Chapter 1

Copyright 2002 by Elizabeth Delayne



The Pacific Ocean was a line between the bright blue sky and wet sand. Tourists and locals alike scurried and splashed in the early morning waves. Their laughter mingled with the rolling of the ocean, the sound of surf sliding over sand.

Still in her truck, Amy Carpenter watched as people entered the station house. Some were lifeguards, but most weren't dressed for the beach, but in suits ... a mark that things were changing. She recognized city council men and women, noted the brass from the department, and knew that some were reporters.

The station house was a simple building, aged wood, once painted yellow—now faded from the sun. Cars spilled over into the parking lot next door. Years ago, it had claimed the name The Springs, stolen from the legacy of the Basin and Upper Springs communities. But now it was just part of the local. It catered to those with the whim for luxury at night and, because it really had no choice, to the beach crowd during the day.

Locals waded past the long lines and went for takeout.

The parking lot had grown still, in contrast to the beach beyond. All the principal characters were inside. It was time for the meeting to start. She reluctantly got out of her truck and headed inside.

The small front room was inundated with chatter and the creak of the old metal chairs as people sat. Photos from a half century of patrol lined the walls. The aged industrial tile had been freshly buffed.

The decor mattered little. What one saw when they came into the old station house was the ocean. Through the glass wall and doors, beyond the deck, waves crashed against the shore. Surfers who had been out since dawn were being joined by others that came simply for relaxation. Families mingled, children played.

Amy Carpenter itched to get outside, feel the waves slide drowsily across her feet.

Instead she took the empty seat that had been saved for her. Andrea Lyons looked like the epitome of grace and femininity, her legs crossed as she studied the room. She wore designer clothes and real silver and gold jewelry. Her blond hair was cut at her shoulders and highlighted by a high profile salon.

She worked as a lifeguard part time during the summer, balancing the time with her real job as a therapist at Springs Rehab Center for the Disabled.

A place paid for because it was also frequented by the stars.

In contrast, wore a plain attire of khaki shorts and a sleeveless blue polo. Her light brown hair, streaked with golden blond by the sun, was pulled back into a quick ponytail. She wore makeup with S.P.F., because she’d learned that it made her feel better—the makeup. SPF was mandatory and had always been part of her life.

When Andrea looked at Amy her eyes were sympathetic. It had been that way from the beginning—so much so, Amy sometimes wondered if Andrea had access to her see into her heart.

“I didn’t think you were going to get here.”

“Chloe borrowed my truck last night, then I couldn’t get her to wake up to tell me where she put my keys, then she couldn't find my keys—”

She stopped as the chief of police took the podium. Reluctantly she straightened her shoulders. The man, after all, was her boss.

“I’d like to start off by thanking all of you for coming in early this morning. Many of you have spent most of the last several weeks balancing your free time to be at the hospital with Ham. It’s been tough for all of us. He’s been a faithful captain and leader, an ally and friend… I never thought I would be the one that would have to see to the replacement … and many of us know, he won’t ever really be replaced.”

The chief went on, repeating the same accolades with the fervor of a man running for election. She didn’t disagree, but she wondered if Ham would appreciate whom the words came from.

“I talked with Ham a few moments ago in regards this meeting. He wanted me to tell all of you that he is grateful for you and that health wise, he plans to be around for a long time. The doctors are planning to move him to rehab by the end of this week…”

“That’s better than Ham hoped yesterday,” Andrea leaned over and whispered.

Amy forced a smile, but she had noticed the stranger sitting in the corner of the room, dressed in a cop's formal uniform, young enough for Amy’s stomach to clench. If this one stayed—and why wouldn’t he—it would be a long time before he retired.

If only Ham could have waited a little longer. He was her protector, her mentor, and in many ways her father.

And now he was giving up what was so much of that role.

How many hours had she spent in Ham’s office, talking to him, learning from him, laughing with him?

Who would understand, without words, what she needed most?

I don’t know how to handle this . . . God, I don’t know how.

She glanced over again at the stranger. He was young, so much younger then she would have expected. He had short brown hair, recently cut, most likely for the interview. She could tell by his hair and tan that he was used to the outdoors, probably used to the beach or boardwalk patrol. If it wasn't for the captain's rank displayed on his uniform, she wouldn't have guessed the rank.

His eyes were dark and observant. As he glanced around, he seemed to be studying, calculating, and taking everything in. Including, Amy remembered, the fact that she had slipped in at the last minute.

“We’ve had several applicants apply for this position over the past few weeks. And I’m proud to say we were able to narrow it down.”

Amy folded her hands in her lap and bit her upper lip. Other people seemed to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Everyone had known that was what this meeting was about. Replacing Ham.

