Walk Through the Fire (Finley Creek Book 10)

by Calle J. Brookes

  Now it was Carl’s job to see to it that she stayed safe until she could return to Turner. Maybe it was old-fashioned of him, but he was going to see to it that the girl stayed as safe as he possibly could.

  Turner had let it slip that she wasn’t close to her mother and had no father in the picture to speak of. Had told Carl that she hadn’t had much family at all. It made Carl even more protective.

  Annie was too damned young to be so alone.

  “Annie, time to wake up. We’re here.”

  Carl shot a quick look around the front of the house. Everything looked exactly as he’d left it. He’d take Annie inside and keep her safe until Turner came for her. It was the least he could do for the two of them.

  119

  “Dynamite.” The fire chief told Turner, flatly, shortly after Elliot had tracked him down on scene. Turner just stood, staring at the flames as they ate the home he had built for himself. Elliot ran over the particulars with the chief. “Unless you’ve been landscaping the hard way, the fire will be listed as arson.”

  “Send the details to Jake MacNamara and Daniel McKellen,” Elliot gave the order. He kept one eye on Turner, who just stood staring at what remained of the house he had taken such pride in. All the Barratt men built homes in the county somewhere. Mel had told him once that it was a matter of pride.

  That Barratts built Finley Creek and Barratt County. It was a matter of family honor.

  That Turner’s home had just been destroyed told him one thing—this was getting far too damned personal. Someone wasn’t just targeting the mayor—they were striking Turner personally.

  Someone who knew him well enough to know just where to strike.

  Attempted murder. Arson. What was next? Elliot’s mind ran over the possibilities. The who.

  Dennis Lee Arnold would have had the connections to do this. And his people would have the know-how.

  Elliot fought the sense of unease, as he looked at Turner. “Who would have a personal vendetta against you? Would it be Dennis Lee?”

  Turner shook his head. “We’ve had a few arguments, but nothing substantial. I’ve fought with Jennifer Henedy more than I’ve fought with him.”

  Jake MacNamara jogged up behind them. “I came as soon as I heard what happened. Where’s Annie?”

  “She’s with Carl,” Turner answered. “I…figured that was the safest option tonight. She’s going to stay with Carl until someone goes and gets her.”

  “Just where exactly does Carl Buchanan live?” Jake asked. “I’ll go get her myself. Keep her with me.”

  “9694 Farm Road 450,” Turner said distractedly. Elliot got it. The flames—there would be nothing left for Turner. Nothing. “Three miles from here.”

  “Doesn’t Arnold live out near there?” Jake asked, sending Elliot a significant look.

  “Close.”

  “I think we need to go have a talk with every council member out there tonight,” Elliot said, an idea forming. “How do you feel about dying for a few hours, Barratt?”

  Turner tuned back in to look at him. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Easy. We’re going to see who has the most joy out of your demise.” Elliot shot the younger man a look. Turner Barratt had balls of steel. The last few months had proven that and won Turner Elliot’s respect. Turner hadn’t backed down from anything—including Mother Nature.

  Much like his cousins Houghton and Clay, there was nothing soft about this Barratt. Nor was there anything soft about his brother, who stood nearby, offering a solid wall of support. But Turner had taken more hits than a man needed to in one night. “Go get your girl. Take her back to the Barratt Ranch, or to Mel and Houghton’s. Get some rest. See that she gets some rest. We’ll let you know what we find out tonight. There is nothing more you can do here. Time to let the TSP do the job it was meant to.”

  Elliot sent Jake a look. “You’ll give him a ride, won’t you?”

  It wasn’t a request. All three men knew it.

  120

  Dennis Lee was getting beyond impatient. He’d expected the man to be alone. Instead, there was obviously a woman there with him. He knew exactly who she was, too.

  Little Annie Gaines, the nurse who had become the sweetheart of the media, thanks to the mayor. Dennis Lee had followed the Cinderella story with interest himself.

  Information was valuable after all.

