by Keri Hudson
Caleb put down the rifle and turned to Daniel. “Which one do you want, Daniel?”
But the teenager handed Caleb the paper. “Sorry, but you didn’t hit the star at all.”
“No,” Caleb said flatly, pointing at the clip. “See that little scrap of paper still attached to the clip? That’s the paper that counts, not this. Give it to me.” The teenager stood with a tilted head, confused, before turning to the clip and pulling out the little scrap of paper before handing it to Caleb. “You see a star on this paper?” The teenager shook his head and Caleb turned to Daniel. “The white one?”
Daniel shook his head. “Brown!”
Caleb turned to the teenager behind the counter, handing him the tiny scrap of shot-up paper. “The brown one, please.”
Abigail beamed at Caleb as Daniel took the big bear, barely able to carry it. Abigail carried it for him, leaning against Caleb in affectionate nuzzling as they walked on.
“Well done,” a familiar voice said from the crowd behind them. Caleb, Abigail, and Daniel turned to see Det. Paul Hume strolling up behind them, a smile on his bony face, brown curls tight against his angular head. “The BB gun, I mean.”
Caleb looked the high-ranking local cop over. “What else would you have meant?”
Hume glanced at Abigail, smiling but saying nothing. Instead, he looked down at Daniel. “Having fun?” Daniel only buried his face in Abigail’s side. Hume turned his attention to Caleb. “You’re staying in town, I suppose.”
Caleb just stared Hume down, letting no response be his only response. Hume huffed, as if he’d read the signals perfectly. Hume went on, “I hope you’re… at peace regarding your poor brother’s demise.”
Caleb nodded, sharing a glance with Abigail before returning his attention to Hume, who said, “You two seem to be getting along. That’s… that’s nice.”
Caleb looked the cop up and down, not having to say, That’s none of your business.
But Hume looked Caleb up and down too, taking a step forward and thrusting his chin in a vague act of general aggression. “You’re a vet, Iraq and Afghanistan.”
This told Caleb that the cop had been researching him, that he was a person of interest to the Fall River Police Department. And it told him that Hume knew he was dealing with an adversary not to be underestimated. But why Hume would consider him an adversary was what troubled Caleb, not any of the threatening postures the small-town cop might assume.
After a prolonged silence, Hume went on, “You’re not prone to PTSD, are you?”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder?”
“That’s right,” Hume answered. “Shooting at the wildlife the way you are, out in the countryside again. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” After another long pause, Hume went on, “You can get help. There are therapists, programs… not here, but in Boston, or… or anywhere else. Here in Fall River, we just don’t have that kind of capacity.”
Caleb broke a little smile. “Maybe the town leadership is lacking then.”
The two men stared each other down, and Abigail clearly picked up on it. She’d seen it before, Caleb knew, and she shared his suspicion of the dubious detective.
“Maybe a stricter law enforcement is what’s necessary,” Hume said, his eyes locked on Caleb’s.
“Do as you wish,” Caleb answered.
“I will, Mr. Kahr, you can be sure of that.” He stepped away, but not before nodding at Abigail. “Miss Sanderson,” he said before stepping away.
Caleb and Abigail watched him go, Caleb sighing. “Looks like you’ve got another admirer.”
“What? Me? No, Caleb, no.”
“Don’t underestimate your appeal, Abigail. Don’t you know how gorgeous you are? Men see you, and they’d give their left nut just to stand next to you for five minutes.”
Abigail seemed to give it some thought, shaking her head. “I… I don’t think about it.” And Caleb knew that she didn’t, and he knew why. It had everything to do with her experiences in those foster homes, where she had to have been the unwilling and unwitting recipient of the affections of boys and men with terrible intent and no safeguards.
“Shifters usually have human mates, Abigail.” The truth hovered between them. Caleb was a shifter himself, so it was impossible for Abigail to argue the point. And the fact that she was a nubile and fairly unguarded target gave the theory even more credence.
