Dark Summer

CHAPTER 3

KNIFE OR gun?

Knife, Marrok decided as he knelt to examine the lay of the grass. A knife was quiet, and besides, it was more personal. He wanted to slice that bastard's heart out.

The grass was crushed beside the palm tree. This was where the shooter had stopped and climbed the tree to get the vantage point for his shot.

The shot that had taken Ned down.

Keep cool. Smother the anger. He was on the hunt, and every sense should be keen and unimpaired until he found the prey.

The phone in his pocket vibrated.

"Did I interrupt anything?" Walt Franks asked when he picked up. "Mayhem? Any removal of body parts?"

"Not yet. I haven't found him. And I haven't let him find me. I've been dodging the local military for most of the day. But it's getting dark now, and we'll be getting together soon. I'd bet he's in the foothills waiting to pounce. Why are you calling?"

"Dr. Devon Brady. You wanted a report to make sure that it wasn't a mistake entrusting your canine friend to her."

"Talk."

"Thirty-two. Parents dead. She was an army brat and traveled all over the world from post to post. Married when she was seventeen to a Lester Enright. Divorced four years later. No children. Her ex-husband is a detective with the Denver Police Department. She worked her way through school and managed to save enough by the time she was twenty-seven to buy a veterinary practice from a Dr. Nicholas Gilroy, who was supposedly retiring. But he's still working with her. Frankly, I don't know how she pays him. Most of her income seems to be going to local kill-free animal shelters and paying her way on volunteer Search and Rescue disaster missions. This is the third one she's been on in the last eighteen months." He paused. "Guardian material?"

Hell, yes. "That's not why I needed the info. I just wanted to make sure that Ned would be okay with her."

"But you're thinking," Walt murmured.

He was silent a moment. "I may have to find a place for her."

"Why?"

"Even after I clean up here, Danner will send someone else, and they'll find out she took Ned."

Walt gave a low whistle. "My God, you made her a target."

"I had no choice. I had to have Ned cared for by someone I could trust."

"They'll try to kill her?"

"Only after they spend a good deal of time trying to find out what she knows."

"And you didn't warn her?"

"Ned had to be cared for."

"And that justifies the possible torture and murder of an innocent woman?"

He didn't answer the question. "I'll try to find a way to keep her safe. Danner won't make a move until he knows whether Ned and I are dead. If I move fast, I may be able to-"

"Keep her from getting killed but completely disrupt her life? If I were her, I'd go after you with a hatchet."

And Marrok wouldn't blame her, he thought wearily. But that didn't change anything. He'd done what he thought necessary, and he'd do it again. Devon Brady had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. She had to go with the cards dealt her.

The cards he'd dealt her.

"Be ready. I'll call you as soon as I make the kill." He hung up.

The kill. He didn't even know the name of the man whose life he was going to end tonight. It didn't matter. It wasn't as if he'd never killed a stranger before. When he was a sniper in the SEALs, he'd learned it was better if you didn't know the target or think of him with any degree of emotion at all. But tonight he was full of emotion that he couldn't control. He was going to enjoy the hell out of killing the son of a bitch who had shot Ned.

He glanced at the west where the setting sun was splintering the sky with scarlet.

It was the end of the day. Devon had said that the team would be gone by evening. Soon she would be boarding a helicopter that would take her to the airport in Caracas where the canine rescue team would change to a jet to take them home. Ned would be with her. Even without the necessary dossier he'd had to get on her, he'd had no doubt that she'd find a way to keep Ned by her side. She had been wary with him, but she was all heart where Ned was concerned. He'd be safe with her.

He wished he could say the same about Devon Brady. There was no way she'd be safe. If he'd just had her treat Ned and taken him away, she might have had a chance. But he'd robbed her of all safety when he'd left Ned with her.

Stop standing here staring, he thought impatiently. What was done was done. Get on with the job at hand. Find the shooter. Make him talk before he killed him. He needed to know how he'd been found so that he could close the crack in the dam. Then he'd go get Ned and disappear again.

