Last Stand Ranch (13 page)

“The day's not over yet.”

Olivia took a quick look around, but she also laughed. Elijah could tell she'd had a good first day. They said their goodbyes to Arthur and walked to the truck. Elijah scanned the surroundings as he helped her climb in and then walked around to get in on the driver's side.

“You have quite the collection of admirers here at the Golden Sands,” Olivia said as they pulled out of the parking lot and started toward the Morales ranch so Elijah could get back to work. “Arthur and his friends thought it was their job to fill me in on all the gossip about you.”

“That had to be boring.”

“Arthur says you won't let yourself have a personal life. He says your parents are worried you won't let yourself move on from all the tragedy you witnessed overseas.”

Elijah sighed. “Everybody has an opinion.”

He knew his parents worried about him. They'd asked their pastor to talk to him more than once. He appreciated their concern. But right now he was a little irritated to find out the whole town talked about him behind his back.

None of them had any idea what they were asking him to do. The meaning of his life came from living it for people who were no longer here. And he would not let any of those people be forgotten. Keeping their memory alive gave his days their purpose and focus.

“So, are they right? Do you not want to have a family of your own?”

Some days Elijah admired her straightforwardness. Other days, like today, he wished she'd shut it down. “Not every man is cut out to be a family man. That doesn't mean there's something wrong with him.”

“True. I just wondered. I saw you with that little boy on Saturday. He seemed like a handful, but you were good with him.”

From the corner of his eye he could see her pulling an elastic band out of her purse and tying her hair back. Then she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She was gearing up for something. Great. Maybe he should have let somebody else drive her to work.

“That boy just needed to burn off some energy,” Elijah said. “And he wanted some attention.”

“I guess you figured out how to deal with kids when Jonathan was little.”

“Yeah.” He dealt with kids all the time through Vanquish. It wasn't a big deal. “Jon was a mellow little guy, just like he is now. Our sister, Amelia, is the wild child. We knew she was going to be a challenge from the time she was two.”

Elijah glanced in his mirrors at regular intervals as they rode, making sure they weren't being followed.

“Losing people in battle doesn't mean you don't get to live your life,” Olivia said.

Oh. This was what she was gearing up for. The conversation they were
not
going to have.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he said tightly. She didn't immediately respond. Good. That was the end of that.

“You're right, I haven't experienced what you have,” she finally said calmly. “And if you want to live a life of duty and sacrifice, and choose to forgo a family life, that's absolutely your call. But it's absurd to think you're somehow paying back a debt to the soldiers who were lost or to God for being kept alive.”

She might think it was absurd, but that was exactly how he felt. Elijah sat up a little straighter. He had a line. She'd crossed it. This conversation was
over
. “You need to focus on getting your own life together before lecturing me on mine,” he said.

“You've got such a loyal fan club around here that no one will tell you the truth, but I will,” she continued, undaunted. “You're being stupid.”

Stupid?

“Well, that won't be your problem for long. I'm going to find this guy who's trying to kill you and neutralize him,” Elijah said evenly. “After that you won't have to put up with me anymore.”

“Okay, but can you hurry it up?” Olivia pulled down the mirror in front of her and checked her makeup. “You might want to bury yourself under obligation, but I had fun today. And I've decided I have a full life ahead of me to live.”

Good for her. He could only hope she'd live it in Las Vegas. Or really, anywhere but here. With her gone, he could get back to focusing on the life he had chosen for himself.

“I don't leave anybody behind,” he finally said.

He felt her watching him for a full minute before she spoke. “No one's asking you to do that,” she said softly.

That's exactly what they were asking him to do. They just didn't realize it.

“Thanks for the advice.” He shouldn't have tried explaining it to her. How could she possibly understand?

“You seem pretty comfortable handing out blunt advice whether people ask for it or not,” Olivia said. “I figured I'd return the favor.”

Elijah pressed the accelerator a little harder. The sooner they got to the ranch, the sooner he could get out of his truck. He'd keep his vow to stay by her side, but that didn't mean he had to stay within the sound of her voice.

