Chapter Twenty-Five
Carly rescheduled pickups and deliveries the next day, changing the times so all the returning drivers would be back in the yard before midnight. She had to delay a load from a furniture manufacturer in Texarkana, but she didn’t think the one daytime shift would cause a problem for the company.
That left only the night watchman to worry about and with any luck, he wouldn’t be a problem.
In the afternoon, she and Frank Marino drove over to Greenville to see Zach. His grandparents, Amanda and Tom Weller, had called to set up a meeting. If they seemed anything less than perfect for Zach, or if Zach would rather live with her than the Wellers, she would fight them for custody all the way.
Deep down, she had already begun to think of a life that included the boy. Sooner or later, her affair with Linc would be over. The sad truth was, no matter how much he desired her, she was only a passing fancy. She had never deluded herself about that.
It was different for her. She was crazy about Linc and it was going to break her heart when he was gone. Once it was over, having a child in her life would help ease the pain. Add to that, Iron Springs was a good place to raise a kid, and she believed she could give Zach the loving home he deserved.
Carly met the older couple in front of the single-story redbrick building that housed the Hunt County Detention Center. On the flagpole next to the sidewalk, the Stars and Stripes and Texas state flags gently whipped in the breeze. Linc had gone to Dallas, giving her the chance to handle things on her own.
“It’s so good to meet you,” Amanda Weller said. At fifty-five, she was an attractive woman with silver-blond hair who looked years younger, while Tom Weller was handsome, with a trim, athletic build. “We’ll never forget what you’ve done for Zach.”
Amanda leaned over and hugged her. “Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t taken him in.”
“Zach’s family,” Carly said. “All I really have left. I’m happy to help him any way I can.”
“We’ve been Skyping quite a lot lately,” Amanda said. “He’s growing up so fast. He seems to be a very level-headed young man.”
“Yes, I think he is,” Carly said. “Considering the life he’s been living with his father, he’s a pretty amazing kid.”
“He talks incessantly about you and Mr. Cain,” Tom said. “I was hoping we’d get to meet him.”
“I think he wanted us to have a chance to get to know each other. Linc is . . . well, he tends to be a little overwhelming at first. He’s just so . . .” Powerful? Dynamic? “Linc’s an incredible man,” she finished, unable to come up with a better word.
Waving to Frank, who stood a few feet away, Carly followed the Wellers inside the building. They found Zach in the small private visitors’ room they had been meeting in all week. Amanda took one look at him, bit back a sob, hurried over, and pulled him into a hug.
When Zach hugged her back, then turned and hugged Tom, Carly relaxed. Giving them a moment alone, she walked a few feet away. A sound in her purse alerted her to a call coming in. Carly dug out her phone, saw it was Linc, and walked to the far side of the room to answer the call.
“How’s it going?” Linc asked.
“The Wellers seem like really nice people.”
“That’s good, because Graham Steiner called. Ray Archer was spotted in Dallas. He’s been staying with a buddy from high school. Cops have the place staked out. He’s facing assault and vandalism charges. Steiner thinks the police will have him in custody by tonight.”
Carly’s eyes closed on a wave of relief. “That’s great news.”
“Archer’s going to jail, hopefully long enough for him to get his head on straight. Of course, he hasn’t been arrested yet, but it shouldn’t be long now.”
“I’ll tell the Wellers. I know they’ll be relieved.”
“There’s something else.”
She caught the note of uncertainty in his voice. “What is it?”
“Protective Services is willing to release Zach into his grandparents’ care. We can push for custody if that’s what you want, but according to Steiner, the authorities refuse to place the boy in the hands of a twenty-nine-year-old single female who has no previous relationship with Zach. Not when they can release him into the care of a highly regarded doctor and his wife who are the boy’s grandparents. I’m willing to go for custody myself if you think that’s best for Zach, but—”
“No . . .” She glanced across the room to where Zach sat next to his grandparents, laughing at something one of them said, his grandmother holding tightly to his hand. “I think he’s found a good home.”
And the bitter truth was, Zach was better off with the Wellers than with her. Carly was struggling to keep Drake Trucking afloat, working long hours for very little pay, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Add to that the trouble she was facing with El Jefe. Zach wouldn’t be safe with her, at least not right now.
“I hope he’ll visit me as often as he can,” she said, “but I think he’s going to the right home.”
“All right. I’ll tell Steiner your decision. With any luck, Archer will be in jail maybe as early as tomorrow and Zach will be able to go home with his grandparents.”
She smiled into the phone, happy for Zach but sad at the loss she was suddenly feeling. “I’ll tell them the news. Thanks for everything, Linc,” she said softly.
“Honey, you don’t need to thank me. That’s just what friends do.” The call ended. Carly held on to the phone for several more seconds before she turned and walked back to the table.
* * *
A storm blew in that night. A sullen black sky loomed overhead while the wind tore foot-thick branches from the trees. Great sheets of rain sliced into the walls of the ranch house.
“I don’t think you should go,” Carly said. “I think we should reschedule.”
