. “It was last summer. There was a father who blamed Dr. Porter for his daughter’s death, but he was grieving at the sudden turn of events. Dr. Porter did everything he could.”

“Who?”

“I’d have to look back through the files.”

“Anyone else?”

“Another patient was mad because he was still in pain and wanted more medication. My sister wouldn’t write a prescription. She’s especially careful about that because of the opiate crisis. That situation happened last month. The guy’s name was Bruce Lockhart.” Tension pounded against her temples. Her nerves were stretched so tight she wondered if they would snap in two. “I can’t think of anyone else right now. I need to look through the appointment log and possibly the records. But even then, I might not be able to come up with more. I work all day in here, and don’t have a lot to do with the patients. Something could have happened, and I might not know about it.” She paused. “Although Mindy usually kept me informed, even about the employees’ personal life, but nothing to warrant this.”

“Are the doors to the clinic kept locked until it opens?”

“Yes. It gives the staff time to meet if needed.”

“Who has a key to the building?”

“I do. Also my sister, Dr. Porter and Colin Brewer. He’s a nurse and he’s been here from the beginning. Everyone who has a key also has the alarm system code. After the employees who don’t have a key arrive, the front door is locked until it’s time to open.”

He wrote down the names, the lines on his face deepening. “Where is Ben’s father?”

When Sierra thought about Kalvin and what he’d done, she couldn’t help but frown. “He left Kathleen a few months after Ben was born. He gave her full custody and walked away. He’s never contacted her. The last she knew he was overseas. That was a couple of years ago.”

“What does he do?”

“I don’t know. He was in security. That’s what he called it.”

“What is Ben’s father’s name?”

“Kalvin Markham.”

“When you say overseas, where?”

“The Middle East. I got the impression he moved around a lot.” Sierra massaged her temples, trying to rid her head of the increasing pain.

“What kind of arrangements did your sister have for Ben if anything happened to her?”

The conversation she and Kathleen had several years ago flooded her thoughts. She hadn’t wanted to discuss the issue, but her older sister had insisted. Kat had been practical about things while Sierra had wanted to avoid the what-ifs. She’d learned to live for the moment, although with her job and her part in Ben’s life that had been changing.

“I’m Ben’s guardian if anything happened to Kathleen. She has a will leaving everything to her son, with me being the executor of her will and his trustee until Ben turns twenty-one. She wanted to make sure Kalvin could never get ahold of her money, especially now that she was an established doctor.”

“How long has this clinic been open?”

“Five years.” She was done answering questions. She needed to see for herself that Ben was alive. She needed to hold him. “I’m sorry, but right now, I want to see my nephew. I don’t want him to think something happened to me, too.”

“Yes, I understand. We can continue this conversation later. I have some information to help me proceed with the investigation. I’ll be working with the SAPD on this case.” He rose. “The child psychologist should be through talking to Ben by now.”

Sierra grasped the arms of the chair and pushed herself to a standing position, her legs feeling as though she’d just finished a marathon run carrying twenty-pound weights. Following the Texas Ranger from her office, she kept her eyes forward, doing her best to avoid looking at Dr. Porter’s body. She was thankful two officers were blocking her view this time.

Texas Ranger Blackburn clasped the knob to one of the exam rooms. “Ben’s in here, and I would like him to remain here until all the bodies are removed. Dr. Porter is the last one. The child psychologist is Dr. John Yates.”

How did this officer deal with something like what happened at the clinic and remain so composed? She wanted to fall apart and cry until there was nothing left in her. But for Ben’s sake, she couldn’t.

She walked into the exam room first, immediately seeing her nephew huddled into a ball, his head buried against his knees. Her broken heart further shattered into thousands of pieces. She hurried to his side and placed her hand on his hunched back. “Ben, I’m here. You aren’t alone.”

Nothing.

She stroked his back, something she did when he was upset. “Ben, we’ll be able to leave here in a few minutes.”

Still not a word.

She glanced over her shoulder at the child psychologist. He signaled he wanted to talk with her outside in the hall. “I love you, Ben. I’ll be right back.”

She stepped outside with the man while the Texas Ranger stayed in the exam room. “Did he say anything to you?”

Dr. Yates shook his head. “No. Not one word. I was with him forty-five minutes. When he’s upset, does he refuse to talk?”

“Never. He can talk your ear off. What does this mean?”

“It’s possible he has traumatic muteness.”

“Will he ever talk again?”

“Hopefully. But he’s witnessed a horrific crime,” Dr. Yates said. “He was hiding in a cabinet. Your sister most likely put him there and told him not to say a word.”

Sierra paced toward the reception area, spied the bloodstain on the floor and turned back around. “What can we do, Dr. Yates? We’ve got to help him.”

“Please call me John. I would like to work with him.”

“Yes, anything to help him cope with this.” She couldn’t imagine what her nephew was going through. She was an adult, and she was struggling to deal with what happened to Kat.

“For the first couple of sessions, I’d like to come to his house. I’m hoping a familiar place will help him. I will tell you he didn’t curl up into a ball until Taylor left the room to talk to you.”

“Have you worked with Texas Ranger Blackburn before?”

“Yes, whenever a child is involved in a case. Now, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to have our first session today. From what Taylor told me, Ben’s the only one who might have seen or heard something that could help the case. In fact, perhaps it would be best if Taylor was at the session, too.”

“Anything you think will help Ben and find the killer. Holding it inside only makes the situation worse.” She’d found that out the hard way when as teenager she’d kept a secret that ate at her soul until she finally turned to the Lord with her sister’s help. Kat was the only other person who knew about it.

“Good.” John swung around and opened the door to the exam room.

