Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1) (18 page)

Anderson fingered the ropes. “She’s one brave lady.”

“Damn right she is. Now. Where’s the sledgehammer she hit him with?” Boone asked, poking around the porch. “There. On the woodpile.”

Anderson followed his gaze. “That’s not where Portia left it. She said she just dropped it right here.”

“Which means…he’s probably alive.” Boone’s face pulled into a worried frown.

“Let’s check out the cabin,” Anderson said.

Boone pushed on the door, frowning when he noticed the padlock. “It’s locked.”

“Not for long.” Anderson smashed the lock once with the butt of his rifle, then glanced over his shoulder at Boone. “What?”

Boone smiled. “Nothin’, go right ahead. You just beat me to it.”

After four more tries, the lock hasp broke away, and the door swung open.

Boone entered first. “Let’s just do a quick check, and get out of here.”

The interior matched Portia’s description, right down to the pegboard on the wall. Boone headed over to it, picking up a crumpled piece of newspaper that had landed in one corner of the room. He unfurled it and saw Portia’s face staring up at him. “Guess she missed this one when she ripped all those clippings off the board.”

Anderson opened all the cupboards and refrigerator. “No food left, just a little salt, vinegar, and ketchup.” He motioned toward the bedroom, taking pictures as he went on his cell phone. “Look at this.” He opened the closet door. “Empty.”

Boone noticed the ropes on the headboard and cringed. “That’s where he restrained her, man.” His voice caught, and anger surged through him.
“Bastard.”

Anderson stood on his toes and reached to the very back of the closet shelf. “What’s this?” He pulled a white object from the top and blew dust off it. “Guess he left one of his toys behind.”

Boone stared at the nurse’s cap. “Jesus. What a sicko.” When Anderson started to put it back, he held up one hand. “Wait. Is that a hair on that bobby pin?”

Anderson squinted at it, holding it up in the light. “Crap. You’re right. And it’s reddish. Might be Portia’s.”

“Let’s take a picture of where we found it and bag it. Just in case we need some kind of DNA proof or something.”

“Well, we’ve probably destroyed the evidence by messing with it already, but hell, you and I could testify to where we found it, right?”

“Right.”

Anderson took a few more pictures inside and out, then checked his cell phone. “No signal. And crap, it’s getting late.”

They left the cabin, closing the door as best as they could by tying one of the ropes to the handle and then to the chair arm beside it. “At least the animals won’t get in,” Boone said, leading the way back to the Jeep. “Come on. We’ve gotta get a signal and warn Dirk. If Murphy’s not here, then he’s gotta be alive. And if he’s alive…”

“He could be in Vermont.” Anderson nodded. “Let’s hurry. We need to get home.”

“Amen to that,” Boone said, jumping into the Jeep. He pounded the roof with one hand. “Move it, Jeeves. We’ve got a job to do.”

***

When they reached the Baraboo town limits, Boone’s phone suddenly showed three bars. He dialed the Lamont’s home number, and waited while it rang several times.

“Hello?” Dirk answered warily, then when he recognized Boone’s voice, he choked with relief. “Oh, thank God it’s you. We’ve been getting calls all afternoon from reporters. Somebody leaked that she’s home.”

“Damn,” Boone said, rolling up his window to cut down on the road noise. “Listen. We found the cabin.”

“And?”

“And he wasn’t there. Nothing on the porch except the ropes he was tied with. And nothing inside. He took the collection of uniforms. No food. Looks pretty deserted, Dirk.”

“What about the sledgehammer? Was there blood on it?”

“We didn’t check, but he must’ve moved it back to the wood pile, because it wasn’t where she left it. He’s either alive, or someone found him and kept it quiet.”

Dirk sighed. “He’s alive all right. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Listen, we’re heading home. Should get there by morning. Tell my brother to hang tight and plan on staying the night, okay? We might need an extra gun there if he shows up.”

Dirk agreed. “He’s a good boy, your brother. Nice kid.”

“More important, he’s a helluva shot, Dirk. I trust his hand-eye coordination better ’n my own.”

“Nice to know. He’s been out back, target practicing on cans all afternoon.”

“Good. I want anyone who’s watching to be worried about the manpower, or gun power, I should say. I don’t want him to think Portia will be an easy mark.”

