No Escape (Texas Rangers 2)

“Please, let me go!” She sat up.

Harvey pushed her down hard. “Pick up the shovel, boy.”

“ No.”

“You don’t have to do this, Robbie.” The girl struggled to sit up again.

“Get up again, and I’ll hit you with the shovel.” Harvey didn’t raise his voice, but his words carried more weight than a madman’s rant. He shoved her back with his booted foot.

Gritting her teeth, she ignored him, screamed and again tried to sit up. Without muttering a word, Harvey picked up the shovel and hit her across the side of the head. The blow was enough to send her back, stunned, but not enough to knock her out.

Robbie winced and took a step back.

Harvey dug the shovel’s blade into soft dirt. “See what you made me do, boy? If you’d taken care of business then she’d not be half conscious.” He shoveled dirt on her midsection. The hard thump sent a lungful of air whooshing from her. He hefted more dirt. “Get over here, boy.”

Robbie took another step back. “No.”

“Don’t disappoint me, boy.”

“I’m sorry, Harvey.” His hands shook. “I know I said I could, but I can’t. Not now.”

Harvey cocked his head. “I don’t think I’m hearing you correctly.”

Tears welled in the boy’s eyes. “I can’t do this now.”

“Time for waiting is over, boy.” He held out the shovel. “Now or never. You a man or not?”

Robbie shook his head no.

“You gonna fail me again?”

“I’m sorry.”

Harvey was silent for long, tense seconds and then calmly said, “You don’t follow through tonight, then we are done.”

Robbie flinched. “Harvey, I can try again.”

“If you don’t take care of business now, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Tears welled in Robbie’s eyes as he stepped back. He loved his father. The man who’d saved him from a miserable life. But he couldn’t do this now.

Harvey tossed more dirt on the girl. She screamed loud and clear. He tossed dirt on her face. She struggled to clear her eyes, as he ladled more and more dirt on her. She blinked, tried to turn her head, but she was trapped.

Robbie hesitated, stole one more peek at her pale flesh. Lord help him, but he couldn’t do it.

Tears spilling, he turned and ran.

Chapter One

Saturday, April 6, 11:00 A.M.

Austin, Texas

If Texas Ranger Brody Winchester had come to see Dr. Jolene Granger on personal business, he’d have come with hat in hand. He’d have been ready to eat a heaping helping of humble pie, or better yet, crow.

But this visit wasn’t personal. He’d not come to apologize or to make amends. He had no intention of digging up the past or rubbing salt in old wounds. This. Was. Business.

He parked the black SUV in the recreation center’s parking lot and shoved out a breath. He reached for his white Stetson on the passenger’s seat, took a moment to level the silver concho trimming on the hat’s base before he stepped out of the vehicle, straightened his shoulders and eyed the large box-shaped building. The sign above the double glass doors read: AUSTIN ROCK CLIMBING GYM.

As he stared up at the sign, hat in hand, he wondered if the boys back at headquarters had sent him to the wrong place and were having a good laugh at the new transfer’s expense. The Jo Granger he’d known hated heights and if anyone had bet him she hung out in a place like this, he’d have taken the bet, damn sure he’d win.

’Course, he’d not been face-to-face with Jo in fourteen years. And time changed plenty.

Dr. Jolene Granger was no longer a wide-eyed college student but a psychologist who consulted with the Texas Rangers. In fact, her expertise on violent behavior had landed her several television interviews last year when a reporter had been digging for the motivations driving a serial killer that had hunted along I-35.

He’d seen on television that she’d given up the peasant skirts and flip-flops in favor of dark suits, pencil skirts, a tight bun, and white pearls around her neck. Reminded him of a librarian he’d had in school as a kid. Cool. Controlled. Hot.

Yeah, she’d changed in fourteen years. Maybe heights didn’t bother her anymore.

A couple of laughing teens wearing shorts and carrying gym bags raced past him through the front door. He trailed behind them, finding himself in an industrial-style lobby tricked out with a cement floor, solid crate furniture and soda machines. He moved toward a long, narrow reception desk where a young guy was texting. Dark hair swept over a thin, pale face and tattoos covered every bit of skin exposed below his white T-shirt cuff.

