A Deadly Love (23 page)

“You’re friends again, and that’s what counts.” Zack dropped her hand and sprinted across the clearing. “Grandpa, we’re here!” he shouted.

Jesse opened the cabin door and stepped outside. “It’s about time.” His bushy brows shot up. “Brooke, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Long story.”

“Come in. Come in.” He held the door wide. “Since you’re here, we can have a nice chat.”

She glanced over her shoulder and could barely make out the individual trees in the gathering dusk. “I should start home.”

“Just for a few minutes? I’ve got something to tell you.”

She wouldn’t make it back before dark anyway, so there wasn’t much point in rushing. Anger simmered in her gut. She was tired of living in fear, sick to death of letting a madman dictate her actions. And maybe if she waited, Harley would turn up. She squared her shoulders. “What’s on your mind?”

Jesse shuffled across the floor in a pair of gray wool slippers. “Would you like a cup of tea? I put the kettle on to heat a few minutes ago.”

She set the bag of cookies down on the table. “Sure.”

“Can I have hot chocolate?” Zack asked.

Jesse rested his hands on his hips and studied his great-grandson. “Do you deserve it?”

“Yep, I finished all my homework
and
helped make cookies for you. Chocolate chip.”

His beard twitched. “In that case, I think we can stretch the water to three cups.”

Brooke followed Jesse over to the stove and reached into the cupboard for the cups. “You’re certainly cheerful this evening.”

“Been looking forward to Zack’s visit, and I didn’t have a single call from the FBI today.”

She emptied a chocolate packet into one cup while he pulled tea bags from a drawer. “Maybe they found a real suspect to question instead.”

“I hope so.” He turned the box of Earl Gray over in his hands before finally meeting her gaze. “I heard a scream and saw something white flashing through the trees last night.”

Her hand stilled over the cup, and she swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. “You didn’t find—”

He reached out and touched her arm. “I hunted through the woods for over half the night and didn’t find a thing. Nothing but a few broken branches a little to the east, but it wasn’t much of a trail.”

“Did you call Harley?”

“I did, but he wasn’t around. I haven’t heard back from him.”

She frowned. “I wonder why? You’d think he’d come tearing up here to check it out.” When the kettle whistled, she poured steaming water into the cups. “I don’t suppose you notified the FBI when you couldn’t reach the sheriff?”

“Hell no! I’m already their number one suspect.”

She stirred the chocolate, added a misshapen marshmallow from a bag she found on the top shelf of the cupboard, and took the cup to Zack. “I’m going to call Harley again.”

“Go ahead and try, but there isn’t anything out there to find. I went back again and looked in daylight, just to make sure.”

Brooke flipped open her phone and dialed the sheriff’s number. It immediately went to voice mail. She stuck the phone back in her pocket and picked up her tea cup. “He must be out of the service area. I’ll track him down after I get home. Someone in his office must know where he is.”

“You tell him I tried to call. I don’t want no more lectures about not doing my duty.”

“I promise.” She finished the tea and set the cup on the table. “I really should go.”

Jesse glanced toward the window. “It’s dark.”

“I have a light on my key ring.” She held it up for him to see.

He snorted. “That puny thing. I’ll give you a real flashlight, but I still don’t think—”

“Otis is with me. No one will mess with me while he’s around.”

He scratched his jaw. “I suppose you’re right. Still, I have an uneasy feeling—”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Chapter Fourteen

A branch snapped, sounding like a gunshot in the still night air. When Otis ran baying into the undergrowth, the hair rose on the back of Brooke’s neck. “Is someone there?” she called, her voice high and thin, echoing amongst the trees.

Heart pounding, she stared into the darkness.
Why did I tempt fate, insisting on walking home alone?
Some protector her dog was, disappearing at the first sign of a squirrel. At least she hoped to God it was a squirrel and not—

A figure loomed before her, blacking out the feeble starlight. She brandished the industrial size flashlight and caught a man’s upflung arm in the glare. He shielded his eyes and swore. Jumping back, she tripped and fell, sending the flashlight flying.

“Jesus, Brooke, calm down. It’s just me.”

Her hand flew to her throat. “Harley? Oh my God, you scared me.”

He hauled her to her feet, and then bent to fish the light out of a clump of ferns. “Sorry. I was hurrying and didn’t realize you were there until that beast of a dog nearly knocked me over.”