And no one, Amy was sure, was prepared for the change.

“Our applicant graduated with a criminal justice degree from Stanford University and has spent the last seven years as an officer for the Willis County Police Department, assigned to and recommended because of his exemplarity work on beach patrol. He is a certified lifeguard and has been since he was 17.”

"Willis County," Amy whispered to Andrea. "That's where that huge mess boiled over last year."

"What mess?"

"We talked about it in my Criminal Justice classes. Bribery, drug possession, unethical behavior. It was major."

Andrea frowned over the information, but said only, "I would guess he wanted to get out."

“I would like for you to welcome, Derek Johnson.”

Fifteen lifeguards, six city councilmen, and a handful of policemen clapped—albeit weakly. The job was Ham's. Over the last few weeks, everyone had been talking, as people do ... and no one could imagine the beach without Ham there to watch and protect.

Andrea reached over and placed her hand on top of Amy’s, and slowly she opened the fist she had unconsciously made. She was a long way away from the girl she had been when Ham brought her on as a junior lifeguard.

When the meeting ended, people flocked to introduce themselves to new captain, but she couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not when she could so easily picture Ham in the hospital.

Her heart ached. She was not ready for this change.

“Do you want to go get a soda or something?”

Amy looked over at Andrea and shook her head, “I want to go by and check on Ham before my class.”

“Amy-" Andrea made sure she had Amy's eyes. Years of grief and friendship wrapped a comforting arm around them. "You call me if you need me.”

Amy nodded. She felt the hand squeezing her neck and turned to find Mitch standing behind her. He was not much taller than her 5'7, with wide shoulders and long blond hair pulled back with his usual leather strap. “You okay?”

“I'll be okay.”

“Ham’s going to be fine,” his blue eyed gaze so steady and sure. “I've met the new guy. I think he’s a good choice.”

"He’s not Ham. I’m not ready for this, Mitch."

"None of us are.”

They made plans to hit the surf as they always did, then Amy escaped. She headed out into the bright California sunshine she loved, blindly moving for her truck—before another person could stop her.

Before another person reminded her that her dreams had just went down the drain.

She climbed into her truck and backed out, looking over her shoulder. When the yellow jeep whipped around the corner, it didn’t see her and rammed right into her tail light.



Derek walked into his office and shut the door. He couldn’t believe his first day. Not only had the city council and the chief of police been there to see him fumble through a traffic citation, but he’d had a lifeguard with a panic attack over a busted tail light. He’d fumbled because she panicked—and he admitted—because he had felt a fist around his gut since she walked into the room.

Amy Carpenter.

He walked over to the file cabinet and opened two of the drawers before he found the personnel files. He pulled hers and settled at his desk, opening the manila folder to flip through the evaluations. She’d worked at the station for six years, since 17, had exemplarity evaluations—good, but not perfect. She had been cited early on for her temper, and for waiting too long to call in help. There were a few notations about her classes at the local university and a handful of names and phone numbers. Her training marks were high, but maybe he needed a re-evaluation just in case.

It wouldn’t hurt to re-evaluate everyone.

He found no application, no past medical or psychological profile, nothing that would give him an inclination about where the panic attack had come from.

He glanced up at the knock on his door and waved his second-in-command in, trying to place the name. They had met over lunch with other city officers the day before.

“Mitch Davis.”

Derek stood and shook his hand across the desk.

“I thought, maybe, you’d like a little insight into what happened out there.”

“Sit down,” he said, as he did so himself. “Amy Carpenter?”

“Is one of the best lifeguards you have on staff here.”

“That doesn’t explain what happened out there.”

“That has nothing to do with her job and very little with who she is now,” Mitch leaned forward. “You’d be better off asking Ham. If he had been here today she would have turned to him, she would have leaned on him—not having him here probably added to it all. Ham won’t see it as weakness if you go to him. He’ll see it as wisdom.”

Derek glanced over at a pad where he had already listed a dozen or more questions. His questions would have to wait—at least a little while. The man was in the hospital.

“Why don’t you give me your perceptions?”

Mitch hesitated, his eyes going to the window behind Derek. “Amy comes from what was, at one time, a very prominent family in this city. Her father is a pro-baseball player and when he retired he was already a known financial consultant. He writes books and has his own radio show, syndicated across the West Coast."

"Lance Carpenter," Derek muttered, placing the name easily.

Mitch nodded. "Amy … got into some trouble when she was in high school. A lot of people in town turned on her, blamed her for more then was her due."

"Ham helped pull her through, helped her find a purpose, but she had—has a probation officer from you know where and a town, including many in the department, who have yet to forget or forgive.”

