Death Benefits

Ginger had taken a second sip of milk when she thought she heard a tap-rattle somewhere at the other end of the house. Probably the wind.

Still…

She pushed away from the table and crept through the dark, quiet house. Before leaving for the medical mission field in Belarus, Ginger had been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Ten years dealing with every situation imaginable in a foreign country had toughened her. Now, it took more than an unidentified noise in the darkness to frighten her; it took recent notification that a convicted murderer had broken out of prison.

She passed her bedroom door and skirted the bentwood coatrack in the hall when a tiny figure in white suddenly appeared, startling her.

“Brittany?” she whispered. “Honey, what are you doing out of bed?”

The child rubbed her eyes and squeezed poor Chuckles so tightly Ginger feared for his head. “Lucy woke me up and now I can’t sleep.”

Ginger took Brittany’s free hand and led her back along the hallway. “How about sharing some warm milk with me?”

“With honey?”

“Sure.” Ginger brushed long strands of Brittany’s blond hair behind her shoulders, and looked down into the child’s green eyes. This little darling looked so much like her late mother that it sometimes chilled Ginger.

The sisters looked nothing alike. Lucy had dark, soulfully deep eyes that seemed to see beneath the surface of things. Her hair was almost as dark as her eyes, her face solemn in repose, whereas Brittany always had a quick smile. Lucy remained aloof from strangers, and it often seemed to concern her when her little sister made friends easily.

The bond of love between the sisters was strong. Lucy took her role as older sister seriously. For the first few months of the girls’ life here in Hideaway, Lucy had refused to let Brittany out of her sight.

Keeping watch over the active five-year-old was quite a responsibility, and, after much pleading, Ginger had convinced Lucy that Brittany would come to no harm here in the tiny village of kind, common people.

“How did Lucy wake you up?” Ginger asked.

“She had another bad dream, and then I got into bed with her so she’d feel safe, but she left me there.”

Ginger stopped. “She left you?”

“Uh-huh. She went out to the hallway when you and Daddy were arguing.”

Ginger winced. “We weren’t arguing.” What if Lucy had overheard her talking to Graham about Rick Fenrow? “Where is she now?”

Before Brittany could answer, a scream rent the air, followed quickly by another, raising the hairs along the back of Ginger’s neck and causing her to stumble and stub her toe on the hall coatrack.

That was Lucy’s voice, raised in terror.

Another nightmare?

Ginger turned and ran back down the hallway. Graham’s door flew open and he scrambled out, nearly colliding with Ginger. The screams continued.

They reached Lucy’s room to find her standing between the beds, staring out the window. Graham grabbed her up into his arms while Ginger turned on the light. Lucy’s face was as pale as her nightgown, her dark brown eyes wide with terror, mouth open, long hair falling over her face.

“The man, Graham!” she cried, pointing toward the window. “There was a man! He was out there watching me when I opened my eyes. I saw him. He was watching me! Right in that window!”

Graham put Lucy down and grabbed the flashlight the girls kept on the stand between the beds for when the electricity went off. He rushed to the window and shone the bright beam over the yard around the side of the house, then turned and ran from the room. Within seconds, the outdoor lights flooded the yard and garden, outlining two of the horses in the corral behind the house.

Ginger heard Brittany’s cries from the kitchen. Grabbing Lucy’s hand, she hurried back to find Graham holding Brittany in his arms as he punched a number on the telephone keypad.

“Shhh, it’s okay, honey,” he whispered to Brittany. “It’s going to be okay. Lucy’s been having some bad dreams lately, you know—” His attention switched to the phone. “Greg? This is Graham Vaughn. Could you come out here? We’ve had some excitement.” He explained the situation to the sheriff in two succinct sentences, thanked him and hung up, stooping to place Brittany on her feet.

“There’ll be some men here in a couple of minutes. I’m going to go outside and check—”

“No!” Lucy cried. “What if it’s that man?” She stared, wide-eyed, at Brittany, pressing her lips together. The terror in her eyes told Ginger what she’d feared.

Indeed, Lucy had heard them earlier tonight. She obviously knew about Rick Fenrow.

“Graham,” Ginger said, “why don’t you stay inside?” More than likely, Lucy had awakened from another nightmare, and convinced herself it was real because of what she’d overheard. More than likely.