It was one o’clock in the morning. Linc was heading to the yard, picking up one of Drake’s big Peterbilt tractor trailers and driving it down to Tex/Am Transport, where tomorrow the rig would be completely fitted with state-of-the-art surveillance equipment.
“Ever ything’s set,” he said. “Plenty of other drivers on the road tonight. I’ll be fine.”
“Even the weatherman didn’t realize we were going to be hit this hard,” Carly argued. “Some of the other counties have already had tornado watches.”
“Watches, not warnings, and none around here. It’s less than two hours to Dallas even in this weather. I’ll be there before the storm gets any worse. Tonight I’ll stay in the city, work tomorrow while the equipment’s being installed, then bring the rig back late tomorrow night.”
“I wish you’d wait.”
“Yeah, well, I wish you’d stay up at the main house, but apparently that isn’t going to happen either.”
Her chin went up. She hated the gaudy house and the reminder of the beauty queen Linc had married. “I’m fine right here.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “So I guess we’re both going to do exactly what we want.”
Carly just smiled.
“If anything happens, we’ve got armed men all over the property. The guy who heads the security team is Deke Logan. He knows you’re here and so does Frank Marino. I put Deke’s number in your phone and Frank’s is already in there. I can have Frank stay here if you’d feel safer—”
“I’ve got a brand-new Glock, thanks to you, and I know how to shoot it. You’re the one who’s going to be in danger out in that storm.”
He smiled faintly. “Can’t be helped, sweetheart. And I’ve driven in far worse than this.” He dragged her into his arms and kissed her so thoroughly, her stomach melted. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Carly followed him to the door. “You know which truck and where it’s parked, right?”
“You’ve only told me half a dozen times so yes, I know.”
“The night watchman knows one of the drivers is taking the rig out, so he won’t be a problem.”
“I know that, too. Now go to bed and get some sleep.” Determined to get his plan up and running, he headed out into the rain. His GMC sat rim-deep in mud as he climbed inside, started the engine, and drove off down the road. Rain pelted the windshield, making it hard to see, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before.
Thirty minutes later, he was behind the wheel of a Drake tractor-trailer, heading for the Tex/Am truck yard off I-635 east of Dallas. This late and without any traffic, he could make the run in an hour and a half, but with the wind howling, the road wet and slick as glass, he planned to take it slow.
The wipers set up a rhythm, slapping rain off the windshield as the semi rolled along. He slowed to avoid a low spot full of water, dodged the branches of a downed tree, and speeded up again, a little surprised at how good it felt to be sitting behind the wheel.
But then he’d always enjoyed the growl of a powerful engine, enjoyed making the big monster truck respond to his commands.
He was moving right along, getting close to Dallas, nearing the turnoff onto the road leading to the Tex/Am yard when he heard the news broadcast. A tornado watch for Howler County had just gone into effect for the next four hours. Lots of power outages. All of Iron Springs was down.
His nerves started humming. A watch isn’t a warning, he reminded himself. Still, he didn’t like to think Carly might have to face a tornado alone.
He should have insisted she stay at the big house, where the basement had been fitted out as a storm shelter, with food, water, beds, blankets, and medical supplies. Out at the ranch house, there was nothing but an old root cellar that hadn’t been used in years.
He spotted the turn into the truck yard before he had time to call her, convince her to make the drive before the storm got any worse. He turned the rig and drove through the front gates across the asphalt to a row of service bays.
He’d called ahead, had everything set up. One of the guys ran out as he pulled up. Linc rolled down his window and a sharp gust of rain blasted into the cab.
“I can take it from here, Mr. Cain.”
Linc put the truck in NEUTRAL, set the brakes, and swung down from the seat. “It’s all yours, Monty. There’ll be a crew here in the morning to work on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Linc pulled out his cell and hit Carly’s number. The phone didn’t ring, just went straight to voice mail. He tried again, got the same result. He’d insisted she charge the battery, so he knew it wasn’t low. He tried Frank’s number, got nothing. Cell tower had probably gone down.
He phoned the land line at the ranch house, then the main house—still nothing. The power in the area was out, phone lines could be down.
His worry went up another notch. His gaze went to the pair of black Tex/Am Chevy pickups parked in front of the office, the company’s red-and-black logo on the doors. He’d planned to drive one of the trucks to his apartment and spend the night. The keys would be under the front seat.
He thought of Carly, wondered if she had driven up to the main house. Frank was staying there. If the storm got bad enough, the guards would take shelter inside as well.
But his gut said Carly wouldn’t go. She’d never felt comfortable in the mansion. She’d hole up in the ranch house, figure she would be safe inside.
Head down into the stinging wind and rain, he started walking. Despite the weather, he could be back in Iron Springs in less than two hours. Linc opened the pickup door and climbed in behind the wheel.
* * *
Carly had forgotten how fierce an East Texas storm could get. The power had gone out over an hour ago. Frank Marino had come to check on her shortly after it happened, but she’d told him she’d be okay and sent him back to the mansion.
The ranch house was sturdy, solidly constructed of brick. It had survived on this piece of ground for decades before Linc had bought the property. It was in far better shape now than it had been then.
Unable to sleep with the wind whistling and rain battering the walls, Carly settled herself on the living room sofa, spread a quilt over her legs, and curled up to read.
