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  St. James shook his head. “None specifically. In fact, when Laney Seagers got her son back during the showdown at the old Barker home place in Granger, she felt certain that Clare helped the boy find his way back to her through the woods. Weeden appeared to be the one determined to inflict harm on anyone who got in his way of escaping.”

  Olivia frowned as she stared at the photos of Clare, her biological mother, posing with her three little girls. “But she’s the one who only recently walked out of a maximum security prison. Weeden’s history as a nurse would seem to indicate he’s the selfless one.” The scenario didn’t fit…unless there were hidden secrets related to Tony Weeden she didn’t know about. About any of the people involved, for that matter.

  No question there. With the exception of fourteen days less leave time in her vacation account, she had nothing to show for two weeks’ work on this case. Apparently neither did the Colby Agency.

  “Beyond being a nurse and having had access to Rafe, who is this Tony Weeden?”

  “We’re still working on confirming certain details of his background,” St. James said, his tone careful, his words well chosen. “We believe there’s a connection between him and Clare beyond the obvious, but that scenario hasn’t been confirmed.”

  In other words, she wasn’t getting an answer. Until the news hit this weekend, Olivia had never heard the guy’s name. According to St. James, Weeden was the one to smuggle the initial letter from Rafe to the Colby Agency. That was basically all she knew.

  The waitress arrived with two glasses of ice water. St. James gifted her with another of those dazzling smiles and ordered a couple of burgers. Olivia wasn’t sure she could eat but it was well past lunchtime and she recognized she needed to try. The mass of emotions and confusion just kept twisting tighter and tighter in her belly.

  She didn’t know how to feel about the Barkers. Her legal training warned that where there was this much smoke there was fire. Olivia had no reason to trust anything Rafe said…no reason to believe Clare was innocent based on her recent release or her actions since. The police had been no real help. The case was closed and they wanted to keep it that way. Unless Olivia could offer information on the missing bodies, they didn’t want to hear what she had to say. To them, her digging screamed of reopening the case and trying to clear Rafe Barker of multiple homicides, and no one wanted any part of it. The community of Granger was already unsettled over Clare’s release. Any suggestion of Rafe Barker’s innocence was too much to tolerate.

  Olivia had had no reason to consider trying to prove his innocence…at least not until now. He claimed he hadn’t killed anyone and that his only responsibility was his ignorance of Clare’s heinous deeds. Olivia was alive, her sisters were alive…did that mean he was telling the truth? Clare hadn’t contacted anyone about protecting her daughters. She had taken several steps indicative of past or present criminal activity. Conversely, according to St. James, she had helped Laney Seagers find her son. Her activities since her release continued to send mixed messages as to her intent, which might make sense if the steps had been orchestrated by Weeden. Did that alone suggest she was innocent?

  Not in a court of law…but then the Texas Supreme Court had made the decision that she was innocent based on the fact that no evidence had actually pointed to her. Twenty-two years ago the need to ensure the culprits responsible for such horrific murders were identified and punished had hastened the police’s efforts and guaranteed the case had been pushed through trial despite the lack of tangible evidence against her. Charge and convict them both and the real killer got his or her just desserts. Didn’t matter if the other was innocent. Too many innocent young lives had been taken for anyone to feel compelled to extend mercy. Clare had spent her entire sentence seeking out lawyers to take her case to one appeals court or the other. After the last appeal was lost, it had taken six years for Clare to find a legal team with the ability to get the job done. The woman hadn’t given up.

  Her tenaciousness reminded Olivia far too much of herself.

  “Surely you can see our dilemma,” St. James proposed. “No one wants an innocent man to be executed. Yet, we have no evidence that he is innocent. What we do know without doubt is that you and your sisters are at risk. As I said, our primary objective is to ensure your safety.”

  The circumstances cleared completely for her then. Raymond Rafe Barker had seventeen days to live and no one—no one—was focused on determining if he was guilty as convicted. There was only one thing Olivia could do.

  The right thing.

  “Has your agency explored the possibility of petitioning for a stay of execution until these questions can be answered?” It wasn’t until just this moment that she grasped the concept that time was really slipping away. That he was her biological father was irrelevant in all this. Truth and justice were the only pertinent elements and no one appeared to be focused on those points. Not even the prestigious Colby Agency.

  “The state district attorney is not prepared to take that step at this time. If we can bring him evidence beyond Barker’s word he will entertain the possibility then and only then.”

  Indignation ripped through the more fragile emotions she’d been experiencing for days. “You have no evidence that he’s innocent, that’s true, but you do have new compelling evidence that the investigation twenty-two years ago was mishandled to some degree. That alone would likely persuade the governor to stay his execution pending further investigation.”

  St. James knew exactly what she was talking about. His expression closed her out as tightly as an isolated witness. “Mr. Barker specifically asked that your existence not be made public knowledge for your own safety.”

  Did he understand what he was saying? “Do you know the odds of getting a last-minute stay? These things take time and that’s something we have very little of.” Dammit. Did no one care if he was innocent or not?

  “Typically we attempt to work within the client’s wishes.”