When she went inside, Ben sat on the edge of the exam bed, his legs hanging down. His chin rested on his chest, but he wasn’t in a ball like before. Taylor Blackburn leaned against the piece of furniture next to Ben as if he was in deep thought.

“Ben, I want to take you home. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry. We can stop and get some hamburgers at your favorite place. Okay?”

Her nephew lifted his head and nodded once, then returned his stare to the floor.

For a moment, panic set in. She wasn’t prepared to take her sister’s place and become Ben’s full-time caregiver. What if I make a mistake? Lord, I need help. Where do I start?

She kept her focus on God, and slowly calmness overtook the anxiousness. Sierra held out her hand. “Let’s go home.”

Ben took it and slid off the exam table, the whole time still staring at the floor. At the door, her nephew spun around and threw himself at Taylor, clinging to him. The Texas Ranger’s eyes widened, connecting with hers. Ben’s reaction confirmed what Dr. Yates had pointed out, that Taylor had a calming effect on her nephew. That made sense to her. In Ben’s eyes, Taylor had saved him when he found him hiding in Kat’s office.

She clasped one of Ben’s shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

Her nephew released his hold and stepped away from Taylor with hesitation. Ben took Sierra’s hand but kept his gaze on Taylor. What was she supposed to do? She tried to remember what she’d felt when her mother died.

She headed toward the front exit, trying her best to block Ben’s view of the bloodstains on the reception floor. As she reached to pull the door open, Taylor and John appeared right behind them.

“We’ll follow you to your house,” Taylor said as he opened the door for them and they left the clinic.

Relief blanketed her. “Thanks.”

In the short time she had been inside, the crowd outside had doubled, and more media had arrived. She hadn’t thought about that. She didn’t want to talk to a reporter, nor did she want Ben to be questioned by them.

As they neared the barricades, Taylor came around her. “I’ll take the lead. You don’t have to talk to the press. In fact, I’d recommend you don’t.”

“I’m not going to.” The eagerness she glimpsed on the reporters’ faces made her feel as though she was the prey and they were waiting to devour her to get their story.

“Where’s your car?”

“It’s the red Mustang to the right down the street.”

“Good. It’s not that far from my SUV.”

Two police officers moved the barricade, so they could leave. As they plunged into the crowd, Sierra and Ben were immediately surrounded by reporters shouting questions at them, a lot of them holding microphones while cameramen angled for a good shot of her and her nephew. Panic shot through her at the thought the whole world would see their picture on the news—and realize Ben survived the attack.

As she dodged the media, she wondered how in the world she was going to protect Ben from his memories of today—and from the killer.

TWO

Taylor pulled in behind Sierra’s car that she’d driven into the garage, while Dr. Yates parked along the curb. On his trip here, Taylor had checked Sierra’s alibi and the accounting firm had confirmed her presence and the time she left that morning. He hadn’t thought she was the killer, but he’d learned to check every lead out.

In fact, the interviews with both of them had been difficult for him, especially Ben’s. The little boy with brown hair and eyes reminded him of his deceased son. TJ had died from cancer at the age of six over three years ago. He’d left a hole in Taylor’s heart that he’d never been able to fill. Months after his son’s death, Taylor had been accepted as a Texas Ranger after serving as a Texas State Trooper. He’d thrown himself into the job as though that would cover the pain of his loss. It hadn’t. That was why he preferred working from behind a computer rather than in the field. At least until a few months ago. Working a case with Texas Ranger Dallas Sanders involving kidnapped babies had made him realize he couldn’t hide forever.

When he realized he was gripping the steering wheel so hard pain shot up his arms, he pried his fingers loose and slid from his vehicle. He bridged the distance to Sierra, holding her car door open while Ben slowly crawled from the back seat. As he straightened, Ben glanced up at Taylor. The look of terror in the child’s eyes reminded him of when TJ had gone for his first chemo treatment. Taylor hadn’t been able to protect his son then. He intended to protect Ben now. He wasn’t helpless in this situation. He’d find the murderer.

When John Yates joined them, Sierra put the garage door down and walked with her hand on Ben’s shoulder to the porch of the two-story, adobe-styled home. Taylor hung back and surveyed the surroundings. No one had followed them to the house, but it wouldn’t have been hard for the killer to figure out where Dr. Markham lived with her sister and son. There was still a possibility the shooting was random, but more likely it wasn’t. So, what motivated the person to kill six people? If he could answer that, it would be a lot easier to find the shooter.

Taylor was the last one to enter the Markham home. He locked the door behind him and faced Sierra across the foyer. Her long, curly strawberry blond hair reminded him of a setting sun striking the mountains in Big Bend National Park. But what really drew his attention were her big brown eyes with long, dark eyelashes, filled with pain from losing a loved one. That look drew him. In the past nine years, he’d gone through the same kind of sorrow twice. He felt a connection with her, which surprised him because he worked hard to keep himself walled off. He couldn’t deal with that kind of pain for a third time.

Sierra tore her gaze away from his. “We should go into the kitchen.” She led the way down a hall, and when she entered the room, she gestured toward the table in a nook with a bay window overlooking the fenced backyard. While they were all settled except her, she asked, “What would you like to drink? We have sweet tea, water and milk, but if you would like coffee, I can make some.”

“Sweet tea is fine for me,” Taylor said while John nodded. He rose and strolled to the counter next to the refrigerator as Sierra opened the door. “Here, let me help you. Where are the glasses?”

“The cabinet in front of you.” Her hand shaking, she immediately set the pitcher on the ceramic tiles.

Taylor leaned close to her. “You have enough to do. The least I can do is take care of this. Go sit down.”

