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  “No need. I can heal a broken wing, and there’s nothing else wrong.”

  “And besides, a vet might know of a missing bird?” he asked shrewdly.

  She scowled at him, but said nothing.

  “You know you could be in serious trouble, don’t you?” he said, exasperated.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because this bird was obviously stolen.”

  “There’s no obviously about it,” Norah said with a touch of defiance. “He escaped and was left on the doorstep by someone who was in too much of a hurry to wait around. I haven’t heard of a stolen bird.”

  “And if you had, you wouldn’t let on?”

  She faced him angrily. “Nobody has the right to keep a creature like this in captivity, much less neglect it. And something that shouldn’t be ‘property’ can’t be stolen.”

  He briefly considered arguing with this flawed logic, but abandoned the idea at once. Norah had her own way of looking at the world, and a man could go crazy arguing with her. Gavin walked away without answering. After a few steps he looked back, but she was concentrating on Perry and seemed to have forgotten him.

  The events of the night before had left him feeling cheered. For once Peter had offered him a glimpse into his mind, without being prompted. Normally he was forced to observe his son closely for any sign that offered a window into his thoughts. It was no use doing this when Peter was aware of him, because the child was on guard, but sometimes he could catch him unaware with lucky results. That was how they came to see Lady and the Tramp.

  “Shall we go to that?” he asked Peter when he found him looking at the advertisement in the local paper, a couple of days later. “It’s very good.” Peter regarded him strangely, evidently surprised by this knowledge. “I saw it when I was a child,” Gavin added, inwardly thanking the aunt who’d insisted on dragging him to the cinema. He hadn’t wanted to go, condemning cartoons as “for kids”-he’d been nine at the time. But once there he’d secretly enjoyed the film, never suspecting that it would benefit him in the future.

  So they went into town hoping to catch the early evening show, but the cinema was full. Unwilling to disappoint Peter, Gavin took him for a snack, then they went to the late show. From time to time he glanced at him during the film. Peter never laughed, but sometimes he smiled, and Gavin was satisfied. He was learning to go slowly.

  They got back to find a strange vehicle parked outside the house. It was a blind-sided van that looked as if it had seen better days. Gavin frowned and took Peter inside.

  The house was quiet, but as soon as he entered he knew there was something wrong. The silence was the wrong kind of silence and the next moment it was broken by a gasp that sounded as if someone was in pain. Next came a man’s voice with an unpleasant, smug sound. “You don’t like that, do you? Well, you’ve only got to tell me what I want to know…”

  Two quick steps took Gavin to the living room. At first he couldn’t see Norah, just a very large man who seemed to be leaning against the wall. Then he realized that the man was holding Norah’s wrists and crushing her slender body with his huge one. “Come on, tell me,” he demanded, pressing harder and forcing a gasp of pain from her.

  A red mist seemed to come before Gavin’s eyes. For a moment he felt capable of killing, but he controlled himself and tapped the man on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said politely, and when the man turned Gavin jerked his knee up swiftly. It was over in seconds. The man fell, clutching himself and cursing.

  “Look after her,” Gavin ordered Peter, who sprang to support Norah. He took the man by the ear. “It’s the police for you,” he said.

  Through his pain the intruder managed to give a vicious grin. “I don’t think so. Ask her if she wants the police.” Gasping and holding onto Peter, Norah managed to shake her head. “Nah, they might ask too many questions about stolen property. Why don’t you…?”

  His words ended in a howl, as Gavin gripped his ear and dragged him outside. What followed was short but extremely satisfying and finished with the stranger driving off, holding the steering wheel with one hand and trying to staunch the blood from his nose with the other. Gavin tidied himself up as much as possible and went back inside. Norah was lying on the sofa, clutching her ribs. Her face was very pale. “Are you all right?” Gavin demanded abruptly.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said weakly. “Thank heavens you came.”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  “He said his name was Jake Morgan. He says his falcon was stolen, and he’d heard that it might be here. I told him to go to…” Norah hesitated, her eyes on Peter “…to go away.”