Derek glanced at the folder and noted the application was missing. Ham would have brought her in, would have given her a chance. He didn’t fault the man for it.

Mitch leaned forward. “Amy's lost her biggest ally in the job she loves—a job that gave her a real purpose when she needed it. Ham wasn’t easy on her, but he did understand her."







Willis County was different than Southern California. The beaches were still crowded, the surfers still out, but the pace was slower and the volume softer. People stopped in to introduce themselves, and when Derek arrived at the rehab center, the nurses immediately recognized that he was new to the uniform.

At the turn of the 19th Century, what was now Basin Springs had been a train depot and a few shacks for the sea-worthy. When hot springs had been discovered in the mountains to the east, people started to arrive in the area. The ill came to recuperate, the healthy to camp out in the mountains and jump into the surf. Track had been laid from the depot to the hot springs, then further up the mountains to a small mining town now called Upper Springs.

Thanks to the surfing and a growing beach scene, Basin Springs was becoming a place widely known among surfers and vacationers …

Or so said the team that had interviewed and hired him.

The position he’d taken was a prominent one in the city, if only because he was stationary over the hot spot in town—several miles of California coastline. He met with the press, fielded questions, and handled flashbulbs.

He was already fond of this job anyway. Here he had a chance to breathe … to watch the waves … to not just meet people, but to build relationships. It was a place where he could see growth at a pace that he could handle.

Derek stood outside the rehab room and looked in. He saw vases of flowers and potted plants. There was a string draped across the room, weighed down from end to end by cards and clothespins. He heard the T.V. and the mutterings of a man used to being in the sun and in control.

He reached out and knocked.

“Open.”

Derek imagined that line had been not just been a familiar line, but a policy for his staff. People loved Ham.

“Captain Ham—”

“You must be my replacement,” he held out a hand. His grip was firm. “I’ve been hearing about you, wondered if you would stop by. Wanted to see for myself if you had your wits about you. I find it odd that the city council managed to agree on and approve anything so quickly.”

“Derek Johnson,” he said as he shook the older man’s hand. “I had a few questions, if you think you’re up to it.”

“Give me something to occupy my mind with. Have a seat,” Ham said, indicating the chair beside him, “Tell me, how is Amy?”

“Actually, she was one of my questions.”

“I thought so,” Ham turned and looked toward the window, his eyebrows drawn together. “She hasn’t been by in a few days. Not since your first day.”

He glanced back at Derek. “She’s not causing you problems?”

“Not problems … just questions,” Derek leaned forward, measuring the man’s stamina as he related the traffic accident. “Andrea pulled her aside, forced her head down between her legs. I don’t know what she said to her, but it got to her—brought some of her color back..”

Ham nodded, “How did you handle the citation?”

“Gave the kid a ticket for reckless driving. There was nothing for Amy to worry about besides inconvenience with her vehicle. The kid’s parents are handling the damages.”

“And that’s partly where the problem lay,” Ham pushed himself up in the bed. “You understand that what I’m about to tell you is unofficial and goes no where outside this room. Not even to Amy herself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I only tell you myself so she’ll have someone to watch over her as I did. I never married, never had children outside of my staff. Amy’s very special to me, as was her family.”

“When Amy was 14 her mother and brother died in a car accident while visiting colleges. The scouts were after him--just like they were after Lance, her father, in a different time. Her brother was the light of her life, her mother her support system. In short, Amy broke down—got into a good bit of trouble; fell from the graces of the town. And the town knew her. She was her father’s daughter, and Lance, the town’s champion from high school into the major leagues. He played pro baseball, you know.”



“I’ve heard. Who doesn't recognize the name of Lance Carpenter?”

And thinking back, he remembered that Lance Carpenter's family had been tragically killed in an automobile accident, save his daughter. The media had flashed the news and the grief on screen. After all, Lance had just recently retired from baseball, was playing with a business, and had co-anchored a few high profile games.

“Her voice was heard on the radio with her dad through his radio show, her swimming accomplishments covered by the newspaper. She was headed straight to the Olympics.”

“And then everything came to a stop for Amy. Her father lost control of her, of himself. It had been her mother who drove her to swimming practice and when she died . . . Amy’s dreams just slipped away. He didn’t know how to encourage her, or didn’t ... and the doctors were of no help back then. Amy had her share of panic attacks before the doctors put a name with them. At times, for a time until he got himself together, he was abusive—physically, emotionally. He didn’t come from a good home, and without Mallory … He didn't know what to do with Amy, or with himself. She had no where to go.”