“Thanks.”

He quickly filled the glasses, set them on the table and returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. When he took his seat between Ben and John, he looked up into Sierra’s brown eyes across the table, glimpsing a sadness he was all too familiar with.

After John finished chewing a bite of his hamburger, he said, “Ben, this is fantastic. Now I see why this is your favorite place to get a burger.”

The boy kept his head down while eating his food.

Taylor fixed his attention on Ben. “Dr. Yates, I agree with you. This is great.”

The child slid his glance to Taylor for a fleeting few seconds.

John nodded at Taylor, a signal they had talked about earlier. If Ben wasn’t responding to John, his friend wanted Taylor to ask a few questions and see what response he could get from the traumatized boy.

Over the years Taylor had interviewed a lot of victims and witnesses, but in this case, he felt the weight of what he was doing. He wasn’t a child psychologist, but at least John was here to guide him.

“Ben, sometimes when I’m upset, I can’t explain things well. That’s normal. I noticed some pictures on the refrigerator. Are those yours? Do you like to draw?”

The young boy turned his head slightly toward Taylor, then went back to eating.

“Ben draws a lot, as you can see.” Sierra pointed toward the fridge. “He has an area in his room where he has paper, pencils, markers and other items for a budding artist.”

“That’s great, Ben. Maybe after lunch, you can show me your room.”

He nodded but didn’t look at Taylor.

Ten minutes later Ben and Sierra headed upstairs with Taylor behind them. John was waiting a moment before following. When Taylor entered the bedroom, the sight of a large corkboard with a ton of drawings pinned to it sent relief through him. According to John, some kids expressed their emotions through their artwork. He remembered in the baby kidnapping case how Michelle Sanders, the daughter of Dallas Sanders, a fellow Texas Ranger and friend, and the thirteen-year-old babysitter of the first child abducted, had helped their case and had been pivotal in solving the crime.

“You’re quite an artist, Ben. I’d love for you to draw a picture for me,” Taylor said.

Ben sat down at his table but didn’t do anything except stare at a blank sheet. Taylor and Sierra hovered over the child, not sure what else to do. When John appeared in the doorway, Ben finally picked up a black marker and scribbled all over the paper. Then he snapped up the picture and wadded it into a tight ball. Tears ran down his face as he threw it at the wall. Hanging his head, he hunched his shoulders.

Sierra squatted next to her nephew, putting her arm around him. “Sweetie, I’m here for you.” She gave him a hug, tears glistening in her eyes. “Can you tell us anything about this morning?”

Silence.

Taylor knelt on the other side of the boy. “You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Remember, I promised.”

After five long minutes, when Ben didn’t say anything or make any kind of movement to indicate he’d even heard him, Taylor glanced over his shoulder at John, who motioned for Taylor to come into the hallway. He rose and took a step away. Suddenly Ben shot up, his chair tumbling backward, and threw his arms around Taylor as though to stop him from leaving.

Still he spoke not a word.

Taylor clasped the boy, not sure what he should do.

Sierra came to Ben’s side. “Hon, it’s okay if you don’t want to draw. Texas Ranger Blackburn was only going out into the hallway to talk with Dr. Yates. You need to let him do that.”

“Ben, I’ll be right back.”

The child let go and immediately clung to his aunt.

As Taylor left the bedroom, he heard Sierra say, “You won’t be alone. You’re safe now.”

He hoped so for the child’s sake.

Taylor joined John in the hall, and they moved away from the doorway. “What do we do?”

“Ben needs to feel safe. After the kind of trauma he went through, he’s frightened, possibly wondering when the person will come back and get him. He took his anger and fear out on the paper.”

Taylor frowned, remembering the young boy crammed into a cabinet, probably told not to say a word. “I can’t imagine the horror he went through when he witnessed his mother being murdered. He could have seen the whole thing through the slats in the cupboard door. At the very least, he heard it. I was hoping he would tell us what he saw and heard. We don’t have a lot to go on right now. What should we do?”

“We?”

“How can I turn my back on the boy?” And Sierra.

“I see the resemblance of Ben to TJ. Is that why you feel you need to go above and beyond your job?”

John had helped TJ deal with his leukemia and then even helped Taylor deal with TJ’s death. “Don’t bring my son into this. Ben isn’t TJ. I know that. But he’s a scared child and the only witness to the shooting.”

“Are you being honest with yourself?”

“I’m going to make sure he’s safe. What if the man comes after Ben because he thinks the child saw him?”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure out something. If anything happens to Ben, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Like TJ?”

Taylor balled his hands. “I did everything I could to save my son. And I’ll do the same for Ben.” The memory of the boy clinging to him when he rescued Ben from the cabinet wasn’t something he would forget anytime soon.

John stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I know. But don’t mix the two up. Ben needs to feel safe. His view of the world has been shattered today. And there’s a chance he’ll never remember the details of what happened or even talk again. Our mind sometimes will suppress a tragic incident in order to cope with what happened.” He looked over at the door to Ben’s room. “That doesn’t mean it won’t affect the boy on a subconscious level.”

A sound to Taylor’s left brought him around to face Sierra as she came into the hallway. Grief had carved lines into her features, darkened her eyes. “How’s Ben?”

“He’s asleep right now.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Intense emotions are exhausting.” All Taylor had wanted to do when TJ had died was retreat from life and sleep.

Sierra’s mouth thinned into a tight line. “I want to find who did this.”

“And I don’t want Ben to overhear this conversation.” John turned toward the stairs. “Why don’t we go downstairs and discuss what needs to be done in the days to come.”