They wandered past a hotdog stand, and Caleb ordered them three chilidogs and sodas, Abigail setting the big stuffed bear down as they settled at a table to eat. The food was trashy but tasty, the tang of the mustard combining with the savory chili and the doughy bun for a satisfying sensation.
Caleb glanced down the street to see another familiar face, Animal Control officer Jane Baxter. She was watching them from across the street, her masculine face bent in a cheerless frown. Caleb glanced at Abigail, who looked over and caught sight of the lurking lesbian. Caleb looked back to see her fade back into the crowd, but a wordless glance between Caleb and Abigail told him that she saw the threat as much as he did. Daniel didn’t seem to notice, and that was just as well.
Caleb looked again at Daniel, no indication that the boy was a shifter at all. The theory seemed far-fetched, and Caleb turned his attention to the idea of his returning father. He’d be coming back without his wife, Caleb felt certain. And he could still have eyes on the pretty redhead living in his home; he might have had them even before disappearing from Armstrong House. And that disappearance was troubling for Caleb for a number of reasons, but not so troubling as his return.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jonathan Armstrong, the master of Armstrong House, was bloated in just about every respect. His belly was expanding with age and with luxury and consumption. His chin was swollen, his rugged face aging. But he was not a fat man, his barrel chest and thick arms and legs suggesting a man who had been formidable in his prime. His graying hair was close cropped, his neck thick under his square-shaped head.
He wore a suit, gray and square and fitting him well; Caleb knew it had been tailored, and looking around the big house and reflecting on the year-round staff, he didn’t doubt it. He had a rigid baring, stiff as he entered the house.
Daniel ran up to him as he stepped into the house, letting the Lyft driver handle his bags. Daniel extended his hand to Jonathan, who looked down at the boy with a kind of unspoken disgust. He extended his own hand and the two shook, more like business partners than father and son.
They didn’t share a word between them, Caleb and Abigail walking up behind the boy to welcome the great man back to his home.
Abigail said, “Master Armstrong, welcome back.”
He looked her up and down, and Caleb could immediately detect his desire for her. He was ready to chalk it up to a number of factors, but his first impulse was that the man was a rival for his mate even before his first word was spoken.
In a gruff baritone, he said, “Miss Sanderson, looking well. My boy seems in good hands.”
“Thanks to our new groundskeeper,” Abigail said, drawing Jonathan’s attention to Caleb. “Caleb Kahr, this is Jonathan Armstrong, master of Armstrong House.”
Jonathan extended his hand and Caleb shook it. “Your brother died here, I understand.”
“Is that what brought you back?”
Jonathan looked Caleb up and down, clearly understanding the reference. He answered, “There’s plenty of time for all that. I’m sorry for your loss, however.”
“As am I for yours,” Caleb said.
Abigail said to Jonathan, “We’ve had trouble with the wildlife… coywolves came around too.”
“Too?”
“A bear,” Abigail said, “that’s how Carl’s brother… um…”
“A bear?” Jonathan looked at Caleb again. “And how did you come to arrive here?”
“My brother… contacted me,” Caleb chose to say, easier than explaining the truth to a man who would undoubtedly be skeptical. “I came to help… too late.”
Jonathan nodded and looked Caleb up and down again. “I see. You’re a military man?”
“Three tours of duty, US Army, staff sergeant.”
“Really?” Jonathan broke a little grin. “I never had the privilege.”
Caleb looked around the mansion they were standing in, packed as it was with fancy furniture, ornate fixtures, and permanent staff. “I’m sure you were… otherwise engaged.”
The two men shared a tense silence before Edith approached and said to her employer, “Glad to have you aboard.”
Abigail said, “Caleb’s been great with Daniel too.”
That seemed to pique Jonathan’s interest. “Is that so?”
Abigail nodded. “He’s really come out of his shell.”
“Has he?”
The great man’s skepticism didn’t take Caleb by surprise, but it did alert his instincts. But any father would be concerned with his son’s best interests and would be skeptical of some strange man in his house. Caleb expected a grilling, and he knew he was going to get one. But it wasn’t a matter of what questions Jonathan would have for Caleb, but what questions Caleb already had for Jonathan.
