Behind the Shield by Sheryl Lynn

Author:Sheryl Lynn
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Suspense, Bought D
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-05-15T05:00:00+00:00

MADELINE RAN A DUSTING CLOTH over framed photographs atop the fireplace mantle.

Carson had gone to town early to buy Sunday papers. Her father and the hijacking were still front-page news. One story quoted her mother extensively, saying Frank and Madeline were tight as ticks and the only reason he turned to a life of crime was to lavish his spoiled daughter with luxuries.

The telephone rang. Carson answered, hung up and it rang again. His voice grew increasingly impatient with reporters and townsfolk.

“Madeline,” he yelled. “The timer dinged. Want me to pull out the biscuits?”

“I’ll get it.” She glanced at a photograph of Carson and Jill wearing formal clothing. Jill looked as if someone had told a ribald joke and she was doing her best not to laugh. With a hand on his pretty wife’s shoulder, Carson stood tall and proud.

She hurried to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to clean up around here.” He had the Arizona Republic spread out on the table. “You aren’t the housekeeper.”

“I don’t mind.” She pulled biscuits from the oven. “It’s my fault you let Judy go.”

The telephone rang again. Carson snatched it up. “Chief Cody.” He listened and rolled his eyes, and his mouth twitched as if he fought an outburst.

“Any sightings are a hoax. Don’t even bother wasting paper to write them down. Got it? Out.” He put down the phone with such exaggerated care Madeline knew he wanted to pound it to pieces. “Can you believe it? Some idiot reported seeing you headed south on Highway Sixty driving a brand-new Ford Explorer.”

He abruptly pushed away from the table, snatched up the phone and stomped out of the kitchen.

When he returned, he said, “I don’t know how to keep people off your property. I don’t have enough manpower for a patrol. Best I can do is post No Trespassing signs then actually prosecute anybody we catch. Can you hear the traffic on Hoshonee? Sounds like an interstate down there.”

“I hate causing trouble.”

“You aren’t. They are. Is breakfast ready? I’m hungry enough to eat bear on the hoof.”

She didn’t understand. He didn’t strike her as the stubbornly stupid type. Maybe protecting her was some sort of twisted penance. Punishment for losing his wife. If so, it was unhealthier than the stupidest stubbornness. After eating, she asked to borrow the telephone.

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Have to plug in the base unit first. Unplug it when you’re done. It rings again and my head will explode.”

In the front room she paced and dusted and straightened bric-a-brac and wall pictures until the clock ticked past nine o’clock. Myriad reasons to not call crowded her head and weakened her nerve.

She wasn’t brave, but knew how to pretend, knew how to steady her quaking voice and act calm.

She called Uncle Willy’s house, praying he answered. Aunt Alma said, “Hello,” and Madeline’s heart sank. “Hello? Hello!”

“Hi, Aunt Alma, it’s Madeline. May I speak to Uncle Willy?”

“Madeline Shay!” Alma made it sound like a curse. “You got some nerve calling here.

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