Healing Trace (29 page)

She'd
been so worried. Positive they had no chance at a relationship. Instead he'd
come to her with the sweetest, most sincere declaration of love she'd ever
heard. Not only was he better than a knight coming to rescue her on a white
horse, he was caring and good.

So
wonderful, he'd let his white horse go free, so he could come back to her.

He
knew how to touch her, and she readily lay down on the bed as he peeled her
swimsuit off her. The air brushed her sensitive breasts, and she reached for
him.

"Hang
on, beautiful." He kissed her and hurried into the connecting bathroom for
a condom.

He
returned in seconds, and she helped him roll the protection on his hardness,
and then pulled him on top of her. "I wish we had all night to love each
other, but I've been without you for too long. I want you now, Trace. Love
me."

At
last, when she thought she would explode from anticipation, he entered her
slowly, sliding inside her inch by magnificent, wonderful inch.

She
clutched him to her and closed her eyes, wanting to burn every sensation into
her memory. Heat cascaded through her. With a groan, he captured her mouth in a
swift kiss, muffling her moan.

Together
they moved as one, touching, grabbing, holding, taking, and giving. She rose to
meet him eagerly, as the room started to dip and spin and all she could do is
wrap her arms around his neck and let him take her over the edge. She gasped
his name, and climaxed. He quickly followed and found his own release.

Neither
of them seemed to want to get up from the bed. She loved the feel of his hard
body against her, and she smiled at the sound of his racing heartbeat against
her ear.

Trace
rubbed her back. "Thank you."

She
propped her head on her hand. "Thank you for everything you've done. I
never expected you to go to such great lengths to show me how much I mean to
you, but I'm glad you're feeling better about everything and I'm happy you've
found a doctor you're comfortable seeing."

"I
had to do it for myself too." He kissed her nose. "You showed me
that."

The
door rattled as banging filled the room. Joan jumped up, grabbing her swimsuit.

"Trace!"
Devon's voice boomed.

"Hang
on." He stood and scooped his shorts off the floor.

"Hurry…its
Savannah. She needs you."

"Oh,
my God." Joan snapped her straps up on her shoulder and ran to the door,
but Trace beat her there.

"What's
going on?" He ran down the hallway, following close behind Devon.

Devon
grabbed the truck keys off the end table. "All I know is Joe called here
and said there was a huge explosion at Savannah's house. The whole place went
up in flames. He said you'd wanted him to call if anything happened, and then
he said he had to go help and hung up."

Brody
shoved a pile of clothes and boots in Trace's arms, while Katie handed Joan the
sundress she'd packed in her bag to use as a coverup. She squeezed Katie to
her.

"I've
got to go with Trace. Stay here." She threw the dress over her head.

"I'll
stay with her, Joan." Devon put his arm around Katie, who started to cry.
"Call us when you can."

Joan
turned to Trace. His mouth set in a hard line. She waited for him to slip on
his boots, and then grabbed his hand, and ran toward the front door.

"Do
you think she's okay?" She ignored the stones in the walkway digging into
her barefeet.

"I
hope so." Trace lifted her into the truck, and climbed in afterward.
"I hope so," he murmured again.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Devon
negotiated the road at top speed, but the twenty-minute trip from Lakota ranch
to the reservation seemed to take hours to Trace. The truck squealed around the
corner, barely missing the fence at the entrance into the reservation. Sirens warned
him that the fire trucks were already at the scene of the explosion.

Then
he saw the black billowing smoke wasn't coming in the direction of the abandon
house Savannah stayed in when she sought safety, but came from the east, in the
direction of her father's home. He let go of Joan's hand and leaned forward.

He
had never felt his heart pounding so hard as when he leaped out of the truck
and ran for the burning house. Someone grabbed him, but he pushed the man aside
and continued toward the structure until the heat drove him back.

"Savannah!"
He paced back and forth trying to see through the smoke and flames.

The
fully engulfed house crackled like dry cedar. He yelled Savannah's name again.
Answer
me, dammit!

 A
small explosion rocked the area. Trace heard Joan scream from somewhere nearby.

Seconds
later, she was there beside him, pulling him back. "Come on, the fireman
are carrying someone out the back."

He
ran around to the side of the house. Scared and in shock, he blindly fought
through the crowd. Why were they all standing around? Savannah needed help.

Three
firefighters carried a charred body to a nearby stretcher. Trace slammed to a
stop, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. The contents of his
stomach rose.

He
reached out, trying to stop the men from taking the gurney. "No. No.
No."

Joan
tugged at his shirt, pulling him back. "Trace. Look! It's not Savannah.
It's too big."

The
bundle, blackened beyond recognition, was the body of a full grown adult. Hope
rose in Trace. It wasn't Savannah.

He
grabbed the heavy coat of one of the firefighters. "There's a little
girl…did she make it out?"

The
fireman shook his head. "We didn't find anyone else."

"You've
gotta go back in there. She might be hiding. She's small, and likes little
spaces where no one can find her."

The
fireman handed the casualty to someone else and blocked Trace. "No way,
mister. It's a furnace in there. The last explosion swept through the entire
house. We're going to get control of the fire, and let it burn out. Then we'll
investigate. Right now it looks like the house was being used as a meth
lab."

"Shit."
Trace fisted his hair.

He
stared at the scene in front of him. Blocking out the sirens, the commotion,
and the noises from the community as they stood back and speculated on what
happened. He turned to Joan.

"I
need to go check the abandoned house. Maybe she wasn't home." Trace held
her hand as they ran for the truck.