  “Client? So you admit that he is a client?” Olivia reined in the cross-examination instincts. She held up her hands and waved them side-to-side as if she could erase the question. “Whatever your agency considers him, I would think that at the very least you have an obligation to bring this new evidence to the D.A.’s attention immediately.”

  His expression still closed, St. James eyed her cautiously. “We’ve already done that and he has chosen to wait it out and see what we find. Until we have something compelling he’s not budging on his position.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  The burgers were delivered then but there was no way Olivia could eat. She clamped her mouth shut until the waitress had gotten another smile from St. James and scurried away.

  Olivia pressed the issue. “He’s aware that three of the murders charged against Barker were bogus and he wants to wait this out?” Incredible. It was men like that who had prompted her to go to law school to make a difference.

  And that went well, didn’t it, Liv?

  “We have a whole team working on this, Ms. Westfield. We will find the truth.”

  “You are investigating his claims, then?” Why dance around the admission. A whole team was working on the case and this guy wasn’t owning up to what that meant?

  “There was never a choice in the matter.”

  Ah, a man with an honorable spirit. He was either a former cop or soldier. Definitely not from her side of the law. “In my experience, Mr. St. James, good intentions are not always enough. Steps have to be taken now.” Two calls were all she needed to make. She’d laid the preliminary groundwork already, even before she had any idea how this would shake down. Two simple phone calls would set the necessary actions in motion.

  “If you submit the petition,” St. James reminded her unnecessarily, “it becomes a matter of public record. How long do you think it will be before the press splashes your name as well as your sisters’ across every headline in the state if not the country?”

  Olivia ignored a prick
of guilt. “Clare and Weeden have already made the news. It’s only a matter of time before some ambitious reporter follows Clare’s trail to us—if finding her daughters is her goal. This secret won’t keep, Mr. St. James.”

  “I can see that you’re concerned as to whether or not we can find the truth in time, which is completely understandable,” he offered. “If you’re open to suggestions, we could work together toward that end.”

  A frown tugged at her brow. What was he proposing? Wait, she got it. “Forming an alliance would provide you with the opportunity to keep an eye on me, is that it?”

  He inclined his head and gave her one of those smiles he’d been flashing for the waitress. “That would square away both our quandaries as we move forward toward the same goal.”

  For the first time in a really long time, some random female chromosome that had gone into hibernation too long ago to remember abruptly hummed to life. That he had managed to resurrect such long-buried sensations startled her.

  “You won’t get in my way?” She knew what she had to do and she needed to be sure this man and his celebrated agency wouldn’t try to stop her when they learned her intentions.

  She was about to stir up a hornet’s nest and no one, not even the Colby Agency, was going to like her methods. But Olivia was no fool. She could use all the help she could get. The Colby Agency likely had valuable connections that could serve her purposes. And she could use a team on her side.

  “I will only get in your way if it’s necessary to save your life. I presume you can understand that condition.”

  Another of those unexpected shimmers of attraction sizzled through her. “You’ve been watching me twenty-four/seven?”

  “I have.”

  She’d suspected someone was following her. But day and night? “Is that the schedule you plan to keep?”

  “Until Weeden is contained and we understand Clare

  Barker’s intentions, that’s the plan.”

  “You’ll share your agency’s findings?” That was key if he expected her cooperation.

  “As long as you share yours.” He draped a paper napkin across his lap, grabbed his burger with both hands and bit off a chunk of beef embellished with bun and fixings.

  Olivia watched as he licked his lips and savored the explosion on his taste buds. Her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since grabbing a two-day-old doughnut in the shabby motel lobby that morning. She chewed her lower lip and tried to recall the last time she’d enjoyed watching a man eat. Never came to mind.

  He downed half the glass of water, and this, too, mesmerized her. The way the muscles of his throat worked and his fingers curled around the glass as it settled on the table once more. He licked his lips and she suffered a little hitch in her respiration. Back up, girl. Back way, way up.

  “We have a deal, then?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.” She moistened her lips and braced to watch him dig into the burger once more.

  He hesitated, the sandwich halfway to his mouth. “You skipped lunch. You should eat.”

  Olivia gave herself a mental shake. He would know what she’d eaten and where. “Sure. Right.” She grabbed her burger and managed a nibble. Gave her something to do besides stare at him.

  He flagged the waitress down and ordered a couple of colas. Olivia told herself not to stare at his mouth as his lips spread into another wide smile but the feat was impossible. That smile was fascinating. She worked with men in suits every day. Handsome, sophisticated men. Dressed in elegant attire. Men who lived in mansions and drove foreign sports cars that cost five times her annual salary. Not once had a single one ever muddled her ability to concentrate this way. She held her own with their impressive law degrees and their enormous egos. The few with the courage to make a pass or toss out a pickup line never made the same mistake twice.

  This guy swaggers up to her in his tight jeans and well-worn boots and she turns to jelly? Had to be the emotional turmoil of the past two weeks. She wasn’t herself. Ha! Of course she wasn’t. She had just learned her entire history was made-up. She wasn’t the daughter of Vincent and Nancy Westfield. She was the spawn of convicted serial murderers. Her biological father skated all around the idea that he was innocent while her mother flitted around setting fires and fleeing crime scenes. Evidently, any or all of those tainted genes she’d inherited were playing havoc with her logic and training.