But Ginger didn’t want to take chances. And so the four of them stayed together in the kitchen, staring out the windows, the children wide-eyed and trembling, until they heard the sound of a motor a few minutes later.

As they’d expected, the sheriff and his deputy, as well as Taylor Jackson, forest ranger, arrived in three different vehicles—Taylor’s vehicle being a boat.

This sprawling log home provided them with the best of both worlds. They lived in the country, with all the privacy they could want. They were only a quarter of a mile from downtown Hideaway by way of the shoreline, and one mile by road. Many Hideaway residents used water transportation.

The men searched the entire property. By the time they were finished, Dane Gideon, mayor of Hideaway and director of the boys’ ranch across the lake, had come over. With him were his household help, Richard Cook, and college student, Blaze Farmer, who, Ginger knew, Lucy adored. If anyone could put Lucy at ease about tonight, it would be Blaze.

All the men went over the property once again for good measure, then rejoined the family in the great room, accepting the cups of hot chocolate the girls had helped Ginger prepare.

No one was found, but Ginger couldn’t help feeling that perhaps someone just didn’t want to be found.

THREE

Ray Clyde sat reading the Springfield Daily News with his back to the window that looked out over the parking lot of the Springfield-Branson Airport. He’d received an early morning summons to Columbia Regional Hospital for one of his young patients. After finishing there, he’d decided just to drive on down to Springfield rather than go back to bed. He’d have had to get up early to make the three-hour drive, anyway.

It was never easy to get back to sleep after dealing with a child in pain, though after twenty years, he should be impervious to the cries of mother and child, the fear and panic. He wasn’t. He had decided when he first began his career that if he ever ceased to have compassion for his patients, he would retire.

He’d be working well into his seventies at this rate.

He glanced over the top of his paper as two familiar figures entered the concourse and walked toward the Delta self-check-in terminals. He smiled at the sight of Willow Traynor and her brother, Preston Black.

Willow glowed with the radiance of a woman in love. Tall and slender, with short, dark hair, she emanated self-sufficiency. This was something about which her fiancé, Graham Vaughn, occasionally complained—though always with good grace.

Neither Willow nor Preston noticed Ray, and he was glad. It meant others also might not notice him. Graham had even suggested that Ray not attempt to board until the last minute. Ray understood perfectly why his friend felt a late arrival was necessary, but he still chafed at the thought of subterfuge.

After another five minutes, the glass doors slid open again and two little girls burst into the concourse. Ray knew from photos that these children were Lucy and Brittany Jameson. They would be adopted by Graham and Willow next week, as soon as they returned from Hawaii.

“Mommy!” Brittany called, racing forward, arms outstretched.

Willow turned, a smile of delight spreading across the slightly angular features of her face. The smile transformed her somewhat solemn expression into a thing of beauty.

She and her brother, Preston, both stepped out of line and knelt to embrace the children.

Brittany, the five-year-old, looked small for her age, though Ray knew she was nearly six. It was easy to tell that she was the charmer. With long, pale hair and a wide grin, she looked much like the photos of her mother, who had been killed last year.

Lucy, in contrast, appeared older than eight and a half, not because of her size, but because her demeanor was so watchful and serious. She resembled Willow, with her dark brown hair and reserved expression, especially when she smiled, which she suddenly did at Willow, whom she obviously adored.

Preston leaned close to Lucy and asked her something. Ray couldn’t hear what he said, but Lucy placed her hands on her hips and gave him a disapproving look. “It’s not an airplane, Uncle Preston, it’s a jet.”

Preston chuckled. He, too, looked most like Willow when he smiled. It was obvious he doted on the children.

“That’s right, my dear, you set ’em straight” came a painfully familiar voice from behind the girls.

Ray looked up to see Ginger Carpenter walking through the doorway beside Graham Vaughn, her brother. Ray’s breath caught.

Ginger. A year ago, if anyone had suggested that a rift might form between him and Ginger Carpenter, Ray would have thought it was impossible. His most precious memories of their time together and their growing friendship were of her smile, her laughter, her tender compassion.