Taylor followed behind Sierra, descending the steps and crossing to the living room. In front of the large window stood a Christmas tree, laden with tiny white lights, red garland and dozens of ornaments, a lot of them appearing homemade. He felt as though he’d stepped into a Christmas store. Since his son died, he hadn’t even put up a tree.

Sierra took a seat on the couch at one end while he sat in a chair across from her. John joined her on the couch. For a long moment silence ruled.

John cleared his throat. “For the next few days, I’d like to visit with Ben here at this house. This is where he’s felt safe and secure. I’m hoping that will help him begin to bring down his walls.”

Sierra folded her hands together in her lap as she faced the doctor. “I’m concerned. He hasn’t said a word so far. And like I said, Ben is a talkative child. He never goes long without talking.”

“Selective mutism is often caused by trauma. If we can deal with the cause, he’ll hopefully begin to talk again. But if he does, that doesn’t mean he’ll pour out the details of what happened this morning. I want to give him techniques to deal with stress and trauma. I think one of the best ways for him will be through his art. He’s very good at drawing for his age. He may never be able to say what happened with words, but maybe he will in pictures.”

Taylor remembered the myriad illustrations plastered all over the large corkboard in Ben’s bedroom, not to mention some in frames hanging on the walls. He wondered if Michelle Sanders could help Ben get started. The teenager had a way with children and certainly knew about being involved in a traumatic situation. Two people had kidnapped her nephew while she had been babysitting him and had left her injured. He’d call her father, Dallas, and see what he thought about it.

“What should I do to help?” Sierra asked John, twisting her hands together while chewing on her bottom lip.

“Love him. Keep his routine as normal as possible. And make sure he feels safe.” John stood and gave her a business card. “Call me at any time if you need me. I’ll be back tomorrow at eight before I go in for my first appointment.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Taylor pushed to his feet and accompanied John into the foyer. At the front door he finally said, “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I didn’t know what to do at the clinic. He wouldn’t let go of me.”

“Anytime. We’ve been friends for a long time.” He shook Taylor’s hand. “You know, there’s a chance we’ll never know what happened from Ben.”

“But the killer doesn’t know that. That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Ben’s in good hands with you.”

As John left, a news van pulled up to the curb in front of the house. While Taylor gripped the edge of the door, a cameraman and woman reporter climbed from their vehicle and started for the porch. He immediately stepped outside and met the pair on the sidewalk leading to Sierra’s home.

“We understand Ben Markham was the only surviving person at the clinic. Has he said anything about the shooting? What does the killer look like? Can the boy identify him?”

Although the police had withheld Ben’s name, he’d known it wouldn’t take the press long to figure it out, and now the killer would know for sure there was a potential witness. In addition to working the case, now he needed to find a place to keep Ben safe from the media and possibly the shooter.

He threw his shoulders back in an imposing gesture as he made a statement. “The families of the victims are dealing with a difficult situation. Please respect their privacy and grief. The police department will be giving a statement later today. Do not trespass on this property, or I’ll arrest you.”

He spun around and marched to the porch while the reporter asked, “Why wasn’t Sierra Walker at the clinic? She’s the office manager.”

He felt the urge to slam the front door but refrained. He didn’t want to alarm Ben in any way. So he closed it quietly.

Sierra stood in the foyer with her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t want them to upset Ben any more than he already is. Are they leaving?”

Taylor headed into the living room and stared out the large front window. “No. They’re standing by their van. There’ll be more before the day is over.” He turned toward Sierra.

The ashen cast to her face highlighted her large, dark brown eyes. “No! They can’t. Ben will see them. They will scare him even more.”

“As long as they stay off your property, there’s little I can do except find you and Ben another place to stay for the time being. A place that the reporters don’t know about.”

Sierra eased down onto the couch. “Like what? A hotel?”

As a second car parked in front, Taylor left the window. “I have an idea. Y’all can stay with my dad. He lives in a small town right outside of San Antonio. He’s a retired Marine and loves children. My sister, who lives three hours away, has a nine-year-old daughter and a five-year-old son. Besides that, the holiday season is a big thing for my dad. It might help Ben to get away.” He didn’t know if it would, but the boy’s safety was the most important aspect to consider.

“We can’t impose. We can keep the blinds closed. The press might get tired of waiting.”

“First, you aren’t imposing. I know my dad. He would be the first to tell you to come to his place. I’ll be there, too. I think Ben needs to be protected until we find the shooter. It didn’t take long for the reporters to find where y’all were. The same can be said of the killer.” Taylor sat next to her on the sofa, so close a whiff of vanilla teased his senses. “Let me call him and—”

A piercing scream reverberated through the house.

THREE

The shrill sound from the second floor chilled Sierra to her core. She jumped up at the same time as Taylor surged to his feet and raced toward the staircase, withdrawing his gun. He took the steps two at a time while she followed closely behind him. He disappeared inside Ben’s room a few feet before her. When she entered, she nearly ran into Taylor, poised in the entrance with his gun raised.

Sierra peered around him, her heartbeat racing. “Where’s Ben?”

He shifted his attention from one area of the bedroom to the next, lingering on the window. He walked to it and checked to see if it was locked. “I don’t know.”

While Taylor stooped down and inspected beneath the bed, Sierra went to look in the bathroom, knowing of two places Ben had used when they’d played hide-and-seek. But Ben wasn’t between the stool and counter or in the bathtub.

As she reentered the bedroom, Taylor opened the closet door. Ben sat hunched over, covering his ears. When her nephew dropped his hands to his sides and looked up, his tear-soaked face ripped at her composure.

Being closer, Taylor holstered his weapon and squatted next to Ben. “You must have had a bad dream. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” Slowly he reached out and laid his hand on her nephew’s back.

