A Husband To Hold. Cheryl Wolverton

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