Cynthia Thomason - High Country Christmas

Ava called her brother back. “That’s her,” she said. “Does she have any family?”

“Says here she’s got a father who’s looking for her. I’ve got to let Chapel Hill PD know. They may want me to pick her up.”

“I understand you’ve got to tell the police. But I’d rather you didn’t come here to get her just yet, Carter. I don’t want to spook this girl. It’s ten thirty, and I don’t expect her to wake up anytime soon. And when she does, I’m sure I can keep her here until we decide what to do. You can come by later, okay?”

“Not much later, but I’ll give you a little time,” he said.

“Thanks. By the way, what’s her name?”

“Sawyer Walsh. And you were right. She’s fourteen.”

“Thanks, Carter. I’ll call if I need you.”

Three hours later, Sawyer Walsh was beginning to stir on the sofa. She blinked her eyes open, stretched her arms over her head.

“How’d you sleep?” Ava asked her.

“Okay. Thanks for the bed. I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes. Maybe I can take a sandwich with me.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged, but what’s your hurry? Why don’t you stay here at least for another night? You need more than one or two meals before you continue your journey.”

“I should go. I’m supposed to be in California in a week. Got friends there.”

Ava had become adept at recognizing lies. The California story was definitely made up. “Oh. California’s nice,” she said. “But still...”

Ava’s argument was cut short by the sound of a motorcycle engine followed by a persistent and loud knock on her apartment door. She turned the lock and opened the door. A man stood in the building’s reception lobby on the other side. He had an impressive build, almost an intimidating one, but it was also oddly familiar.

Ava saw the outline of an expansive chest and upper arm muscles under the black leather jacket he wore. He was tall enough to carry off the rough and tumble look, maybe six feet. His dark hair matched the stubble of beard on his face. He appeared tired as if he’d come to the school in a hurry.

Black jeans, a white T-shirt and black ankle boots with an insignia on the sides completed his outfit. A baseball cap covered his thick hair, which was mussed except for an obviously quick attempt to push coarse waves back behind his ears. When he saw her, he removed the cap, releasing strands onto his forehead. Ava swallowed. Something about this man’s demeanor and appearance was troubling although she couldn’t admit to being afraid of him. She placed her hand over her stomach to ease a tremble that had started deep inside. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Some guy in a golf cart sent me to this building.”

Jack, their Sunday security man, she thought.

“Are you the headmistress of this place?” the man asked.

“Well, we don’t use that term so much anymore, but I am the administrator.”

His gaze darted all around the doorway. He didn’t really look at Ava. “My name is Walsh. I understand my daughter is here.”

Of course. This man’s sudden appearance was the reason for the anxiety Ava was experiencing. She had been expecting someone to come for Sawyer. Ava ignored the rustling of bed linens behind her. “Walsh? Oh yes. You’re Sawyer’s father...”

“Bingo.” The man pushed past Ava and strode into her living room. When Ava spun around to keep track of him, she saw Sawyer as a flash of sheet and blanket disappearing into the kitchen. Next the back door opened and banged against the outside wall. In four steps Walsh was in the kitchen.

“Sawyer, not another step. Stop right there.” His voice was hoarse and seriously angry, his instructions clear and his black leather getup suddenly menacing. Ava shook her head. There was something about that voice. Again, she wasn’t afraid, but she was acutely aware of his tone and inflection. Ava knew this man.

Sawyer stopped a few feet outside the door.

CHAPTER TWO

SAWYER SPUN AROUND, a look of anguish etched in her face. She wrapped the bedclothes more tightly around her, almost as a shield and scowled at Ava. “Thanks a lot, lady. This is what you mean by trusting you?”

“Tay... I mean Sawyer...” Ava fumbled for words. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you leave today. You’re obviously in trouble, and setting out on the road by yourself, hitching rides, isn’t likely to minimize that.”

Sawyer flashed a quick hot glare at her father. “And you think turning me over to this man will?”

“I don’t know.” Ava gave the man a quick appraisal. Though she was beginning to put the clues together, Ava couldn’t be completely certain that her instincts about who he was were correct. A lot of time had passed. “I can’t draw any conclusions yet.”

“Well, I’ve known him fourteen years, and let me tell you...”

“Cut it out, Sawyer,” Walsh said. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through the last two days? I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten...”

He took a step toward his daughter. Ava’s arm shot out to stop him, a fruitless gesture really because Walsh could obviously snap her bones with a twist of his wrist. “Don’t move,” she said. “I can have the police here in a matter of minutes.” She hoped she could protect Sawyer if need be.

The man still didn’t look at Ava. In fact, other than a brief sentence at the door, he hadn’t acknowledged her existence. His attention was focused entirely on his daughter.

“Yeah, Pops, one more step and I’m running,” Sawyer said. “We’ll play a little Catch-Me-If-You-Can.”

Walsh put his fists on his hips. “We both know I can catch you, Sawyer. Not much doubt about that.”

Ava looked at the stern faces of father and daughter. She’d mediated several ticklish family situations during her two-month tenure as the home’s administrator. But none of them had seemed as fraught with as much frustration and peril as this one. “Look, Sawyer, come back inside. I’ve brought you clean clothes. You can go into the bedroom and change. Then we’ll sit down and talk about this.”

“Like that’s ever done any good,” Sawyer said.

Walsh released a long breath. Ava expected him to argue with her, but he didn’t. “Do what this lady says or I’ll haul you back to Chapel Hill on the back of my bike in nothing but that blanket you’re wearing,” he said.

Ava shot a glance at Walsh. She didn’t especially approve of his threatening technique, but at least he appeared to be supporting her directions to Sawyer.

Sawyer stood on the back lawn for several seconds breathing heavily. Then she yanked the blanket from where it trailed on the ground and stomped up the few steps to the kitchen.

“Do you have any windows in that bedroom?” Walsh asked, keeping his attention on his daughter.

“Yes, but our security system is on. The windows can’t be opened without our hearing a siren.” She caught Sawyer’s conspiratorial look. “Not from the inside anyway.”

Once Sawyer had left the kitchen, Ava realized she was alone with the overpowering presence of the girl’s father. A strange tingle worked its way down her spine. She figured she ought to be scared out of her wits, but once more, she wasn’t. Maybe because she’d grown up with two brothers, and she’d always thought she understood the male psyche fairly well. But this man, who not only looked like a biker but had driven across the state on a motorcycle, was a truly dominating figure and Ava was intrigued. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, just as she hadn’t been able to six years ago. Oh yes, she’d known him—too well at one time.

He stood in the middle of her kitchen, his eyes cast down on some spot on her wood floor, his arms crossed over his chest. He almost seemed lost in her small cozy apartment.