And try to convince Devon Brady to disappear, too.

"BE CAREFUL WITH HIM." DEVON watched Nick and one of the orderlies lift Ned's stretcher onto the helicopter. "He may get ner vous if we-"

"Shut up, Devon." Nick gave her a long-suffering look. "You're the one who's ner vous. The dog is fine." He glanced at Devon's dog, Gracie, who'd jumped into the helicopter and settled down beside Ned. "And it seems that Gracie is going to keep him company."

"So I see." Devon should have known Gracie would bond with Ned. The greyhound was one of the most empathetic dogs Devon had ever known. Loving, serious, always the mother of any new arrival in Devon's bevy of animals. She had been that way from the day Devon had taken her from a greyhound rescue unit. She'd had a broken leg, was half-starved and scared to death, but she'd immediately bounced back and became the loving Gracie she was now. "Okay, Gracie, but keep an eye on him. Nick called him a con artist."

She would swear that Ned gave her a glance of indignation as if he knew what she'd said.

But Gracie was contentedly laying her long elegant head on the stretcher and closing her eyes.

Devon shook her head. "Remember, I warned you." She jumped into the helicopter. The large aircraft was filled with dogs and their handlers, but there was a free seat beside Hilda Golding and her retriever, Socks.

Hilda was staring at Ned. "That's the Lab that found the little girl?"

Devon nodded. "I don't know how. Gracie went over that area a dozen times."

"So did Socks." Hilda scratched behind her retriever's ears. "He must have a great nose. How is the little girl doing?"

"Good. I got a call from Caracas an hour ago. Her name is Mercedes. Broken arm, concussion, but she's awake now. They've located her grandparents, who live on an island a short distance from here."

"That's wonderful." Hilda leaned her head back against the wall of the aircraft and closed her eyes. "Lord, this was a bad one. So many dead… Politicians trying to grab the relief supplies and sell them on the black market. That dog getting shot. I keep telling myself that I'm not bringing Socks on another mission, and then I get the call, and here I am."

Devon knew how she felt. "I always think about letting someone else do it. What would it hurt to skip one? But maybe it would be Gracie who'd find a little girl or an old man buried on a mountain or in a village. Maybe she'd be the only one to know." Her gaze shifted to Ned. "Like it was Ned this time."

The helicopter was beginning to lift off. Ned didn't move a muscle, and Gracie lifted her head to glance at him. Then, satisfied, settled down again. Ned was being amazingly docile, Devon thought. Nick had told her he'd had no problem with him all day.

He won't give you any trouble. I had a talk with him.

Bull. Marrok's dog had already caused her a world of trouble. She'd had to threaten and bribe, and now owed a staggering number of favors to bureaucrats and immigration officials.

"I guess you're right," Hilda said. "It's not as if someone else couldn't do the job. It's all about maybe me and Socks being the ones to make a difference, to save someone."

Ned lifted his head and looked at Devon with those brown eyes that gleamed with intelligence and query.

"All right, you were worth all the trouble," she said softly. "You knew what you were doing out there. You did a good job."

He laid his head down and closed his eyes.

The handlers might get discouraged and question their own motives and worth, but the dogs didn't have that problem. They knew the answer. Hilda had to puzzle it out, but it was simple and clear to them.

It was all about life.

MARROK JERKED THE KNIFE OUT of the man's chest and wiped it on the grass.

It had taken too long. Two days, dammit. He'd expected to be able to take the shooter out on that first night, but the soldiers had been too active on the evening Devon Brady had left. Maybe Devon had put a spur to Ramirez to try to find the man who had shot Ned. At any rate, he'd had to bide his time and wait. Not good. He wasn't the only one who had gotten impatient. The shooter had turned hunter, and they had been playing cat and mouse in this forest since yesterday. When he'd finally zeroed in on him, Marrok hadn't time to be careful and take the shooter alive. Well, if he couldn't make him talk, he'd have to find out what he could.

He searched the body and found his wallet and cell phone.