  “I can imagine. Now I’m going to call the doctor.”

  “Nonsense,” she said brightly. “I’m fine. I was only a little breathless, and it’s over. Peter, it’s time you went to bed.”

  The boy seemed unwilling, and it was obvious he was concerned for her. But Gavin could see she was putting on an act for his benefit, and it was fast becoming a strain. “Go on,” he said to his son. “I’ll look after Norah.” Peter looked up at him. “She’ll be safe in my hands, I promise.”

  Reluctantly Peter departed. As soon as the door had closed behind him, Norah fell back against the cushions. Her face was gray. “You madwoman,” Gavin said harshly. “Why do you take such risks?” The sight of her pain hurt him. Even worse was the thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t arrived home. “I’m calling a doctor whether you like it or not,” he said, picking up the phone.

  “All right. Thank you.”

  He summoned the doctor, who said he was on his way. When he’d put the phone down he said, “And now I ought to call the police.”

  “No, Gavin, please. It’s over.”

  “I doubt it. He’s a nasty piece of work. He won’t let it be over. I’m surprised he didn’t search the place.”

  “He did,” Norah told him. “I told him he was free to.”

  “And he didn’t find Perry?”

  “I moved Perry this morning.”

  “Where?”

  “Friends of mine who often help out at times like this.”

  “Have I stumbled on an underground railway for escaped birds-‘escaped’ in quotes?”

  “Something like that. This isn’t the only sanctuary in these parts, and we all help each other out.”

  “Evidently he suspected the truth?”

  “I’m afraid so. That’s what he was trying to get me to tell him.”

  “Did you actually deny that you’d had Perry?” Gavin asked curiously. It was hard to imagine her telling a direct lie, but even harder to imagine this passionately protective woman endangering those she’d sworn to defend.

  “I told him I wouldn’t dignify his suspicions with an answer,” she said.

  “Neat. But I doubt it’ll satisfy him. You know you’re getting into deep water, don’t you?”

  “Listen, Hunter, I will not return Perry to that man. You saw his way with something weaker than himself.”

  He had, and it had scared him for her sake. But what had scared him even more was the strength of his own reaction. The sight of Norah in pain had done something devastating to him, making him feel that no punishment was bad enough for the man who could hurt her. All nonsense, of course, because she’d brought her troubles on her own head. But that was logic, and increasingly logic played no part in his dealings with this woman.

  “You’d better get to bed,” he said, roughly to cover his sudden confusion. “I’ll bring the doctor up.”

  He helped her to her feet, but she refused his help as she climbed the stairs, although he could tell she was in pain. The doctor arrived half an hour later. Gavin directed him upstairs and waited below until he came down.

  “One slightly cracked rib. Apart from that, just bruises,” he said cheerfully. “She’ll have to be more careful on these stairs.”

  “Stairs?” Gavin echoed.

  “Falling downstairs. She could have been badly hurt.”


  “Yes,” Gavin said grimly. “She could.”

  He tried to tackle Norah on the subject when she came down next morning, but without success. She simply refused to discuss it, insisting, Micawber-like, that the matter was over and there was nothing to worry about. It was hard for Gavin to make an issue of it when Peter was about, listening.

  A couple of days later an urgent call forced Gavin to drive to London to sort out a complication with the bankers. He returned in the early evening. While he was still a hundred yards from the house the front door was pulled open and Peter came flying down the path toward his father’s car. Gavin stopped and opened the passenger door. “What is it?” he demanded urgently, but Peter simply stared at him wild-eyed. “Peter, you must talk to me. What’s happened?”

  Peter gave a kind of gasp, then blurted out, “Policeman.”

  “What about a policeman?” Gavin asked urgently, thanking heaven that his son had found his tongue at last.

  But his relief was premature. Peter managed to say “policeman” once more in a desperate voice, but that was all. Luckily Mrs. Stone had appeared and was waiting on the doorstep. She looked upset and disapproving. “The police were here an hour ago,” she told Gavin in an agitated voice. “They’ve arrested Norah and taken her to the police station.”

