Finding Stefanie by Susan May Warren Page B

called, returning Lincoln’s message from lastnight, and Alyssa’s nurse, Nellie, had left her usual day-end report. Lincoln had long ago stopped asking the doctors to call and simply put one of the day nurses on the lookout for Alyssa, in exchange for a monthly check. It was a win-win. According to Nellie, Alyssa had begun to have night terrors. Lincoln scrubbed his hand down his face. Were the memories finally starting to surface after a decade?
    Deleting the messages, he stood there overlooking his land, in his mind seeing the house, the stables, the fresh start.
    Seeing everything he’d dreamed about, way back when he’d cut through the junkyard on his way home from school, hiding behind old washing machines and cars from E-bro Quesada, the local gangbanger who had his sights on Lincoln. Lincoln wasn’t sure exactly why E-bro had picked him to torture. Maybe because they were neighbors or because Lincoln—Lewis—had run the first time E-bro knocked him off his bike.
    In a way, Lincoln had been running ever since.
    Speaking of junk—what was that rusty Impala doing in his drive?
    Lincoln hiked down to it and peered in the window. A couple of empty soda bottles, paper, and a bag from McDonald’s lay crushed on the floor. He reached for the handle and slid inside, into a memory so rich he could have been back at the trailer park, sitting in his mother’s beater Volkswagen, hot-wiring it for a Friday night joyride.
    In fact . . . yes, wires dangled below the steering wheel as if it had been transported through time. Or across state lines, because he’d noticed the South Dakota plates on the car. The kid should have known to switch them out with a different car’s first chance he got. Lincoln only assumed the car belonged to the punk from last night, but he felt secure in that assumption. Secure enough thatnausea crept through him, remembering how Stefanie had taken the lot home with her last night.
    So they could cut her throat while she slept. Perfect.
    He couldn’t dismiss the image of Stefanie Noble taking him out last night, those dark eyes turning him into rubble, that feisty mouth telling him exactly where he could take his pomp and circumstance.
    Now, clear of the pain, he had to admit that she intrigued him. And in a way, she’d earned his respect.
    The sooner he got this car back to her troublemaking houseguest, the sooner they could leave. And then he didn’t have to be the bad guy and call Social Services.
    He grabbed the wires and had the car started in moments, the talent easily returning. He’d have to ask Stefanie for a ride back, but, well . . . He smiled and turned around in the drive, heading for the Silver Buckle.
    He could be a hero. She just needed to give him a chance.

    “Are you just going to let them go?” Piper stood at the door, one eyebrow raised at Stefanie as Gideon and his little family hiked down the driveway.
    What was Stefanie supposed to do? Chase after them, throw a rope around them, hog-tie them, and drag them back to the house? Gideon obviously didn’t want their help . . . but maybe it wasn’t up to him.
    She and Nick and Piper had had a little chat this morning. Apparently, despite Nick’s willingness to take in Gideon and his sisters after the fire, he didn’t like the idea of letting a group of strangers in the house permanently. Still, he could read the desperation in their postures and had agreed to move with Piper into the house—a move that Stefanie had been anticipating.
    She’d happily take the sofa forever or even move to the hunting cabin if . . . if Gideon just turned around.
    Maybe she should call Social Services. Get them into the system, a real home. Only, as she let that thought settle, she hated it. Really hated it.
    Or maybe she just hated herself for buying into the insane idea that she could make a difference in their lives. She was idealistic—Rafe and Nick had always called her a dreamer. But how could she fight the broken look on