John Doe on Her Doorstep. Debra Webb
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was right again.
Then her father had died. She closed her eyes and tried to force away the horrible memories. A freak accident, they’d called it. He’d fallen off the barn where he’d been nailing down a piece of loose metal roofing and broken his neck. She couldn’t imagine what had possessed him to attempt the work himself. In the past, he’d always called a local handyman. But not this time. And now she was alone. Who would help her put this hurt behind her?
There was no one.
“Enough, Archer,” she scolded as she got to her feet. She had a decision to make. And chores to do.
That was the good thing about running a ranch on her own, even a small one. There was always plenty she had to do. Cal and Rand had offered time and again to give her a hand, but she preferred doing the work herself. It gave her a sense of purpose.
Not to mention that it occupied her mind.
She shut off the coffeepot and poured the steaming brew down the drain. The muffins she stored in the bread keeper in case she got hungry later. She rinsed the white porcelain sink and dried her hands. There was no point in rehashing what might have been. As much as she’d love to, she couldn’t bring her father back.
Returning to her job in California was the right thing to do. It was what her father would want her to do. The training she would receive at such a renowned learning hospital was priceless. Then she could settle back here and take Doc’s place when he retired, if she still wanted to when the time came. Her father and Doc, the small community’s only physician, had plotted that career choice for her years ago. They’d teased her that no one else would ever be good enough to replace Doc but her.
She wasn’t sure she could do that now. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Whatever she decided to do, a few years at Mercy General would be a tremendous boost to her skill level. Mercy was known far and wide for its cutting-edge technology and for pushing the envelope where research and patient care were concerned. Whether she was a small-town doctor or worked in a larger hospital, she wanted to be the best she could be.
Besides, this wasn’t the kind of opportunity one walked away from. She recognized that fact, even if she hadn’t wanted to think about leaving the home she and her father loved so much. He would want her to get on with her life. It was time.
“Past time,” she told herself firmly.
She should just call Dr. Feldon back and tell him she would return to work a week from Monday. He would be relieved and so would she. No point in prolonging the inevitable. Ten days was plenty of time to finish her business here and close up the house. Cal and Rand would take care of the horses. All she had to do was firm up the deal. Doc, Cal and Rand would drop by and check on the place regularly. There was no reason for her to stay. No reason at all.
Except that she felt close to her father here. And his death just didn’t sit right with her. No matter that two weeks had passed, she still felt disconnected…unsettled. Maybe that feeling would never go away as long as she was here. Maybe that was the whole problem. Dani paused in the entry hall and studied the collage of framed photographs lovingly placed on the table there. Tears welled in her eyes as her gaze moved from one precious memory to the other. She might never be whole again until she put all this behind her.
Putting off the inevitable even one more day would be irresponsible. Her father was gone and she missed him terribly. But, Dr. Feldon was right. Life does go on.
It was time for her to join the living again.
She could start by making that call.
THE TELEPHONE RANG. He didn’t want to answer. He knew who it would be. But he had to. Otherwise he might just end up dead, too.
“Hello,” he said trying hard to hide his fear.
“Tell me you’ve found it,” the voice on the other end of the line snapped.
“I’ve looked everywhere. I can’t—”
“I don’t want to hear excuses! Didn’t you read your paper yesterday? Thurlo is dead. How long do you think it’ll be before they send someone for one of us?”
He scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. He’d read the paper all right. “I’m doing my best—”
“That isn’t good enough.” The accusation was a savage growl. “You find that file or we’re both dead. You don’t make deals like this and then drag your feet. They won’t wait much longer.”
They. If Center didn’t kill him, they probably would.
“I’ll find it.” It was all he could think to say. It was what he had to do. He didn’t need reminding.
“Call me the instant you find it.”
“I will.”
“And don’t forget, I want all loose ends tied up. She is your problem. Do what you have to.”
“I understand.”
He hung up the phone and closed his eyes. Dear God, what had he done? His eyes opened and he squared his shoulders as reality seared through him. He’d done what he had to.
He swallowed back the vile taste of self-loathing.
And he’d do it again.
Whatever the cost.
Chapter Three
Ghost Mountain
Center
O’Riley looked up from his desk. Dupree stood in his doorway. A surge of adrenaline disrupted the calm rhythm of his heart. “You have something?” If it was another reason they should assume Adam was dead, O’Riley might just snatch the Colt .45 from his middle desk drawer and shoot the depressingly anal-retentive pencil pusher right where he stood.
Dupree flipped through the pages of the status report in his hand as if he needed to quickly review what he was about to say. O’Riley wasn’t going to like it, otherwise Dupree wouldn’t be stalling.
“The rental car has been recovered.”
Damn. “And?”
“The guy who stole it says it was a simple robbery. He and his friends set it up to look as if a woman with a small child had had engine trouble. Apparently they’ve done this on that particular stretch of road before. The local authorities have been trying to catch them for months.” Dupree swallowed hard. “Anyway, a man matching Adam’s description stopped to see if he could help and they overtook him.”
O’Riley lifted a skeptical brow. “Overtook him?” That was highly unlikely. Enforcers had heightened senses; they weren’t easily overtaken.
“The two men had guns,” Dupree hastened to explain.
A bad feeling welled in O’Riley’s chest. “Did they kill him?”
Dupree shrugged. “We don’t know for certain. Apparently, they worked him over pretty good with a tire iron and left him for dead in a ravine. Recon is already on their way to the site. We should know something within the hour.”
“Keep me posted,” O’Riley said by way of dismissal.
Dupree offered a curt nod and took his leave.
Fury whipped through O’Riley. Every instinct told him that Adam was alive. He glanced at the digital clock on his desk, the one his ex-wife had given him for a divorce present. She’d said it was to remind him of what he’d given up by spending all his time at work. He wondered if anyone would ever know just how much he’d sacrificed. O’Riley leaned back in his chair and banished thoughts of the woman he’d loved and lost. He missed her, that was true enough. But this was his life. She hadn’t understood that simple fact. He doubted anyone other than the people involved with Center would ever understand. But on days like this he wondered…
He shook off the foolish sentiment—5:05