The Protectors. Beverly Barton

returned Annie Laurie’s smile. “I suppose everyone’s passing Katie around as if she were a doll. Tell Megan I’ll be out in just a minute.”

      Annie Laurie slipped out of the office, silently closing the door behind her.

      “What was that all about? Who are Megan and Katie?”

      “Megan is my secretary. She’s on maternity leave. Katie is her two-week-old baby girl.”

      Ashe shook his head. “You’ve just received another threatening letter and you’re concerned with coochie-cooing over your secretary’s new baby?”

      “I’ve received a letter very similar to the one you hold in your hand every day since Lon Sparks was arrested,” Deborah said. “And I get at least one threatening phone call a day. But it isn’t every day that Katie goes for her two-week checkup and Megan brings her by to see us.”

      Ashe grinned. God bless her, Deborah hadn’t really changed. Not nearly as much as he thought she had. And certainly nowhere near as much as she tried to make everyone think. Underneath all that tough, career woman exterior lay the heart of the sweet, caring girl she’d been years ago. He supposed he should have realized that Deborah was perfectly capable of handling both roles, that sophistication and success didn’t exclude the more nurturing qualities that made Deborah such a loving person.

      “You go visit with mother and baby,” Ashe said. “I’ll phone Sheriff Blaylock and let him know we’ll be stopping by around noon. We’ll let him add this letter to his collection.”

      “It won’t do any good.” Deborah opened the door. “There are never any fingerprints, nothing unique about the stationery. They’re all mailed from Sheffield. And the typewriter isn’t much of a clue. Hundreds of people in this area have access to the same brand.”

      “Whoever’s doing this is experienced. He’s no amateur.”

      “Buck Stansell may be a redneck outlaw, but he’s a professional redneck outlaw.”

      “Yeah, his family’s been in the business for several generations.” Ashe glanced around Deborah’s office. “Kind of like the Vaughns have been in real estate for three generations.”

      “Don’t assume that I’m taking the threats lightly,” she said, her hand on the doorpost. “I’m shaking in my boots. But I have a business to run, people who count on Vaughn & Posey for their livelihoods. And I have a mother who’s in bad health and a ch…a brother who’s only a child.”

      “Who has access to your business cards?”

      “What?”

      “Could just anybody get one of these cards?” Ashe waved the envelope in the air.

      “Oh, yes, anybody could get one.” Deborah walked into the outer office. “Megan, we’re so glad you stopped by. Who’s got Katie? Come on, Helen, give her to me.”

      Ashe stood in the doorway, watching Deborah hold her secretary’s baby. She looked so natural, as if cuddling a baby in her arms was something she did all the time. Why wasn’t she married, with children of her own? A woman like Deborah shouldn’t be single, still living at home with her mother and little brother. She should be hustling a pack of kids off to school and baseball games and cheerleader practice. She should be holding her own child in her arms.

      Ashe didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when Megan pulled Deborah aside into the corner near her office, he remained standing just behind the partially closed door.

      “I want to thank you again for the bonus you gave me,” Megan said. “Bennie is so proud, he would never have accepted the money if you hadn’t convinced him it was a bonus and that Mr. Posey had given the same amount to his secretary. Annie Laurie even went along with our little fib.”

      “It was a bonus,” Deborah said. “A baby bonus. I think every baby should have a fully equipped nursery.”

      “We could never have afforded everything without that bonus. And after that, you didn’t have to bring another gift to the hospital.” Megan looked down at the pink-and-white ruffled dress her daughter wore. “It looks beautiful on her, don’t you think?”

      Ashe closed the door. Still the do-gooder. Still the tenderhearted pushover. No, Deborah hadn’t changed. She was older, more beautiful, more experienced and certainly more sophisticated. But she was still the girl he’d considered his friend, the girl with whom he would have trusted his soul.

      Was it possible that she had no idea what her father had done to him? Had he misjudged her all these years? Maybe she hadn’t run to Wallace Vaughn and cried rape. But even if she hadn’t falsely accused him, she’d still told her father that the two of them had made love. Surely she would have known how her father would react.

      Even after Ashe had left town, Wallace Vaughn had slandered him. It had become public knowledge that Deborah’s father had run Ashe McLaughlin out of Sheffield.

      All the old feelings came rushing back, bombarding him with their intensity. All the love, the hate, the fear and the uncertainty. Maybe Carol Vaughn had been right. He hadn’t returned to Sheffield before now because he was afraid to face the past, to find out the truth, to confront Deborah and Whitney.

      But he was back now, and there was no time like the present to meet the ghosts of his past head-on.

      Chapter Four

      Charlie Blaylock had been a friend of her father and Deborah suspected he’d always had a soft spot in his heart for her mother. He asked about Carol every time he ran into Deborah, and his concern certainly seemed a bit more than neighborly.

      Deborah tried to relax as she sat in Charlie’s office listening to him explain the details of the Lon Sparks case to Ashe, and exactly what he could and could not do to protect Deborah against Buck Stansell and his bunch of outlaws.

      “When Carol asked my advice about hiring a private bodyguard for Deborah, I was all for it.” Charlie gazed out the window that overlooked the parking area. He moved with a slow, easy stride, all six feet five inches, three hundred pounds of him. “We don’t have a smidgen of proof that Buck and his boys are involved in the threats Deborah’s been receiving. If we had any proof, we could make a move to stop them. But even if we caught the guy who’s making the phone calls, Buck would just have somebody else take up where he left off.”

      “I’m planning on paying a visit to Lee Roy and Johnny Joe.” Ashe stood, walked across the room, and stopped at Charlie’s side. “I want you to have one of your men stay with Deborah while I drop in on my cousins.”

      Charlie lifted his eyebrows. “When were you planning on visiting the Brennan brothers?”

      “Tomorrow. Bright and early.”

      “I’ve tried to tell Ashe that I’ve survived for a couple of weeks now without his constant protection.” Deborah squirmed around in the uncomfortable straight-back chair in which she sat. “I’ll be perfectly all right at the office for a couple of hours.”

      “I’ll have somebody stop by the house around seven in the morning and stay with Deborah until you finish your business and get back to Sheffield.” Charlie laid his big hand on Ashe’s shoulder, gripping him firmly. “I was surprised when Carol told me she was hiring you. Last I’d heard, you were still in the army. The Green Berets, wasn’t it?”

      “I left over a year ago.” Ashe looked down at Charlie’s hand resting on his shoulder, all friendly like.

      Ashe figured Charlie Blaylock knew exactly what his old friend, Wallace Vaughn, had done to him eleven years ago. Although Charlie had been sheriff even then, Wallace had brought the district attorney with him when he’d had his little talk with Ashe. And Sheffield’s chief of police had been waiting right outside the door, waiting to arrest Ashe if he hadn’t agreed to leave town and never return. But Charlie would have known what Wallace had been up to, perhaps had even given him a little advice on how to get rid of that white trash