Love Another Day Read online

  Love Another Day

  Copyright © 2011 by Regina A. Hanel

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  Other Regal Crest Titles You May Enjoy

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  Love Another Day

  by

  Regina A. Hanel

  Copyright © 2011 by Regina A. Hanel

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-61929-033-4 (eBook)

  eBook Conversion March 2012

  First Printing 2011

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design by Donna Pawlowski

  Published by:

  Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC

  3520 Avenue H

  Port Arthur, Texas 77627

  Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz

  Published in the United States of America

  Acknowledgments

  I'd like to thank the employees at Grand Teton National Park who helped make this story realistic with their knowledge, expertise, and insight. I learned a great deal about the park and Park Ranger Law Enforcement through them and gained an immense respect for the challenging work they do.

  Special thanks to my partner Veronica for her editing, support, encouragement, and most importantly, love.

  Thanks to Lady, my best friend on four paws and role model for Jake, who stayed tirelessly by my side through so many revisions, but who, sadly, didn't make it to my final version. I miss you, Ladybug.

  My sincere appreciation goes to Cathy LeNoir and Regal Crest Enterprises for taking a chance on my manuscript and allowing my characters to come to life. RCE has allowed me to achieve a goal I wasn't sure was reachable when I first started. I'd like to give credit to Donna Pawlowski for her great work on the cover. Also, many thanks to the RCE submissions team for their time and invaluable comments.

  Deepest heartfelt thanks to Pat Cronin for her editing talent and advice. This book is vastly improved due to her comments and suggestions. I've learned a great deal about writing technique through her. It takes someone with a special skill to constructively criticize another's work but do it in a way that's encouraging and humorous; Pat is that someone who made the process more enjoyable.

  Thanks also to Erica Spiller for her valuable final round of line edits and comments.

  And thanks to the readers! If you'd like to visit my website, please do at www.rhanel.com.

  Dedication

  For Veronica, My Forever Love

  Love Another Day

  by

  Regina A. Hanel

  Chapter One

  EYES FROZEN OPEN on a bloodstained face, shredded pieces of a raincoat clenched between white-knuckled fists--

  "Four-two-zero, Teton Dispatch," crackled Toby's voice over the radio.

  Startled, Samantha Takoda Tyler sprung up in her seat. For a brief moment, she wasn't sure where she was. She'd drifted off like this before, but never while working. Eyes glassy, she shook her head, hoping to clear away the cobwebs cluttering her thoughts. Less than a hundred yards from the road a herd of pronghorn deer grazed on grass and wildflowers. She hadn't noticed them until that moment. Frustrated, she ran her fingers through her hair and sighed before responding to Toby. "Teton Dispatch, four-two-zero, go ahead."

  "We've got a domestic dispute at Foxhole Campground."

  "Roger that. On my way." Angry with herself for allowing her thoughts to wander, she breathed deep and loosened her vise-like grip on the steering wheel. When the road was clear in both directions, she swung the Expedition around and headed north on Outer Park Road, traveling slightly above the posted speed limit.

  Sam started as a full time law enforcement park ranger at Grand Teton National Park five years earlier. Her job began with eighteen weeks of extensive law enforcement training at a federal training center in Georgia followed by eleven weeks of field training. One of her first solo calls during field training was a domestic dispute. She couldn't count the number she'd responded to since. Most were in the campgrounds. Vacations didn't suppress the worst in some people.

  The turnoff leading toward the campground appeared as if out of nowhere, marked only by a small, painted wooden sign nailed to a worn, square, wood post three feet off the ground. Unfamiliar with the northern section of the park, covering for another ranger out on sick leave, Sam hit the brakes and jerked the wheel to the right, creating a cloud of dust as she rolled onto the road's unpaved surface. She reached for her sunglasses and placed them on the bridge of her nose, covering her bloodshot eyes. She slowed the Expedition to a near crawl, mitigating the jarring effect the minefield of potholes was having on her kidneys.

  Sam drove past a group of campers gathered in a semi-circle, the steam from their breaths rising in the brisk May morning air, and parked under a nearby pine tree. "Teton Dispatch, four-twozero on scene." She took one last deep swig of her coffee, which she knew would be cold by the time she'd return, grabbed her wide-brimmed ranger hat off the passenger side seat, and stepped from the patrol vehicle. At five-foot-five-inches she stood stoic, shoulders squared, face expressionless. Her unzipped jacket covered a crisply ironed gray shirt tucked into pleated dark green pants. "Morning folks. My name's Ranger Tyler. Can anyone tell me what's been going on here?"

  A young woman, who had been watching Sam with intent interest, stepped from the crowd and detailed what had transpired not far from where they stood. With no one else having anything to add, Sam asked the campers to remain where they were, then strode authoritatively toward the ratty, blue tent pointed out to her by the young female camper. She stopped several feet in front of what remained of an earlier campfire. A coffee pot lay tipped on its side, its contents having left a darkened oval in the dirt. Ants were busily carrying away crumbs of food scraps. As she stood scanning the area, yelling resumed in the tent. Sam breathed deep. Great. Here we go. "Hello is anyone in there?" she hollered.