  How romantic, they’d said. Just that morning, an article had spouted rumors that the mayor had moved the woman into his house with her three children. One happy little family.

  Photos of the mayor and three little blond boys had circulated with it.

  Perfection.

  Dennis Lee sneered.

  He doubted she knew what had happened tonight. Otherwise she wouldn’t be sitting there, so pretty, as she and Carl talked about the boy Turner Barratt had been. Just from her tone, Dennis Lee got it. The girl was head over heels in love with Turner Barratt. Pity.

  Why she was with Carl, though, Dennis Lee hadn’t figured that out yet. He stayed where he was, in the den just off the main parlor, and listened.

  There would be time enough for Carl after little Annie Gaines went back to where she came from.

  Just as he had that thought, Carl stood. There was a coffee mug in his hand.

  Dennis Lee fingered the .38 he’d stolen from his own father when he’d been seventeen. He’d snuck back into the house and used this very gun to put a bullet through the old man’s eyes before he’d shot Carl’s mother, enjoying every second of it.

  Then he’d stolen every bit of cash and jewelry in the place.

  He’d crept into the room he’d once shared with Carl and stood for the longest time over the four-year-old little girl’s bed. Just watching her. Her hair had been as golden as his. She’d cuddled a teddy bear that had once been Carl’s.

  Dennis Lee had turned and walked away before he’d done something he’d regretted. He’d watched over his sister from afar ever since.

  His stepbrother stepped closer. Dennis Lee stood. It was now or never. And he’d never been much of a patient man.

  “Hello, Carl.”

  He raised the gun.

  And fired.

  121

  Annie screamed.

  “Don’t move, girl.” Dennis Lee Arnold stepped out of the den, a gun in his hand. A gun pointed right at her. “I’m sorry to have to do this. I had intended to wait until my brother was alone.”

  “Your brother?” she asked stupidly. She looked at Carl. He was lying on the floor, unmoving. His eyes were open. He was looking around, his eyes all that he was moving.

  But he wasn’t dead yet.

  Just what that meant for her, she didn’t have a clue.

  Annie forced herself not to panic. Thoughts of the boys, of Izzie and Nikkie Jean, and Turner…all went right through her head. She couldn’t die tonight. She just couldn’t.

  She wasn’t about to let Carl die tonight, either.

  Annie lowered herself to the floor, next to Carl. He was breathing, shallow raspy breaths. “It’ll be ok, Carl. I promise.” She looked around for something to stem the flow of blood. There was nothing, except a throw pillow that had gotten kicked to the floor from a big, cushy armchair. She pressed it against the entry wound. She wouldn’t be able to turn him over to check for an exit.

  Not without help.

  Annie doubted Councilman Arnold would be much help for anything.

  “Get away from him. He deserves to die. Just like I killed his mother almost fifty years ago.”

  “You!” Carl gasped out. “You killed them. I always knew. Never could prove—”

  “Of course, I did. I promised you I would, didn’t I?”

  “Monster…he was right…throw you out back then.”

  “Shhh, Carl. You need to conserve your strength. Until help gets here.” Turner would come. She knew that. Turner would come for them.

  Just when that would be, she had no clue. He had already texted. He was on his way.
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  Turner was on his way.

  “Get away from him. No need to sully your hands on the likes of Carl Buchanan, Nurse Annie. He isn’t long for this world anyway.” A hard hand wrapped around her elbow and yanked Annie to her feet.

  She couldn’t help it.

  Annie screamed.

  And screamed again when he raised the gun and fired once more.

  122

  The nurse bit back a sob as Dennis Lee pulled her up from the hardwood floor. “Get up. We are moving.”

  He didn’t know where he was going to take her, but he’d noticed what she apparently hadn’t.

  There were headlights in the drive.

  “She’s never hurt you, Dennis Lee. Let her go,” Carl rasped. Somehow, he’d rolled himself into their path, even with the two holes in his body.

  Of course, he had. He was Carl. Perfect, absolutely fucking perfect Carl.