They
left the crowd, and sped down the bare back streets. He slammed on the brakes
in front of the shack, jumped out of the truck, and approached the house at a
run.

"Savannah!
Open up. It's me Trace." He banged on the door and waited.
"Iyokipi
Ayu Pte Miye!"

When
no one came to the door, he let himself in. He wanted to recoil from the smell.
With no running bathrooms, the children used whatever was available. Afraid
Savannah hid, he searched every spot. Nothing.

Where
could she have gone? He left the house. He couldn't allow himself to believe
Savannah was caught in the explosion. Not Savannah. She was a survivor.

Joan
stood in the yard, hugging her waist. "She's not there?"

"I
don't know where she would be, unless…" He shook his head.

He
couldn't even make himself say the words. Savannah trusted him, and he'd
promised her he'd help keep her safe. He should have been here.
If I'd never
left the reservation…

Before
heading back to the scene, Trace left the truck parked outside the rundown
house and scoured what was commonly called Poverty Lane. At one time or
another, each house had occupants that neglected the upkeep or left the
reservation entirely. He didn't stop until he stood in front of the overgrown
mess that used to be his father's house. Long ago abandoned, and crumbled from
the prairie winds.

There
was something else pulling him toward the house, something dark and heavy that
took him back to when he was a boy, and the evil wanted to hurt him. Trace
didn't move.

For
some reason, he thought of Joan as he stared at the shattered front window. He
remembered the first time she'd placed her hand so gently inside his. That
small, simple human contact had broken the shield he'd placed around his heart
so many moons ago. She reminded him of a deep need he'd buried when he was six
years old and lived in a house of terror.

He
blindly reached out to his side without taking his gaze off the house, testing
to see if she was here with him now. Her fingers slipped inside his hand and
anchored him to the spot. He shuddered. His father couldn't hurt him anymore.
Joan was here.

Even
now, he couldn't get his head around the kind of vindictiveness, the malice
that it would take for someone to harm an innocent child. He never understood
the cruelness in his own father. Even as an adult, he still couldn't understand
the motives behind the abuse. Was it hate? Resentment? Control?

It
was beyond him. He simply couldn't comprehend the mind of any man possessed
with evil.

"Let's
go back to the house. Maybe someone can tell us more." Joan tugged his
hand and pulled him back down the street. He climbed into the passenger side of
the truck.

She
started the engine. "Until we know anything, let's be positive. She's used
to running around unsupervised. She might not have been home."

Arriving
back at the scene and viewing the devastation again, Trace had a sinking
feeling he'd never see Savannah again. He walked around the crowd, questioning,
demanding answers, and curbing the desperation flooding his thoughts. Everyone
he spoke with at the scene had no idea where the little girl could be, but in
the house where she belonged.

Joe
had told him that Savannah's dad had come home yesterday, and even Joe hadn't
seen Savannah running in the shadows of the reservation. Trace ran his hand
through his hair. Joe was his backup when he wasn't at the ranch. He would know
if Savannah had needed help.

"That's
it. We're marking off around the house. Back up." The fire chief tossed a
roll of yellow banner tape to one of the firemen. "This area has being
quarantined until we're able to get a hazmat team in here to clean out the
house, and start an investigation."

Trace
stood in the road. He wanted to kill Savannah's dad. Wake the bastard up from
the sleeping, and choke the life out of his evil body again. He balled his
fists. Trace had no idea the guy was making meth in the house that Savannah
lived in.

"Trace?"
Joan tugged him out of the way. "Let's go to the clinic and sit down. I'll
get you something to drink, and we'll think about what needs to be done
next."

He
allowed her to drag him up the road to Hope clinic. Numb and grieving, he sat
in the waiting room with his head in his hands. He should have done more. He'd
promised Savannah he'd always be here, and he let her down.

***

"I'm
going in the back to get you some ice water." Joan ran her hand over the
back of his head and then slipped down the hallway, afraid of leaving him.

Her
heart was breaking for Savannah and Trace. Even in the small amount of time
she'd spent around Savannah, she'd fallen in love with such a resourceful and
caring girl. Savannah reminded her of Trace in so many ways, and she'd be the
first to admit she agreed to take the job at Hope Clinic in the belief that
someday she could help Savannah escape her abusive childhood.

What
happened today should never have happened. Savannah was an innocent, beautiful
kid in an ugly world, which no one could ever understand.

She
stood beside the sink and cried, for a lost hope, and for everyone touched by
Savannah's plight.

"Hello?"
A soft voice came from behind her.

Joan
turned around in the lunchroom. She covered her mouth and muffled her cry.
Sitting on the floor between the filing cabinet and the wall was a dirty, but
very alive, Savannah.

Not
wanting to frighten her, Joan walked slowly toward Savannah and kneeled down in
front of her. "Oh, Savannah, am I glad to see you," she whispered.
"Are you okay?"

"Trace…said
t-to come to h-his woman." Her chin dropped to her chest. "I don't
want my father to find me."

"Oh,
honey." She sat on the floor in front of her, wanting to touch her, stroke
her hair, and crush her to her chest but knowing she couldn't. "You're
safe here. You did a very, very smart thing by coming and finding me."

Savannah's
expression never changed. Despite the dirt and grime covering her clothes and
face, Savannah sat hunched, staring at her bare knees, a ghost of the child
Joan saw smiling with Trace on occasion. Joan stroked Savannah's arm lightly,
testing her reaction.

"In
fact, I know Trace is going to think you did a brave thing today." Joan
sucked her lips between her teeth and bit down to keep from crying. "Would
it be all right if I carry you to Trace? I really think you'd both enjoy seeing
each other right now."