and slipped it beneath the sheets.
Her eyes widened, never leaving his, irises dark with strain. “I have to find Josie.”
Lou nodded. “James,” he said without looking at his employee, “answer the door. Mary, find the girl and keep her safe.”
They rushed out, and Lou leaned back with a grunt. His head hurt. At least the butt of his gun lay solidly in his palm, cool to the touch, reassuring with its heavy weight and the promise of security.
He looked to the thick door, which remained cracked, and listened for sound from downstairs. If Mary and James needed him, he’d be useless. Did he even have the strength to stand? Shifting in his bed, he gingerly sat forward.
A rush of dizziness pressed in on his head, and the edges of his vision grayed. Groaning, he lay back. How could he have let this happen? He should’ve stayed away from the prohibition problems Oregon had. But he loved challenges, and aiding the local police gave him something to focus on.
Frowning, he cradled his gun and watched the door.
A rustle sounded. Voices drifted up, low tones, calm sounding. Maybe it was just a homesteader passing through. A lot of his neighbors were leaving their small ranches, abandoning them to the wild desert of Harney County.
The rustle caught his attention again. Ears perked, he held his breath.
A ball of pink rolled out from under the bed and into his line of sight.
Chapter Three
Lou jerked back, causing shards of pain to splinter across his chest. Gut tight, he eyed the little girl as she stood and brushed off her fluffy dress. Her hair was a mass of blond curls that framed a round face, complete with a dimple and a decidedly crooked smile.
“Hi, mister. My name’s Josie.” She skipped to him and shoved her hand in his face. “Nice to meet ya.”
He ignored her hand, giving her the darkest glare he could muster.
Her eyes were a deep blue, almost violet. He’d mistaken her for Abby, but now that she stood before him, in the light of morning, he could see the differences. Abby’s eyes had been a bright blue, like his.
A lump clogged his windpipe. Her hair had been dark, like her mother’s, and straight as a horse’s mane. This girl before him wore a smile that showed off rows of teeth, complete with gaps. Abby hadn’t lived long enough to get all hers, let alone lose any.
Because his mouth felt drier than Oregon’s Alvord Desert on a summer noon, he couldn’t speak, could only wordlessly watch this little person, the kind he’d stayed away from for more than a decade.
“Are you okay?” The girl poked his arm, her touch a hot brand that seared through his skin, straight to his heart. “You look scared. I promise I won’t hurt you. I just need a family for a little while.” She flashed that dimple at him again and winked.
Caught off guard, a rusty chuckle broke loose, sounding like an old gate he used to hear creaking in the breeze outside his childhood home.
“Who’s your father?” he asked.
“I don’t have one,” she said simply. She rounded the bed, grabbed the water off the bedside table and carefully brought it to him. The look of concentration on her cherubic face did something funny to Lou’s middle, almost made him want to smile again. When she reached the bed, she brought the water close to his mouth.
“You sound thirsty. Sometimes my dog is thirsty, too. I always bring her water.”
“Thank you.” He took the cup and sipped, mind working overtime. Surely a family was looking for this girl. She looked clean and bright, rosy cheeks, healthy hair, unbothered by whatever had happened to bring her here. “You know you’ll have to go home.”
Josie tilted her head, her never-ending dimple bugging the tar out of him. The girl was too cute for her own good. She’d cause trouble, no doubt about that.
She appeared to be mulling over his words. “I don’t think I have a home anymore,” she finally said.
No father and no home? He found that hard to believe.
Footsteps in the hall turned Josie’s head. There was something familiar in the cadence of the steps.... He couldn’t place what. Then the low rumble of men’s voices reached him. James sounded ornery and gruff. He didn’t recognize the man’s voice, though it held a definite Southern lilt.
Someone from the bureau, then? They could help find Josie’s parents, or at least put her in an orphanage. The thought of an orphanage unexpectedly filled him with regret, a physical punch that stole the breath from his lungs.
He shot Josie a glance.
Her fingers bunched into her dress, and she stared at the door like a deer caught in the sights of a rifle. The flush that had reddened her cheeks earlier had fled, replaced by an unnatural pallor that pulsed dread through Lou’s veins.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Josie turned eyes too terrified to belong on a child his way. “He’s a very bad man,” she whispered.
The voices outside the door rose in argument. At any moment the door could open. Lou positioned his gun under the sheets and jerked his chin toward the edge of the bed. “Get under, and don’t say a word.”
* * *
Mary peeked around the door frame of the downstairs study. After racing through the house, searching for Josie, she’d hidden in the study while James spoke with the man at the door. The visitor sounded urbane and sophisticated. She’d caught sight of a pressed suit and slicked-back hair as the men went up the stairs.
Was it someone from the bureau? Why else would James bring this stranger into the house? Heart pounding, she moved around the corner and into the empty hall. The rising sun splashed light against the dark floor she’d waxed yesterday morning.
She loved this home, had lived here for all of her adult life, but it was time to grow up. With time, Trevor’s house would feel like hers. She picked her way to the stairs, listening to the low sound of masculine voices.
As she moved upward, the voices escalated. A sense of urgency propelled her to the noise. She reached the top and spotted an unhappy-looking James with the stranger, standing outside Lou’s door.
“I was just fixing to show this man out of the house,” James said, his tone a warning.
Oh, no. The man must have forced his way upstairs and she was sure James didn’t carry his weapon in the house. But he did have one stashed in the guest room....
Wetting her lips, she smoothed her dress and started their way. “Gentlemen.” She forced her lips into a smile, shivering inside when the man swiveled toward her. His eyes were the same purple color as Josie’s, but where the child’s were alive and bright, his looked dark and forbidding.
Evil.
An inner warning she’d developed as a young girl encased her body, chilling her to the core. This man intended wickedness, of that she was sure. Smile pasted to her face, she drew near Lou’s door, sliding her body in front of the knob. She needed to distract him.
James gave her an imperceptible nod of approval before turning to the stranger. “This is Mary, our housekeeper. She the one you’ve been looking for?”
The man’s gaze traveled the length of her, a leer in his eyes if not on his lips. Dread pooled in her belly, and she had to force herself to meet his stare, to be calm in the face of his unrelenting perusal. This man fed on control. It made him feel powerful.
She’d met enough like him in her mother’s former life to read the sins on his face.
Finally, the man looked at James. “No, the woman I’m looking for is much older. I was told you housed a Paiute, but evidently this lady isn’t the one.” The man gave her a slow, ugly wink.