If Brody had been in a more charitable mood, he’d let the kid finish his nonsense communication, which likely had to do with gossip or a party. But a foul and dark disposition sapped all patience.

He smacked his hand on the reception desk. “Need to find Dr. Jolene Granger.”

The kid jumped, his initial glance aggravated until he took stock of the Stetson, the Texas Ranger’s star pinned to Brody’s broad chest and his six-foot-four frame. Displeasure gave way to startled deference. “She’s in the main gym. Can I tell her you’re here?”

“I’ll announce myself.”

The kid scrambled around the counter and took a step as if to follow. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”

Brody stopped and eyed the kid. “Why’s it your business if she is?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I like her. And if she were in trouble—”

Brody’s own worries sharpened his tone. “What would you do if she were in trouble?”

Slight shoulders shrugged, but the kid’s gaze remained direct. “I don’t know.”

“That’s right. You don’t know.”

“She’s a nice lady.”

Jo had always coaxed this kind of loyalty out of folks. Kind, smart as a whip, she drew people. The kid was no different and Brody gave him props for standing up to him.

He softened his scowl. “Dr. Granger isn’t in trouble. But my business is official. If you don’t mind, I need for you to get back behind that counter and take care of your own business.” He took a step toward the kid who hustled back behind the counter.

As Brody turned toward the main gym he imagined the boy on his cell again, texting his friends as fast as his thin fingers could move.

In the main gym, Brody was greeted by the smells of sweat and freshly polyurethane-coated floors. The walls were covered with gray rocklike facings that jutted and curved as a rock ledge might. Dispersed over the wall were colored footholds and handholds, some large and others so small he wondered how his large hands could maintain a grip.

A collection of climbers scaled the walls from the floor to ceiling. Belayers stood at the bottom, feeding climbers their safety ropes. A young, blond girl scaled the wall as if she were part monkey. A couple of guys in their midtwenties moved between the rock ledges with a power and grace he admired. He couldn’t imagine that fourteen years had changed Jo so much that she now enjoyed this kind of foolishness.

The shouts and giggles of a group of girls in a side room drew him. The ten girls, who looked to be between fourteen and sixteen, stood at the base of a tall rock wall. Several were pregnant and most had tattoos and piercings. Young, but he imagined they all had a lifetime of experiences already under their belts.

There was no whiff of anger or sorrow radiating off anyone. They were cheering, like kids their age should. His gaze trailed theirs to a woman racing a male climber to the top of the rock wall toward a bell.

Squealing young voices chanted, “Go Jo. Go Jo. Go Jo.”

Jo.

Brody stood behind the students, rested his hands on his hips and shifted his gaze from the male climber to the woman. Her chalked fingers clung to slivers of manufactured rock while her feet perched on similar pieces. Tight black pants and a white, fitted spandex top molded a trim athletic body. Long, red hair bound into a ponytail swept ac

ross her muscled back as she scrambled haphazardly from rock to rock. Jo? He looked closer.

Damn, if it wasn’t her.

When Jo reached the top and rang a bell, the kids cheered. She looked over her shoulder, suspending from a single handhold and foothold and smiled at them. “Now which one of you girls bet that I couldn’t win?”

The girls laughed, shaking heads and pointing to each other. None fessed up to having any doubts about her.

Jo surveyed the crowd of girls. “And seeing as I won, ladies, that means you all are going to study real hard for the rest of this semester, correct?”

A rumble of laughter and whispers rolled through the teens. “Yes!” they shouted.

The male climber rang the bell. He regarded Jo, his good-natured appreciation clear as he nodded his concession.

Brody assessed the man, wondering if Jo had really beaten him or if he had held back to win points with Jo. If he had to wager, he’d put his chips on the latter.

“Doug buys ice cream for everyone!” Jo said.

The kids cheered.

Doug grinned. “Rematch!”