  The colas he had ordered arrived and he relished a long drink that once again fascinated her. “You have a plan of action in mind?” he asked.

  Olivia swallowed at the lump the bite of burger had become, washed it down with water and cleared her throat. “The attorney I work with will file a petition for a stay of execution based on this new evidence.” As she spoke she sent a text telling Nelson, her boss, to move ahead, focusing on the steps rather than the face of the man seated across from her. His eyes were a trap and she needed to avoid looking directly into those analyzing pools of blue. “Meanwhile, I’ll start a press initiative in hopes of drawing out anyone who might know details not discovered twenty-two years ago.”

  “You hope to find information the police didn’t find back then? It’s been a long time, ma’am. People forget. You might come up empty-handed.”

  People did forget many things but few failed to recall murder. Especially in a small town like Granger. “Someone knows something. It’s impossible that not one person in that small, close-knit community ever noticed anything peculiar about the two serial murderers living in their midst.”

  “Why wouldn’t they have come forward before? It’s doubtful that anyone wanted to see a murderer go free. Or an innocent man falsely accused. It goes against human nature.”

  “Maybe they were afraid or didn’t realize the relevance of what they knew.” She shrugged. “Or maybe they did come forward but the information was ignored or suppressed. Set aside for the greater good.” Eight bodies had been exhumed from the Barker property. The police believed they had their killers. Why look anywhere else? The whole community if not the state had been screaming for justice.

  “What if you don’t find what you’re looking for? Can you come to terms with that?” He pushed his plate aside, braced his forearms on the table and leaned toward her. “If some part of you is hoping this will have a happy ending—that maybe Rafe or Clare or both were falsely accused—you may be in for a major letdown, Ms. Westfield.”

  “Either way,” she argued, “then I’ll know, won’t I?”

  Chapter Five

  5:30 p.m.

  Clare peeled away the tape that held the bandage on her son’s arm. He’d instructed her on how to remove the bullet and suture the wound at their last stop. Her hands had been a little shaky but she’d gotten the job done.

  “Have I told you how proud I am of you, son?” She smiled down at him. He was perched on the edge of the bed and had been very patient with her slow, arthritic hands.

  He glanced at her and made a sound that was mostly a grunt. She imagined that praise was not something he’d received a lot of in his life. That, too, was her fault. She had made many mistakes in her time on this earth. Her decision to entrust to her evil sister the child born out of wedlock and as a result of a vicious rape was the first mistake. Janet had been born evil but like the devil himself she had returned to Clare’s life after the death of their parents and presented herself as an angel of light. She wanted to help…to be friends.

  How could Clare have been such a fool? And why hadn’t that mistake made her smarter?

  “You survived that evil witch and went on to become a nurse. That required hard work and much determination. That is an outstanding accomplishment.” Particularly with one arm. That part she kept to herself.

  Clare applied the antibiotic cream and clean bandages. There were things she needed to ask her son. Some more pressing than others. “Tony, did that awful man who took Lisa’s little boy force you into killing him?” Her heart started to pound even as the words echoed in the cheap motel room
. Their names and photos were all over the news. They were wanted as persons of interest in the murder of that terrible man who had taken little Buddy. This dump was the best they could hope for by way of a hiding place and still they would need to move soon.

  “He was dead when I found him,” Tony said, his words low, quiet, as always.

  Clare’s spirit lifted. “But the killer didn’t harm the little boy. That’s a blessing.” Deep down that notion felt wrong to her. But she wanted to believe him.

  “I think it was a drug deal gone bad. The boy was hunkered down in the backseat. The shooter might not have seen him. Probably saved his life.”

  That was a reasonable explanation. “I’m glad you were able to rescue him before anyone else got to him.”

  Silence settled around them as she taped the bandage into place. They were tired from running. Hungry. Stopping for food had been too risky. They’d had to hide the car Tony had bought in Brenham. They would retrieve it when it was time to move again.

  “I checked with the hospital in Beaumont. Both that Mr. Camp and Mr. Hayden were released. I imagine that means they’ll both recover from their injuries.”

  Her son grunted again. He hadn’t meant to hurt either one of them. Over and over as she drove away from Granger and he huddled in the passenger seat he had assured her that he’d only been trying to protect her. She had been angry at what she had seen. Angry and fearful. She didn’t want him to be like Janet…like Rafe.

  His sincere insistence had calmed her. Sometimes extreme measures were necessary, she supposed. She had decided not to hold it against him. She was his mother; of course he would try and protect her the only way he had at his disposal.

  “Have I told you how sorry I am that this happened?” She trailed her fingers along his right shoulder to the stub that was all that remained of his right arm. It pained her to think how he must have suffered losing a limb.

  He turned to her, the gray eyes of his no-good father staring directly into hers. Thank God that cunning bastard had gone to hell just a few years after what he had done to Clare. A heart attack had been too good for him, but at least it had taken his rotten life and perhaps saved another young girl from such a travesty.