  Gavin was half out of the car, but at this he got back in. “Where is it?” he demanded in a taut voice.

  Mrs. Stone told him and Gavin restarted the engine. Peter had settled himself in the passenger seat, but Gavin opened the door. “I don’t want you at the station,” he told his son. “You stay here.”

  Peter looked at him, his jaw set and determined in a way that reminded Gavin uncannily of his own father. But for the moment he had no attention to spare. His mind was full of dread for Norah. “You’ll help her best by letting me get on with the job,” he said, and Peter left the car at once.

  As he drove he raged: stupid woman! She’d brought this all on herself and it would serve her right if he left her to stew in her own juice. But even as he thought it, he stepped on the gas.

  At the station he found himself talking to an exasperated police sergeant. “Yes, we have Miss Norah Ackroyd here, and the only reason we know her name is that she’s well known because of the sanctuary. Not one word has she spoken since we brought her in, not even when she was charged. She wouldn’t even notify her lawyer. Still, you’re here now. Perhaps you can make her see reason.”

  “I-yes,” Gavin responded, gathering his wits. He’d been wondering if he’d be allowed to see her, but since he’d evidently been taken for the lawyer, he’d use any method that worked. “What exactly is the charge?”

  “Theft. A Mr. Jake Morgan has produced evidence that she’s harboring a peregrine falcon that was stolen from him, and that she’s concealing it from him.”

  Gavin snorted in what he hoped was a convincingly contemptuous manner. “Evidence!”

  “We’ve got a man who admits leaving it on her doorstep,” the sergeant said. “But it’s not in the sanctuary now, and she won’t say where it is.”

  Outwardly Gavin remained cool, but inwardly he was cursing the man who’d dumped the bird on Norah and then betrayed her. “I’d like to see Miss Ackroyd now,” he said.

  A few minutes later he was conducted to an interview room where he found Norah sitting at a table with her jaw set stubbornly. She looked startled when she saw him, but said nothing until the door had closed and they were alone.

  “I won’t waste my time giving you my opinion of your common sense,” Gavin declared. “They think I’m your lawyer, or I wouldn’t have been allowed in. Why didn’t you send for Angus Philbeam?”

  “Because he’d have been useless,” Norah said flatly. “Dear old Angus is a paperwork man. He’d have flapped and fuddled and advised me to confess everything.”

  “Instead of which you refused to say anything about this bird-”

  Norah’s eyes flashed. “Bird? What bird? I don’t know anything about any bird.”

  He ground his teeth. “They’ve got the person who left it on your doorstep. And don’t say, ‘what doorstep?’”

  “I don’t know anything about a missing bird,” she repeated defiantly.

  Gavin closed his eyes and prayed for patience. When he felt calm enough to speak he said, “You were right not to send for Angus. You’re going to need someone a bit sharper to get you out of this mess.”

  “I’m not in a mess. They can’t prove anything.”

  “Fine,” he snapped in exasperation. “Tell that to the judge and see what you get. It would serve you right if I left you to rot.”

  “Do so, then,” she snapped back.

  “Right.”

  “Right.”

  They glared at each other.

  “For pity’s sake, how can I just walk out and leave you?”

  “Why not? You want to.”

  “Yes I do, but I have to face my son. He expects me to save you from the results of your own foolishness, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He’d never felt so confused in his life. He was furious with her for letting this come about, but he also knew a reluctant admiration for her courage. They could lock her up and throw away the key, but she wouldn’t yield an inch in defense of what she felt was right. But the feeling that possessed him most strongly was an aching protectiveness at the sight of her pale face and the frightened eyes that belied her show of defiance. If this was how she felt about the creatures she cared for, then it was no wonder she was prepared to go to the stake for them. For a searing moment he understood everything in her mind: the fear, the determination, the desperate forgetfulness of self. He understood it because he felt it, too, but not for the animals. For her.