THIRTEEN

F
riday morning, Olivia watched Elijah as he sent Jonathan ahead to make sure no one was hiding on the other side of Elijah's truck. Olivia's checkup had gone well and her wounded shoulder was healing nicely. The trio was just leaving the doctor's office and she didn't think stopping for a celebratory lunch was too much to ask.

“I just texted Vanessa, and she said she's already in town,” Olivia said, continuing to plead the case she'd started building in the lobby of the doctor's office. “She borrowed Aunt Claudia's car a couple of hours ago to run some errands.”

“Let me think about it a little longer.” Elijah put on his sunglasses. He seemed to be looking everywhere at once, as usual, but Olivia had spent enough time around him to know it didn't mean he wasn't listening. “Let's go get your car at Ricky's garage first.”

Ricky had called last night to say her car was ready. Shortly after talking to him, she'd gotten a second bit of encouraging news. Sheriff Wolfsinger had phoned to tell her the FBI was stepping in to help with her case.

“Maybe the FBI profiler will be able to wrap things up quickly,” Olivia said as she climbed into the truck.

“I'll be interested to hear what kind of person they think we should be looking for,” Jonathan added as he shut the backseat door.

Elijah cranked up the engine and started to back out. “I doubt they'll share that information with us.”

Probably not. But profiling was such a fascinating topic, even Denise and Raymond had hung around past their usual quitting time to join the conversation after Olivia got off the phone with the sheriff. Olivia glanced at Elijah as he made the turn onto Stagecoach Road. The tension that had developed between them after her first day at work had mellowed to an even-tempered temporary companionship. She hadn't tried to tread any further across the line into his personal life. He gave her as much personal space as possible while still keeping an eye on her.

Things had been quiet. No shots fired, no fires set, no overt threats of any kind.

It didn't take long to get to Ricky's Repairs and Towing. The business operated out of a gas station built in the 1940s that had been lovingly restored, like a collectible car, and given the addition of a modern six-bay repair facility.

All three of them walked into the lobby. A young woman in greasy overalls ambled in from the shop and offered her help. When Olivia gave her name, the mechanic gave her a compassionate look and said, “Ricky wanted to be sure he got to talk to you when you came in. I'll go get him.”

The wall behind the service counter was made of glass. The repair wells and hydraulic lifts were clearly visible. Olivia could also see through an open roll-up door to her car parked in the lot out back. Her hands began to tremble and she couldn't take a deep breath. The sight of her car was a reminder of the terrifying night she'd been driven off the road. It was also a reminder of how hopeless and angry she'd felt when she left Las Vegas. How far she'd withdrawn herself from God.

Though He, of course, had never gone anywhere. And after her time spent with Claudia and Elijah and the Morales family, she found herself back talking to Him on a regular basis. Somehow, without Olivia realizing it, Claudia and her friends in Painted Rock had done a repair job on
her
. Even while someone was trying to kill her. Who would have thought that was possible?

Ricky came bounding into the front office, wiping grease off his hands with a red work cloth. “Hey!” he called out to Olivia. “Good to see you again.”

“Good to see you, too.”

“I heard you got shot.” His smile collapsed into an embarrassed grimace. “But I've got to say you look okay.”

Olivia smiled at him. “Thanks.”

She handed him her credit card to settle the bill. Ricky swiped it on his register. While waiting for it to process, he talked to her about getting reimbursed through her insurance. He showed her where he'd noted that the damage was an act of vandalism on her work order.

He escorted them through the garage and out the back door toward her car. Elijah, as usual, looked all around as they walked.

“You want me to drive the car out to Aunt Claudia's?” Ricky asked, with a glance at Elijah.

“I can drive it,” Olivia said, though she wasn't sure she wanted to.

“Or I can,” Jonathan offered.

“Hey, when are you going to bring in that old motorcycle you're fixing up and let me help you with it?” Ricky asked Elijah, grabbing hold of his arm to get his attention.

Elijah turned toward him but he never got to answer.

An explosion sent a razor-edged shower of broken glass through the air.

