his life, yet he'd kept it from her. And it was her own fault.
She owed her father so much. The least she could do was bury her aversion for the program—and the convicts—and give her father her tolerance if not her approval.
Chapter Eight
Olivia was pleased at how quickly Dawn picked up on the tasks and routine of her job. Although the teenager seemed preoccupied at times, they worked together well. On Dawn's fourth day on the job, there was another awkward moment when she wanted to clear the breakfast dishes before the men left the dining area. Olivia tugged her into the kitchen.
"They aren't going to try anything," Dawn said, rolling her eyes at Olivia's concern. "Most of them have wives and girlfriends."
"It doesn't matter," Olivia insisted. "When I was in Chicago, I saw a lot of women who had your attitude, up until they were beaten or raped. Many times both." She trembled inwardly, even as she kept her voice steady. There was no way she'd let anything happen to Hank's sister, not while she was under Olivia's supervision.
The girl sighed in exasperation. "That was Chicago. We're in the middle of nowhere. Nothing like that ever happens out here."
A shiver slid down Olivia's spine. Was it the memory of her attack, or was something else making her skin grow clammy? Something like the Jane Doe that Sheriff Jordan had told them about? Of course, that woman had been killed a long time ago. Her murderer was probably long gone.
Probably.
And what about Melinda, who was still missing? Had she run off to vacation in Las Vegas like most people believed, or was she lying somewhere out there in the hills like the recently discovered Jane Doe?
"Please, just humor me," Olivia said to Dawn.
The younger girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever."
Olivia heard the men departing. "Now you can clear the tables."
"Fine."
Olivia wondered if she'd been as stubborn at that age. She limped out of the kitchen and almost ran into Hank. He caught her arms and instead of aversion, she fought the urge to lean closer. Before she could pull away, he released her.
"I'm sorry you had to witness our little family reunion, Ms. Kincaid," he said, his voice a mix of chagrin and sullenness.
Olivia blinked, startled by the lame apology. Annoyed, she lifted her chin. But then she saw evidence of sleepless nights and felt a wave of compassion.
"That's all right. I imagine it was quite a shock to see your sister here," she said stiffly after ensuring Dawn was far enough away that she wouldn't overhear them.
Hank smiled wryly, easing the defensiveness in his posture. "That it was."
Suspecting he wanted to know about what his sister had been doing, she said, "Dawn just finished her first year of college in Fort Collins."
First surprise then pride softened Hank's features. "Thanks for letting me know."
She tilted her head to the side in acknowledgment.
His sister came over to pick up the dirty plates from a nearby table.
"Morning, Dawn," Hank said.
She nodded curtly and returned to the kitchen bearing a pile of dishes, not seeing his flinch of pain.
"Thanks for the breakfast, Ms. Kincaid," Hank said formally, then left.
Olivia wanted to slap some sense into his sister. "He's trying," she said to the girl as she finished clearing the last table.
Dawn wrinkled her nose. "Too little too late."
"He says he was innocent."
"I believe him."
Olivia stared at the girl. "But you said—"
"I said he left me." Dawn spun away.
Shaking her head, Olivia returned to the kitchen to rinse the plates and wash the pans before placing them in the dishwasher. As she worked, she couldn't help but think about Hank and Dawn Elliott. Dawn believed her brother was innocent, yet she couldn't forgive him for abandoning her. Of course, Dawn had barely been a teenager at the time. All she understood was she no longer had a home, and it was her brother's fault. But Dawn was no longer a girl. Couldn't she forgive him and move on?
If Olivia had been fortunate enough to
She owed her father so much. The least she could do was bury her aversion for the program—and the convicts—and give her father her tolerance if not her approval.
Chapter Eight
Olivia was pleased at how quickly Dawn picked up on the tasks and routine of her job. Although the teenager seemed preoccupied at times, they worked together well. On Dawn's fourth day on the job, there was another awkward moment when she wanted to clear the breakfast dishes before the men left the dining area. Olivia tugged her into the kitchen.
"They aren't going to try anything," Dawn said, rolling her eyes at Olivia's concern. "Most of them have wives and girlfriends."
"It doesn't matter," Olivia insisted. "When I was in Chicago, I saw a lot of women who had your attitude, up until they were beaten or raped. Many times both." She trembled inwardly, even as she kept her voice steady. There was no way she'd let anything happen to Hank's sister, not while she was under Olivia's supervision.
The girl sighed in exasperation. "That was Chicago. We're in the middle of nowhere. Nothing like that ever happens out here."
A shiver slid down Olivia's spine. Was it the memory of her attack, or was something else making her skin grow clammy? Something like the Jane Doe that Sheriff Jordan had told them about? Of course, that woman had been killed a long time ago. Her murderer was probably long gone.
Probably.
And what about Melinda, who was still missing? Had she run off to vacation in Las Vegas like most people believed, or was she lying somewhere out there in the hills like the recently discovered Jane Doe?
"Please, just humor me," Olivia said to Dawn.
The younger girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever."
Olivia heard the men departing. "Now you can clear the tables."
"Fine."
Olivia wondered if she'd been as stubborn at that age. She limped out of the kitchen and almost ran into Hank. He caught her arms and instead of aversion, she fought the urge to lean closer. Before she could pull away, he released her.
"I'm sorry you had to witness our little family reunion, Ms. Kincaid," he said, his voice a mix of chagrin and sullenness.
Olivia blinked, startled by the lame apology. Annoyed, she lifted her chin. But then she saw evidence of sleepless nights and felt a wave of compassion.
"That's all right. I imagine it was quite a shock to see your sister here," she said stiffly after ensuring Dawn was far enough away that she wouldn't overhear them.
Hank smiled wryly, easing the defensiveness in his posture. "That it was."
Suspecting he wanted to know about what his sister had been doing, she said, "Dawn just finished her first year of college in Fort Collins."
First surprise then pride softened Hank's features. "Thanks for letting me know."
She tilted her head to the side in acknowledgment.
His sister came over to pick up the dirty plates from a nearby table.
"Morning, Dawn," Hank said.
She nodded curtly and returned to the kitchen bearing a pile of dishes, not seeing his flinch of pain.
"Thanks for the breakfast, Ms. Kincaid," Hank said formally, then left.
Olivia wanted to slap some sense into his sister. "He's trying," she said to the girl as she finished clearing the last table.
Dawn wrinkled her nose. "Too little too late."
"He says he was innocent."
"I believe him."
Olivia stared at the girl. "But you said—"
"I said he left me." Dawn spun away.
Shaking her head, Olivia returned to the kitchen to rinse the plates and wash the pans before placing them in the dishwasher. As she worked, she couldn't help but think about Hank and Dawn Elliott. Dawn believed her brother was innocent, yet she couldn't forgive him for abandoning her. Of course, Dawn had barely been a teenager at the time. All she understood was she no longer had a home, and it was her brother's fault. But Dawn was no longer a girl. Couldn't she forgive him and move on?
If Olivia had been fortunate enough to