social worker and doctor who examined me afterward can testify that I was traumatized, but that it was possible.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Tierney, I want to help. But I need more.”
Determination rallied inside her. Then she’d get more.
Footsteps pounded the floor, and she looked up and saw the handsome-as-sin Texas Ranger appear in the doorway. His square jaw was solid, strong, set. Grim.
His eyes were dark with emotions she couldn’t define.
He didn’t believe Hank. He wasn’t going to help her.
She could see it in his eyes.
Hank’s scarred face haunted her. She’d let him down years ago when she told the police she’d seen him stab Wade. And then again when she stayed away from the prison. When she let holidays and birthdays pass without sending cards or writing or paying him a visit.
If Ranger Ward wouldn’t investigate, she’d do some digging around on her own.
Jaxon’s insides were knotted with tension. He believed Hank Tierney.
But he would be in hot water with his boss if he challenged his opinion and the verdict that had landed Tierney on death row.
Landers also knew Jaxon’s past and would question his objectivity regarding the situation. Hell, the man had practically dragged Jaxon from the gutter himself.
Jaxon owed him.
But...Avery had sounded upset, and the way she described that night sounded so heart wrenching that she couldn’t have made up what had happened or been acting.
Could she?
Unless...she’d been so traumatized that the details of the evening were distorted to the point that she believed the story she’d told.
Or...there always the possibility that she and her brother had concocted this story at the last minute to create enough reasonable doubt that the governor would have to grant a stay and retry the case. And if they both stuck to their story, it was possible they could garner enough sympathy to convince a jury that Hank was innocent. That they were both victims.
Which he believed they were.
Avery dropped the phone into its cradle. “You aren’t going to help me, are you?”
Jaxon’s lungs tightened. Damn if she didn’t have the sweetest voice.
He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. What the hell was wrong with him? When had he become such a sap?
“I will investigate,” Jaxon said, knowing he was jeopardizing his career, but that he had to know the truth. “I’d like to talk to the foster mother you lived with at the time.”
Avery’s eyes widened in surprise. “I have no idea where she is. At the trial, she said Hank and I ruined her life.”
They had ruined her life? “What happened to you after the trial?”
“They placed me in a group home. I never heard from her again.”
“She and her husband should have been prosecuted for child abuse and endangerment.” And the old man for rape.
“Did you tell the social worker about the abuse?” he asked.
Avery averted her face. “No. I was too ashamed at the time. I thought...that I did something wrong. And Wade said if I told, he’d kill me and Hank.”
He wished Wade were alive so he could kill him himself.
Worse, if the social worker hadn’t documented evidence of abuse, then it was Avery and Hank’s word against a dead man’s. A prosecutor would argue that they’d invented the story to save Hank.
But he didn’t think Avery was lying about the abuse. That kind of pain was hard to fake.
Besides, any woman who stood by and allowed abuse of any kind to take place in her home was just as guilty as the perpetrator.
Although psychologists argued women were too afraid physically of their abusers to leave or stand up to them. And they often felt trapped by financial circumstances.
Worse, if a woman sent her abuser to jail, when he was released he often went straight home and took his anger out on her all over again.
It was a flawed system, but if it were his child, he’d die to protect him or her.
“I’ll find her,” Jaxon said. “I’d also like to speak with the social worker who placed you and Hank in that home.”
Because that social worker should have realized what was happening and stopped it.
* * *
AVERY COULDN’T BELIEVE the Ranger’s words or that his voice sounded sincere. But something about the man’s gruff exterior and those deep-set dark, fathomless eyes, told her that he was a man of his word.
Not like any other man she’d ever known.
Don’t believe him, a little voice in her head whispered. Men who make promises either lie or have their own agenda.
He’ll want something in return.
She was not the kind of girl to do favors like that.
“You really are going to talk to them?” she asked.
He tipped his Stetson, a sexy move that spoke of respect and manners and...made her heart flutter with female nerves.
Good heavens. She had to get a grip. Jaxon Ward was a Texas Ranger. And she needed his help for Hank.
Nothing more.
He took a step closer, his masculine scent wafting toward her and playing havoc with her senses. “Hank said he stabbed Wade Mulligan, but that he was already dead. If you didn’t deliver the deadly blow and Hank didn’t, that means there was someone else in the house.” The silver star on his chest glittered in the harsh lights. “Who else might have wanted the man dead?”
Avery had desperately tried to forget everything about the man. But if she wanted to help Hank, she had to confront the past.
“Avery, can you think of anyone?”
“His wife,” she said, her heart thundering. “If she knew he was coming into my room, maybe she tried to stop him.”
Jaxon’s expression was grim. “That makes sense, but didn’t she have an alibi for that night?”
Avery’s head swam. “She claimed she was at her mother’s.” Panic began to claw at her chest. “Maybe Joleen lied about going to her mother’s. Or she could have come back for some reason, and she saw Wade tie up Hank and come into my room. Then she slipped in and killed him.”
