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The drone of hummingbird wings, a hawk riding an updraft, and swallows darting on a constant quest for insects no longer amused or even distracted Tara as she leaned against a flimsy old gate and contemplated walking further. And not for pleasure, certainly, because she already knew every blade of grass and pebble on the track that looped her exclusive island prison. If she did go on, it would only be to eat up more minutes of yet another endless day.
What she longed for lay beyond the concrete wall and miles of ocean. With weeks rolling into months, she was heartily sick of feeling like a prisoner. But she had to stay. She knew that. She didn’t have to like it though, because really, wasn’t she giving Brady the power? He got to walk around free, and she was stuck here like a dog in a kennel—for her own safety—which sucked sideways. She’d sworn to never let him have power over her again. She’d taken her life back and had stopped hiding from him.
Yeah, right. Her natural hair color was just a vague memory at this point and she worn tinted contacts for so long her bright green eyes surprised her if she glanced in the mirror when switching them out. Hell, she hadn’t even used her own name in years.
Deception had been necessary—her reality no more substantial than mist over the fields—and easy until Paris when Grace so easily heard her internal words.
Now, every day, from the moment she woke, she had to reestablish mental protection around her thoughts. Even Grace couldn’t get past the barriers once they were firmly in place.
Deceiving the people trying to keep her safe was an extra weight on Tara’s conscience, which left her unable to enjoy the beauty around her on this remote, private island off the coast of British Columbia. All she wanted was to leave, but even escaping seemed impossible.
She and Grace had arrived by float plane—which had promptly flown away—and she didn’t like her chances of piloting the huge motor yacht tied at the dock, so she was stuck here. For now.
#
Jake wondered what Tara was thinking as he watched her on the security monitor. Not good thoughts, for sure. Her frustration was easy enough to read, as well as an underlying sadness.
Grace slipped into the room. “Why don’t you go walk with her?”
“Doesn’t look like she wants company. She didn’t even take her buddy.” He scratched between Charlie’s ears, still surprised the big cat had been following him around for the hour since he’d arrived.
“She needed to blow off steam and he’s not up to a brisk pace in this warm weather.”
Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sounds like she wouldn’t welcome my company either.”
Grace turned to look at him and cocked her head. “Is this yellow streak new?”
Ouch. But fair, from her perspective. “Three sisters. I learned to proceed with caution. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but when they want to be left alone, I don’t push. Ever.” No point sticking his nose where it wasn’t welcome.
“Well, this one,” Grace pointed, “is bored and frustrated. Not at all happy about being kept here.” She smiled. “No matter how nice this place is, it’s still her prison.”
“Then she’s not going to be happy when I tell her we still haven’t built a strong enough case to arrest the bastard.” Talk about a no-win situation.
“I don’t think she’ll be surprised.” Using the keyboard Grace changed the views and cruised through a dozen other areas of the island before switching back to Tara and the path she was on.
“What’s the biggest stumbling block?”
“Brady’s true identity. Once we have that, everything will fall into place.” He tried to turn his attention away from the woman on screen but gave up.
“Maybe Tara can help you with that.” When Grace’s cell phone signaled an incoming call she stepped out of the room to take it.
Jake tapped an icon at the bottom of the feed and studied a satellite map with a moving dot highlighting Tara’s location. She was traveling counter-clockwise around the perimeter wall. He’d go the opposite direction and intercept her. Hopefully, before she decided to take one of the interior trails.
He gave the cat a final rub. “Wish me luck, pal.”
#
The faintest of sounds had Tara hesitating mid-stride. She stopped to listen. The birds had suddenly become silent, and the skin at the back of her neck chilled. She slipped into the trees and waited.
She could have called out to Grace telepathically, but since she didn’t feel as if she was in jeopardy, she loathed acting like a frightened female. The last thing she wanted was handholding.
Why hide then? Well, so she wouldn’t be at a disadvantage. Whoever was approaching knew she was close by. If she stayed hidden, control would shift her way.
The scrape of a boot on rock validated the sudden prickling of her flesh.
Slipping into equine-sense mode, she picked up more sounds, as well as a distinct scent that warmed her cool skin. Jake. Something like joy eased the weight around her heart, and had her stepping out from the foliage, until a scatter of thoughts stopped her forward motion. Why was he here? He must have news. Or information, at least.
Did he know what she’d done?
An unpleasant sensation slid over her like a black veil dulling the sunshine, and goosebumps covered her arms, but she held her ground. Head high and back straight, she met his gaze the moment he rounded the bend.
His hesitation was slight—others would have missed it.
“Tara.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis then pulled them back out.
“Hello, Jake.” When she smiled, so did he.
“How are you?”
She cut to the chase. “Do you have news?”
He shook his head. “Not what you were hoping for.”
