A Husband To Hold

“Oh, dear. I didn’t even offer to help.” Leah clasped her hands together, worry creasing her brow.

Mark reached out and caught her fingers. She jumped, almost pulling back before catching herself. Staring down to where he’d grabbed her hands, his darker ones covering her pale skin, she realized how long it had been since a man had actually held her hands.

“No reason to be nervous,” he said. “That’s a bad habit of yours, clasping your hands whenever you’re worried.

She swallowed, reminding herself that Mark worked for the sheriff. As handsome and attractive as he was, she had to get a grip on herself. She couldn’t let her guard down.

Forcing herself to relax, she smiled gently at Mark. “I’ll remember that,” she said.

CHERYL WOLVERTON

grew up in a military town, though her father was no longer in the service when she was born. She attended Tomlinson Junior High School and Lawton High School, and was attending Cameron when she met her husband, Steve. After a whirlwind courtship of two weeks they became engaged. Four months later they were married, and that was over seventeen years ago.

Cheryl and Steve have two wonderful children, Christina, sixteen, and Jeremiah, thirteen. Cheryl loves having two teenagers in the house.

As for books, Cheryl has written nine novels for the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line and is currently working on new novels. You can contact Cheryl at P.O. Box 207, Slaughter, LA 70777. She loves to hear from readers.

A Husband To Hold

Cheryl Wolverton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For thou art my rock and my fortress;

therefore for Thy name’s sake lead me, and guide me.

—Psalms: 31:3

Dedicated to my mother-in-law, Phyllis,

and my father-in-law, Mr. Wolverton, aka John.

Thanks for your wonderful son.

He’s a rare treasure. Also to Dottie Ramsey,

one of the best teachers I’ve ever met.

Acknowledgments:

To the Zachary Police Department. My kids

have grown up with you guys and you’re the best.

Thanks for the job you do and thanks

for being there to use in a purely fictional way.

Thanks also to my wonderful gentle editor,

Patience Smith, who takes time to tell me how she

feels about my stories, and works with me to help

me grow. You are a treasure, dear one, whom I hope

to have a long time! And to my agent, Deidre.

Thanks for representing me! And always to

my husband, Steve, and my kids, Christina and

Jeremiah (though if you are an English teacher at

Zachary High or Northwestern Middle,

you don’t know they’re my kids!).

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Prologue

September, 1994

“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust…”

Leah Hawkins heard the words as she stared at the casket before her. It was over, done with, finished.

She wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. She was still too much in shock over what she’d discovered about her husband only three days ago when the person had showed up at her door.

“…an honorable man who served as one of our city’s finest…”

Honorable? She stared at the coffin as the preacher rambled on. She had thought her husband honorable. Everyone in church had thought him honorable. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been a deacon. Even Zachary’s finest had thought him honorable or he wouldn’t have been a police officer.

“…commit him now to a heavenly father…”

Commit him to God? Leah could only hope God would have mercy on his soul. How she prayed God would have mercy. She hoped. She prayed, but she could not cry.

The horrible tales backed up with evidence told by the person on that awful day still filled her mind.

“…and we finally ask, Almighty God, that You find the murderer of this fine respected citizen, this loving husband and father, this upright Christian…”

Leah’s heart beat faster. Looking down at her husband’s still, peaceful face she thought, the pastor can pray for someone to find your murderer, Bobby, but I already know who murdered you.

She knew. And so did one other person.

Glancing up, her gaze riveted to the man standing at the opposite end of the procession. He was a man in uniform, wearing gloves, teary eyed and in mourning with the others around him. A pall-bearer, he was well-known himself. The press had interviewed him about her husband’s death. They had no details, except he’d been killed in the line of duty. The murderer had covered all tracks well, except for one small detail.

One person besides her knew who the murderer was.

Her husband’s partner.

Dan Milano.

She had proof of the murder.

And he suspected it.