“Good point.”

Anderson spoke up. “Tell him to keep all the lights on in the house and barn. And to alert the cops. I think it’s safe enough now to fill them in on the details, since she unfortunately didn’t kill the creep.”

Boone switched the phone to his other ear. “Did you hear that, Dirk?”

“Got it. We’re on it. Um, there’s somebody here who wants to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Boone said, expecting it to be his brother. When Portia came on the phone, it took him off guard.

“Boone?” she said, hesitantly at first. “Are you there?”

“Right here,” he said, surprised at the intensity of the emotion flaring through him. “It’s good to hear your voice, Peaches.”

“You, too. Are you okay?”

“We’re fine, hon. And I’m sure you heard your dad, but we didn’t find Murphy. No body. And it looks like somebody cleaned out the house. Everything’s gone and it was locked up.”

“Oh, God. That means…”

“He’s either done a runner, or he’s coming after you. Either way, we’ll find him. And when we do,” he said softly, “I’m gonna kick his sorry ass.”

A surprised laugh escaped her lips. “Boone!”

“I mean it. I can’t tell you how pissed I am at this guy. I really want a shot at him.”

She was silent for a moment. “Um. Thank you. But you might have to wait in line behind me. I want the first punch.”

“Good for you,” he said with a grin. “You keep up that attitude, and we’ll bring him down. Guaranteed.”

They hung up, and Boone focused on the striped highway that stretched for miles ahead of them.

By sunrise, we’ll be home again.

And good luck to anyone who tried to hurt Portia. As God was his witness, he wouldn’t let that happen, ever again.

Chapter 42

 
A
nderson and Boone pulled into the barnyard and parked beside Dirk’s pickup. The place was surprisingly quiet, except for the muted sound of dogs barking in the house.

“That’s weird,” Anderson said. “I thought I’d get a big hug from Grace.”

“Or maybe a slap,” Boone said. “Remember, you didn’t tell her you were going until after we left.”

“True,” he said.

They lifted their backpacks out of the car and headed up the porch steps.

Although he’d felt his heart creeping into to his throat with every mile that passed, Boone had just called Dirk ten minutes ago, and knew everything was fine. No need to be nervous. He’d had enough of that on the long ride home, switching off driving and sleeping every three hours, wondering where Murphy was, and picturing him hiding out in the woods near Bittersweet Hollow.

I need to stop my mind from going into overdrive. This is ridiculous.

With an inner sigh of relief, Boone saw Dirk open the kitchen door and wave to them.

Boomer and Cupcake tumbled down the steps, raced toward them, and jumped up on them, whining and kissing the men’s hands. Cupcake even did her circus dance for them, making Anderson laugh.

“She missed us, I guess,” he said.

Boone crouched down and gave them both some attention, then straightened and headed for the porch.

“Welcome back, men.”

“Thanks, Dirk.” After a round of hugging and backslapping, Boone followed Anderson and Dirk into the living room, where the whole family waited, including his brother.

Ned stepped up and pulled him into a quick hug. “All’s quiet on the home front.”

Boone nodded surreptitiously toward Portia. “Everyone okay?”

Ned shrugged and headed for the coffee pot. “Best as can be expected. Don’t think they’ve been sleeping much. Everyone’s kinda jumpy.” He poured a cup and offered it to Boone. “Want some?”

Boone passed. “No thanks, I’m all coffee’d out.”

Grace flew down the stairs and jumped into Anderson’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. “You son of a gun!” she screamed, hugging him. “I’m really mad at you.” She alternately kissed him and pounded his chest.

He hugged her back, laughing. “Well, I’m glad to see you, too.”

Portia stood in the corner by the computer, a shy smile on her face.

Boone headed for her side. “Hey, Portia.”

She offered a hand to him, an action that made his heart pound like a bull’s hooves thundering toward his matador. He took her hand in his, pressed it, and realized she must’ve had a breakthrough. She no longer seemed to fear him, or shrink from his touch.

“Hi, Boone.”

They stood awkwardly for a minute, before Boone realized he still held her hand in his. “Oh, s-sorry.” He felt like a schoolboy, flushing and stammering.