Of course, many of those same memories also included the powerful and painful attraction he had felt for her since their first meeting. By all indications, the attraction had never been reciprocated, and he hoped his rare loss of emotional control had remained undetected by his colleagues—and especially by Ginger.

He expected her to turn at any second and spot him. Fireworks would then commence.

The reason Graham preferred that the conflagration take place onboard rather than in the concourse was obvious. Graham wanted his sister to attend his wedding. If she saw Ray while she could still escape, she might do so. Graham had warned Ray that his characteristically kindhearted, forgiving sister had not forgiven Ray for their conflict last year.

Ray intended for that to change on this trip.

He continued to hold the paper, but over the top edge he watched Ginger. He had always enjoyed her sunny smile, her quick laughter, the glow of health across her fair, freckled face. This morning her golden-red hair was mingled with new silver that he hadn’t noticed a year ago. The effect was one of antiqued copper—very becoming on her. She didn’t appear well rested, however.

A strange man with dark brown hair and a black leather jacket suddenly joined the group. Lucy grabbed her sister’s arm and stepped in front of her protectively.

Ray watched the man’s face.

“Ow!” Brittany wriggled from Lucy’s grip. “Stop it, sissy, you’re hurting me.”

Lucy released her, but continued to stare at the man. As Preston and Willow had done, this man squatted in front of the girls, looking them in the eyes. “Hi. I’m Larry Bager.”

The man’s eyes were dark brown, and his well-developed muscles beneath the jacket were obvious. He had a short beard that looked unshaved rather than intentionally grown.

“I’m Lucy Jameson,” the older sister told the man. “This is my sister, Brittany.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Lucy leaned closer to him and said something Ray couldn’t hear. Larry’s gaze flicked up to Ginger, then back at Lucy. “That’s right, I’m like a bodyguard.”

Lucy nodded, apparently satisfied. “Is that like a bouncer? I went to work with Mama sometimes, and she introduced me to the bouncer at the bar where she worked.”

Again, Larry nodded. “I’m the man to come to if you get scared of anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

Larry straightened and looked around. “Hey, boss,” he said to Graham, “where’re those trip escorts we’re supposed to have flying with us?”

“I just got a call from Helen Courtney,” Graham said. “She told me they had some car trouble and they’re running late, but they’ll be on the flight with us.”

Larry was close enough to Ray when he drew Graham aside that Ray could hear them. “You check ’em out? Are they legit?”

“One of my renters, Mrs. Engle, set us up with them. They’ve been on board with this plan for several weeks, coordinating our requests.”

Larry glanced in Ray’s direction and his eyes narrowed, as if some inner radar ignited his suspicion. “Can’t be too careful.”

Lucy grabbed her sister’s hand. “Brittany, you’ve got to stay with us, okay?” Lucy said. “No wandering off, and you can’t talk to strangers. I mean it.”

“Okay.” Brittany turned and smiled up at Larry Bager, even though she’d just met him. “My teacher says airplanes are as safe as riding a school bus.”

Lucy nudged Brittany. “School bus? Not even close. You aren’t with a bunch of kids on this flight. These are grown-ups, and you know what Mama always said about talking to strangers, especially grown-ups.”

Aunt Ginger gave Lucy one of her raised-eyebrow looks over her shoulder. “Stop with the fear tactics, my dear. It’ll only make things worse.” She gave a sharp nod.

Lucy knew what the nod meant. It meant: Especially after scaring Brittany to death last night.

But that hadn’t been a dream standing in the window, and Lucy knew it, no matter how much Aunt Ginger tried to convince her everything was okay.

Lucy had seen Rick Fenrow. She knew the difference between a dream and a real man. She could close her eyes and see that face. Shaggy black hair, shaggy black eyebrows that looked like caterpillars. White face.

Brittany probably didn’t even remember how scared everybody had been last night. Those kinds of things never bothered her much. Why should they? Lucy was always there to make sure nobody hurt her. Brittany didn’t know everything about Mama’s killer.

Last night, even with Blaze Farmer and Dane Gideon standing guard at opposite ends of the house until morning, Lucy hadn’t been able to sleep.

Why couldn’t Blaze come with them to Hawaii? Blaze was strong and kind, and he didn’t think he was too good to talk to little girls.