His name was Albert Kingston. Age forty-two. An address in Dallas, Texas.

He stuffed the phone in his pocket. He'd retrieve the latest telephone calls in memory later. It was more important to get rid of the body. He'd kept Kingston busy on the run, and he wouldn't have had time to investigate what had happened to Ned. He had maybe a day before Danner sent someone else to the island to find out why he wasn't hearing anything from Kingston.

And to find Marrok and Ned.

That would give Marrok maybe two days tops to get to Devon Brady before Danner sent his vultures swooping. It would have to be enough.

No, it wouldn't. He had to make preparations. It was going to be a complicated extraction.

He reached for his phone to call Walt Franks to come and get him. After that, he'd phone Bridget Reardon and get her moving toward Devon's home outside Denver.

JANET MCDONALD WAS STANDING ON the porch waiting for them when Nick and Devon drove the SUV through the gate and up to the rambling old farm house.

"She doesn't look very welcoming," Nick murmured. "Do you suppose we have a problem?"

"No more than usual." Devon waved at the housekeeper. She did not wave back. Janet seldom looked cheerful. She was a woman who'd lived a hard life, and her appearance reflected it. She was tall and strongly built, her red-gray hair cut short and her face generally without expression. "She probably missed us."

Nick gave a snort. "Yeah, sure. And pigs fly."

"People don't always show their feelings." Devon turned off the ignition. "Be quiet, Ned. Stop that racket you're making."

"What have you brought home this time?" Janet frowned as she came down the steps. "That's not Gracie I heard barking." She peered into the back of the SUV. "My God, another dog. I thought I was safe when you flew off to that island with Gracie. But, no, you bring me home another dog to take care of."

"Hush, Janet." Devon jumped out of the driver's seat and ran around to the back and opened the door. "His name is Ned, and he's hurt."

"They're all hurt or orphans or just plain crazy." She stood beside Devon. "Why was he barking?"

"I think he knew we were home. He's pretty smart."

"Pretty noisy." She reached out a hand and tentatively touched Ned's silky ears. He lifted his head and looked up at her and gave a crooning sound. "I can see how he'd get to a softy like you. What happened to him?"

"He was shot." She carefully lifted Ned out of the vehicle, carried him up the stairs to the porch, and put him on his feet. "I had to take a bullet out of him."

Janet scowled. "I hope you had whoever did it arrested."

"Didn't have the chance. But I imagine his own er may see to it. He wasn't pleased."

"He has an own er? Thank the Lord." She beamed down at the Lab. "No offense, pooch. But we have a few too many animals around here."

"If Devon decides to give him back," Nick said as he took out the suitcases. "She's not sure he's worthy of the dog."

"Not another one." Janet made a face. "If she's not sure, then we're probably stuck with him. It looks like Gracie's already adopted him."

Gracie was sitting beside Ned on the porch, every muscle of her lean, elegant body breathing maternal protectiveness.

"Where are the other dogs?" Devon asked. "Gracie needs to run and play and just be a dog again. She had a rough time on the island."

"They're down in the paddock teasing that donkey. Someday they're going to get kicked."

It was one of the pups' greatest joys to run back and forth on the other side of the fence trying to get a rise out of the donkey. "Casper will only threaten them. You know he likes the company. Go see Casper, Gracie."

The greyhound didn't move away from Ned.

"It's okay. We'll take care of him, Gracie."

"I'll take her down to the paddock." Nick whistled for Gracie, and she reluctantly got to her feet. "Come on, girl. You can play mother later. Devon thinks you need therapy."

"Devon is the one who needs therapy," Janet said dryly. "And you don't do anything to discourage her, Nick."

"No, I don't." Nick grinned. "She may be a little eccentric, but she keeps me young. She keeps you young, too, Janet. Admit it."

"I am young. I haven't turned sixty yet. I don't need to work my ass off taking care of critters to convince myself of that." Janet moved toward the door. "Supper will be ready in an hour. Feed the donkey, and bring up those dogs. I need a little help around here."