Sierra knelt next to Taylor. “And neither am I.” Earlier she’d wanted to stay at this house because Ben was familiar with his surroundings, but with the press outside, she knew that wasn’t possible. Their presence would be a constant reminder to Ben and her of what had happened today. “You aren’t alone, sweetie.”

Taylor pulled back to allow her to slide her arm along Ben’s shoulders. The boy turned his head, looked at her with red eyes, then lunged toward her and pressed against her. She hugged him, listening to the sobs pouring out of him.

Today had forever changed Ben’s life—and hers. Would he ever be able to deal with the trauma of this morning? Would he ever talk again?

Taylor leaned close to Sierra’s ear and whispered, “I’m going to call my dad.”

As he rose, Ben reached out and clutched Taylor’s arm.

“I’ll be right back,” he told the boy. “I’m not leaving the house. I’m here for you.”

Slowly her nephew let go of Taylor. Ben leaned against Sierra and watched him exit the bedroom.

“Honey, you’re his number one priority.” Should she say anything about leaving the house? What if Taylor’s dad didn’t want them to come to his place? She’d wait until the plans were finalized. Ben needed stability. Not being here would be enough change that he would have to deal with. “Let’s sit on your bed until Taylor comes back.”

As she stood, Ben remained where he was, but when she held out her hand, he took it and pushed to his feet. They eased down on the bed, and Ben curled against her while she slung her arm around him. She’d done it many times in the past, but her sister had always been here. Now she was all Ben had.

She thought of his father. What kind of man gave up his parental rights and walked away from his child? He hadn’t seen Ben since that day. A couple of years ago, her nephew had stopped asking about his father.

When Taylor returned to the bedroom, he gave Sierra a slight nod and sat next to Ben on the other side. “My dad needs my help at his house,” he told them. “I’d promised I would help him with a project, and I don’t go back on a promise I make to someone. Would you both like to come with me? It will take a few days at least, so I’ll need to stop by my place and get my dog.”

The mention of his pet perked up Ben.

“What kind of dog do you have?” Sierra hoped that would make Ben agree to go. Taylor didn’t know it, but the one present Ben wanted for Christmas was a dog. Kat had planned to go to an animal shelter to pick one out this week.

“A black Lab named Oscar after my granddad. He loves my dad’s house because he has a big fenced backyard. You okay with that, Ben?”

Her nephew nodded.

“Good. I saw a duffel bag in your closet. I can help you pack some clothes and toys for the next few days while your aunt gets what she needs. Okay?”

Ben released his grip on Sierra and gave Taylor a nod. Her nephew swiped his hand across his cheeks and stood.

“I’ll be right back, Ben.” Sierra hurried to her room and quickly packed a small suitcase.

This upcoming weekend, they were going to bake cookies for a church party for the kids. Ben loved doing it and attending it every year. Now even that wasn’t going to be the same. Am I doing the right thing, Lord? Is this what’s best for Ben?

She heaved the bag off the bed and rolled it down the hall to Ben’s room. When she appeared at the entrance, he was gathering his drawing materials. A good sign.

Taylor closed the space between him and her. “You’re ready?”

“Yes. How did you know that Ben loves dogs?”

“Half the pictures on his corkboard are of dogs. Besides, I was his age once, and I loved my dog.”

“My sister wanted to get him one at Christmas,” she whispered. “I’m still going to.”

“I think that would be great. When I’m down, Oscar knows how to cheer me up.”

She peered around Taylor to see what Ben was doing. He stuffed his art supplies into his duffel bag, then went to his toy drawer. “Is your dad really okay with us coming?” She kept her voice low.

Taylor bent toward her and said in a whisper, “Yes, most definitely.”

His breath as he spoke caressed her cheek and sent a shiver down her spine. The hint of peppermint floated in the air. Trying to dismiss her reaction to Taylor’s nearness, Sierra stepped around him and strolled across the room to Ben. “Are you ready?”

Ben zippered his bag and swung it off the bed.

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to meet Oscar.”

Struggling with his duffel bag, Ben hurried as fast as he could.

“Do you want me to carry it?” Taylor asked in the hallway.

Her nephew shook his head. When he descended the stairs, he dragged the bag down each step while Taylor and she followed. When he reached the first floor, Ben straightened his shoulders and watched them make their way toward him.

Taylor knelt in front of him. “You’re strong. Good job. We’re going in my car to get Oscar and then drive to my dad’s. Outside there are a few people who want to talk to us. I’ll take care of them while your aunt and you keep going to my SUV. Okay?”

Ben nodded, then hefted his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Taylor opened the front door and exited first. Sierra went next, then locked up after Ben stepped outside. Without a word, she headed toward the SUV, keeping an eye on the four media teams who had surged forward. Taylor stopped them from going any farther than the public sidewalk. After he informed the reporters it would be a waste of their time to hang around the house, he told them there would be a press conference at San Antonio’s main police department at five that day. The chief of police would answer all the questions he could at that time.

Ben put his bag in the car and hopped into the back while Sierra slid into the front passenger seat and glanced in the direction of Taylor. He strode toward his car, his dark eyebrows slashing downward while his mouth firmed into a frown. Not one of the cameraman/reporter teams left their places on the sidewalk.

When Taylor backed out of the driveway, one pair ran for their van and began following them. It took him halfway to his town house before he was able to shake the tail. When he arrived at his place, he pulled into his garage and lowered the door.

“Stay in here. It won’t take me long to get Oscar. I want to be away from here before they figure out where my home is.”

After Taylor disappeared inside, Sierra turned toward Ben to make sure he was all right. She couldn’t tell. His head hung down, his chin resting on his upper chest. Before she could think of the right words to say, Taylor brought Oscar into the garage on a leash while also carrying a paper sack and a backpack.