“Want to go see the horses?” she asked. “I haven’t been given much free rein since you left. Too hard to protect all us lil’ women folk, you know?”

She actually smiled, and he noticed a light in her eyes that had been missing before.

“That’d be great,” he said. “Let me hit the facilities, then get my gun from the truck, just in case.”

“Okay. I’ll cut up some apples. Meet you on the porch?”

Minutes later, side by side, with the rifle tucked under his left arm, they wandered into the barn.

“Looks like Pookie is ready to pop,” she said, motioning to the pregnant steel gray mare nosing into her hay bag.

“She’s due any day now,” Boone said.

Portia clucked to Pookie, who came to the door and pushed against her chest. “Oh, you’re just a beggar, you are.” She fished in her pockets for the apple she’d diced before they came out. “Here you go, honey.”

The horse chomped on the apple pieces and asked for more by gently pushing her head against Portia.

“Okay, okay. I guess you’re eating for two. You deserve seconds.”

“By the way, what’s Pookie’s official name again?” he asked.

“Bittersweet Silver Sun Frosty,” she said. “But that was too much of a mouthful. So we nicknamed her Pookie.”

“That’s right.” He smiled. “Fits her.”

The horse’s dappled gray coat glowed in the sun streaming through her stall door. Boone watched Portia work her magic with the mare, whispering, and combing her fingers through Pookie’s black mane.

She really has a way with the animals.

He watched her, standing back to give her time with the mare, and his heart suddenly squeezed with affection. It dawned on him how much this woman meant to him, and how angry it made him that Murphy had just plucked her from their lives as if she were a flower to steal from someone’s garden.

How could he do that?

And how did Portia survive for two long years? She must be made of strong stuff. With a sudden gushing inner realization, it hit him.

I want to be with this woman. Forever.

I want to raise horses with her. Have a passel of kids. Surround ourselves with dogs and cats and rabbits and whatever else the kids wanted. Maybe some goats?

An involuntary laugh escaped him.

Portia glanced up from kissing Pookie on the muzzle. “What?”

He noticed today her hair seemed fuller, healthier. It glistened copper in the sun and fell on her shoulders in pretty waves.

“Boone?” she said. “What’s so funny? You look like you’re in a daze.”

He laughed again, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Uh. Yeah. I don’t know. For some reason I was picturing you and me and a barn full of animals.”

“We are in a barn full of animals,” she said with a grin. “What’s so funny about that?”

“No, I mean, all kinds. I pictured horses, rabbits, cats, and goats.”

“Goats?”

“Yeah. The kind with the floppy long ears. You know?”

She pursed her mouth for a minute. “Um, Nubians?”

“Yeah. I think that’s what they’re called. They’re pretty neat. What do you think of making goat cheese some day?”

“With you?” she asked, now quieter, seeming to withdraw a little.

“Only if you want to,” he said.

What the hell were they talking about? It almost had sounded like a proposal, and he sure as hell wouldn’t put this frail creature under that kind of pressure.

“I like goat cheese,” she said, turning back to the mare.

“Well, maybe some day we can try it,” he said, relieved that she hadn’t gone all spooky on him again. “It could be fun.”

“Right,” she said, backing up. “Let’s go check on Mirage. I’ll bet he missed us.”

Chapter 43

W
hen they came in from the barn, Portia watched Boone interacting with her family. There was something about his easy smile, the way he grabbed her father and his brother in big bear hugs, and how he approached her so gently, as if she were a skittish colt, that made her heart and mind soften.

She realized with a start that in spite of all the terror of the past two years, in spite of her trauma, her fears, her debilitating mental state, she was falling for him. That school girl crush of long ago had blossomed, grown, and now it felt real. It felt…possible.

He crouched on the ground with both dogs making a fuss over him, licking his hands and face, and she really felt the tug of a grin trying to break through.

It felt simply amazing, that urge to smile—that hint of happiness. She’d missed it for so long, she barely recognized the sensations it stirred up in her.  

A few yards away, Grace sat on Anderson’s lap on the couch, kissing him nonstop.

Portia shook her head and almost laughed out loud.
Where does she think she is, up at Make-out Point?

Occasionally her sister’s eyes would flit to Boone and back as she wiggled rather provocatively on Anderson’s legs.