“Then the kid went nuts—drinking, reckless behavior. The police would chide her a bit, talk to her father, but little punishment. Then that night--some kids were out drag racing--out on the Back Bend. It's the old road, winding and dangerous, that leads up to the springs. It's been closed off since the highway was built."

"There was a crash. Everyone else ran, she stayed to help out. She was the one caught, the one whose name was on television, the one who people hated. She had her day in court and was punished for more than her sins.”

“I was good friends with her parents. I was the one that represented her in court, took her in my custody until the hearings. I gave her a job, set boundaries and regulations and did a lot of dealing with the grief she still doesn’t know how to deal with. I gave her a shoulder to weep on.”

“What happened the other day is on two levels. Car accidents are hard on her. It's the sounds, I think ... the scent of them. We once watched a training video ... well, more then the rest, it sets off the attacks. There was a lot of fear, confusion that night on the Back Bend, and I think she relates it to what her mom and Ryan went through."

Ham sighed. “On another level, there is her father. They’ve had a rudimentary relationship the past few years. She depends on him to get her through college … and there are other things. She's toed the line, tried to find a balance to her mistakes and her future ... but all she's ever wanted, I think, was to have her father look at her the way he looked at her before her mom died. She won't say it. I haven't been able to get her to say it, but it's there. That need."

Derek leaned back and listed the facts in his head. Ham had filled in pieces so that she saw a picture—slightly blurry, but there.

Ham leaned back, “You got some other questions?”

“Nothing that won’t wait until later.”

“You ask them now, if you don’t mind. I need something to think about other than this place,” his arm swept the room. “And you tell that girl of mine you saw me and that I’m expecting her.”



Andrea walked into the station eating an apple from a hand that sported two gem stone rings and a wrist circled in a 24 karat gold bracelet. She spotted Mitch at his beat-up metal desk, meandering his way through a pile of paperwork. The station was back in groove. Mitch was catching up, a rock song was blasting from the radio on one side of the room and the police radio was scratching out messages from its position beside Mitch.

She tossed her bag on the floor in front of the desk and dropped down in the metal chair. Her long legs extended from a tailored pair of designer shorts and a tank top with a price tag that would have made most of her friends put it back on the rack.

But Andrea was comfortable in her wealth. She just as easily could be seen in discount store rags if the look fit her mood.

“Where’s Amy?”

“Cooling down in the weight room.”

“Bad day.”

“Just a lot piled up on her right now.” Mitch glanced up. “Carl Winters came in, broke her stride even before she went out and took the day head on.”

The mention of Amy’s probation officer made Andrea sit up. “Do you know what he said to her?”

“He took her license.” Mitch bit back on whatever else he was going to say about the man. “It distracted her. She lost sight of a kid who went under. It took her and John to find him. She brought him in, got him breathing. She just … I think it just rattled her a bit.”

“What did the new captain say?”

“Not enough, maybe. He read the report and accepted it. I don’t think she was expecting Ham, but she wanted him.”

Andrea tossed the core of her apple in the trash and leaned down to grab her bag, “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Watch yourself.”



Lying on the bench, Amy looked straight up at the bar, lifting it slowly, then bringing it down.

God, she prayed, I’m so angry. Take it from me. It’s like a knot of bitterness in my stomach. I don’t want to turn it toward You. Why now? Why, when it seemed like everything was coming together?

Her father had controlled his anger last night. She was grateful for that. There would have been a time when she would have had bruises. He was better. He was getting better. She needed to be grateful.

Yet, she hadn’t understood his full anger until she’d dropped her truck off for Joey to look over. He was a family friend and a master with car repairs—especially since he had connections in the car world. Those connections were why she knew her dad and his best friend were looking to sell her mom’s 1968 Firebird convertible.

It made her ache inside. He’d promised it to her when she graduated from college if she completed her probation without trouble. The car was a sleek beauty, completely restored, painted cherry red. The first time her dad had spotted her mom, she’d been in the car driving too fast down a narrow stretch of road.

It was her mom’s car. It was part of Amy’s heart.

She lowered the bar slowly and thought of the boy she’d helped save instead. He was so young, at the beach without permission, surfing against his parent’s wishes with older friends that should have known better. She understood the desire to be with people you viewed like idols that treated you like family.

She pressed the bar up, slowly, as Ham would have cautioned.

But family wasn’t always there for you.

She understood the consequences. She would go see him tomorrow, before he was discharged.

Then she needed to face Ham.

The hands that grabbed the bar startled her. She looked up to see her captain—a frustrated captain—standing over her. “Where’s your spotter?”

“There wasn’t one around.”