When Taylor opened the back door to let Oscar jump inside, Ben finally lifted his head, his eyes big but not in fear. The black Lab saw her nephew, and his tail began to wag frantically as he approached Ben. He held out his hand for Oscar to sniff. The Lab not only smelled him but also licked him. Ben threw his arms around the dog.

“Sit,” Taylor said, then shut the back door and rounded the rear.

Oscar settled right against Ben and laid his head on his lap while his tail kept wagging.

Sierra faced forward as Taylor opened his garage and started his SUV. “Where does your father live?”

“Sunflower. Not far outside San Antonio.”

Sierra glanced again in the back seat. Ben still held Oscar, but his eyelids began to close. She turned forward and leaned her head against the window, staring at the terrain as they passed without really seeing it.

Twenty minutes later, Taylor pulled into a driveway of a two-story white house with a front porch. Sierra sat up as an older man, about sixty-five, with short salt-and-pepper hair came outside and headed for the car. Sierra exited the car and opened the back door for Ben to climb out with Oscar by his side.

“Dad, this is Sierra Walker and her nephew, Ben.”

His dad reached out and shook Sierra’s hand. “I’m Robert. I’m glad y’all are here. Come on in.”

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. How would she ever repay Taylor and his father for what they were doing for her and Ben? Thank You, Lord, for the help.

After talking to his office the next morning, Taylor sat at the kitchen table and looked out the big window as Oscar romped around the large backyard as if he were a puppy, not four years old. Living in a town house with a ten-by-ten-foot grassy patch off his small patio wasn’t a good match for a dog that loved to explore and run. When he’d rescued Oscar, he hadn’t given a thought to the size of his yard. It had been especially hard on Oscar because he’d been working extra long hours since the multiple-kidnappings case in the summer.

The sound of footsteps approaching drew his attention toward the entrance off the hallway. Sierra, dressed in a pair of black slacks, a long-sleeve, silky gray blouse and black heels, entered the room.

“Going somewhere?” Taylor asked as he took a sip of his coffee.

She headed for the pot on the counter. “I got a call from the clinic’s lawyer this morning. He wants to meet with me immediately about what happened yesterday.”

“Why?”

“He’s concerned one of the employees’ families will sue the business.” She filled a mug, then strolled to the table and sat across from him.

“Has anyone indicated they would?”

“Not that I know. I personally can’t see that happening. Everyone has worked for the clinic for at least three years. We were like a big family.”

“What happens to the clinic now?”

“My sister and Dr. Porter had formed a partnership. Dr. Porter’s wife, Sue, will be at the meeting, too. It will be Sue’s and my decision what happens to the clinic. If not for anything else, I have to go for her. She often helped out at the clinic if we were shorthanded either at the reception desk or as a nurse. I was hoping I could borrow a car since we left mine at the house.”

“Dad went to the store but should be back soon. I’m sure he’ll drive you to the lawyer’s office.”

“I don’t want to disrupt his life any more than we already are. Maybe he could take me to my house, and I can get my car. Surely the press isn’t hanging around since we aren’t there.” Sierra brought the mug to her mouth.

“When is the meeting?”

“Nine thirty.”

Texas Ranger Dallas Sanders would be working with him on the case and would be here at nine. It was important that he coordinate with Dallas, so he needed to be here. “Dad won’t mind taking you to the meeting. I’d avoid your house. This story has gone national. Is Ben up yet?”

“No, but I looked in and checked on him. Sleeping might be the best thing for him. He didn’t go to sleep last night until late. Did you call John Yates about him being here at your father’s?”

“Yes. Instead of coming before his morning appointments, he’ll come at lunch. He has more time to make the drive and see Ben.” He heard the garage door going up and stood. “Dad’s home. I’ll help him bring in the sacks, then you two can leave. I don’t want you to be late in rush-hour traffic.” And he wanted to talk to his father about keeping an eye on Sierra. She wasn’t a witness, but she was connected to the clinic and he still had no idea why the killer had targeted the clinic.

Out in the garage, his dad opened the passenger’s door on his Jeep and grabbed a couple of sacks.

“I need to talk to you.” Taylor took the bags from his father’s arms. “Sierra needs to go to the clinic’s lawyer’s office. She has an appointment at nine thirty. Will you drive her? I don’t want her to go alone.”

“You think she’s in danger?” His father picked up the rest of the food.

“Probably not. But I think this meeting will be hard on her. I don’t want her driving by herself. She’s been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll do anything to help her and Ben.”

“I appreciate it, Dad.” Taylor carried the sacks into an empty kitchen and put them on the counter. As his father set his bags next to Taylor’s, he said, “I’ll take care of putting this up.”

Sierra returned with her purse. “Ben’s still sleeping. Robert, are you sure you have the time to take me to San Antonio?”

Taylor’s dad laughed. “Of course. This gives me a chance to take the morning off. My son will have to put away what I bought and fix lunch. Plus, on the way back here, we can pick up a live Christmas tree to put up tonight. Give Ben something to look forward to. I’ll be right back, and then we can go.”

“Like Ben, it took me a while to go to sleep last night.” Sierra poured coffee into her mug. “I don’t know about y’all, but you saw my house. We go all out for Christmas the weekend after Thanksgiving.”

Taylor laughed. “I thought I’d been transported to the North Pole.”

She set her mug on the countertop and began emptying one of the sacks. “Kat always went overboard even before Ben was born. I hope that it’ll distract him some. Maybe even get him to talk. He has all these intense emotions bottled up inside of him. He needs to let them go and deal with them. I’m afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t.”

