The Marshal's Hostage - By Delores Fossen Page 0,50

never would be. But she had to try.

“I’m trying to make myself remember that you were a kid yourself,” he said before she could say anything else.

Joelle held her breath. Waiting. But he didn’t say anything else for several long moments.

“I can’t put all of this on you,” Dallas added.

No. This was not where she wanted this guilt trip to go. “And I don’t want you to put it on Kirby, either. He loved you and wanted the best for you. Plus my new foster parents were telling me the same thing I was thinking—that if you knew about the pregnancy, it would ruin your life.”

“But they didn’t seem to mind that it’d ruin yours. Did they happen to mention that when they were advising you?”

The pain cut even deeper. It was so hard going back to that time and place. All those memories. Some precious. Some horrible. She’d been ill equipped to deal with everything she was feeling and had managed to push some of it deep inside.

It was all coming back. And Joelle had to wonder how she could cope with it all over again.

“My foster parents wanted me to put the baby up for adoption,” she said when she could gather her breath. “I, uh, said no, and eventually they agreed that I could stay with them, and they’d help me raise the baby.” That required another pause. “Then, of course, Amber didn’t make it.”

More silence. His jaw muscles stirred, and he kept his focus straight ahead when he turned onto Rocky Creek Road.

“I’m sorry for everything you went through, but you should have told me,” Dallas finally said, and his inflection let her know that he’d just closed the subject.

No forgiveness.

Not for her. And not for Kirby.

She hated that she’d put this wedge between them, but once this case was finished and she was out of Dallas’s life, Joelle figured Kirby could mend things. If the cancer didn’t take him first, that is.

Ahead, she saw the Rocky Creek facility, and even though the sun was setting, there was just enough light left for her to see the people milling around. Some CSIs in their uniforms. A couple of locals, too. Clayton was there, literally on top of a truck, and he had a rifle pointed at the building.

“Hell,” Dallas mumbled.

Like her, he probably didn’t want to deal with anything that involved rifles and standoffs, but apparently they had no choice.

When Dallas’s truck got closer, she saw the makeshift roadblock that had been set up with traffic cones. Sarah was standing next to one of the cones, her attention on whatever was happening inside.

Dallas stopped the truck, and they both got out.

“Rudy’s gone crazy,” Sarah informed them immediately. “He’s locked himself inside and won’t come out.”

Dallas looked past her at the man who was walking up the road from the building. He made a beeline for them.

“I’m Sheriff Bruce Shelton,” the lanky man greeted. He took a badge from his pocket, flashed it. He looked more cowboy than cop with his jeans, boots and Stetson, and he was wearing a gun in an old-fashioned hip holster.

“Dallas Walker,” he greeted back, and Joelle noted that he hadn’t included his title of marshal. Probably because he no longer had a badge. “And this is Joelle Tate from the governor’s office.”

“This way.” The sheriff motioned for them to follow him. When Sarah started to go with them, he shook his head. “Already told you to stay put. If you don’t, you’ll be the one facing charges.”

“But Rudy’s threatening to burn down the building,” Sarah protested. “I can’t let him do that. The place is part of my home. He has no right to even be inside.”

“We’ll deal with him,” Sheriff Shelton answered, and he kept walking.

Thankfully, Sarah stayed put, but she did continue to call out for them to stop Rudy.

“We have phone contact with Rudy,” the sheriff explained to them. “And your brother volunteered to cover the shot if it came down to it.”

Cover the shot. A sterile term for sniper duty. Of course, from everything she remembered about him, Clayton had a level head, and he wouldn’t shoot Rudy unless there was no other choice.

“Has Rudy destroyed any evidence?” Joelle asked.

“Not that we can tell. So far he’s stayed right in the entry near the stairs.”

Well, that was something at least, but it didn’t mean Rudy wouldn’t follow through on his threat to burn the place down.

When they approached the truck where Clayton was positioned, one of the