Callaway Country. Annette BroadrickЧитать онлайн книгу.
time. “We’ve had that system in place for several years, sir. This isn’t the first time our family has been the target of terrorism. I doubt it will be the last.”
“I understand your point,” Sam replied, meeting each man’s gaze. “As it happens, I decided to borrow one of the FBI’s best investigators to run a series of profiles on anyone who might be interested in harming the family. Pamela McCall informs me that she knows the Callaway family and she has the added bonus of having lived a large portion of her life in Texas. She said she’s looking forward to working on this project.”
He turned to Clay, who felt as though he’d just been slugged in the middle of his chest with a fist. The air seemed to have been knocked out of him with the colonel’s words.
“Clay, you and Pamela will be paired off on this mission. Our other man won’t arrive until early tomorrow morning. I’ll arrange a meeting for the whole group once he arrives. In the meantime, I think we could all use some sleep.” He looked at Cole. “On behalf of the government, we want you to know that we appreciate your concern and cooperation in this matter and we intend to get to the bottom of it quickly.”
“We appreciate the help, Sam.”
Carruthers nodded and stood. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen. Sorry to have this meeting so late, but as I said, we do what we must.” He shook hands with the three older men before turning to Clay. “I’ll call you in the morning and arrange a time to meet for breakfast. I take it you’re staying in the hotel?”
Clay had taken in little of the conversation after Pam’s name had been mentioned. When he realized the colonel was speaking to him, he forced himself to focus on his question.
“Uh, yes, sir.” He paused to recall the room number Melanie had mentioned earlier in the evening. “It’s room 937, sir. I’ll wait to hear from you.”
Clay left the room, his mind reeling. Sam Carruthers had requested him for this assignment. He still couldn’t believe it.
Carruthers had made a name for himself in Special Forces. Clay had the greatest admiration and respect for the man. Carruthers didn’t suffer fools gladly, and Clay was grateful he’d never been at the receiving end of one of Carruthers’s tongue-lashings.
He also knew that he would not make any points with the man if he asked not to work with Pam. However, he couldn’t fathom being paired with her for the duration of the investigation. So what in the hell was he going to do?
He glanced at his watch. He didn’t want to go back to the ballroom, so he headed for the bar. He ordered a double bourbon, then took it to a back corner and slid into a chair.
Pamela McCall.
With her appearance here tonight his past had reared up before him and slapped him in the face. Surely the intervening years would help him to deal with the present situation. He’d been tested by everything the army could throw at him, and he’d survived. In fact, he’d thrived. He enjoyed what he did. He served an important function in the military, dealing with terrorists. It made sense that these attacks fit that category.
He was honored that the colonel had asked for him, and he wanted to show him that his trust had not been misplaced. Between now and tomorrow morning Clay had to come to terms with his feelings regarding Pamela McCall.
Part of the problem was that she had been a part of his life for as far back as he could remember. By attempting to erase her from his memory, he’d also blocked out years of warmth and laughter that he’d shared with his parents and sisters. He’d realized earlier tonight how much he’d missed, such as his sisters growing up and marrying without his being there. The periodic visits with his parents hadn’t been adequate, as he’d faced tonight.
He’d associated his family with Pam’s presence in their midst. While he’d been in grade school he’d treated her as a kid—as a nuisance, in fact—the same way he’d treated his sisters. He’d spent his recreational time hiding from all of them back then, considering all girls to be pests.
Clay’s mind drifted back over the years, back to the time when he’d been a young boy with three sisters determined to make his life a living hell.…
Clay successfully eluded all the females around his house and headed toward the grove of trees a few hundred yards from the hacienda-style home where the family had lived since he was born.
He climbed to the top of one of the huge live oak trees, then settled into a comfortable position straddling a massive limb and raised his dad’s binoculars to his eyes.
He could see for miles and no one knew he was watching.
Boy, was he tired of females bugging him. At twelve, he’d discovered that he had to stay alert not to get in trouble when his sisters were around. Sherry Lynn wasn’t too bad. She was two years older and ignored him most of the time. But Kerry and Denise, ten and nine, always wanted to know what he was doing in his room, or they’d follow him around when he went outside.
But not today. Today they were playing with Pam, who’d shown up about an hour ago with her suitcase and a sad face. Her dad had to go out of town again because he was a very important man and he was needed to help run the country.
It was always easy for him to spot Pam when she played with his sisters. All of them had dark hair like Mama and her family. Pam’s blond hair made her look very different.
Clay lost track of time as he scanned the hills, watching deer feeding as well as cattle and sheep. When he paused to get a drink out of the canteen slung over his shoulder he saw furtive movement near the house.
He immediately raised the glasses and saw Pam standing very still next to the house. While he watched, she carefully looked around the corner, then ran across the driveway to the barn, slipping inside and out of sight. He drew back to get a wider angle and saw her leave the back of the barn and follow the trail to the creek.
Where was she going? Whenever she came to visit, Pam stayed with Kerry, sleeping in her room, playing dress-up and other dumb games. He looked back at the house. No one stirred. He looked back at the path. She’d disappeared into the trees.
Clay decided to follow her. He crawled down out of the tree very carefully, making sure he didn’t damage the binoculars since he didn’t exactly have permission to use them. Of course, his dad didn’t need to know he’d borrowed them if he put them back where they belonged before Dad got home tonight.
Once on the ground, he pretended he was tracking game, moving silently along the path. He stepped off into the underbrush when he reached the creek and stealthily lifted his binoculars to scan the area.
When Pam’s face suddenly filled the viewer, he jerked, startled to see her so close. He peered over the brush and saw that she had stopped at the edge of the creek. She’d found a large rock to sit on and sat staring into the stream.
He figured there was no reason to hide from her. He peered into the high-powered glasses once more before stepping out on the path. That’s when he realized she was crying. Silent tears slid down her face while she stared into the creek bed. The water wasn’t all that deep, but he wasn’t sure if she should be alone out there. What if she slipped and fell? Maybe hit her head and was knocked out? Then maybe she would drown and nobody would know.
He convinced himself that he needed to find out what was wrong before he went back to looking for wildlife.
She didn’t hear him until he was a few steps away. By then it was too late for her to hide the fact she was crying. She quickly scrubbed her face and said, “What are you doing here?”
He noticed that she’d changed clothes since she’d arrived at the ranch. When he’d spotted her getting out of her father’s car, she’d been wearing a dress. Now she had on shorts and a T-shirt with sneakers. The only thing that looked the same was her expression. She still looked sad…as well as irritated that he’d shown up.
He could certainly relate to that. Clay started to leave but he hated leaving her out here alone like that. So he came closer and