Taylor remembered John telling him that when TJ died. It took him a year before he did. He didn’t want Ben to go through that. He’d felt as though he’d been living in limbo—going nowhere. “I went through a situation that left me devastated and changed my life drastically. Years later, it still can affect me profoundly. John helped me, especially when he suggested I get a dog. Oscar was the best thing I did. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to bring Oscar here.”

“I’m not sure Ben would have gone to sleep if Oscar hadn’t slept on his bed beside him.”

Taylor snapped his fingers. “Thanks for reminding me. I let Oscar out in the yard. I want him to be upstairs when Ben wakes up.” He walked to the back door and called Oscar. His dog bounded toward Taylor, his tail wagging when Taylor squatted down to pet him. “Guard Ben upstairs,” he told the dog.

As his black Lab raced out of the kitchen, Sierra’s forehead crinkled. “Guard?”

“Over the years, I’ve trained Oscar to follow certain commands. I’ve even used him in searches. When I say ‘guard Ben,’ my dog knows he’s to stick by him unless I tell him otherwise.”

“Thanks. When this is all over with, I’m going to get Ben a dog.”

Her smile that accompanied her words appealed to Taylor. This wasn’t easy for her. In one day, her life had changed drastically, like what happened to him when TJ died. Suddenly she’d become the legal guardian to her nephew, and from the looks of the situation, she would have to search for a new job. Maybe he’d be able to help her as John did for him because he knew firsthand how overwhelmed she would feel. There would come a time when she would realize the oppressing weight of all the changes she would have to deal with.

His dad came back into the kitchen. “I’m ready to leave now.”

“Let me grab my jacket and check on Ben one last time.” Sierra hurried from the room.

“I could have told her that Ben is still sleeping, but I figure she needs to see for herself,” Robert said.

“Thanks for doing this, Dad.”

“I’m glad you asked me. She shouldn’t go alone.”

Taylor’s cell phone sounded. “This is Dallas. He must be here a little early. I asked him not to ring the doorbell in case Ben is still asleep.” As he left the room, he nearly ran down Sierra. He steadied her. “Okay?”

“Yes and no. Yes, about the meeting. No, about Ben. I hate leaving him, but there are some things I need to do that I don’t want him involved with.”

An image of TJ popped into his mind, momentarily throwing Taylor off guard. Then he reminded himself that Ben wasn’t TJ. “I’ll take care of him.” He skirted around her and continued toward the front door.

When he let Dallas Sanders into the house, the fellow Texas Ranger put a carton of files on the floor, then glanced back at Taylor. Sierra had disappeared into the kitchen.

“Come into the living room,” Taylor said. “Ben’s still sleeping. How’s the plan for your wedding coming along?” He was thrilled that Dallas would be marrying Sheriff Rachel Young.

“I’m leaving it to Rachel and Michelle. My daughter loves helping Rachel with the plans. Michelle’s practicing with Katie about walking with her down the aisle. I won’t be surprised if my daughter has to carry Katie.”

“They’ll look adorable whether Katie walks or is carried.” His fellow Texas Ranger had gone through a lot with the kidnapping case, but out of that bad situation, he’d met a woman he’d fallen in love with and would soon add her one-year-old daughter to his family. For a few seconds, Taylor thought of the family he’d once had. He didn’t want to go through that kind of pain ever again.

He waved toward a chair in the living room, wanting to find out where the clinic’s male nurse was. “Have a seat. Has Colin Brewer been found?”

Dallas sat across from Taylor, who settled on the couch. “Not yet. He isn’t at his apartment, and no one has seen him in the past twenty-four hours. We have a BOLO out on him. His photo and the license plate number and description of his car have been given to every law enforcement agency in the state.”

“Do you think he’s the one behind the murders?”

Dallas shrugged. “Whoever was the shooter, he had a key to the clinic. In fact, he could have been inside the building when the employees started showing up for work.”

“He would have had the code to the alarm system, which makes Colin Brewer our top suspect at the moment. Sierra told me yesterday the only ones who had the alarm code were the four with the key to the building. Besides her and Brewer, the other two are dead.”

“If that’s the case, that means he waited patiently until he thought everyone was there, then moved through the clinic, killing the employees. This was planned, not a random act of violence, which is another reason to look at Brewer.” Dallas half rose and stretched to place a large manila folder on the table. “The major wants you to stay here and protect Ben while working on the files from the clinic and Brewer’s background as well as the other ex-employees. The box I set down in the entry hall is filled with financial and personnel information for the clinic. We’re going through the court to get permission to investigate the patient files. When we get the court order, I’ll let you know. You’ll be notified of any change in the case. We’re hoping Ben can help.”

“Maybe Sierra Walker, too. She ran the office and has access to the patient files. She might even know information that isn’t in the files.” Taylor didn’t like the fact that Sierra had to go see the lawyer when he didn’t know who was behind the shootings nor the reason why. Not knowing the answers to the whom and the why left Sierra very vulnerable.

An hour later, Sierra left the lawyer’s office with Robert by her side. Emotionally drained, she welcomed the warmth of the sun after sitting in an office that felt like the interior of a refrigerator.

“How did the meeting go?” Robert asked as he clicked his remote lock on his Jeep Cherokee.

“The family of Gayle Lunden is going to sue the partnership for inadequate security for the clinic. Gayle was one of the nurses.”

“From what my son told me, there were security cameras that were disabled. There’s also an alarm system. Sometimes you can have protection in place and still have something go wrong. Wasn’t the clinic opening for the patients?”