But Blaze had already agreed to take care of the farm for Graham while they were gone, so he couldn’t go with them.

Lucy kept a lookout for the man she’d seen last night. Once in the jet, settled in her seat by the window, she studied everyone who entered.

Aunt Ginger sat in the seat between Lucy and Brittany. Uncle Preston sat directly across the aisle from them, with Willow and Graham in front of him.

Once, Lucy had asked if Aunt Ginger and Uncle Preston were boyfriend and girlfriend. Aunt Ginger had laughed, saying that, biologically, she was old enough to be Uncle Preston’s mother.

Lucy didn’t know what biologically meant, but Uncle Preston had a girlfriend now. Her name was Sheila, and she was nice.

Aunt Ginger had said more than once that she wasn’t a romantic type. She said she knew better than to make that mistake again. Graham laughed at her, but she talked as if she meant it. She said, “Graham Vaughn, don’t you go trying to set me up with any of those friends of yours. I’m out of commission, and I like it that way.”

Two old people sat down next to Uncle Preston, introducing themselves as Helen and Steve Courtney, the travel coordinators and escorts. The woman immediately started talking to Brittany, who chattered away, as if they were old friends or something. The dummy! If Rick Fenrow himself ever tried to take Brittany’s hand and lead her away, she would probably go with him, chattering to him until he cut her throat.

Lucy and Larry Bager would have their hands full with Brittany.

Helen and Steve Courtney were even older than Aunt Ginger, who liked to brag that she “needed to be accorded respect because of her advanced age of fifty-three.” Lucy didn’t know what accorded meant, and she griped at Aunt Ginger for using big words without explaining them.

Helen Courtney had a camera, and she started taking pictures of everything and everybody, especially Graham and Willow, Lucy and Brittany, right there on the jet.

The Courtneys made Lucy nervous. Why did Helen Courtney have to take so many pictures?

“Honey, I’m going to be taking all the pictures you’ll ever want on this trip,” she explained, patting Willow’s hand. “I’ll even catch some shots you’ll want to erase, but not many! I know my stuff. I’m making memories for a lifetime, you know.”

Lucy studied the woman. She seemed to smile all the time. She had a lot of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and she wore more makeup than Aunt Ginger or Willow ever did.

“I love your hair,” Aunt Ginger told Helen. “It’s the perfect shade for you.”

Helen laughed. “Oopsie! You caught me there.” She patted her hair as if it might be out of place. “Fresh from the bottle.”

Lucy stared at the woman’s hair. Must be a big bottle. Was she bald under there?

Helen’s husband, Steve, had gray hair and lots of wrinkles around his eyes, too. He didn’t smile as much as Helen. Lucy was relieved that he didn’t look anything like the man at the window last night.

Larry Bager sat in the seat behind Helen. He didn’t say much, but he stared at every person who got on the airplane.

Brittany suddenly looked up from her unzipped backpack, eyes wide, mouth open with horror. “Oh no! Aunt Ginger, I forgot to pack Chuckles! You told me to be sure to pack him and I forgot! Did you pack him? You did, didn’t you Aunt Ginger? Huh?”

Ginger had realized last night that this wasn’t going to be an easy trip. With the lack of sleep and the fright the girls—and she and Graham—had endured, her mind hadn’t been as sharp as she’d have liked. But this? It was inexcusable.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, but—”

“No!” Brittany wailed. “We can’t go without Chuckles! We’ve got to go back and get him, we’ve got to!”

It seemed the eye of every person in the aisles around them turned to see what Ginger was going to do about the panicky child. Some passengers were amused, some irritated.

Brittany started to cry.

Lucy tapped Ginger on the arm. “Aunt Ginger.” She held up her backpack, and slowly unzipped the largest compartment.

Two fuzzy golden ears popped up, and Lucy pulled the teddy bear out.

Brittany squealed with delight. Helen Courtney clapped, and several people around them laughed.

Ginger threw her arms around her little heroine and kissed her on the forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re the best big sister in the world.” She leaned back and enjoyed the glow of satisfaction she saw in Lucy’s dark eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

A smile actually spread across Lucy’s face. Ginger wished she could see that smile more often. This quiet little girl had been through so much in the past nine months. The ordeal of her mother’s murder, living with strangers, and now being afraid of her mother’s killer, had matured her far beyond her years. Ginger grieved that tragic loss of innocence.

