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“Ed works in construction. His cousin Cecil is his boss, and evidently the two are close. When Ed gets out of jail, Cecil will put him right back to work.”
“What about the children?” Jess knew the family had two little girls and an older boy by a different father—that boy would be Skip McCoy.
“The girls are all right,” Buck said. “The boy’s about fourteen—he said he’d take care of them till their mother gets home. He seems like a responsible kid, but he’s got a lot on his shoulders. When he gets big enough to defend his mother against Ed, anything could happen.”
“What about Social Services? Could they help?” Jess asked.
“I suggested that to Ruth. But she won’t hear of it. She’s scared they might take her kids. What she needs to do is have the bastard put away and file for divorce, then get some help. But that won’t happen. The same thing was going on when Sam was sheriff. It never seems to change.”
And it wouldn’t, Jess thought—not until Ed McCoy did something even worse. She’d seen similar things in the past. And she didn’t want to recall how one situation had ended. The memory would fuel her nightmares for the rest of her life.
Two weeks later
The yellow school bus paused outside the gate long enough to let Trevor off, then moved on down the narrow dirt road. From the porch, Cooper watched his son trudge up the long driveway, his body leaning into the wind, his school pack straining his thin shoulders.
Was Trevor happy here on the ranch—or at least happier than he would have been living in town? It appeared so. But he was still friendless at school. Cooper’s occasional check-ins with Jess and with Trevor’s teachers confirmed that the boy was a confirmed loner, dressing in black, his hair barely trimmed to regulation length for school. His grades were decent, but for a lonely boy, grades were no substitute for friends.
The dog came around the house. Catching Trevor’s scent, she was off like a ball of black-and-white fire, running to greet her new favorite person. Cooper had to smile as Trevor stopped to pet and hug her. For a boy who hadn’t been around animals, he’d bonded quickly with Glory as well as the horses. He hadn’t asked to ride the big, gentle beasts, but he petted and talked to them when he brought their hay and water in the morning. It was a beginning.
“Hi, Dad.” Trevor mounted the porch steps with Glory at his heels. A fresh bruise darkened his left cheekbone.
“What happened to your face?” Cooper asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing much. We played dodgeball in phys ed and I caught a hard one. Can I go over to Abner’s now? I did my homework in class.”
“Fine. But we’ve been invited to Grace and Sam’s for spaghetti tonight. They’ll be sitting down at six thirty, so you’ll need to be home by six to clean up. Put on those old coveralls Abner lent you so you don’t get varnish on your clothes.”
“Right.” Trevor was off to his room. Cooper wondered about the bruise—he didn’t buy the dodgeball story. If Jess showed up tonight, maybe he could take her aside and ask her about it. Not that he was likely to see her. She’d been making herself scarce since the night of the pizza party.
“’Bye, Dad.” Trevor was out the door, headed for Abner’s place, an easy walk from here. Cooper called the dog to him so she wouldn’t follow. “Watch the time,” he called out. “Remember you need to be back here by six.”
With his son gone, Cooper went back into the house to spend what he hoped would be a couple of productive hours working on the profile piece he was doing forSports Illustrated, based on a phone interview with a retired NBA great.
The house was looking better, he thought. With Trevor’s help and some muscle from Sam, he’d managed to paint most of the walls and haul away the worn-out carpets to expose the hardwood underneath. Everywhere he looked, there was work to be done. But right now he needed to earn a living.
Sitting at the computer, he opened up his notes and the introduction he’d started and tried to focus on his work. But his thoughts kept wandering to Jess and the elusive secrets she kept hidden behind the wall she’d built against the world.
Where had he seen that haunting face before? Even her name had a familiar ring to it.
Bringing up a search engine, he entered her first and last names. The results yielded several possibilities—a romance author—not her—and three obituaries for elderly women. There was nothing here that could be of any help.
He tried another search, adding the few things he knew about her. She had a degree in psychology, and she’d mentioned she was from Chicago, which might or might not be true. Either way, nothing of use came up. Cooper was about to give up and get back to work when another idea struck him—a good one this time.
Fingers flying, he typed a new query in the search window:Texas Education Agency.When the home page came up, he found the tab markedPersonnel Directory, clicked on it, and scrolled down the long list.
Bingo. There was her name, with a tiny, blurred photo next to it confirming her identity. Cooper’s pulse kicked up a notch as he began to read.
Jessica Marie Graver, Youth Guidance
Counselor, Branding Iron School District. B.A.
University of Chicago, 1982. M.A. pending.
Employment history: U.S. Federal Bureau of
Investigation, 1983-1994.
Cooper’s mouth went dry as he re-read the entry. Trevor had said that Jess hadcopwritten all over her. Cooper had dismissed his son’s words as blowing air. But the boy’s instincts had been right on. That Jess had been a cop was enough of a surprise. ButFBI? For eleven years?
