Ann Voss Peterson - Vow To Protect

He rolled the weight of those two words around in his mind, feeling them, savoring them. He’d actually felt like a father tonight. Or at least, the way he imagined being a father would feel.

And he had Melanie to thank.

In Cord’s entire life, no one had believed he was worth a damn. No one except Mel. And here she was believing again, after all that had happened, after all he’d done.

He wanted to lie down on the bed next to her and let the sway of the boat beneath them lull him into a dreamworld from which he never had to wake.

Too bad that wasn’t possible.

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To John, who holds my hand

while we watch our sons sleep.

And special thanks to the Middleton Police Department

for filling my notebook with answers

to my many questions.

Ever since she was a little girl making her own books out of construction paper, Ann Voss Peterson wanted to write. So when it came time to choose a major at the University of Wisconsin, creative writing was her only choice. Of course, writing wasn’t a practical choice—one needs to earn a living. So Ann found jobs ranging from proofreading legal transcripts, to working with quarter horses, to washing windows. But no matter how she earned her paycheck, she continued to write the type of stories that captured her heart and imagination—romantic suspense. Ann lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, her two young sons, her border collie and her quarter horse mare. Ann loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at ann@annvosspeterson.com or visit her Web site at annvosspeterson.com.

Cordell “Cord” Turner—An ex-convict, Cord doesn’t believe he has much to offer. But when his father, serial killer Dryden Kane, threatens the woman he loved and lost as a teen, Cord can’t help making a vow to protect her…and the son he never knew he had.

Melanie Frist—When Cord was imprisoned for killing another teen in a gang fight, Melanie cut off all contact, even when she learned she was pregnant with his child. Now she will do anything to protect her son, from Dryden Kane…and from following in Cord’s footsteps.

Dryden Kane—When a horrible accident sets the notorious serial killer free, he takes stock of what is most important. And to him, the most important thing in the world is family. Right up there with manipulation, domination and control.

Ethan Frist—Like any nine-year-old boy, Ethan needs a dad.

Reporter Aidan Powell—He seems to have a source on the inside. Who is it?

Detective Reed McCaskey—He is determined to bring Dryden Kane down. Once and for all.

Detective Nikki Valducci—As ambitious as she is beautiful, she is determined to build her career on the capture of Dryden Kane.

Detective Stan Perreth—Someone is in the disagreeable detective’s sights. Dryden Kane? Or Reed McCaskey?

Officer Herns—He believes people who mess with serial killers deserve what they get.

Meredith Unger—The ace attorney wanted Kane as a client to share in his notoriety. With his escape, is the exposure getting too hot?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Corrections Officer Dale Swiggum would have to tell his grandkids about this one.

Of course, it might help to actually have kids. Hell, it might help to have a regular girlfriend. But with this story in his arsenal, he was sure to impress that sexy little brunette who manned the checkout at the Piggly Wiggly.

He was going to be transferring Dryden Kane down to the county lockup to stand trial.

He leaned back in the driver’s seat and smiled. When he’d been notified of the transport just an hour ago, he knew the convict he was hauling had to be important. Most convicts were transported by bus in broad daylight when they had a court date. When an assignment came down in the middle of the night, it had to be something big. But Dryden Kane? The most notorious Wisconsin serial killer since Jeffrey Dahmer? That was bigger than even Dale could dream.

He peered out the bug-spattered windshield of the state van as the giant steel door slid open and four correctional officers led Kane into the underground garage. The killer looked small in his baggy, dayglow-orange jumpsuit. He did the prisoner shuffle, his legs shackled, hands cuffed and locked to a waist chain.

If Dale met him walking down the street, he’d never guess this average-size, good-looking guy with silver hair was a monster who had killed at least a dozen women. Hunted them like deer. And spread them out for the world to find.

Dale would have a story to tell, all right. He wouldn’t have to pretend he was “about something” as the cons liked to say. He was about something.

The correctional officers led the shackled killer into the back of the van. After securing Kane to the bench, two officers climbed into the cage with him. The third climbed up front with Dale, and the fourth joined the chase car.

Dale glanced at the officer beside him. Jerry Brunner was a brute with biceps and a bad attitude almost as big as a con’s. He gripped his shotgun like he meant to use it. He likely did.

Good thing Jerry was on Dale’s side.

The order to move out came over the radio. Excitement trilled through Dale like he was a boy dumping candy from his stocking on Christmas morning. He shifted the van into gear and fell in behind the unmarked car leading the low-key parade. The overhead door rose in front of them, and the three-vehicle caravan rolled out into the humid Wisconsin night.

The tires hummed along the highway, the sound buzzing in Dale’s ears like the adrenaline buzzing in his veins. The county jail and courthouse was only ten minutes away from the Banesbridge Prison, not much of a drive, but he’d soak up the feeling while it lasted. He glanced at Jerry. “How do you think we got picked for this?”

Jerry shrugged. The behemoth never had much to say. He probably had the IQ of that shotgun he was carrying.

The truck started over a low bridge crossing the Wisconsin River. The sound of the tires echoed hollow over the water below. It had been a rainy June, especially up north, and the river swelled high on its banks, the water deep and black as a hole.

Across the narrow span, a pickup’s headlights shone high and bright.

Dale squinted and averted his eyes to the white line on the outer edge of the bridge.

“Damn drunk,” Jerry said.

The lights bucked and swerved. His radio crackled to life as the lead car reported the drunk to the county sheriff.

The truck grew closer. It swerved again. Suddenly the glare headed right for the lead car.