And maybe their concerns were valid but that hadn’t stopped him from pursuing his dream, because he knew what they didn’t: it was either get out of the FBI or risk losing what was left of his sanity.
His last three years with the bureau had been a slow descent into utter frustration, absolute disgust and deepening loneliness. Frustration with the ever-increasing amount of legal maneuvering and paperwork required to bring a case to court, and disgust that all that work was often tossed aside in the blink of an eye because some drug dealer or rapist yelled that his civil rights had been violated or his lawyer found a legal loophole. It was bad enough to slowly lose faith in the law and a career he had loved, to look in the mirror each day and watch himself gradually burn out, but the loneliness that weighed like an anchor around his neck was even worse. While he had the satisfaction of knowing he’d done a good job for the bureau from day one, it became harder and harder to go home each night to an empty house and an empty bed. An empty life.
And then came the case that tested all his resolve and skill. The one that should have ended with a murderer behind bars for good and a little girl alive, but instead ended with heartache and pain for everyone concerned. Memories as dark and threatening as a winter storm washed over Del and he shuddered.
He knew he’d done everything by the book, but something had happened to him that day. Something snapped deep inside him and he knew he couldn’t do his job anymore. No vacation, no transfer could make it right. A child had died while he was in charge, and the suspects had gone free on a technicality. The system had failed before; it was one of the downsides to the job. But this time was different. He was different. He no longer trusted the system.
He asked for early retirement that same week, and the minute the papers were processed he was gone. No retirement party. No goodbye night out with the boys. It didn’t even matter that the suspects had sworn revenge because he’d killed two of their number, their “family.” The use of the word made Del sick to his stomach. The assortment of killers, rapists, wife beaters and thieves, all with the last name of Borden, had destroyed a real family when they murdered an eight-year-old girl whose only crime was to be born to rich parents. When it was over, Del simply wanted to put that part of his life behind him. It was easy enough to accomplish during the daylight hours. All it took was fierce determination. The night, however, was another matter. Haunted by the image of the little girl he couldn’t save, he suffered nightmares. Even when Derek, the leader of the Bordens, was caught two months later, tried, convicted of burglary and assault and sentenced to twenty-five years, it didn’t take the sting out of the fact that he’d murdered a child and gotten away with it.
Suddenly, Del shoved himself away from the hood of his truck, straightened his shoulders and drew his lightweight jacket closer. He didn’t want to think about a past he couldn’t change. He’d survived, and now he intended to live for the future, applying the same drive that had propelled him to top agent to this new venture. And dark or not, there was no time like the present to begin. Besides, it was the last week of October, and he wanted Evergreen to be ready for the spring.
He retrieved a portable high-intensity spotlight from the truck and walked off to inspect his property. But he’d better make it a fast look-see, he decided. A shadowy figure and strange light might attract unwanted attention, and he had no wish to start off his new life with an encounter with the local police.
While he’d waited for the former owner’s bankruptcy procedure to clear the courts, Del had seen dozens of photos, plot plans and diagrams of the property, but he’d only actually visited the site during a preliminary inspection almost three months earlier. The final details had been handled through an agent out of Austin. Not that Del wanted to appear devious and secretive, but it was important to keep everything low key, at least until he had officially sealed the deal. He’d simply wanted to avoid any gossip that might lead to confrontations right off the bat. Now the property was his, and Monday his crew would arrive to start renovations. Evergreen wouldn’t be a secret then. A surprise, maybe, but soon everyone would understand his commitment to the project and to becoming a citizen of Crystal Creek.
Del had spent months finding the right architect to work for him, and the building plans were just waiting for his final approval. But there was a lot of preliminary work to be done before construction began.
“A lot of work,” he said. “Beginning with…” He walked over to the real estate agency’s For Sale sign, yanked it out of the ground and tossed it into the bed of the pickup. Then he aimed his light on a pile of weathered and rotting timbers, junk metal and God knew what else, at least ten feet high and twenty feet across.
He approached the pile carefully, knowing it had been there long before his original walk-through and probably was home to any number of critters, not to mention the fact it might be unstable. Del stopped at the edge, listened for a second, then stomped hard on the ground and quickly stepped back to see what might scurry out. Sure enough, at least two field mice, a host of lizards and one good-size scorpion ran for their lives. He pulled a couple of boards from the middle of the stack to see if it would collapse. It didn’t, but something whimpered beneath it.
The sound was faint, but definitely a whimper of pain.
This time Del stepped gently on the wood pile itself. The whimper was accompanied by a whine.
There was some kind of hurt animal under there, and without concern for himself, Dell began flinging lumber aside, pausing every few seconds to shine the spotlight down among the debris and listen. The whimper came again, and now he was almost positive the animal sounded like a dog, or possibly a coyote. As he worked, the pile shifted precariously, sending pieces of wood and metal sliding to the ground. It was easy to understand how an animal, probably seeking shelter, could have gotten trapped.
“Hang on,” Del said. “I’m almost there.”
A moment later, he yanked two timbers away and saw something move at the bottom of the pile. Gripping the strap of the spotlight between his teeth, he began working feverishly with both hands. Finally he removed enough wood that he could see the head, neck and muzzle of a dog.
“Well, hey there, fella,” Del said softly. “You’re lucky I came along because it looks like you’ve got yourself in a mess.”
The unmistakable sound of a tail thumping was the response.
“Atta boy. Just hang on, Lucky.” The name sounded appropriate under the circumstances.
The next few minutes passed like hours as Del carefully shifted and pried away broken wood and rusted metal in order to reach the dog without causing a collapse. Finally, he succeeded in clearing a break in the pile wide enough to pull the animal to freedom, but the dog’s hindquarters and back legs were trapped beneath what looked to be part of a telephone pole. Now able to see at least two thirds of the body, he didn’t have to be a vet to realize the dog was in bad shape. There was a nasty gash on his right shoulder, caked with blood, and he was obviously near starvation.
“Oh, man. You’re not in a mess, you are one. Easy, Lucky.” Tentatively, Del reached out his hand, fully expecting a snarl or a nip, but the dog stared up at him without any sign of anxiety or malice. Satisfied he wasn’t about to lose a couple of fingers, Del lightly stroked the dog’s head between the ears. “That’s it, easy now. You just lie still and I’ll have you out in a jiffy.”
The dog’s soft brown eyes blinked once, then he sighed, as if to say, “Thanks. I trust you.”
“Okay, boy, I’m gonna help you, but you’ve gotta stay calm. Don’t try to get out. I need to find something—” Del probed the surrounding darkness with the spotlight “—to use for leverage. Something…” The circle of light fell on a stack of metal bars lying near the back fence. “Bingo.”
The square metal fence posts were tightly wired into bundles of ten. They were so heavily rusted, it took some effort to remove two of them. Del hurried back to the dog, hoping the posts weren’t