She turned away so he wouldn’t be able to read the expression on her face. “He’s still free and I’m not. Does that sum it up?”
“We don’t have enough evidence. Even if you were to testify about what you witnessed as a child, it wouldn’t be enough.”
She spun around and he held up his hands in surrender.
“I understand how frustrating that is for you. But in the eyes of the law, you were not an adult. They’ll tear your testimony to pieces if we can’t back it up. We need the name he was using back then.” His hands went back into his pockets.
“What you’re saying is that I’m no closer to freedom than I was when I arrived. And you’re here, why? Shouldn’t you be out there, somewhere, working on finding the proof we need?” Unfair, she knew, but dammit her life was at a standstill.
Give the guy credit, he maintained, didn’t get defensive. “I think we’ve located the key horse. The colt you tried to save from him the night you ran away.”
“Alive?” Tears welled in her eyes when Jake nodded. “The bastard didn’t kill him. Small mercy considering the pain the poor thing must have been in.” She needed to move. “Let’s walk.”
Jake fell into step beside her. “According to the vet you ran to that night, the man he knew as Butch was gone when he sent the sheriff there the next morning.”
“So Chewy was rescued?”
“Affirmative. The vet took him to the clinic and tended his injuries. He was released back to his owner—the man paying Butch to board him—and he went on to train as a racehorse. Sadly, he didn’t do well, but ended up with a great second career, siring show horses.”
“Freaking incredible. Poor guy wasn’t even a Thoroughbred and they tried to make him into a racehorse.”
“Say what?” He took her arm and tried to make her stop, but she kept going.
“He was one of the switches. His mother was Elli, the resident nurse mare. One-quarter Clydesdale, three-quarters Thoroughbred. When Bampton Or’s foal died, his halter and neck strap were put on Chewy. When I noticed and told Butch a mistake had been made, he backhanded me and said there’d be worse if he ever heard me say such a stupid thing again. The last time I saw Chewy—” She pressed her knuckles to her chest and allowed the memory to wash over her then swallowed the lump in her throat so she could finish it. “His halter plate read, Bampton Or, 2001.”
“He sold for over three-hundred thousand at the summer yearling sale the next year.”
She stopped then and faced him. “There’s your evidence. DNA him.”
“You’re absolutely certain?”
And there it was. “You don’t believe me.” Why would he? Why would anyone?
“I didn’t say that.” He reached for her but she backed away.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t need you. Or anyone else for that matter. I’ve had enough. I’m outta here.”
His hand shot out and he got a grip on her arm before she could escape. “Wait a damned minute.”
“No. I’m done waiting, and I’m tired of living this way.” She jerked free and took off at a run. Tears blinded her but she knew the path that wound its way through the enormous trees. Alone in her pain, isolated due to the mere existence of one Thomas Brady. He’d never be out of her life.
She’d been stupid to think Jake could be the difference, the person who would validate her. She dug in harder, ran faster, but reality dogged her like an echo of pounding feet.
She shouldn’t need validation. She was a good person. Now. But that hadn’t always been true. She’d refused to go with her mom on that last trip, and Rose might still be alive if Tara had been with her. Charlie had lost his eye because she’d pissed Butch off. And Chewy had suffered needlessly because she hadn’t had the guts to intervene in the beginning and go to the authorities.
An avalanche of her mistakes roared over her, driving her to run faster, harder, until each breath seared her lungs and her quads screamed. But she drove on, desperate to escape her thoughts, to find peace in exhaustion, or die trying.
That thought made her stumble. She’d been down this road before. And it hadn’t done her much good, leaving her scarred for life—a life she had definitely decided to live, no matter what. So why was she right back in a place she’d sworn she’d never go again?
Pushing herself to continue up the hill, she eventually came to a stop at the summit. Stood bent with her hands braced on her knees, trying to get her breath now that she’d finished her pity party. Life could be a whole hell of a lot worse, and she needed to remember that.
She swiped the tears off her cheeks and sat on the wide flat rock where she could see out over the island estate. Treetops and rooftops, some open fields with rows of vegetables, and an airstrip.
She could escape that way if she wanted. Although she’d never taken the exam for her license, her mother had taught her to fly.
Oh Mom, I still need you so much.
She swallowed back her emotions because they wouldn’t solve anything.
Instead, she concentrated on centering herself, rooting herself to the earth and all its power. She reminded herself of the strength she could command if only she believed and surrounded herself with healing energy. It had been so many years since she’d done this that she was shocked when time stilled. The breeze caressed her skin, and the sounds of nature around her intensified until she heard not only the birdsong but the breathing of leaves.
When she finally stood, her spine was straight, her shoulders squared, and she felt each breath she drew deep inside. A run would be good for her now, to go the circumference of the property at a decent but not killer pace. In control.
Even though Brady was still out there, somewhere, looking for her.