Lone Wolfe Protector (15 page)

“Get the fuck away from her!”

The other man stared back. He seemed to be contemplating the words. For Maggie, time had slowed freakishly. Like they were all moving under water.

“Would you believe I never meant for it to happen?” Alan said, keeping the gun on Maggie, but looking at Koda with vacant eyes. “Would you believe me if I said that?”

“I don’t know.” Koda was breathing hard, his voice thick with fury. “I’m sure you didn’t mean for it to end like this.”

Alan smiled bitterly.

“Drop it now or I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

“I always liked you, Koda. You’re a smart guy. But not smart enough, apparently.”

Koda remained quiet. Sweat beaded at Maggie’s temples and dripped down her back. Across the room, Zane stood poised, looking from one man to the other.

“I’m the bad guy here,” Alan continued softly. “I get that. But there are other things going on. Right under your
fucking
nose. And you don’t even see it. Right under your nose. Too wrapped up in trying to be the Lone Ranger and babysitting your goddamn brother to see any of it.”

“Drop it, Alan.”

The other man smiled, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face. Drops of warm, sticky blood puddled on the floor, and the copper scent made her gag.

“You’re right. I didn’t want it to end this way. Of course I didn’t. You think I’m a fucking idiot? But that’s what happens when you have a compulsion, brother. At some point you end up acting on it.”

“Alan—”

“Fuck off, Koda.”

Maggie could hear the distant wail of sirens. They were coming. More of them.
God, hurry. Please.

Alan heard it, too. His lips stretched into a grimace. “You have to look
beyond,
my friend. You have to look beyond.”

He was raving mad. The hand holding the gun wavered now, and his face twitched abnormally.

“I’m the least of your worries,” Alan said. And then, before Maggie knew what happened, he’d turned the gun on himself. He opened his mouth and placed the barrel gently inside.

Maggie shut her eyes.

A shot reverberated through the room. It was too much. She began sinking into blessed darkness.

“Are you hurt, baby? Stay with me.” Koda’s arms wrapped around her like a blanket. His sweet breath touched her brow, warmed her briefly, but she was so cold. “Don’t leave me, Maggie. I love you. I need you to stay with me. I’ll take care of—”

She fought the darkness, but it was just too much.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Koda sat in the parlor of the Inn, working on his third cup of coffee. God, he was sick of coffee. Grimacing, he set it down. It was cold and tasted like sludge, but he was anxious to be doing something with his hands other than twisting them.

It was two in the morning, and they had just taken Alan’s body away. It had been wrapped in a shroud-like black bag and Koda had to fight being sick as he’d looked on. Maggie and Zane had been questioned extensively in the next room, more to try and gain information about Alan McCay than anything else.

Koda leaned forward and put his head in his hands. In a state of shock for the last few hours, all he’d been able to picture was Alan as he’d been in high school. So likeable, with that shock of brown hair always falling in his eyes. How had this boy who had been loved by so many, who’d had the world at his feet with a successful career and more friends than he’d been able to count, turned out this way?

“I know it’s hard to accept, Koda,” Ara had said after bringing him the coffee in a chipped white mug. “But he’s probably always struggled with this. And you can’t blame yourself for not seeing it. None of us did… None of us,” she repeated, rubbing his back briefly before leaving him alone in front of the fire.

Now, here he sat. He’d been through the initial debriefing, but was bracing himself for more in the days to come. Much, much more. There would be extensive questions and scrutiny by many. From OSP and other agencies, to the public, about how this man could have held such a trusted position. And for so long.

From what Maggie had said, crying and mostly inconsolable for the first half hour, was that Alan had hinted he’d been responsible for the most recent murder, and probably the attack on Candi as well. But she couldn’t shake what he’d said about Aimee.

“He said he didn’t do it,” she’d sobbed. “He said someone else did.”

In the end, she agreed that nothing but time would tell. He was a liar and had been for a good part of his life. He’d deceived his family, his closest friends, his employer. He’d known tonight that the end was near, and was quite possibly planting a seed of doubt, one that would grow over time, long past when he was gone, and would continue to make Maggie’s life miserable. Filled with questions and pain. He might have liked the thought of that, Koda had told her. God knew he’d been horribly demented.

They were going to be looking into every single unsolved disappearance in this part of the state, going back to the time Alan had been in junior high. There was no telling what he’d been capable of, even that young. Koda knew that the dusty mysteries surrounding these woods would now be a wide-open book. And who could tell for sure… Maybe they’d solve some, maybe they wouldn’t. But knowing what they did now, they had to try.