What would he do? Would he come after her for that proof? Put out a warrant? There was no telling what would happen. She knew how police officers worked. And she couldn’t stick around to find out if Dan would pursue her in this very deadly game.

She knew, when the funeral was over, she would never be safe here in Zachary again. Or anywhere else in Louisiana for that matter. She would have to walk away from this funeral, away from her life, away from everything she had or risk exposing the truth, the secret she held. A secret that could very well lead to her death.

Chapter One

Present Day

“I hear you’re interested in learning a bit more about our countryside?”

Leah Thomas looked up from the box of papers she was going through. Glancing across the room to locate the librarian and anyone else browsing the aisles, she sized up the man in front of her.

Tall, slender, dark hair and dark good looks with a slightly Cajun accent, he leaned casually against the card file cabinet, his arms and sneakered feet crossed.

“You’re Laura’s brother,” Leah commented, placing him from church. Laura Walker McCade had come to Hill Creek, Texas, a few years before, intent on finding this missing brother, only to end up having amnesia and nearly being killed. It had taken Zach’s help and Laura’s need to know to finally locate Mark, who had been hiding out from a local drug ring. Mark had actually been helping the FBI, if the rumors were true.

Leah shivered with memory.

“That’s me, chérie,” he drawled and Leah well knew he was saying dear in that Cajun French of his. She’d heard all about the cowboy who spoke French. She could point him out as well. Any single female—and a few married ones—could.

“My sister sent me over here to talk with you,” he continued. “She’s busy with her new baby son and stepdaughter and couldn’t take you up on your idea but thought I’d be ideal for the job.”

Dressed in dark blue jeans and a light-blue button-down shirt, this man looked as if he could handle anything. Broad shoulders, lean hips, a cocky smile. But…

“You work for Sheriff Mitch McCade,” she murmured.

“I am the official photographer and basically work for him. It’s more of a contractual type thing,” Mark Walker corrected. “Is that a problem?”

Dropping the papers back into the box, she shook her head. “I don’t—of course not.”

She smoothed the light pink, granny-style dress she wore and then shoved her blond hair back behind her ear. Knowing her nervous conduct wasn’t lost on this man she winced inwardly. Still, she couldn’t help her reactions. “I really just need to learn how to do some photography for a class I’m going to be leading into the wilderness later this summer break. That, and I need to find a few good camping spots. I suppose I could do that on my own, Mr. Walker, since Laura isn’t available. I mean, I did ask her months ago.”

Mark pushed away from the catalogue file he leaned against and removed the toothpick from his mouth.

Leah couldn’t help but tense.

“Really now, Ms. Thomas, I don’t mind at all. I know you’re a favorite of the kids over there at school. And believe me, with all of Freckles McCade’s family out where I live, I have a feeling this would be a much needed break from the noise.”

Leah relaxed hearing him mention Dr. Julian McCade’s wife, Susan, and her brothers and sisters, who lived out on an old farm with them. “That’s right. Sherri mentioned you live out there in a converted bunkhouse.”

“Freckles’s sister? Yeah. She would mention that.” Grinning a sardonic grin he strolled over and lowered himself to one of the four chairs that were set around the table where Leah’s research box sat. “So, why don’t you tell me a little bit about what you’d like to learn?”

Leah hesitated. She didn’t care overly much for the police but as long as Laura and Mark had been in town she’d learned they were good citizens and nice people—at least on the outside. Even if they were good people, she still had to worry about letting something slip or being recognized. But this program meant so much to her.

Sitting at a right angle to him, she resigned herself to talking with this man. “We are having a tri-county special session for the exceptional children in the area. I’ve managed to get a small grant that will partially pay for thirteen handicapped children to go on a nature expedition. It’s to enrich their learning experiences and social interaction.”

Mark nodded, slipping the toothpick back in his mouth. “I heard something about this. Jon mentioned it in the pulpit the other day,” he said, referring to their pastor, Jon Ferguson.