That night Caleb was invited to dinner, and Caleb had little doubt as to why. The New York strip steaks were juicy and flavorful and caked with ground pepper. The baked potatoes were crisp on the outside, crusted with salt and olive oil, the insides fluffy and buttery. The garden salad was cool and colorful and crisp.
Jonathan sat at the head of the table, where Caleb had sat in his absence. There was a notable difference in the atmosphere around the table, the returned Jonathan Armstrong bringing a tension to the house that Caleb couldn’t ignore.
Jonathan said to Caleb, “Your brother never sat at the table with us.” Abigail glanced at Caleb, but said nothing. Jonathan went on, “I only allow Miss Sanderson here the privilege because she’s become so close to my son.”
Caleb observed the little glance Jonathan shot at Abigail, and Caleb knew her presence at the table had nothing to do with her relationship with Daniel, but a possible relationship between him and his lovely governess.
“I’m honored to be here,” Caleb said.
“Well, you’re a serviceman, after all.” Caleb knew there was more to it than that. The great man was feeling him out, assessing him as a risk or an asset and how much of either one. “And I do appreciate your good work here, and your loss. Your brother was… a very reserved fellow, withdrawn.” Caleb nodded; it was too easy to recall his brother as angry, festering with a brooding pall that carried over to anybody he was ever with. “I don’t think he would have sat at this table even if he’d been asked.”
“Was he?” Another long silence hovered over the table.
Caleb asked, “Your business in Europe, I hope we didn’t pull you away from anything.”
Jonathan glared at Caleb, Abigail and Daniel watching the tense exchange. Jonathan finally answered, “My business there was finished.”
Caleb asked, “And was it… successful?”
Another long stare from one man to the other answered Caleb’s question without words. Jonathan answered, “Success is a relative concept,” he said, stressing the term relative.
Abigail glanced at Caleb. She knew that the lie she’d been told about the late Mrs. Armstrong was complicated by the new revelations. And the fact that he came back alone made his current lies more dubious and more intriguing.
Daniel said, “I’m gonna ride on the mower tomorrow!”
Jonathan looked at the boy, long and hard. “Were you addressed?” Daniel looked down at his plate, posture slouching. He turned to Caleb. “You’ve been amusing my son in this fashion?”
Caleb coolly said, “Not yet. If you’d rather I don’t, I won’t. I didn’t see the harm in the boy having a little fun.”
“What about discipline, what about duty? Is that the way you carried yourself in-country?”
“I’m not in-country now,” Caleb calmly responded.
“You don’t know that,” Jonathan said. “You’re new to Armstrong House, new to New England, I’m guessing.”
“That’s right, up from Philly.”
“Well, this isn’t Philly,” Jonathan said, his voice an authoritative snap. The two men stared each other down, Abigail looking at each as if she were caught between them. “Around here, I make the rules.”
Caleb nodded, having no way or reason to defy him. But the men seemed on the opposite sides of a clash of wills, one that didn’t seem likely to abate.
After dinner, Abigail put Daniel to bed and Jonathan invited Caleb to have a brandy on the back porch. Rolling the Remy Martin in his palm to warm it, Jonathan looked out over the dark backyard and sighed.
“My family built this house,” Jonathan said, “created our fortune; there’s hardly a part of New England we didn’t have a hand in.”
Caleb nodded, taking a whiff of the brandy, brassy in his nostrils, the brandy warm on his tongue and hot in his belly. “You must be very proud.”
“I’m very protective,” Jonathan said, a hint of threat in his tone. “That’s why I’m talking to you now. You’ve protected this place, my son, and for that I’m grateful. Your brother served me well, kept to himself, gave his life to protect my family. I’m grateful for that too.”
“I’ll thank you on his behalf,” Caleb said, “and my own.”
Jonathan nodded and took another sip of brandy. “But I’ll tell you the same thing I told your brother; I’m in charge here. Do not think you can usurp me.”