"Yes, ma'am." Nick disappeared around the corner of the house, with Gracie on his heels.

Janet was frowning down at Ned. "Shouldn't he be lying down? Why don't I take him in the kitchen and settle him on the dog bed? He won't get much chance when the other pups come up from the field."

"Ned can take care of himself." She tugged gently on his collar. "But that's a good idea. I'll give him some water and then I'll-"

"I said I'd do it." Janet strode into the house. "Come on, dog."

"Ned."

"Ned," Janet said, straight-faced. "Heaven forbid I be rude to the mutt."

She was joking. It was as much humor as Janet ever displayed. "Good. Ned is different. I think he's very sensitive."

"Then he'll probably be even crazier than the rest of them. I can't see why you keep bringing them home."

"They need help and give love," she said simply. "And when I give that help, it fills me with warmth. They touch my heart. I can't do anything else, Janet."

"I know you can't." She hesitated. "I've been getting a lot of hang-ups on the house phone since you've been gone. I think he's found out the new number."

Devon tensed. Oh Lord, she hoped not. "Not necessarily."

"Stop burying your head. It was the same the last time. It's him, all right." Janet's hands clenched into fists. "Men like him don't give up. They just keep on coming until you shoot the bastards. I should know. I was married to one for over twenty years."

"But you didn't shoot your husband."

"Only because you got me a fancy lawyer to have Chuck thrown into jail. Why can't you do the same with your husband?"

"He's not my husband. I told you I divorced Lester years ago," she said wearily. "And the situation is different."

"Yeah, he's a nutcase."

"A very smart nutcase. He's a police detective who knows how to work the system. I've only been able to get one restraining order on him since the divorce."

"Well, he'd better not come around here bothering you," Janet said fiercely. "I'll blow his nuts off."

"I don't think he'll be showing up on my doorstep. These days he limits himself to nuisance calls and making threats when he thinks I'm seeing other men."

"Fat chance of that," Janet said sourly. "You're so busy taking care of all those animals, you don't have time to do more than brush your teeth."

She smiled with an effort. "Well, I do manage a shower now and then. Don't worry, Janet. It may not be Lester. If it is, I'll handle it."

"We'll handle it," Janet said tersely. "Now you go lie down and get some rest. You look like you're ready to pass out. I'll call you when dinner is ready." She tapped Ned's collar. "Let's go. You don't need her. You got me."

Ned hesitated, studying Janet's face. Then he moved stiffly down the hall after her.

Maybe Ned was even more sensitive than Devon had thought. Perhaps he had been able to see beyond that brusque exterior. Janet did not have anything so clichéd as a heart of gold, but she was fair and hardworking, and though she would not admit it, she had a generous amount of the same maternal feeling as Gracie exhibited. Devon could not have asked for anyone more devoted or conscientious than Janet to take care of her animals.

Janet stuck her head outside the kitchen. "Scat."

"Right." Devon grinned and ran up the stairs to her room. She was tired, but it wasn't the kind of weariness that would be assuaged by an hour's nap. She'd take a shower and read her mail.

Should she disconnect the phone? The last thing she wanted was to have to deal with Lester tonight. She'd hoped by putting the new number in Nick's name that it would make it harder for Lester to get it. It had been a feeble attempt but all she could think to do. But the police could find out anything if they wanted to do it.

And eventually Lester found out any information he needed. After the first restraining order, he'd convinced his superiors that she was the one who was bothering him. Cops always stuck together when it was one of their own in trouble.

Don't think about it. She couldn't be sure that Lester was starting the calls again. She'd face that ugliness when she was forced to do so. Right now she wanted to keep problems at a distance, but she'd created a bushel of them by taking Ned out of Santa Marina.

Lord, it was good to be home. This house was old and a little rickety but between her and Nick, they managed to keep it functioning. The secondhand furniture was shabby but comfortable, and the garden out back furnished them with vegetables and herbs. It was all she needed. All she wanted. A haven to come home to from the storms of everyday life.