“Yes. He did. Pastor Ferguson has been instrumental in getting the word out about the summer opportunity for these handicapped children.”

“So what exactly do you need?” Mark asked now.

“Well,” Leah began. If there was one thing that could overcome her wariness toward others, it was the discussion of children. Not six weeks after her husband’s death she lost her own child in a miscarriage. She still grieved over the loss of her unborn child and her husband. The children that she taught almost filled that empty spot that had never completely healed. No matter how she cried out to God over her loss there was still a part of her that grieved, one little area where she had hidden the past.

She had a feeling she’d never stop grieving her child’s loss or her husband’s death until the chapter of her former life closed.

But solving the past would never happen. She wouldn’t and couldn’t let it happen. She was safe here, living again. She threw herself into helping these kids here at Hill Creek to take her mind off that emptiness, refusing to trust any person completely except her children. Smiling now as she talked about “her” children, she said, “The places I am going to take them have to be mapped out before I get final approval. I already have the adult supervisors and equipment. The only other paraphernalia I need are simply the things the state of Texas wants for publicity and such.”

“So you want…?” Mark asked.

“I want a guide to help me map out a safe route for a two-night stay in the desert. I want the guide to teach me how to use a camera and help me take some photographs of the area for this mission. And I’m willing to pay.”

Mark Walker studied the petite blonde before him. Though Leah may have acted as if she needed time to place him, he hadn’t required a moment to identify who she was. His first day in church he’d noticed her.

She was gentle, so very feminine, quiet—how could he not notice her? The way she shied away from Mitch and his sister, Laura, made the sheriff keep an eye on her.

She reminded him of an injured wren that needed protecting. Whether Leah knew it or not, half the town watched out for her. He knew Mitch certainly did. Mitch had actually thought of marrying this woman at one time when he’d been looking for someone to settle down with. Of course, Mitch had almost married every woman in town so that didn’t really count.

He was glad when Suzi had snagged Mitch. The man had been totally blind to the fact Suzi loved him.

Leah would have never done for Mitch. She was high maintenance, he’d bet anything. Looking at the wide blue eyes now as she stared up at him, Mark would wager the woman wouldn’t know how to get on a bus and travel to the next town without help.

Not that she was ignorant, just…helpless.

Exactly the type of woman Mark didn’t want. He didn’t want someone who would pin him down, nor did he want someone who would hem him in. He was free of his past life, of his father’s wishes that he be a police officer. Of his sister’s mothering. He wanted to do what he wanted to do—although he still wasn’t sure what that was.

But it would be what he wanted to do. And this job that the young woman had just mentioned certainly sounded right up his alley. A slight tug of conscience reminded him of his job as deputy but he evaded it, concentrating instead on his favorite hobby—photography and exploration of the surrounding area.

He wouldn’t mind helping her for a short time. Leah was certainly easy on the eyes. And she was a Christian, with Christian attitudes. She was also simply a gentle kind woman who needed help.

“So, how much are you paying?” he asked, smiling now at her.

She named an amount.

Eyebrows going up, he reached up and pulled the toothpick from his mouth. “Chérie, that is quite a bit of money. Are you sure you have your figures right?”

Leah gripped her hands together indecisively. “Actually, you see, that’s part of the money I was allotted in the proposal I worked up for the grant. I had to write out where the money would be used. I told them I would have someone mapping out a section of the safest handicapped-accessible routes and that her or his time would run that much.”

Surprised, Mark reevaluated the woman. “You have all of your facts pretty well laid out, I see,” he murmured.

The pale skin of her cheeks flushed a light pink. “I try to be prepared in everything and for any eventuality.”

Mark cocked his head studying her. “That sounds so ominous, chérie. Are you expecting a tornado or hailstorm while we’re out on the range?”

Leah laughed and shook her head before reaching up and pushing her hair back behind her ear. “No. No. I just meant, it’s good to be prepared. Especially where children are concerned. You can never be too careful.”