* * *

In the seconds following the last of the blasts, Olivia felt entombed in absolute silence.

Slowly, she began to hear sounds. The tinkling of glass falling and breaking. Several car alarms going off. The groan of someone in pain.

The random impressions in her mind began to form into thoughts and she realized what had happened. Something must have blown up.

Some kind of pressure pushed down on most of her body where Elijah had dragged her to the ground. Had one of the garage walls collapsed? Maybe she was pinned under it. She slowly raised her head.

“Are you all right?” The pressure she'd felt lifted as Elijah got to his feet. He crouched beside her and put his hand on her shoulder.

She raised her head a little more and felt something like sand or gravel slide along the skin on the back of her head and her neck. “I think I'm okay.” Her voice sounded strained, probably from the effort it took to draw in a breath. She'd had the wind knocked out of her, but she was finally able to push herself up to a sitting position.

“Wait, there's some glass.” She felt Elijah brush the back of her head and her shoulders. “Close your eyes and look down until I get this.”

“What happened?” she asked with her eyes closed.

“Elijah!” It was Jonathan calling out from a few feet away.

“We're all right,” Elijah called back. “You?”

“I'm okay. But Ricky's hurt.”

Ricky was hurt? Olivia's blood turned cold. She started to stand up. “Somebody has to help him.”

“Wait,” Elijah commanded, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You'll be no help to anyone with glass and grit in your eyes.”

He brushed the top of her head a couple more times. She heard sirens.

“Okay,” Elijah finally said. “I think you're in good shape.”

She shook her head a little, and then brushed her fingertips over her face and forehead feeling for glass. When she didn't feel anything, she carefully opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was Elijah squatting beside her, one hand holding her good arm, the other hand holding a pistol. Her injured shoulder felt as if it was on fire, hurting nearly as badly as it had when she was originally shot. She must have fallen on it.

Gritting her teeth, she put the least amount of pressure on it that she could as she tried to stand up. Elijah helped her.

Two sheriff's department patrol cars raced up and slammed to a halt at the corner in front of Ricky's shop. All other traffic had vanished. The deputies were out of their cars in an instant. One carried a pistol, the other a rifle. She thought the second one might be Deputy Bedford.

Crouching, the deputies ran around the shop toward the area behind the garage where she now stood. Dazedly, she tried to get her stunned brain to process what was happening.

A huge hole had been blasted through the back window of her car. The safety glass was all that had kept it from completely disintegrating. Her side windows were shattered and holes had been blasted through the back half of the body of her car.

Ricky's tow truck was parked near it, and its front window had been blown out, too. Whatever had hit it had also blown off the side mirror and ripped through the door.

Where was Ricky? Fear, mixed with nausea, rose up from the pit of Olivia's stomach. What had happened to him? She wanted to know, but she didn't want to know. And where was Jonathan?

She heard more sirens. Deputy Bedford spotted Elijah and spoke into the radio microphone at his collar. Still moving cautiously, he and the other deputy headed toward them.

“Elijah, what happened?” Bedford called out as he drew closer.

“Shotgun.”

That was the source of the explosions? A shotgun? It had sounded like something a lot bigger.

Elijah still gripped Olivia's arm. With his other hand he held his pistol, now pointed at the ground. He gestured with his chin toward where the side street running alongside Ricky's shop intersected with Stagecoach Road. “He shot from that direction. I only saw one shooter. I'm pretty sure it was a man, but I couldn't see his face.”

He'd turned and looked in the middle of all those explosions? Olivia thought he'd been crouched down, as she was.

They walked toward the tow truck where Olivia finally saw Ricky. He was sprawled on the ground and he looked frighteningly pale. He wasn't groaning anymore. She hoped he was still breathing.
Please, Lord, let him be alive
. One of the heavy side mirrors from his tow truck lay on the ground. Jonathan was kneeling beside him.

Bedford radioed for one of the EMS units positioned over on Stagecoach Road to move on in.

“Did that mirror hit him in the head?” Bedford asked.

“That's my guess.”

“You see the shooter, Jon?” Elijah asked.