Koda rubbed the back of his neck and stared into the popping fire. Jim had just stoked it, coming in quiet as a whisper and nodding as he left. It was a silent show of support that Koda was grateful for. The fact that he’d almost lost Maggie tonight was something he still struggled with. It’d only taken a lifetime to find her. A few more weeks to fall in love. And that’s what he’d gone and done, wasn’t it?

He loved her. How effortlessly that had happened, almost without him realizing it. But when he reached for her earlier and pulled her close, he recognized something else that had grown inside him like a crystal. It was strong. Almost as strong as the love he felt for her.

It was the overpowering fear of losing her. And he instantly understood why she’d refused to let Aimee go all this time. If Maggie had been taken from him like that, he wouldn’t have given up either. He would have searched the planet to bring her back, no matter what the cost.

He blinked at the fire, so hot it stung his eyes. The realization that he’d almost lost Zane as well, was enough to make him want to cry. And he hadn’t cried since he’d been a kid. He’d come back to the Inn that night with his gun drawn, barreling up the stairs, half thinking it was his own brother he was about to shoot.
Sweet Jesus.

Now, there was a terrible, lingering guilt for suspecting Zane. But worse, was knowing that his brother could easily have died tonight. The events of the last few weeks were just something he was going to have to give himself time to work through. But he knew without a doubt, that there’d never be another second where he’d be anything less than proud of his wild, reckless little brother.

Sure, he had some secrets.

But when it comes right down to it, don’t we all?

Koda rose, his knees cracking as if he were eighty years old. He walked toward the staircase where Ara hovered nearby. He paused to give her a reassuring hug before climbing the stairs to the only place on earth he really wanted to be. By Maggie’s side.

Maggie lay still in the crook of Koda’s arm, listening to him breathe. His chest rose slightly, and she watched, comforted by the simplicity of it. Rising, then falling again. Over and over. It was a peaceful certainty, something she could count on from one second to the next. His skin was as dark and smooth as an acorn, catching the light from the full moon in the window.

She glanced up, marveling at the frosty glow it cast over the room. The beauty in which it hung there, yet another certainty. No matter what happened on this earth, the moon would keep circling it, keep rising and falling until the end of time.

Maggie sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Koda. He breathed in sharply, then turned into the pillow and relaxed again. She sat looking at him for a long moment. They hadn’t made love tonight. He’d come to her and held her while she’d cried, the shock slowly giving way to a dull acceptance that had settled itself over her heart. She knew now she may never know what happened to Aimee. And that was just something she was going to have to live with.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked to the window, tilting her head back to take in the moon. It had been full all those months ago, too. The night that she had made the fateful decision to stop in Wolfe Creek, it had been full and round in the night sky, the fog seeming to give it a wide, respectful berth. It had shown with complete perfection through the evergreens above.
A timber moon.
She hadn’t given it much thought then. But now standing here, looking up, she knew she’d never be the same.

She blinked at its loveliness, and before she knew what she was doing, reached for her sweatshirt and boots, and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Very soon, it would be dawn. Another day would be born and another night would die, leaving her forever and ever. There would be more moons, yes. But this one, the one that had woken her so gently by peeking into her window, this one would be gone. And all of a sudden, she didn’t want to miss another second of beauty.

She padded down the stairs, thinking as she so often did, of that night. Of the moon and the chill of the air.

I can’t just leave,
she’d said.

You can,
the trooper had replied.
And you will. There’s nothing you can do tonight. We’ll find her, but you have to let us do our job. Can you do that?

She’d nodded, looking at the weathered sign across the street. The one flanked by the tall pines. Always the pines…

She’d looked back at the trooper, crying, cold, miserable, and her eyes had settled on his name tag. It was a little crooked, as if he’d put it on in afterthought.
McCay,
it had said.

Maggie pulled on her boots now, and shrugged into the sweatshirt.
He’d been there all along
. She imagined him that night, before she’d ever laid eyes on him. Had he been waiting in the shadows? If so, he would have been camouflaged perfectly, disguised as good, but masking a great evil.

She opened the front door and took in a breath, the frigid night air filling up her lungs. Burying her fists inside the sweatshirt pocket, she walked down the steps and into the yard bathed in silver-blue light. Her breath formed clouds of microscopic crystals as she tipped her head back to look at the stars.