A soft pang of hurt echoed in her voice. He doubted she even realized she’d revealed that. Caught up in her vulnerability, he thought this is what always got him in trouble. Don’t worry about it, Mark, he warned himself. It’s your imagination.

“I’ll be glad to take the job,” he found himself saying.

However, it wasn’t for the job’s sake that he’d agreed, he realized, but to get to know this woman better.

Leah’s face brightened though a fleeting shadow of doubt touched her eyes. “Great! Then can we meet Monday to go over what I have planned for the camp-out?”

He should run now, not note how appealing the offer was. But it was too late. He’d been absorbed in her enthusiasm and fleeting hints of a deeper character within her. He wouldn’t back off now. No, he’d go for it.

How hard could it be after all? He’d simply hold her hand and walk her through what she wanted to know and then be done with it.

“Sounds good to me, chérie,” he murmured.

“Great!” Clapping her hands she smiled, a beautiful full smile of pleasure, and Mark suddenly wondered if he was setting himself up for something he was going to regret.

Chapter Two

It might be harder than he had thought, Mark mused, unnerved by the look on Sheriff Mitch McCade’s face as they stood in the middle of the main office.

“You’re doing what?”

Mitch McCade stared, slack-jawed at Mark.

“I said I’m going to need a leave of absence for a short time to map out the local areas…if that’s okay with you.” Mark shifted, cocking a hip as he waited for Mitch to answer.

Mitch slowly shook his head. “No, it’s not, Mark. You said you were taking Leah Thomas to map out the local areas.”

Every sound in the sheriff’s office died. Mark knew why. Every person had stopped to listen to the exchange between the two men. Mark scowled at his boss. “She needs someone to help her. And she’s paying me. It’s just a job.”

Mitch snorted. “It was the eyes, wasn’t it?”

“Mitch McCade!” Assistant Deputy Laura McCade, Mitch’s sister-in-law, yelled loud enough and with enough reproach to make Mitch flush and the entire office break into chuckles.

Glaring at his sister-in-law, Mitch said, “Stay out of it, Laura, or I’ll tell them all how you really ended up going into labor.”

Mark glanced over at Laura, who had turned the color of a rosy sunset. “Yeah, Sis, stay out of it.”

“Zach is going to hear about this,” she muttered good-naturedly.

“He’s my big brother but not my keeper,” Mitch said casually, smiling. Then he turned his attention back to the man in front of him. “Come with me, to my office.”

Mark nodded and followed his boss down the short, dark, narrow hallway. At twenty-nine, Mark was younger than Mitch McCade. The brawny man with the dark skin and hair spoke Spanish almost as well as a native speaker. After breaking a drug ring and discovering his former deputy sheriff had been the one running it in their area, Mitch hired his sister-in-law, Laura, the big-city detective, to assist him in the office.

Laura had finagled a job for her brother Mark.

Mark liked the job except for one small detail: it was what his father expected of him. After the way his father had raised them, Mark wanted nothing to do with that type of life. The memories were too harsh, too cold. His father had never been home and had been what was known as a hardnose both with work and with his family.

Still, Mark couldn’t help but hang around the Hill Creek County Sheriff’s Department since it seemed he had a natural knack for this sort of thing. Their boots echoed as they walked down the cracking linoleum floor.

Turning into Mitch’s office, Mark paused to close the door then dropped into a chair in front of the old wooden desk. It had been scratched up, used, abused, but still stood. Mark wouldn’t be surprised to find this was still the original desk from when this building had been built back in the late 1800s.

Mitch strode around his desk and sat down. Leaning back, he propped his feet up on the desk. Crossing his hands over his flat abdomen he said, “So, tell me what’s going on, Mark?”

Mark tossed his toothpick into the nearby dented metal receptacle and pulled out a small bottle from his pocket. Snagging a fresh toothpick, he slid it into his mouth before replacing the container within the confines of the material. “You know Leah, Mitch. Laura said with her baby duties and her stepdaughter, Angela, starting college she didn’t have the time to do a proper job of helping Leah out.”