"Want a cookie, Devon. Want a cookie, Devon. Stingy Devon. Give a gal a cookie." Bronwyn, the most vocal of the parrots, was screeching at her from her perch in the sunroom.

"Shut up, Bronwyn. You'll get one after dinner." Devon closed her bedroom door behind her.

Peace.

She moved over to the rocking chair and dropped down on it. She'd take just a moment and close her eyes. She needed to unwind before she called Hugh Dalks, who was filling in for her at the clinic. It was hard to get out of the mind-set of search and rescue and into the more mundane job of veterinary medicine. She always felt remote when she came back, but that changed with the first patient.

No, it was the end of the office day, and Hugh would be going home. She didn't want to disturb him there. She dialed his cell number.

"I thought I'd hear from you soon," Hugh said when he picked up the phone. "I stopped hearing anything on CNN about the rescue mission. That usually means that you're going to be on your way home."

"I just got to the house. How are things at the clinic?"

"Wonderful. I haven't missed you at all. Why don't you stay gone for a little while longer? By that time all your patients will be so enthralled by me that I'll be able to steal them away from you. I need to open a practice of my own."

"No deal."

"Then will you marry me and support me?"

"Hell no." She could almost see Hugh with his lean, angular face, horn-rimmed glasses, and quizzical grin. He had gotten out of school only two years before, but he'd worked at a county emergency clinic and the experience had made him one of the best veterinarians she knew. "You haven't missed me, but have any of my patients?"

"Well, Mrs. Johnson has been waiting for you to have her bea gle spayed. She's very impatient. She won't trust me with her darling."

"Call her and tell her to bring Cuddles in tomorrow morning." She paused. "And save a little time to give an in-depth examination to a wounded Lab I brought home from Santa Marina. I don't think Nick or I will have time tomorrow. I'd bet there are a few more clients who just might prefer us."

"It's a possibility. Is this dog a stray or one of the rescue team dogs?"

"Neither. I just don't know where the own er is right now."

"I'll do the workup." Hugh paused. "It's good to have you back, Devon."

"Thanks, Hugh. It's good to be back."

"And I really would marry you and let you support me. We could let Nick run the practice, and I'd concentrate on opening a new world for you. Did I ever tell you that I minored in gigolo at college?"

She smiled. "And I'm sure you're very qualified. Good-bye, Hugh."

The smile still lingered as she hung up the phone. Everything was easing back into the same comfortable path as when she'd left. Tomorrow would be hectic and demanding and she would welcome it.

But right now she needed quiet time for herself. She didn't want any intrusive thoughts that might jar her.

Like Jude Marrok.

She rejected that thought immediately. She had seldom met a more disturbing man, and she did not want to be disturbed. She would be just as happy if she never saw him again.

Not likely. He would be back for Ned.

And then she would decide whether to turn him over to Marrok.

Conflict. Aggression. Battle. They all loomed on the horizon when Marrok showed up.

Not yet. Those might come with Marrok, but he wasn't here now. She didn't have to deal with anything more unsettling than the problem of staying awake until Janet called her for supper.

Take advantage of these moments.

The house phone rang.

She stiffened. No ID. Let Janet answer it?

No, face it.

She picked up the receiver. "Hello."

"I hear you were batting around the Ca rib be an," Lester said softly. "How many men did you sleep with on that pretty island?"

Hang up? No, he'd just call back. Let him get the poison out, and he might give her peace tonight. "None. If you know I was on Santa Marina, you know that I was on a job."

"Yeah, everyone in towns says how noble you are, but we know different, don't we? You only go away because you want to fuck, and you know I'd kill you if I caught you with any man here. I'd kill you both."

Threats and obscenities. He never tired of them. "That's ridiculous. I was on a job."

"It's been a long time since I heard your voice, bitch. I've known the number since the second week after you changed it, but I wanted to make you think you'd fooled me. Surprises are always more effective. I'm having a little trouble getting your cell number, but I'll persuade someone in the phone company office to give it to me soon." He paused. "The house phone is in Nick Gilroy's name. You have him wrapped around your finger, don't you? Do you sleep with him, too?"