“After all the employees without a key arrive, the door is locked until a little before the clinic opens. The alarm is off, but a person would still need a key to get inside. I often worked with Gayle. She was the nicest person. Always cheerful even when she was having a bad day. This surprises me. It wouldn’t be something Gayle would do.”

Robert opened the passenger door for Sierra. “A sudden death, especially under the circumstances it took place, often will leave a family stunned, grieving and wanting someone to pay for the pain they’re feeling.”

“I know what they’re going through. I will miss my sister every day of my life. For many years—” Her throat clogged, and she swallowed several times before she was able to speak. “For many years she was a mother to me.” Sierra slid into the front seat.

Robert started to shut the door, stopped and leaned forward. “Are you okay with us picking up a Christmas tree?”

Maybe decorating for Christmas would take her mind off Kat and the clinic. It might help Ben, too. “On one condition. Let’s swing by my house and get some of the decorations we have up on our tree.” She remembered the directive from Taylor that morning, the instruction to avoid her house. But she could be in and out in ten minutes with the decorations. “Having some of his ornaments on the tree will help Ben focus on the good times we had over the holidays and make him feel at home.”

“A merging of families. I like that. We can stop at your place, so long as no reporters are out front. Where do you live?”

Sierra gave Robert the directions to the house and sat back, shoving the previous meeting with the lawyer into the back of her mind. There wasn’t anything she could do about the lawsuit but let the attorney take care of it.

On the way to her house, Robert stopped at a nursery. “This is a good place to get a tree. I’ve gotten one here several times.”

Sierra joined Robert, and for the next half an hour, she managed to concentrate on helping him pick the “perfect” tree. “We have a fake tree. Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Robert chuckled. “That’s not the fun of it. Studying each tree and deciding is. Which one would you like?” He pointed at one that was seven feet and slender while the other was maybe six feet but bushier.

“The smaller tree. It’ll fit your home better.”

“Then that’ll be it.”

Within ten minutes, the tree was paid for and loaded on top of the Jeep. Sierra settled in the front passenger seat. “Thanks for the diversion. I have to confess all I’d been thinking about was yesterday. Losing my sister. The killings don’t make sense.”

“That’s what my son will find out. Then maybe some of your questions will be answered.”

“I hope.” When Robert turned onto her street, she said, “Let’s park in the next-door neighbor’s driveway. They work during the day and wouldn’t mind. This way, in case someone from the media drives by, they won’t know we’re here.”

“Good idea. We don’t want to attract their attention.” Robert parked next door. “An in-and-out strike. Let’s go.”

They hopped out, and as they crossed the yard, Sierra took out the key. When she reached the porch, she hurried and unlocked the door, so they would be inside in under a minute. She felt as though she’d gone on a secret mission.

As she entered the home she’d shared with Kat, turbulent emotions bombarded her from all sides. Happy thoughts immediately were replaced with the scene at the clinic. She paused in the foyer, trying to push the grief away. Not now. She had to be strong for Ben. Get the Christmas ornaments and leave.

“Are you okay, Sierra?”

“It’s hard to believe that Kat’s gone.”

Robert clasped her shoulder. “I know. That’s how I felt when my wife died. It’s been ten years, and I still feel that way at times.”

“When I was overwhelmed with life, Kat used to tell me to take it one minute at a time. She was practical and lived in the moment. The past was behind her and the future was always an unknown. All she would deal with was the now, and I came to appreciate that way. But at this moment I don’t want to be in the present.”

“Let’s get what we came for and leave. Time does help.”

“If this is how I feel, I can imagine how grief-stricken Ben is.” Sierra crossed the foyer to the living room.

But she didn’t enter. Too stunned to move, she came to a halt at the sight before her.

After going through the papers in the manila folder with Dallas, Taylor stood up and stretched, needing to move around after sitting for so long.

“I need to leave soon,” Dallas said as he rose.

“Let me go upstairs and see if Ben is up yet. I’d like him to meet you, since you’ll be in and out of here during the investigation.” This was Taylor’s fourth trip up the stairs in the past hour. After Dallas left, he thought he might come up to the boy’s bedroom and sit in a chair while going through some of the papers until Ben woke up. He didn’t want him to be scared, especially since it was the first time he’d slept overnight at this house.

He peered into the room. Oscar, stretched out beside Ben, lifted his head, but the young child didn’t move. Taylor covered the distance to the bed to make sure the boy was still asleep. He also checked to see how hot Ben’s forehead was since that was the reason he’d been with his mother at the clinic yesterday. He was warm but not alarmingly. The sight of Ben’s long dark eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, a peaceful look on his face, touched a place in Taylor’s heart that he’d kept locked after TJ died.

He pivoted and headed out into the hall, tamping down his past sorrow. Downstairs, he entered the living room and told Dallas, “He’s asleep. He still feels like he has a low-grade fever. Yesterday was emotionally exhausting for all of us but especially Ben.”

“I’ll meet him the next time.” Dallas rose, walked to the front door and turned to shake Taylor’s hand. “I’m going back to the clinic. I don’t want one piece of evidence overlooked.” He started to leave when his cell phone rang.

While his fellow Texas Ranger answered the call, Taylor moved the carton of files into the dining room, then returned to the entry hall. The look on Dallas’s face made him pause. “What’s happened?”

Dallas blew out a long breath. “Colin Brewer’s car was found in a mall’s parking lot.”

“Good. Maybe he’s inside, and we’ll find him because he has some explaining to do.”

Dallas shook his head. “No. He was found in the trunk, shot with the same type of gun as the victims at the clinic. Ballistics will tell us if it’s the same weapon soon.”

Taylor’s heartbeat raced. Is the killer taking care of everyone associated with the clinic? Is Sierra next?

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