  “How’s your rib?” he asked.

  “It’s fine,” she said.

  “You look very pale.”

  “Prison pallor,” she said, attempting a joke. But she couldn’t quite manage it and her voice shook.

  “I’ll tell them to get you a doctor.”

  “Gavin, the only thing I’m really worried about is the animals. Mrs. Stone won’t go near them, and without Iris or Grim there’s only Peter. He can’t manage everything alone.”

  There was a silence. Gavin knew what was coming, but part of him still couldn’t believe it. An irresistible fate was marching him toward the inevitable. He didn’t want to go, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  Hardly able to believe that the words coming out of his mouth were his own, he said, “I’ll take care of the animals tonight. Don’t you worry about anything.”

  Chapter Ten

  He reached home to find Peter busy in the kitchen, mixing and mashing food with the calm air of an expert. Gavin knew a surge of admiration for his son. “I saw her,” he said when Peter looked up at him. “She’s all right, bearing up very well, in fact. We don’t have to worry about her.” But the bright words faded on his lips with the look Peter gave him. The little boy saw through everything. In many ways he wasn’t a child at all, but a small adult, mature enough to fulfill his responsibilities in the midst of trouble. Gavin had to admit to himself that the Ackroyds had taught him that, at least. Peter deserved the truth.

  “She’s as stubborn as a mule,” he said, caught between despair and exasperation. “She won’t do a thing to help herself. The only thing-the only thing she cares about, is who’s going to take care of the animals.”

  Peter’s puzzled look said, But, of course.

  “Well, it may be obvious to you,” Gavin told him, “but somebody has to think about all the other things.” He saw Peter point a tentative finger at him. “Yes, me. She needs a lawyer. A good one. Not Angus Philbeam. Someone really high powered.” Peter’s eyes, fixed on him, were unnerving in their trust and expectancy. “There’s always Bruce Havering,” Gavin mused. Peter put his head on one side in query. “Bruce Havering is a top lawyer,” Gavin explained. “He costs the
earth, but earns every penny. Luckily he owes me a favor.”

  Peter was silent, but his eyes said, “So call him.”

  “It’s not that easy,” Gavin said defensively. “He only takes very big cases. If I ask him to dash up here for a small case in a minor court, he’ll think I’m crazy.”

  Well, aren’t you? his heart prompted.

  He knew that telling Peter about Bruce had taken him beyond the point of no return. Now he had to make the call because Peter would never forgive him if he didn’t. He went through into the study, Peter trotting after him. Seated at the desk, he reached for the phone, but stopped with his hand on the receiver. An astonishing thought had just come to him.

  This was it, the chance he’d been hoping for ever since the day he came here, the chance to get his son back. All he had to do was do nothing at all. She would be found guilty of theft, and armed with that ammunition he could persuade the Social Services, the courts and anyone else who might want a say that she was unfit to rear his son. He had the perfect weapon in his hand, and she’d placed it there herself.

  So why hadn’t he given it a thought until this minute? Why was he so instinctively sure that he couldn’t possibly use it?

  He found one answer in the sight of Peter’s shining eyes as he watched, evidently confident that his father could come galloping to Norah’s rescue. For the first time he was a hero to his son, but only because he was helping her. The irony wasn’t lost on him. And he knew that if he stooped to get the boy back in this way, he would also lose him forever in the only way that mattered.

  And there was another answer. It lay in the thought of Norah’s pale face and frightened eyes, and the bravado with which she tried unsuccessfully to hide her fear. It lay, too, in the turmoil in his own heart when he thought of her in prison, crushed like a captive bird.

  He tried to tell himself that this was nonsense. It was her first offense. They wouldn’t send her to prison.

  But she was behind bars now, quietly going crazy with dread and misery, yet still not prepared to yield an inch. He took up the phone and dialed. The phone rang for so long that he was filled with dismay, but at last there was an answer. “Bruce? Sorry to call you so late.”