“You got my message?”

“Yours and Jesse’s both. I was out of town on…personal business and only just retrieved them.” His voice sounded strained, and she wished she could see his expression.

“Look, if you’re headed up to the cabin to talk to Jesse, I can make it home alone from here.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Not much I can do in the dark, and I doubt there’s anything to find.” He let out a deep sigh. “I wish he’d contacted the FBI when I didn’t answer my phone.”

An owl swooped over their heads on silent wings. She flinched. “You know Jesse, stubborn to a fault.”

He grabbed her arm when she stumbled on a root, his hand circling her wrist in a hard grasp. “Kind of like you. I ought to arrest you for wandering around in the woods by yourself.”

Her back stiffened. “I tried to call you.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

She hesitated, feeling the black mood surrounding him, not at all certain she wanted to know the cause of it. Finally she spoke. “Is something wrong? No one else is missing, or—” Her throat closed on the words.

“No, nothing like that.” They stepped out of the woods into Dillon’s back yard. The rising moon cast a silvery light across his face, illuminating his tightly held lips and the jutting angle of his jaw. “I had a run in with Tricia’s ex. I can’t help thinking if that son of a bitch had treated her better, she wouldn’t have been so vulnerable. If he’d taken care of her like she deserved—” His voice cracked.

Brooke’s heart ached with sympathy. She wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed before stepping back. “You don’t know it would have made a difference.”

He cleared his throat. “Probably not. No man I know loves his wife more than Rod, and that freak still managed to get to Steph.”

She gave his arm a hard shake. “You’ll find her and Marnie before it’s too late. I truly believe that.”

“You’re right. We all need to keep a positive attitude. Sorry I’m in such a foul mood.” He stopped at the edge of her driveway. When the bushes rustled next to him, his hand went to his holstered weapon.

Brooke’s heart slammed against her chest. “It’s just Otis!”

He watched the dog shake off damp leaves. “So it is. I’d better go. Goodnight, Brooke.”

She stared after him as he walked toward his car, burying her fingers in the dog’s fur. After a long minute, she turned and headed into the house.

****

“Is this it?” Dillon asked, hefting the overnight bag sitting by the front door.

Brooke shrugged into her jacket, flipped up the faux fur collar, and smiled. “What can I say, I’m a light packer.”

“Thank God. Gail used to travel with an unbelievable amount of crap. She said she couldn’t live without it, even for a weekend.”

She followed him out onto the porch and pushed the dog through the door with her foot. “I’m sorry, Otis, but you have to stay home.” She shut the door and cringed when he howled from the other side.

“Wow, for a dog, he knows how to play the guilt card.”

“Most dogs do.” She laid a hand on his arm and felt the hard muscle twitch beneath the sleeve of his wool shirt. “You rarely mention your wife.”

He shrugged. “Going to see her parents brings back memories, both good and bad. It’s not that her folks and I don’t get along, but seeing me is a painful reminder of their loss. If it weren’t for Zack, we would have severed ties years ago.”

She waved at the boy leaning through the truck door. “I’m sure he means the world to them.”

“You would think, but he’s nothing like Gail in temperament. She was calm and poised, and Zack is—”

“Wild and crazy and delightful.”

“Exactly. I’m just happy they make an effort, and he loves these visits because they bring him gifts.”

“What six-year-old wouldn’t love that?”

He laughed. “Good point.”

The drive was never silent. Zack talked nonstop about the birdhouse he and Jesse were building, the litter of puppies his friend Brad’s dog had just produced, the stinky subtraction problems his teacher assigned for homework, and a list of possible presents his grandparents might bring him. By the time they reached Eureka, Brooke’s ears rang from the incessant chatter.

Dillon stopped in front of a neatly kept bungalow with a vacation rental sign posted in the yard. A dark blue sedan with a rental car sticker on the bumper was parked in the driveway. He turned and smiled at his son. “Ready to go?”

Eyes wide and luminous, he bit his trembling lower lip. “You’ll come get me tomorrow?”

“You know I will.” He covered the boy’s hand and squeezed it. “Hey, you always have a great time with your grandparents.”

Zack let out a long breath. “They plan fun stuff like going to the harbor to see the fishing boats. Once we went to the zoo.”

