confessed his crimes to anyone. In fact, tough and mean as he was, he’d always vehemently proclaimed his innocence.
Eric still believed he’d done the right thing. And the proof was this little girl, clutching his hand with complete trust. Ralston had said he could get to her even from prison—that if Eric ratted him out, he could count on never seeing his daughter again, one way or another.
Eric hadn’t said a word to the warden. He hadn’t even sought medical treatment for the cut, not until the infection got so bad that a guard found him unconscious in his cell. Still, when questioned, he’d refused to name Kelly Ralston.
Somehow, though, the warden had found out, and Ralston had gone into solitary for a week, pretty much guaranteeing that his upcoming parole hearing wouldn’t go well.
So far Ralston hadn’t made good on his threat. But if he were free, taking his revenge against Eric and his family would be child’s play.
MacKenzie dragged Eric into the kitchen. “Daddy’s home,” she said proudly, as if she had personally caused him to appear. In a way, she had. If not for her, he probably would have just headed for Tuckerville right after work.
Travis grinned. “Hey, how was your first staff meeting? Did Daniel kick your— Um, did he give you any trouble?”
Travis and Daniel Logan had a rocky past, but they’d come to terms.
“I only saw him on a video screen. How much damage could he do?”
“Plenty,” Elena answered. She had been Daniel’s personal assistant until recently. “I’ve seen him reduce a grown man to tears over video conferencing. But he wouldn’t have any reason to be on your case.”
Oh, wouldn’t he? How about if he knew Eric had told a big fat lie?
“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” Travis said. “You want a beer?”
“Maybe later. Unfortunately, I have to leave again.”
“What?” MacKenzie shrieked.
“I have to go out. It’s important, or I wouldn’t.”
“But you just got home! I haven’t showed you the picture I colored or my homework papers I got an A on.” MacKenzie was in a near panic.
“You can show me later, okay?”
“When?”
“I should be home about nine-thirty.”
“I have to go to bed at eight-thirty. No, Daddy, don’t leave.” She was about to have a full-blown tantrum. Already little tears were squeezing out of her eyes, and she was holding on to him with the grip of a lumberjack on his ax.
“Where are you going?” Travis asked. “I mean, not that it’s my business—”
“It’s work-related,” Eric said.
“Daniel’s making you work late your second day?” Elena was incensed. Then she whispered, “He knows MacKenzie needs you.”
“You can go out later,” MacKenzie wheedled, “after I go to bed. Don’t leave, Daddy.”
When she looked up at him with those big blue eyes, it was impossible to deny her. But he’d given his word to Bree that he would meet Philomene. She’d said he could bring MacKenzie with him....
“MacKenzie, how would you like to go for a drive with me?”
“What?” Travis and Elena said at the same time.
But MacKenzie clapped her hands together gleefully. “Are we going to get ice cream?”
“You can have ice cream if you want when we get there.” He couldn’t imagine any diner that didn’t serve ice cream. “But it’s a long drive. About two hours. We’ll have to take a snack with us.”
“Where are you going?” Travis asked again.
“To talk to a reluctant witness.”
“You think it’s okay to bring a child to—”
“I have a babysitter lined up.”
Travis looked as if he wanted to say more, but he resisted.
“I’ll make her a peanut-butter sandwich,” Elena said.
“Great. I’ll go change clothes.”
Ten minutes later Eric was in the car with MacKenzie snug in her car seat with a sandwich and his iPhone, where she was watching cartoons. She was quiet for a long time, leaving Eric far too alone with his thoughts.
He couldn’t stomach even the thought of anyone hurting his little girl. Though Ralston’s threat had been issued years ago, when Eric was a green convict, Eric recalled every word as if it were an hour ago.
You better not rat me out, Riggs, or your life won’t be worth the ink on your fancy law degree. You may leave here. You may think you’re safe. But vengeance will come when you least expect it.
At that point everything about prison had scared Eric. He still didn’t know where he’d come up with the courage to try to stop a fight. But when Ralston and the other man had squared off, each of them brandishing a homemade weapon, Eric had been naive enough to try to calm them down.
Stepping between them just as the second man struck hadn’t been his sharpest move. Ralston’s vicious countermove had cut Eric stem to stern.
Reflexively, he rubbed his chest again. The scar still throbbed when he was nervous.
I don’t care what happens to me. That was what Eric had retorted, because at the time, he’d thought death might be preferable to the hell of prison.
No? What about that cute little girl of yours? What’s her name? MacKenzie? When I get done with her, there won’t be enough left to identify at the morgue.
Eric’s gut twisted as he recalled Ralston’s threat. He’d wanted to tell Ralston to back off, that if he touched one hair on his daughter’s head, Eric would kill him. Painfully.
But the words hadn’t come. It had been all he could do not to puke.
Ruthlessly, Eric shoved the memory aside and focused on the upcoming meeting. This shouldn’t be a big deal. He would listen to Philomene’s story, then politely tell Bree that he was sorry, but his decision stood. Then he’d buy MacKenzie an ice cream and come back home. MacKenzie would probably go to sleep during the drive home. She loved riding in the car.
“Daddy, when are we gonna get there?”
“We’re more than halfway there. Are you tired of your cartoons?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You can look out the window. We’re going to a new place you’ve never been before. Tuckerville.” What a name. He could only imagine what kind of backwater wasteland Tuckerville was. Why a woman of Bree’s obvious intelligence and sophistication chose to live there was a mystery. He couldn’t imagine wanting to live so far from any big city, so far from shopping and fine restaurants and...good haircuts. That was one thing he’d really missed in prison—getting a decent haircut. Sometimes it was the small things.
“It’s dark out there,” MacKenzie said. “I can’t see anything.”
“Look off to the right. There’s a radio tower. See those red lights?” They were driving through farm and ranch land. Not much to see at night. “When we listen to the radio, that’s where the sound comes from.”
“Oh.”
At least MacKenzie was talking again. When he’d first gotten out of prison, he could barely get two words out of her. But more than two months later, she was starting to open up a little. The foster home she’d lived in during his incarceration had been a pretty bad place, though no one knew how bad until Travis had realized the foster parents were selling MacKenzie’s clothes and