Protector With A Past. Harper Allen
But it was her fight—hers and no one else’s. She stood straighter, and his hand fell away.
“You should get some sleep yourself, Cord. You’re going to need—”
Just then there was a sharp pain at her ankle, and she gave a startled little cry. Looking down in shock, she saw King, his tail tucked between his legs in abject apology but his stance defiant and stubborn. He barked once as he met her eyes, and then trotted a few steps in the direction of the hallway.
“He nipped me!” Everything else was temporarily forgotten in her shock at the shepherd’s unprecedented behavior. “He’s never done anything like that before!”
“Did he break the skin?” Cord bent down swiftly, and she felt his hand circle her ankle to inspect it. His touch should have felt impersonal, but instead it sent a shiver of sensation up her leg, as if instead of merely examining her ankle he’d taken it much farther…as if he’d stroked her calf, the back of her knee, her inner thigh, with those strong capable fingers that had once known every inch of her.
Hastily she put her foot down, her face faintly flushed. “He didn’t hurt me. But that’s not like him. He’s usually the most gentle—”
King barked again, a sharp, urgent sound. Once again he trotted to the hallway and looked back at them, and suddenly Julia felt a terrible foreboding.
“Lizbet! My God—he’s trying to tell us something’s wrong with Lizbet!”
Her appalled gaze met Cord’s, and the next moment she was running behind him down the hallway after King. The dog bounded ahead of them into the spare bedroom and then stood in the middle of the dark room, barking wildly. As they reached the doorway Cord felt for the light switch on the wall and snapped it on. Looking past him Julia realized that her worst nightmare had finally come true.
The bed was empty. The cushioned pad on the window seat that Davey had sat on for hours so long ago, enthralled with the collie stories of Albert Payson Terhune, had slipped onto the floor.
Lizbet was gone.
The corner of the screen at the low window had been pushed outward. It was small comfort, she thought numbly, but it was proof that the child hadn’t been abducted by someone breaking into the room.
“She can’t have gotten far. I’ll check around the house and meet you down at the dock.” His mouth was set in a grim line. “If she hasn’t turned up by then we’ll have to start searching the shoreline until sunrise, and then we’ll take the boat out. While it’s still dark we’re going to have to try to locate her by sound, and I don’t want a motor running until we can do a visual search.”
“She heard me telling you she couldn’t stay here.” Julia’s fist was knuckled against her mouth, her other hand splayed against the door frame behind her. “Why else would she have run away? I’m responsible for this, Cord.” Her teeth started to chatter, and the shaking spread to the rest of her body as her unfocused stare darted wildly around the empty room. “I told you I’d put her in danger, and I have. This is my fault. It’s my fault!” Her voice rose to a thin whimper that bordered on the edge of hysteria and then she felt strong hands on her shoulders, shaking her roughly.
“You’re the one who’s going to save her, dammit! You used to be able to get inside a child’s head with some kind of sixth sense that no one else had, Julia! Whatever you say, you still have that ability—it’s part of you. Use it, for God’s sake! Find her.”
She tried to avert her gaze from his, but those black eyes seemed to draw her in until she felt as if everything nonessential was being stripped away and only her spirit remained—battered, bleeding and worn almost past endurance.
But not completely defeated.
The trembling stopped. Slowly but powerfully, like a current changing direction far beneath the surface of a river, an almost-forgotten strength began to surge through her limbs, and Julia felt a moment’s fear as she let herself be swept into its flow. If she let it, it could take her over. There had always been that danger, and she was doubly vulnerable now. But she had no choice. Deliberately, she let the last instinctive shred of resistance fall from her, and almost immediately the night outside seemed to grow darker, the wind in the trees more threatening.
She pressed her lips together and nodded tightly, a restrained gesture totally at variance with the near hysteria she’d shown a few seconds ago.
“There’s a flashlight in the cupboard above the stove. Take King with you—I can’t let anything distract me right now.” She saw the hesitation on his face. “Go,” she said hoarsely, her posture rigid and tense. “You know how I work, Cord.”
He reached out and brushed his thumb lightly against the corner of her mouth. “I know,” he said. “I just never thought I’d see the miracle again.” He held her gaze for a single moment, and in that second their lives together raced through her mind as if she was drowning—a blur of frozen images, like a stack of photographs being shuffled swiftly before her eyes. Then he was gone, the dog a shadow behind him.
She was all alone. She was looking for a ghost to lead her to a child in danger.
Flicking the light switch off, Julia took a deep breath and closed her eyes, deliberately freeing her mind from everything around it and letting it reach out into the darkness.
The child—save the child…
Chapter 3
The lake had been bluer, the summers so much longer back then….
And Davey had been the center of her world—at nine years old, the big brother whose word was the final say on any question, the infinitely wiser and stronger being that a five-year-old little sister could only hero-worship and try to emulate.
Sometimes, if she was really lucky, she could tag along after him—like now.
Her job had been to sneak down to the boathouse after dinner the night before and hide the life jackets under the front seat of the little Sunfish so everything would be ready the next morning. She’d felt important that he’d trusted her with that. The life jackets were bright orange. Davey had told her that was so people could see you floating in the water if you had an accident and they were looking for you. He hadn’t known why they smelled like wet dog, though, but they did, Julia had thought as she put them carefully in the little compartment under the boat seat.
They smelled the way King, Davey’s old German shepherd who’d died last winter, had smelled after he’d been playing in the lake with them, before his fur had dried off in the hot sun.
Now it was the next morning and she was in the Sunfish, and pieces of fog that looked like rags were blowing off the top of the water as Davey cast off and jumped from the dock to the boat. Watching him, Julia shivered, but she was careful not to let him see. What if one day he was too late, and he didn’t make it back into the boat in time? What if he untied the ropes and pushed off and then stood there on the dock while she floated out into the lake alone? It was too scary to think about. Besides, Davey would find a way to get to her. He wouldn’t ever leave her.
They really weren’t supposed to be out here by themselves at all, but it wasn’t the first time Davey had taken the boat out in the early morning. He was a born sailor, Dad had told the other fathers at the yacht club that day he’d taken them there. He’d ruffled Davey’s hair proudly and bought him a white sailing cap with the club’s crest on it, but there hadn’t been any small enough to fit Julia. She hadn’t minded. It had been enough just to be out with them, away from her mother’s sad silences.
And right now it was enough to be here on the lake with Davey, even though he was kind of mad at her. She was wearing the fat orange life belt that jammed up under her chin so high when she was sitting down that she had to keep tugging on it to keep it from touching her mouth. It tasted like wet dog, too. But Davey wasn’t wearing anything over his striped T-shirt, and that was her fault. Julia felt the heavy orange canvas creeping up her chin to her mouth again and pulled it down. She was sure she’d put both