  The yelling stopped. Seconds later, a portly, middle-aged woman peeked out from behind the tent flaps. The woman's shoulder-length hair was tied haphazardly into a ponytail, loose strands curling outward in all directions. A six foot tall, slightly rotund and balding, yet muscular man in his late fifties followed her out. He wore torn blue jeans and a gray and black checked flannel shirt with the bottom two buttons left unfastened. He clung to the woman's arm with white-knuckled fingers. He was unshaven, his expression stern.

  "I appreciate your time," Sam began, not happy with what she saw. The side of the woman's face was swollen, and her eyes were puffy and red. Trained to maintain a calm and pleasant tone, she continued. "Sorry to bother you this early, but we got a call at the station about a disturbance--"
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  "A what?" the man snapped as he glanced over at the crowd staring back at him. "A disturbance?" His tone was mocking. "So, what, you figured we were the cause of this 'disturbance'?"

  "That's right, Mr.?"

  "Parker--John Parker. And this is my wife, Rosalie Parker," he added.

  After scanning the pair for visible weapons, Sam's eyes darted past them. "Is anyone else in the tent, Mr. Parker?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Just asking," she responded, not wanting to irritate him further. "Would you tell me what's been going on here this morning?"

  "Nothing's been going on. We had a disagreement and now it's over. Ain't that right, honey?" He yanked on his wife's arm as he shifted toward her, his eyes narrow and piercing.

  Rosalie Parker remained silent, eyes transfixed elsewhere.

  Sam glared at John Parker's hand where he held onto his wife's arm before shifting her gaze and connecting with his eyes.

  As he reluctantly let go, he spat on the ground. "See. I told you, ranger lady. There ain't no problem."

  "So you said." Sam paused. "How about you, Mrs. Parker? Are you sure there's nothing you want to add? I'm not going anywhere until I get a statement from both of you."

  Rosalie nervously glanced from Sam to the crowd, and then to her husband before returning her attention to Sam. She breathed deep, then stepped slightly away from him. Rosalie timidly recounted their earlier argument, nearly mirroring the young woman's account, but leaving out how she got the swollen cheek, and finished with, "when he left and didn't come back right away, I got worried. I picked up the cell phone and--"

  "You bitch! You called the ranger station didn't you? Worried about me my ass. Where the hell's my goddamn cell phone?" John Parker bent down and lifted the iron frying pan off the smoldering campfire. Within a split second, he raised it above his shoulders and slammed it into the side of his wife's skull. Rosalie Parker crumpled to the ground like a sheet falling off a clothesline.

  Sam instinctively sprang back. She grabbed her .45 caliber Sig-Sauer from its holster and pointed it at John Parker as he raised his arm a second time. "Don't move, or I swear to God I'll shoot!" She hadn't seen this coming. Why hadn't she? She was tired, distracted. The reasons were many, but none valid, at least not in her eyes.

  John Parker froze; eyes glazed and wild.

  "Step away from your wife," Sam ordered. "Do it now."

  Smirking and scratching the stubble on the side of his chin, he slowly complied.

  "Drop the weapon!" Sam hollered.

  "What weapon?" he responded before tossing the pan to the side.

  Sam reached for her shoulder mic. "Teton Dispatch, four-twozero."

  "Four-two-zero go ahead."

  "Got one at gunpoint. Need backup and an ambulance."

  "Roger that four-two-zero."

  Sam redirected her attention to John Parker. "Lay down on your stomach, clasp your hands behind your head, and cross your legs at the ankles."

  John Parker stood motionless, staring at Sam in defiance. Only his cheeks moved as he clenched down on his teeth.

  "When I said lay down, Mr. Parker, I meant now. And place your hands behind your head. Don't make me ask you a third time."

  He mumbled the word "bitch" from under his breath, then knelt on the ground and lowered himself to his stomach.

  Sam approached him from behind. She slapped handcuffs on his wrists and then searched him thoroughly for concealed weapons.

  "Having fun? You know you've got nothing on me. She's my wife, and I can do whatever I damn well please with her. You got no right." He attempted to rise.

  Sam ignored his comments. She held him to the ground. "You'll stand when I ask you to, and not before." When she was certain he understood who was in charge, she said, "Now, get up." She escorted him to the Expedition, with him wriggling all the way, and locked him in the back seat. Then she reached for her EMS bag and ran to Mrs. Parker.

  Blood gushed from the gash near Rosalie Parker's temple. Her breaths were shallow and irregular. Sam knelt beside her limp body. She placed a dressing on the wound and wrapped it with gauze, hoping the ambulance would get there soon. She kept an eye on Rosalie until Ranger Jeffrey Brown arrived on scene with the ambulance close behind. He jumped from his vehicle, leaving the door open, and ran toward Sam.

  "You all right, Tyler?" he yelled.