"We're friends," she said between her teeth. For God's sake, let him hang up. She didn't know how much more she could stand.

"No, I think it might be Dalks. He's younger and I know your appetite. Do you do it at the clinic?"

"No. And I'm sure you know it." She couldn't take anymore. "I'm going to hang up."

"And you're hoping I won't call you back."

"Yes. I don't deserve this, Lester."

"You deserve anything I want to hand out to you." His tone was suddenly ugly. "Whore. No other man, Devon. You're coming back to me. You killed my child. Now you're going to give me another one."

"I didn't kill-" The pain was searing through her as it always did when he reached this point. "You know I-"

"No other man, bitch." He hung up.

She was cold, shaking. She shouldn't let him do this to her. God knows she was used to this ugliness. She should be stronger. But the threat wasn't only to her, it was to the people close to her. This time he'd mentioned both Nick and Dalks.

It didn't mean that Lester would move on them, she told herself. It could be a tactic to make her more afraid and drive her back to him. But could she take the chance? Lester was getting uglier with every contact. If he didn't hurt Nick or Hugh Dalks physically, he could find ways to make trouble for them. In the years since she'd left him, she'd known him do everything from planting drugs in the car of her date to giving anonymous tips that another male friend was a child molester. All ugly, all permanently scarring. It mustn't happen again. Not to Nick, who deserved peace and some mea sure of contentment. Not to Hugh Dalks, who was just starting out and might face ruin at Lester's hands.

No, tomorrow she'd find a way to change her phone number again and start to plan on how best to keep Lester from hurting these people she cared about. Would she have to go away again?

Dammit, this was her home.

I can make another home. So stop whining and do what has to be done.

"DEVON BRADY," DANNER REPEATED softly. "You're sure, Rachoff?"

"Yes, she has the dog," Rachoff said. "She caused all kinds of upset trying to arrange to get him off the island. You're not supposed to take any livestock back to the States without quarantine but she pulled some strings and got permission to take him back with the rest of the search and rescue team."

"That sounds like a considerable hassle. Now why would she want to go to the bother?" He thought he could guess. He'd thought it was bizarre that Marrok had suddenly taken it into his head to go on a rescue mission.

Devon Brady.

Was she one of them? Had he used the disaster mission to make contact with her? Marrok had always made the effort to keep the identity and whereabouts of the guardians secret. He wouldn't risk contacting her in her usual environment. He'd transferred the dog into her care. Was that what he'd meant to do anyway?

"What do you want me to do?" Rachoff asked. "There's no sign of Kingston. Do you want me to stick around and see if I can locate him?"

"Hell no. I wouldn't have sent you if I hadn't thought Marrok had gotten to Kingston. If you did locate him, he'd probably be six feet underground." And good riddance to the bastard. He'd had his chance and blown it. "Get back to the States. Marrok won't let the dog stay with the Brady woman now. We have to move fast and get to that Lab before he does."

"I've never understood why that dog is so important to-"

"I don't pay you to ask questions," Danner said curtly. "Where does she live?"

"Bayside, Colorado. A small town outside Denver. Do you think that's where she'll take the dog?"

"I don't know. We may get lucky. She may not have been able to make alternate arrangements so quickly. If we move fast, we may be able to scoop her up. I'll send a team to meet you in Denver. Get moving."

"The dog is alive. So is Marrok." Danner turned to Paul Caswell. "It's not going to be an easy retrieval. Dammit, we came so close this time."

"At least Marrok is on the radar screen again. We may be able to track him." Caswell shrugged. "It's been a long time since we got this close."

"You're very cool," Danner said sarcastically. "So slick. Why shouldn't you be? Marrok isn't trying to kill you."

"That doesn't mean I don't intend to get him." He rose to his feet. "Our reasons may differ, but our goal is the same. I'll arrange for air transport and check out what the situation is in Denver."