“No.”

An ambulance rolled cautiously toward them.

Elijah tucked his pistol in his waistband, squatted down beside Ricky and put his hand on the man's shoulder. “Hey, bud, help is here,” he said quietly.

Olivia didn't think Ricky was conscious. It was heartbreaking to see a young man who was normally boisterous and energetic lying so unnaturally still.

“Dear Lord,” Elijah began quietly, as a paramedic hustled toward them, “we pray for Your protection and healing for our brother Ricky.”

Olivia crouched down beside Ricky and put her hand on his shoulder as well, joining in Elijah's prayer.

She heard Jonathan whisper, “Amen,” just as the medic got down on his knees by Ricky's side and started to assess him. Everyone got out of the way so he could do his work.

Law enforcement had already converged on the corner where the shooter had been.

The back door of Ricky's shop flew open and his mechanics ran out.

“Is he okay?” one of the mechanics asked, tears in his eyes, trying to get to Ricky's side.

Jonathan held him back. “Let's give them a minute.”

“What happened?” the mechanic asked. Jonathan led him away, talking quietly to him.

Deputy Bedford turned to Olivia. “I'm going with the obvious assumption that this guy was after you and not Ricky,” he said grimly. “Kurtz is still out of the country.” He shook his head and looked around. “We aren't dealing with a professional killer. I'm certain of that now. It explains why everything's been so messy and ineffective from the beginning. What it doesn't explain is the sudden escalation. Your attacker has never gone after you when you were in a crowd before. Why now?”

“News travels fast in Painted Rock,” Elijah said. “It's no secret the Feds are coming to help. Maybe the shooter heard about that and panicked.”

“Maybe so.”

A commotion from the side street caught Olivia's attention. Sheriff's department personnel had the intersection blocked off and they were putting up crime-scene tape, but someone was shouting. A few seconds later Vanessa came into view. She shoved her way around a cop trying to keep her back and ran across the asphalt, making a beeline for Olivia.

“All you all right?” she demanded. “I heard the sirens, and then saw all the cop cars and I was afraid something had happened to you.”

Pain from her sore shoulder ricocheted throughout Olivia's body and she grimaced, then tried to smile for her friend. “I'm okay.”

“No, you're not.” Vanessa studied her face. “You have cuts on your forehead.”

“It's nothing.”

Still holding on to her, Vanessa turned to Elijah, and then looked toward the working medics. Her eyes grew even wider. She let go of Olivia's hands. “Is that Jonathan? Is he okay?”

“Jon's all right. That's Ricky—the mechanic.”

“Who are you?” Bedford asked.

“Olivia's attorney,” Vanessa said. “I've been in contact with Sheriff Wolfsinger about the attempts on Olivia's life. I gave him some names to look into.”

Bedford gave her a long look. Then he turned and pointed to one of the deputies she'd run past. “You go back over there and wait.”

Vanessa glared at him for a moment and then did as she was told.

“I'm so sorry I ever came to Painted Rock,” Olivia said to the deputy. “I didn't mean to put anyone in danger.”

Bedford gave her a sympathetic look before turning to speak to a fellow deputy.

The trembling in Olivia's hands began to take over her body. She faced Elijah.

He said something to her. She saw his lips move, but she couldn't hear him. She kept hearing the shotgun blasts all over again inside her head. She brought her hands up to her ears, trying in vain to block the phantom shots.

The medics loaded the gurney holding Ricky into the waiting ambulance. The driver hit the lights and sirens, and pulled out.

Olivia's knees started to wobble. Overwhelmed by her sense of responsibility for Ricky's injuries, she dropped to the ground.
Oh, Lord, please help Ricky
. She folded her hands tightly together, tears escaping her eyes and running down the sides of her nose.
And right now it feels so selfish to ask, but please, I need Your help, too.

The next thing she knew Elijah was crouched down beside her. He wrapped an arm around her and helped her to her feet. She was starting to sob, drawing in noisy gulps of air as sorrow and regret slammed into her so hard, they felt like punches that rattled her bones.