  "Yeah, I'm fine." She only half lied. Physically she was fine, mentally was debatable, but she wouldn't let it show. "What took you so long? My grandmother could've gotten here quicker than you."

  "Your grandmother doesn't live anywhere near here."

  "My point exactly," Sam said. "So what happened?"

  "Accident on Outer Park Road--tire blow out."

  Sam stepped aside to let the paramedics move Rosalie onto the stretcher. "Anyone injured?" she asked him.

  "No. A half-dozen people were shaken up though."

  Sam's expression revealed she was thankful no one was hurt. "I've got the husband locked in my vehicle."

  "I'll take him in. The Chief wants to see you in his office as soon as you're finished here." Jeff strode toward Sam's Expedition.

  "Do you know what for?" Sam called after him. As terrific as she got along with Chief Thundercloud, getting called into his office was not something she relished. The last time he'd pulled her in from the field was well over three years ago, and as she recalled, that meeting didn't end in her favor. She'd gotten shackled with administrative duties for three months, covering for another ranger who was out on maternity-leave. Sam cringed at the thought of those days, being confined indoors, hearing calls come in over the radio and knowing she was needed on patrol but not being able to respond. Her only pleasant memory of that period was that she had felt as though she still had control over her life.

  "Nope, not a clue," he said, yanking John Parker none too gingerly from the truck and to his feet. "Hey, why don't you stop by The Moose later? We can shoot the breeze for a while."

  The Moose was short for The Wandering Moose, a bar frequented mostly by the locals. The tourists likely stayed away because the bar wasn't aesthetically luring from the outside. Inside though, the atmosphere was warm and inviting; a hidden treasure. Sam relaxed for a moment as she remembered some of the fun times she'd had there. But that was then. Now, she had her dog Jake, and he needed her. At least that's the excuse she fed herself for not wanting to go. "Another time, Jeff, but thanks."

  "Sure thing, Tyler. See ya around."

  "Yeah, see ya, Jeff. I owe you one."

  Chapter Two

  STANDING IN FRONT of the closet door mirror, Halie slipped into the new pair of designer jeans she'd bought the week before on a whim, then buttoned her white cotton blouse. The jeans accentuated her already slim figure. She moved a curly strand of blonde hair from in front of her eyes, and after slipping on a pair of comfortable leather loafers, stepped in front of the dresser and sprayed on a light mist of her favorite perfume. She gently removed a Spring jacket from the closet hanger and hurried into the living room. Her bags sat near the doorway where she'd placed them earlier. Before walking out of her apartment in the Beacon Hill section of Boston, Halie glanced around one last time.

  She was anxious about her new assignment and worried Sheila wouldn't care for her plants while she was gone. She'd reminded her roommate ten times in the last two days not to forget. The day before, Halie had given the plants a good watering, but she knew that wouldn't last them the length of the trip. She'd also cleaned the apartment, taken out the garbage, and started her packing, none of which calmed her nerves. The opportunity she'd been waiting for was finally within reach; the chance for a cover story.

  After having left a full time job at The Boston Herald for lack of adequate recognition for her work, she'd freelanced and written several articles for The Wild International. Within a month of submitting her last article, the magazine offered her a full time position. What she hadn't expected was an immediate assignment this important. Halie sta
red at her bags, rethinking the items she might need. She knew the nights would be much colder than what she was used to. She stood in the brick archway with the key to the front door in her hand, taking mental inventory as a yellow cab idled on the street below.

  "Hey, lady," the taxi driver yelled out the side window as he stretched across to the passenger side seat. "If you want to get to the airport on time, we've got to get moving."

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Halie yelled back, annoyed with his lack of patience. Then in a whisper she added, "Besides, the meter's running so what do you care?" Bad enough she had to get up at such an ungodly hour in the first place. She didn't need the added harassment from a stranger.

  The flight to Jackson Hole Airport was uneventful. Once in the air, and able to use her laptop, she buried herself in her work reviewing ten years worth of visitation numbers to Grand Teton National Park, current news articles, and park releases that supported, directly or indirectly, the likelihood of the park's closure in an environment of diminishing funds. She was so engrossed in her work that she hadn't noticed when the man next to her had fallen asleep and slunk only inches from her right shoulder, until an involuntary arm movement from him in her direction attracted her attention. She scrunched her face, leaned forward to see if he was still sleeping, and then scanned the cabin for a flight attendant. Seeing no one, she gently grabbed his wrist and placed it on his armrest. Next, she nudged him into an almost upright position away from her shoulder. Glad she hadn't woken him, she directed her attention out the window. Miles of towering mountains and fields of blooming wildflowers surrounded the airport as they approached for landing.

  Finally free of the stuffy aircraft, Halie breathed in the crisp, refreshing mountain air. No humidity. That would be a definite plus. While waiting at the curb for the taxi driver to load her luggage, she left Sheila a message on their answering machine letting her know she'd landed safely. Calling Sheila and leaving the message gave her an added sense of security. And since her parents spent the majority of their time out of the house, calling them made no sense.