“I remember. I’m sure they have something special in mind for this visit, too. You can tell us all about it tomorrow night.”

After a pause, the boy nodded and opened the truck door. When Dillon unfastened his seatbelt, Brooke touched his sleeve. “Would it be best if I waited here?”

“It’s been five years since Gail died. They know I have a life.”

Her stomach lurched uncomfortably as she followed him up the walkway. His reasoning was logical, but she couldn’t help wondering if his in-laws felt the same way.

The front door opened, and a man and woman stepped out. He was tall, thin, and balding, his shoulders slightly stooped beneath a brown cardigan sweater. The top of the woman’s short, silver hair barely reached his chin, and her figure was comfortably round in a pair of gray slacks and a silky green blouse. They greeted their grandson with shaking smiles and tentative hugs.

Dillon clasped his father-in-law’s hand and dropped a brief kiss on his mother-in-law’s powdered cheek. He stepped back, planted his palm in the small of Brooke’s back, and urged her forward.

“Howard, Maryanne, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Brooke Wakefield. I’m sure you remember her grandmother, my neighbor June Ransome.”

“Of course we do. It’s nice to meet you, Brooke.” Howard’s grip was cool and firm when he shook her hand. His wife just smiled, her lips a tight line. “Please come in,” he said, holding the door wide.

“We can’t stay,” Dillon answered, “but thank you.” He reached out and ruffled his son’s hair. “Promise you’ll behave.”

Zack screwed up his face and huffed out a sigh. “I already said I would about a million times.”

“How could I forget?”

“You’re absent-minded sometimes.”

Howard laughed and dropped a hand on his grandson’s shoulder. “That’s what happens when you get old.” His gaze rose and lingered on Brooke for a moment. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Dillon nodded. “Have a good time.”

With a last smile at Zack, Brooke followed Dillon back to the truck. As they pulled away from the curb, Maryanne ushered the boy through the door and shut it behind him. She glanced over and noted the hard angle of Dillon’s jaw.

“Is it difficult leaving him?”

He let out a sigh. “It shouldn’t be. He spends the night with Jesse all the time, but this is different.” He shrugged. “I feel separated by more than just a few miles.”

She squeezed his arm. “They seem like nice people.”

“They are. He’ll be fine.” He smiled, a long, lazy look that heated his eyes. “The day is ours. What would you like to do?”

She could only think of one thing. Her heart rate quickened, and her voice came out in a breathless quaver. “You choose.”

“Lunch first. I suddenly have quite an appetite.”

They ate at the Samoa Cookhouse, a historic, family style restaurant near the harbor. Dillon packed away soup, salad, bread, a platter full of chicken, and a huge wedge of apple pie. Brooke stared at him, her plate only half empty. “How can you move after eating all that?”

He wiggled his brows. “I intend to work it off this afternoon.”

Her cheeks heated, and she glanced sideways at the family occupying the other end of the table. They were engrossed in their own conversation.

“We’d better get busy, then. You have at least a couple thousand calories to burn.”

His eyes glowed. “Are you finished?”

“I couldn’t eat another bite.”

He stood and pulled back her chair. At the front counter, he paid the bill, then ushered her through the door with a hand at the small of her back. “I booked a room at a bed and breakfast in Old Town. I hope that’s okay with you.”

She paused to look up at him, squinting into the afternoon sun. “Sounds perfect. Maybe I can steal a few of their decorating ideas.”

Stopping beside the passenger door of the truck, he tossed the keys from one hand to the other. “I’m not assuming anything, Brooke. We can get a second room if you want your own space.”

She waited until he met her gaze to speak, his unexpected awkwardness putting her at ease. “I don’t.”

A smile stretched slowly across his face, setting her heart thumping. “Good.” He opened the truck door. “It’s a little early, but maybe they’ll let us check in.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

The drive to the bed and breakfast took only a few minutes. Dillon parked in a small lot adjacent to a pale pink Victorian house with white trim. After he hefted their bags from the back of the truck, she followed him up the brick walkway to a wraparound porch. Calico cushions accented white wicker furniture, and lace curtains hung in the windows. Charming and romantic were the words that sprang to mind as she opened the front door. He set their bags on the shining hardwood floor of the entry and smiled at her in a way that lit a fire low in her belly.