Danner's hands clenched into fists as he watched Caswell leave the room. What the hell. He couldn't blame Caswell for not having the same passion as Danner for getting Marrok. Four years ago, when they'd almost gathered him in, Danner had been angry and disappointed but he hadn't had this feeling of desperate urgency. The years had done that to him. He'd had all that power dangling before him and not been able to reach out and grab it. It had gone on too long, and Danner wanted it ended.

Caswell might not mind waiting, but Danner couldn't wait. He wouldn't wait.

This time they had to get Marrok.

"DOES IT HAVE TO BE TONIGHT, Bridget?" Fraser whispered. "It would be easier for you if you had the chance to let him get to know you."

"I know that," Bridget said. She didn't like the hurry any more than Fraser. She didn't like any of this business. Creeping around stealing someone's animal in the middle of the night was a good way to get shot. "Marrok says it has to be as soon as possible. He wants the donkey and all the other animals out of here. I told him it would be difficult as hell."

"Why can't you just go get Ned?"

That's exactly what she'd asked Marrok. "He said for us to get the donkey first. Marrok will get Ned himself. You know it never does any good to argue with him. He'd only say we work for him and to do what he tells us."

"That doesn't often stop you," Fraser said dryly. "I wouldn't talk back to him, but you never have a problem."

She shrugged. "This time he's right. He hired me three years ago to help him with Danner, and that means doing things that aren't always in the rule book. Just have the trailer ready." She moved toward the fenced enclosure the donkey occupied. His name was Casper, she'd found out by asking around the small town. He'd been injured, and the own er had wanted to put him down, but Devon Brady had healed him, then taken him under her wing. Bridget approved the action, but she didn't look forward to dealing with a donkey. Even the most placid could be temperamental at times and their hooves and teeth could do serious damage.

And it was going to be hard to make Casper understand, blast it. Particularly when she didn't have the time to prepare him. That's what she'd tried to tell Marrok but all he'd said was that the donkey would be the most difficult and had to be taken first. He was right, but that-

A chill suddenly struck her. Her head lifted, and her gaze shifted to the east.

"What is it?" Fraser asked, his gaze on her face.

"I don't know." She was shivering. "I… don't like…" Her gaze moved around the peaceful paddocks. Not here. Not now. "Are you supposed to stay here after I leave?"

He nodded. "Marrok told me to keep an eye on the place and let him know if there's trouble."

"Be careful."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Dammit, I hate it when you do that, Bridget," he said in disgust.

"Tough." She couldn't blame him. But it was just as frustrating for her. No, not frustrating, terrifying. Keep it under control. It could be a false alarm. "I'm giving you all I can. It's not right away. Maybe not at all. Now let me concentrate on this donkey."

"Who's stopping you?" He was uneasily following her gaze toward the east. "You're the one who decided to scare the pants off me."

"Sorry." She didn't want to frighten Fraser. She couldn't be sure. She wasn't right all the time. Forget it and get to the job at hand. "Okay, Casper," she said softly as she opened the gate. "We're going to go very slow. Just listen, and we'll see what we can do together."

Casper turned to look at her.

Not a warm response. She could sense only wariness and the gathering of strength.

"We have to help Devon." She was slowly walking toward him. "She needs us to go away for a while. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise you."

Distrust.

"I know. You haven't had much reason to trust people. But it's started to turn around. There are people coming here that might hurt you. If she knew, Devon would want you to go." She reached out and touched the center of his head with her forefinger. Careful. Casper might look the picture of a friendly figure from a children's book, but those teeth were scissor-strong, and one bite could take off a finger.

He didn't move under her touch.

How much time did she have?

Not long.

But she had to take the time. If he brayed, he might wake the house hold. If she tried to put a halter on him, he might lead her all over the pasture before he let her catch him. He had to follow her willingly.

She gently rubbed the sweet spot on his muzzle. "It's okay. You don't want to be here right now. Nothing is going to happen to you. I wouldn't let it. I'm going to be with you all the way…"