“Then there are other things you could do.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“There are policies,” he pointed to the sign that hung on the wall, one that Ham had taped up before she’d joined on. “I know things are tough right now, Amy, but you can’t … you need to hold on to what you know.”

Amy glared up at him, feeling a sudden disadvantage, lying on the bench. In truth, Ham had always been with her to spot. Ham wasn’t here. She knew better, but she hadn’t thought.

The tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let him see them. Amy slid from under the bar and moved to a high bar, aware that Derek still watched her. She reached up, pulled herself into a lift, her chin rising above the bar. It wasn’t a move most girls could do. She wanted him to see it.

Dropping to the floor, she turned to look at him. He stood on the other side of the room, studying her, his eyebrows drawn together.

“I need you to see something from my point of view for a minute,” he walked forward until he was standing on the outer edge of her personal space. “You have a panic attack for a traffic citation. You come in the weight room to work off an upset without taking regulated precautions.”

Because Ham wasn’t here, she thought, then said, “I’m a good life guard.”

“So I’ve heard, and that’s what I believe, but that’s not what I’ve seen. I went to see Ham.”

“Why?” she took a step back.

“Because I didn’t like what I was seeing. I was advised to talk to him.”

“He didn’t need to know. He’s healing.”

“Do you think by not going to see him you’re making it any easier on him? He knew something was wrong. He was waiting for you to come to him. Look, Amy—we both need to trust each other. I have the responsibility to put you on suspension if I think your personal life will interfere with your job. You’re here to save lives.”

Amy lifted her chin, her jaw tight. “You won’t have to do that.”

“I don’t think I will.”



Amy’s refuge was the warm sand that ran in front of the station. At so many of the other places she would have easily run into her old friends. Few of them would dare cross the path of the station.

It was a place she could come to talk to Ham, a place where she could sit in the quiet and process her thoughts. A place, she thought, where she had learned to pray and to understand that in the silence she could find peace.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Andrea dropped down on sand beside her. She set her sandals beside her and buried her feet in the warm sand. She had just run across Derek, doing a few reps with the free weights, working off his own frustrations.

“I’m not too hard to figure out.”

“You weren’t at fault. There’s no reason for Carl to turn this on you.”

Amy shrugged and Andrea frowned. Amy was too used to taking it on the chin. “Mom and dad can look into it, file an appeal or something.”

“Carl is just looking for a reason to extend my probation.”

“And he has in a way, by not filing your early release—you never fight back.”

“And I should?”

“It’s not a cross to bear, Amy. If this was about serving your time, straightening your life out, it would be one thing, but it’s not. Carl would like nothing more then to see you break your probation. To see you in jail.”

“So I won’t play his way.”

“You’re playing by his rules.” Andrea reached out and ran a hand down Amy’s hair, not surprised to feel the flinch.

Amy shook her head. "Who are you to tell me about digging my feet in the sand. You left Boston pretty quickly. What happened to the love of your life you left behind?"

"He wasn't the love of my life—“ Andrea stopped herself. Amy knew she was only tossing random stones, but she hoped she was close—not just to prove her point, but because they were friends. They’d never really talked about it, not even in the months she’d been seeing him. “And I didn't run away. I graduated."

"And he didn't follow you here because ..." Amy rolled her eyes. "It's a good thing you didn't love him since you left him behind. Look, Andrea, until you face him, don't talk to me about changing things in my life."

Amy focused far away on the fading light of the sunset. They were back to the beginning—her dreams and desires feeling so far removed from who she was and what she wanted in life.

God, please give her strength and discernment.



Derek glanced up from reading the evening police dispatches to see Andrea standing in the doorway.

“Amy said you talked to Ham.”

“She wasn’t too happy with me.”

“It’s a bad time for her. Please understand that. Ever since she was put on probation, she’s had Ham.”

“How much longer?”

“Early January if everything goes right,” Andrea hesitated. “Look, Derek. I know you're not Ham, but in some ways you need to be."

Derek leaned forward in his chair, "Like what?"

"Her probation officer suspended her license today because of the accident. It was a big moment when she earned it back two years ago; she'd turned her life around, moved on.”

Derek thought of the defeated look he’d seen in Amy’s eyes. He’d had heard others warn him, had known it was like some P. O.’s to do so, but had hoped he’d left that behind. “Amy wasn’t at fault. He had no cause.”

“Try telling him that.”

“You know his name?”

“Carl Winters. Ham’s got his phone number in Amy’s file. It won’t be the first time someone’s needed to rein him in.”

“There are ways to deal with men like him.”

He picked up a phone and dialed a number by heart. Maybe his time in Willis County had prepared him for something after all.






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