“I don’t,” Caleb said. “I’m not here for that.”
“Yet you’re fucking the nanny.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Jonathan sneered. “Oh please, she can hardly take her eyes off you. And you couldn’t haven’t have missed it yourself, not a man of your cut. Are you going to tell me you turned her away?”
Caleb had to admire the man’s insight, but he wasn’t about to compromise Abigail’s standing in the household. Edith had warned him about such a coupling, and the great man’s return to Armstrong House was a threat to it, especially with this turn of the conversation.
“Well?”
Caleb took a long sip of brandy. “I’ll give you my name, rank, and serial number.”
Jonathan looked at Caleb with a furrowed brow, a mixture of disbelief and cool admiration. “We’re not in the army anymore, son.”
“No? You command without expectation of being questioned. You’re at the center of a series of attacks from your neighbors—”
“I beg your pardon? What neighbors?”
“The bear that killed my brother,” Caleb explained coolly, “the coywolves. That’s war… of a sort. And your army is… well, Edith and Lulu and Abigail are fine people, they’re loyal, but… is that what you’re leading with, is that your army?” Jonathan offered no answer, so Caleb went on, “You needed my brother, and you need me.”
Jonathan stood next to Caleb, taking another sip of brandy. “You’ve got a hell of a nerve, young man.”
“And that’s just what you need… unless it’s just what you fear.”
Jonathan turned with a snap. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But Caleb didn’t need to answer. It was the response he was looking for, and what it meant. There was no need to pry further; Jonathan wouldn’t tell him the truth in any case, at least not yet.
“You came back ahead of schedule,” Caleb said with a shrug, taking another sip from his own snifter. “Or… am I wrong?”
“My business there was completed.”
“Oh, I see.” Caleb knew the lie that cloaked Jonathan’s so-called business, and he believed Jonathan was figuring that out. The question was how much to reveal in order to inspire the reactions that would give Jonathan away.
Jonathan turned to look at Caleb face to face. “You have no idea what you’re looking at, young man. And you won’t know… until it’s too late.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Caleb was sur
prised to see Jonathan Armstrong walking across the yard from the house to the groundkeeper’s cottage. Caleb walked down the stairs to meet him at the front door, stepping out into the New England sunshine.
“Mister Kahr,” Jonathan said.
“Caleb, please.”
“Caleb,” Jonathan corrected himself, seemingly begrudgingly. “I was thinking about this bear that killed your brother.”
“And?”
“And I think we should kill it. I’m an experienced hunter, a crack shot. And you’ve already proven your abilities. I don’t want that thing in the area, threatening my child.” Caleb could not assail his reasoning, but he couldn’t deny having doubts about Jonathan’s true intent.
There were three possibilities as far as Caleb could tell. If Jonathan truly thought there was a bear out there to kill, a natural bear and not an ursine shifter, that would indicate that he was not a shifter himself, that he probably had no idea the phenomenon existed as most people didn’t.
That would be good news as far as Caleb was concerned, though it would only shorten his suspects list by one.
On the other hand, Jonathan could be luring Caleb out to murder him in the woods. Caleb had no idea what had happened in Europe, if anything at all, or if Jonathan had even gone. He was eager to find out, but the odds were good that this hunting trip was a ruse to create an accidental shooting to eradicate any competition with Abigail, or even for Daniel’s youthful admiration.
Men had killed for less.
But there was still another possibility: that Jonathan was indeed a shifter, perhaps the bear shifter, and he wanted to draw Caleb out to the woods for a one-on-one battle that he’d be almost certain to win.
The journey could still tell Caleb a lot more about the mysterious master of Armstrong House, and either way, it was likely to bring him closer to answering the riddle of his brother’s death. He knew it had nothing to do with some roaming black bear, and the shifter wasn’t going to be out there in his ursine form waiting for him.
But there would still be answers, Caleb felt certain; that made it worth doing. Caleb nodded. “Shall we head out?”