At least the incident with Chuckles had distracted Lucy from her morbid search for Rick Fenrow—for the moment. That was Larry’s job, and from the looks of it, he would do it well.

Brittany held her teddy bear up for Helen’s inspection. “His name is Chuckles, because he used to laugh when I squeezed his paw.”

Helen reached out and squeezed the bear’s paw. Nothing happened.

“He doesn’t laugh anymore,” Brittany explained. “Lucy says he’s grieving because Mama died.”

“I’m sure he is.” Helen’s voice caught, and her face suddenly lined with sorrow.

Brittany nodded. “He stopped laughing the day Mama died.”

Ginger glanced at Larry, then at the people coming on board. She, too, felt a compelling need to protect these children, at any cost.

Her gaze traveled down the queue, then stopped at a familiar face. She caught her breath as she studied the big man with black hair, dark blue eyes, and shoulders as broad as a linebacker’s.

“No,” she whispered. Ray Clyde. Of all people, what was her worst enemy on earth doing on this flight?

Ray grimaced when a teenager stepped backward onto his foot, but the pain wasn’t as sharp as the look in Ginger Carpenter’s eyes when she caught sight of him from her seat near the middle of the main cabin.

He hadn’t expected anything else. And how could he blame her? If he was in her position, he’d probably feel the same way.

He’d hoped for a meeting under better circumstances, however. Graham had warned him not to try to contact her in any way.

How had it come to this?

An elderly lady turned in the aisle to ask if someone could place her suitcase in the overhead compartment. Glad for the distraction, Ray hurried to her aid. This day had suddenly grown a lot more interesting…and a lot more volatile.

FOUR

Ginger steadied herself, sure she’d felt the jet shift, though the door remained open and people continued to enter.

She blinked and tried to refocus, but still he was there. No mistake about it. It was Dr. Ray Clyde. As usual, he stood taller than every other man by at least a couple of inches. His size, his voice, his rugged-but-attractive face and demeanor all drew attention to his commanding presence.

He’d been her director when she was on the mission field in Belarus. At one time, she’d believed they had a special relationship—not romantic, perhaps, but she’d thought they were the best of friends. He seemed to be such a caring man, and at one time she’d thought he’d cared deeply about her—at least as a friend.

Then came the betrayal.

The line of passengers entering the jet came to a standstill while an elderly woman asked for help placing her luggage in an overhead compartment. Ray helped her, of course. Ray was always jumping to someone’s aid. Everyone’s but Ginger’s.

After easily lifting the piece of luggage for the lady, he accepted her thanks with a silent nod, then looked up and caught Ginger’s gaze. Ginger could not look away. All the pain and fury of his betrayal surfaced, and her hands clenched at her sides.

She broke the connection at last, and unbuckled her seat belt. She stood and turned to glare at Graham across the aisle.

As if he’d been waiting for her to react, he looked up at her, then winced at the look on her face. Willow, seated beside him, saw her, too, and her blue-gray eyes filled with compassion—but not surprise.

Both of them had known Ray would be here.

Ginger felt doubly betrayed. Whatever was going on, Willow was obviously as involved as Graham.

Ginger could say nothing in this crowd, in front of the girls, with several strangers within earshot. She couldn’t protest, couldn’t threaten to take the girls and deplane, as much as the idea tempted her at this moment. But her anger continued to grow. How dare they?

Graham sighed, got up, and stepped across the aisle, leaning close to Ginger’s ear. “I gather there’s a problem.”

“How insightful of you,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t you try to tell me Ray Clyde’s presence on this jet is coincidence.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“What’s he doing here?”

There was a hesitation, then Graham said softly, “He’s going with us to Hawaii.”

Though she’d already guessed what her brother would say, she caught her breath sharply. Betrayal, indeed. “Did you tell him to wait and board at the last moment so I couldn’t change my mind about going?”

Graham winced again. “I knew the timing would be tight, since he had to drive down from Columbia after a meeting this morning.”

“I’m sure you counted on it.” A wave of heat spread over her face and neck, and for once, it wasn’t a hot flash. How dare he?