When Mitch said nothing but continued to stare, Mark shifted in his chair and finally admitted, “You know how my sister is. She poured it on really thick how we just couldn’t let that poor fragile woman go out in the desert all alone, pointing out how many times I’d mentioned how helpless Leah Thomas looked.”

Mitch chuckled to Mark’s everlasting frustration. “She got to you, huh?”

“Just wait, Sheriff. My sister has been at me nearly thirty years. You, she only has been after a couple now.”

Mitch chuckled again.

“Besides, it was you she went with to the neighbor’s house.”

Mitch stopped laughing. “Yeah, well…your sister can certainly be sly when she wants to be. She was too far along to be running around like she did.”

Mark only smirked, not believing any of the story Mitch had. “You see why I want the leave?”

Mitch dropped his feet and leaned forward, resting his forearms on a stack of papers that lay haphazardly across his desk. “Partially. Let me ask you something else though, Walker.”

“Sure,” Mark agreed. “Shoot.”

Mitch studied him, his dark-brown eyes perusing every facet as if seeking a weakness or flaw. Mark didn’t like it when men did that. But with Mitch it was downright unnerving how well he could pick out the problems.

“You still running from God about some issues?”

Mark sighed. Dropping his gaze, he again admitted that Mitch had hit the head of the nail dead-on. “What does that matter?”

Leaning back in his chair, Mitch again crossed his arms over his abdomen though he didn’t prop up his booted feet this time. “If you’re still rebelling against your dad’s wishes out of pure stubbornness and using this as a way not to be around the job, yeah, it matters.”

“Would I have taken the job in the first place if I felt that way?” Mark demanded.

Mitch met his gaze never flinching as he replied, “Yeah, you would because you are one of the best natural detectives I’ve ever seen. You crave this work but at the same time detest it for what it did to your family. Now, if you’re going out to help Leah, that’s one thing. But if you’re simply vacillating again, then I’d suggest you not shortchange Leah that way.”

“Mais, non!” Mark said lapsing into Cajun French. Jerking the toothpick out of his mouth, he continued, “You are my brother-in-law, Mitch McCade, but you do not know what it was like and I will not have you trying to probe my mind.”

Mitch relaxed, a look of concern replacing his hardened flat gaze. “Listen, bro,” he said softly, using a shortened version of the Christian term brother, something he often did. “I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t worried. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have on the team here. But your heart isn’t in it. That can be dangerous. I’m worried about you. Laura is worried about you….”

“Are you going to fire me?” Mark asked, calming down and slowly forcing himself to relax.

Mitch snorted. “Yeah, right. When you’re worth as much as you are—even part-time. The only way you’re getting off this force is by quitting.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Mark muttered. After slipping the toothpick back in his mouth, he folded his hands across his stomach. “I don’t know what I want, Mitch.” Rubbing his hand down his face, he admitted, “I don’t know if I want to stay with this job or leave it.”

“You know what, Mark?” Mitch grinned. “Maybe this is exactly what you need. Time with Leah, who is so leery of police officials and men in general, will either convince you that you’ve got the right job or chase you away from it.”

“So many people come out here not wanting to talk about their past. She’s one of them.” He then continued, “She can be defensive all she wants. At least she’s protecting herself that way.”

Mitch cocked his head curiously.

Mark remained passive, refusing to allow his brother-in-law to see just how much Leah had affected him. Still, when Mitch nodded, with that speculative look filling his features, Mark had to wonder if he’d blown his cover.

“I think you’re right, Walker” was all Mitch replied. “Remember though, while you’re considering if you want this job, some people can simply walk away from it, but others are called. I think you’re called to this job, Mark. It’s in your blood and I don’t think you can turn your back on it, regardless of what you think. However—” pushing back from his desk, he stood “—six weeks’ leave of absence is granted.”