LITMIR.BIZ

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a room where costumes are stored. Props and pieces of furniture are housed over there.” The assistant principal flipped her hand to the right.

      Some of the furniture overflowed the storage room and was stacked along the wall. “I’ll look in there,” Slade said.

      “And I’ll check the costume room.” Elizabeth started toward the left.

      “Dad, what are you doing here?”

      Slade froze for a few seconds before he pivoted toward the voice. He closed the space between them in three long strides and clasped Abbey’s arms. Pulling her into his embrace, he hugged her tightly to him. She was okay.

      “Dad, I can’t breathe.” Wiggling out of his arms, she backed away a few paces and tilted up her face to peer at him.

      “Abbey, where have you been?”

      Confusion marked her expression, but something more, too. Her brown eyes held a lackluster look. A pallid weariness highlighted her features. “I was tired. I thought a nap at lunch would help. I set my alarm on my watch to wake me before my next class.”

      “Why didn’t you just come home? I’d have picked you up if you weren’t feeling well.”

      “I didn’t want to go home. I don’t want to miss the last play practice before Thanksgiving weekend.” She dropped her head. “And I wanted to see my friends. Go to the game tonight.”

      “We’ll talk when we get home.”

      “Home? But I want to stay.”

      “That’s not an option, Abbey. I came to school to get you. There are some things I must talk to you about.” A conversation he didn’t want to have at all and especially not in front of the assistant principal.

      Abbey glanced at Elizabeth and frowned. “What’s going on?”

      “This isn’t the place to discuss it.”

      “Is Gram all right?” His daughter’s voice rose, fear pushing the confusion and exhaustion away.

      “She’s fine. Let’s go to the office and check you out.”

      “I’ll let everyone know Abbey has been found.” The assistant principal withdrew her cell again and placed a call as they headed to the main office.

      “Who is she?” Abbey asked, tossing her head toward Elizabeth.

      “Abbey, this is Elizabeth Walker, a friend of Kyra Morgan.”

      Abbey’s features pinched into a deeper frown as though that didn’t explain anything. “Kyra? I haven’t seen her in a while. Why—”

      “Hon, I’ll explain everything later. Let’s go home.”

      Abbey came to a halt just outside the main office and faced him. “What’s going on? Why are the police here?” She pointed at the two officers visible through the large plate-glass window, talking with the principal.

      The ringing of his cell gave him an excuse not to answer. Instead, he faced the empty hallway they had just come down and answered the call from the ranch, glad for the interruption. “Slade here.”

      His housekeeper’s frantic voice came over the connection loud and clear. “Mr. Caulder, there’s been a break-in.”

      THREE

      “What?” Slade hunched his shoulders and lowered his voice, keeping his back to his daughter. “A break-in?”

      “I got home a few minutes ago from town and the front door was wide open. The alarm wasn’t on. Mrs. Bradley is gone. Do you think anything happened to her?”

      “Mary’s at church. I called her there an hour ago. Is anything taken?”

      “I don’t know. I decided I’d better stay out on the porch until the sheriff comes. I phoned him and gave him the gate code.” Hilda had dropped the level of her voice a few notches, but the frantic ring still sounded in her words.

      “I’ll be right home. Mary should be there before me. Don’t go into the house.” He snapped the phone closed and turned toward his daughter and Elizabeth.

      “Is something wrong?” Abbey asked, her eyes narrowing.

      “We need to get going. Do you have the books you need?”

      “Dad—”

      “We’ll talk in the car on the way to the ranch. I promise.”

      “Fine. I’ve got everything I need.” Abbey clutched the straps on her backpack and stalked toward the exit.

      Elizabeth moved close, her scent of vanilla swirling about him. “What happened?”

      “The house was open when Hilda, my housekeeper, came home from running errands.”

      “I understand your mother-in-law lives with you. Was she home?” Elizabeth started after his daughter.

      “No. You’ve been doing your homework.”

      “I asked Kyra. I like to know everything I can going into a situation.” She paused near his car and watched Abbey climb into the front passenger seat. “I’ll follow you to the ranch.”

      He cracked a grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

      Although her expression was somber, a gleam lit her green eyes. “I’ll be right behind you. You should be all right.”

      “It’s obvious you don’t know much about my daughter. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hear her clear into your car when I tell her she has a bodyguard and why.”

      “Have fun.”

      The smile that graced her lips transformed her whole face. He watched her walk to her Trans Am and slip behind the steering wheel. When she waved at him, he suddenly realized he was staring at her. He quickly twisted toward his car door and wrenched it open.

      The second he climbed into his Lexus, Abbey angled toward him. The corners of her mouth dipped in a frown. “What’s going on?”

      He switched on the engine and pulled away from the curb. Although the ranch was only half an hour away, it would be a long trip. “It began with the wreck.”

      She sat up straight, her eyes wide. “Am I in trouble? Am I getting a ticket?”

      He shook his head. “I wish that were it.”

      “Dad, you’re scaring me.”

      Good. She needed to be scared, so she’d follow the safety measures he was putting in place. But his daughter thought she was invincible, taking risks when she shouldn’t.

      “Hon, there’s no easy way to tell you this. Our car crash wasn’t an accident. Someone shot the tire out, and that’s why there was a blowout.”

      Abbey collapsed back against the seat. “What’s that mean?”

      “Someone has targeted—” he inhaled a stabilizing breath “—you.”

      “Me!” She flattened herself against the passenger door, totally facing him. “Why? What have I done?”

      “I don’t think you’ve done anything. I think they’re angry with me and using you to get to me.”

      “Why? What have you done?”

      A layer of sweat coated his palms, and one hand slipped down the steering wheel. He gripped it tighter. “I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, either.” He wasn’t even sure he was the real target, but he wasn’t going to let his daughter think someone was angry enough with her to want to harm her. Not unless he was sure. Logically, he was the one the person was after.

      “I don’t understand.”

      “I’m a wealthy man. It

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