  Dennis Lee never had lived up to that perfection. Not from the time he was ten and his father had married Carl’s mother.

  Carl had always been bigger than Dennis Lee. Stronger. Even now, at sixty-two, he was bigger and stronger.

  Dennis Lee had always hated that. Bigger, stronger, better looking, richer. People loved him, and he could do no wrong. Everyone loved Carl Buchanan.

  Carl had had everything from the very beginning. Now…now he had Jenny. Dennis Lee’s Jenny.

  “It doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t. The minute Carl had seen him, the old fool had signed her fate. “She shouldn’t have been here. What’s done is done.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish? This girl has nothing to do with you and me, or you and Turner. Not to mention, she’s friends with the chief of police. His wife is her good friend. You think Elliot Marshall will give up looking for her? Or looking for someone who hurt her?”

  “Probably not.” Dennis Lee looked at her, really looked at her. Just a girl. Big blue eyes. Pity. She really was a sweet-looking thing. “Barratt should have taken better care of his girl. Then this wouldn’t be happening.”

  “This isn’t Turner’s fault,” she practically hissed it at him. Like a little kitten just learning she had claws. Dennis Lee fought the urge to pat her on the head. He’d had a cat with fur the same color as the girl’s hair once.

  He’d hated that cat. He’d strangled it when it had bitten him one night.

  “Oh? Damned Barratt kept meddling in things that wasn’t his business.”

  “He was doing his job.” She yanked against his hand, but he wasn’t letting her go anywhere. Dennis Lee jerked her closer.

  She yelped. He loosened his hold a bit. He truly didn’t have anything against her. “This is just business.”

  “You’ve been stealing from the people you represented, haven’t you?” Carl asked, quietly.

  Damned perfect Carl; probably even made love quietly.

  That brought Jenny to mind.

  Dennis Lee jerked the woman closer.

  He had never been one to wait for anything. It was time to get this finished, get moving on. The only witnesses to what he’d been doing here today were the two in the room with him now. No time like the present. He’d take care of things, then slip out the basement exit before the people outside even realized he was there.

  His car was parked back far enough away. He’d just hoof it back to the car and be gone. No one would ever know.

  As long as he didn’t leave any witnesses.

  The girl first, before Dennis Lee slipped out the back into the storm. Nice, quick, humane. Merciful. He’d always considered himself to be a merciful person. Especially when someone hadn’t wronged him. “I…won’t drag this out. Not like that fool Paul did with Officer Royce.”

  The girl gasped again, her blue eyes wide and filled with fear. “That was you?”

  “In a way. I have people, girl, who do what I tell them. Favors, I call them. I know how to inspire loyalty.” He shot Carl a look filled with all the hatred he felt. “Unless someone steals what I have.”

  “I never stole anything from you,” Carl said, then coughed. How was the son-of-a-bastard still breathing, let alone talking? Of course, he was. He was Carl. “You made your choices, Dennis Lee. I told you that years ago. Let her go. You and I will talk. She has nothing to do with you.”

  “Any more than Jenny does?”

  “What on earth does Jennifer have to do with this?” Carl asked.

  The fool didn’t know. Of course, he didn’t know. Dennis Lee thought about it, thought about shoving the knowledge that he’d been in Jenny’s bed, too, down that asshole’s throat. Before he killed him again. “Everything. You’ve taken her from me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dennis Lee. I’ve not taken Jennifer anywhere, let alone from you.”

  “Bullshit and tail feathers. I know she’s been fucking you. In your damned bed. Hell, there’s no guarantee the little whore hasn’t been going from Wallace’s to yours, to mine—in any combination. Cold bitch. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Maybe it was the big, brown eyes, the way she seemed so needy. Or maybe it was the way she used her mouth. I wanted a woman who needed me. Apparently, so did you.”

  “Keep your mouth shut!”

  Well, so Carl did have a temper then. Interesting. Dennis Lee pulled the little nurse closer and snuggled her right against his chest. He rubbed the gun along her neck almost suggestively. “Oh, Carl, what am I going to do with you?”