Beyond the whitewashed picket fence where the gate hung open, beyond the pile of half-chopped wood, sat the dark expanse of the forest. The trees towered over her, their branches crisscrossing above. Small winged things fluttered in the canopies, and a larger animal, a squirrel maybe, hopped from one branch to the next sending a pinecone tumbling a few feet away.

Maggie stayed very still, concentrating on her breathing, focused on the purity of the moment. The calm that followed was so complete, that she found herself swaying on her feet, a peacefulness seeping into her muscles and bones, the likes of which she hadn’t felt for over a year. And then she felt something else. She knew without doubt that she was being watched.

Shivering, Maggie turned, expecting to see Koda coming around the corner, a troubled look on his face, his hair messy from sleep. But there was nothing. Only the darkness and empty expanse of the yard. The delicate frost covering the grass was undisturbed except for her own footsteps.

Beyond the gate, a twig snapped. And then another. Maggie squinted into the line of trees and took a tentative step back. The calm that had covered her just a moment ago took flight and disappeared into the darkness. Another twig broke, followed by the distinctive
crunch
of pine needles underfoot.

“Who’s there?” she said, for some reason thinking of Zane, so casually sure of himself. How he’d somehow known she was in danger last night and had come to her room at precisely the right moment. She’d been so scared of him. So sure he was hiding something.

“Who is it?” she repeated, surprised to find herself unafraid now.

The mystical house that cast its shadow over the yard where she stood, seemed to be breathing. Alive. She felt safe inside the confines of the picket fence, as if it was an arm that shielded her from everything that could hurt her. It felt strange, like she was outside her own body, watching herself unfold. The same way she’d felt that night standing at her window, looking down into the yard. When she’d seen the animal crouching at the gate.

Maggie looked up and saw a figure lurking at the edge of the trees. She stiffened, not speaking, knowing she wouldn’t be able to if she tried. This was no animal. The distinct, willowy outline belonged to that of a person. A woman, whose halo of hair was visible even if her face was not.

The sensation of floating intensified, until Maggie had to reach out, grounding herself against a nearby stump. Her hand slipped down the damp bark until her fingers found their hold. She stared at the figure in the trees, unable to tell if this was an apparition or something real.

The woman stepped forward, out of the trees and onto the gravel on the other side of the fence. It crunched beneath a pair of soft, leather moccasins. The sound was real; it reverberated in Maggie’s ears over and over again. She wore a denim jacket and jeans that hugged her hips and thighs.

Maggie stumbled back, bumping her elbow on the stump. Her funny bone tingled, and she cradled it without thinking.

“Who…?” she began, but her voice trailed off, the words no longer relevant. Her mouth hung open, a fevered pulse building at her temples. She already knew who. Maybe a part of her had known all along. Felt it all along.

“Aimee?”

The name hung in the air, thick and sweet as honey. The woman stepped forward into the porch light. Her hair was long, tangled, but painfully lovely. Dark blond curls as wild as the girl herself. Eyes as black as onyx burned from within a face that was pale and drawn.

Maggie cried out, clutching her chest with both hands, feeling that for an instant, her heart might ram through. The fact that Aimee had always had cornflower-blue eyes didn’t matter. Not really.

Standing within a few feet, separated only by a waist-high fence, was her friend. Alive.
Alive.
Aimee’s breath formed clouds on the freezing air, her dirty hands twisting together in front of her, Maggie lurched forward with her arms outstretched.

When she got to the gate, Aimee stepped through, just as beautiful as Maggie remembered. But different. She wasn’t carrying herself the same. Before she reached her friend, Aimee Marie Styles, missing for exactly one year and eight days, Maggie knew what it was. It was the way she walked. The way she moved with a quiet, dignified grace. The Aimee that Maggie had known, had knocked lamps over on a regular basis. Tripped over bumps on the sidewalk, laughed at her own clumsiness.

This Aimee, the one moving toward her now, was stunning and grave. Taller than she’d remembered. Different. And yet the same, too.

Trembling, Maggie staggered forward and wrapped her arms around her friend. Aimee hugged her back, and they stood there for a minute, crying into each other’s hair. Aimee was solid, her arms strong and lean. Her whole body was muscled in a way that nibbled at Maggie’s subconscious. She filed it away as yet another difference. Something to be mulled over later when the shock had worn off. Her hair smelled like the woods, her ear warm against Maggie’s cheek.

Aimee finally pulled away, looking uneasily toward the house. “Walk with me,” she said.