Before he’d left, Linc had set his battery-operated radio on the kitchen counter. She’d turned it on when the power had gone out so she could hear any weather updates.
She turned the page of the romantic suspense novel she was reading by the light of an old-fashioned glass kerosene lamp she’d set on the end table. Combined with the glow of an antique brass lamp on the coffee table, the shadowy light formed eerie patterns on the walls.
It was after four in the morning. Linc should have reached Dallas by three. She’d expected him to call, let her know he’d arrived safely. Then she’d discovered her cell wasn’t working. With the power out, there was no way to reach anyone on the land lines, either. Linc would be worried, but hopefully he’d been following the weather reports and knew what was going on.
Currently Howler County was under a tornado watch, not uncommon in this area. Usually a storm like this passed without a funnel cloud being spotted or the weatherman updating the watch to a warning.
Instead of being frightened, Carly found herself enjoying the fierce beating rain and the sound of the wind whistling through the branches of the trees. An occasional flash of lightning bit through the inky blackness, followed by the roll of thunder.
She must have dozed off for a while. She wasn’t sure what awoke her, perhaps the roar of the storm. As her grogginess faded, she realized how much stronger the wind had become, how the house seemed to shake with each furious gust.
Tossing aside the quilt, she hurried into the kitchen to listen to the radio. At the weather report, worry hit her. The watch was now a full-blown tornado warning. She was supposed to take shelter immediately.
Fighting down a wave of panic, she forced herself to think. Frank had told her there was a basement up at the mansion. Both he and Linc had urged her to spend the night up there in case the storm got worse, but she had refused to leave.
Now she realized the mistake she had made. Her pulse began to thrum. Blowing out the glass kerosene lamp, she picked up the brass lamp and hurried toward the bedroom to change out of her nightgown and grab her raincoat.
Her pickup sat out front. The road would be bad but the truck had four-wheel drive and there was still time to reach safety.
The howl of the wind grew louder. As she walked down the darkened hall, the flickering light of the lamp set her nerves on edge. She told herself there was no need to panic, had almost convinced herself when she stepped into the bedroom. As lamplight illuminated the interior, she froze.
A man stood in the shadows, medium height, thick dark hair a little too long. As he moved toward the light, she recognized his face—the heavy brows, the eyes a little too close together—though she’d only seen his photo once before.
She forced herself to breathe, tried to calm her speeding heart and stay in control.
“How did you get in?” When her hand shook, making the light flicker and betraying her nerves, she set the lamp down on the dresser.
“It wasn’t hard,” Ray Archer said. “Not on a night like this. Power’s out. Alarm’s down. You didn’t even hear me bust the glass out of the window. Where’s my boy?”
Her gaze went to the jagged edges of the broken window, where gusts of rain blew in. A bolt of lightning lit the sky outside and thunder rattled the house.
“Your son isn’t here,” she said. “Is that why you came? You thought Zach was here?”
He took a step toward her, his hand balling into a fist. “I knew the boy’d come here. I been keepin’ track of you. Not hard to find out you was shacking up with the rich guy who owns the place. Where’s Zach? What have you done with him?”
She refused to let him see her fear, managed to stand her ground. “He’s in Greenville, under protective custody.” Anger filtered through her, giving her a jolt of courage. “Maybe you remember the last time you were with him—the night you beat him and he ran away?”
“Boy shouldn’t have interfered in his daddy’s business.”
“That business being you using your fists on the woman you were living with?”
“Bitch deserved it.”
She wanted to argue, tell him what a rotten bastard she thought he was, but she was alone with him. She needed to stay calm, talk him down.
“There’s a tornado warning,” she said. “We need to take shelter. There’s a basement up at the big house. My truck’s out in front. We can drive up there together.”
He laughed maniacally, sending a chill down her spine. “You think I’m a fool? We’ll ride it out here. Tomorrow we’ll go get my son.”
She felt vulnerable in her nightgown. She wished she’d been wearing the robe lying at the foot of the bed. “They aren’t going to let you take him, Ray. Surely you know that.”
When he moved, something glinted in the lamplight, the barrel of the pistol he held in his hand. Her gaze went to the bedside table. She’d left her gun in the drawer when she went into the living room. Ray stood between her and her weapon.
He raised the pistol, waved it around. “If they won’t give him to me, I’ll take him. I’ll trade you for Zach.” When he started toward her, Carly bit back a scream.
At the evil grin that split Ray’s face, she turned and bolted out of the bedroom, her heart hammering as she raced down the hall, Archer right behind her. Grabbing a pottery jar off a side table, she spun and hurled it at Ray’s head. It slammed into the hand he put up to block it, and she heard him curse.
Carly kept running, spotted the broom she’d used that morning to sweep up, grabbed it, turned, and rammed the handle into Ray Archer’s stomach hard enough to send him flying backward, landing on his back in the hall.
“You bitch! You’ll be sorry for that!”
Desperately fighting her fear, Carly worked the dead bolt and jerked open the front door, ignored the stinging rain battering her face, the jagged flash of lightning, as she bolted into the raging storm.