  He couldn’t fire again. It would bring too much attention.

  There were men outside.

  Dennis Lee could see their outline in the porch light, right from the window by which he stood.

  Annie gasped and tried to twist away. He pulled her closer. He couldn’t help himself.

  He buried his face in her silky hair.

  She smelled nice.

  No doubt that bastard Barratt had enjoyed her in his own bed time and time again since the storm. Dennis Lee couldn’t blame him. Dennis Lee dropped a soft kiss against her hair. “Don’t worry, I will make it quick, honey. You don’t deserve to suffer. Not like Carl. He’s going to suffer for as long as I can make it happen.”

  123

  Carl tried not to look into her eyes as he fought the pain. The poor girl was terrified. Hell, so was he. He’d known from the time they were boys and his stepfather had thrown them both out onto the streets that there was something broken in the slightly younger Dennis Lee. Something that hadn’t cared at all about anyone.

  Carl had tried to take care of Dennis Lee, but it hadn’t happened.

  That broken piece of the other boy had led Carl to decide the world was a better place for him alone than with Dennis Lee attached to his side.

  It had hurt him, but back then, he’d been fully convinced. Dennis Lee was going to hurt someone someday. “Just let Annie go, Dennis Lee. She’s just a kid. Not even twenty-five yet, I don’t think. How much harm can she do?”

  “Quite a bit if she opens her mouth to the wrong person. Like the mayor, for instance.”

  Dennis Lee had an arm around Annie’s neck. She just stood there, looking at Carl sprawled on the floor, with terror on her face.

  He had to do something. This girl didn’t deserve this. He fought the pain as best he could. It wasn’t even the first bullet he’d ever taken.

  He’d served his country, after all.

  “Just let her go, Dennis Lee. Please. Just let her go.”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  The doorbell echoed throughout the house. Giving Carl hope.

  124

  Turner waited, but no one answered the door. He fought the impatience. He wanted to get to Annie and get her someplace where he could surround her with guards. Armed ones.

  His brother was going to meet him at the ranch. Trevor had agreed that he would stay with Annie no matter what. Even if that meant calling in favors to get Trevor permission to shadow her at the hospital as much as possible.

  Turner wasn’t about to let anything
happen to her. If he had his way, Trevor would be taking her to Mexico in the morning.

  Houghton had even more armed guards down there, plus the advantage of distance. She and the kids would be safe.

  That was all he wanted in the world.

  “Try again,” Jake said. He peered into the window. “The lights are on. And I see people moving around.”

  Turner pressed the doorbell.

  Nothing.

  He raised his fist and pounded for a moment. When that didn’t work, he pulled his keys from his pocket.

  “I have a key.”

  Jake pulled his gun from the holster. “I don’t like this. Buchanan knew we were coming to get her tonight. He should have met us at the damned door.”

  Turner had never known what it felt like to have his blood freeze before. But in that moment, knowing that she was in there… “I have to get to her.”

  “Hold your horses, lover boy. They could just be in another room.”

  Turner wasn’t entirely certain he like Jake MacNamara all that much.

  “Carl’s doorbell can wake the dead,” Turner said, just as headlights came down the drive behind them. “If there are people in there, they heard that.”

  Another car pulled in the long drive.

  “Who the hell is that?” Jake asked. He hadn’t put his gun away. That spoke volumes.

  “I don’t know.” Turner kept his eyes shielded as someone stepped from what he recognized as a TSP vehicle.

  “It’s Marshall,” Jake stepped toward the man. “Something else must have happened.”

  Elliot jogged up toward them.

  “What’s happened?” Turner demanded.

  “Callum just called. One of Daniel McKellan’s people just found Reggie Henedy, the son of Jennifer and Wallace Henedy, shot in his office. It doesn’t look good.” Elliot motioned toward the door. “He had a note on his desk stating he was supposed to meet Carl tonight at eleven.”