Dangerous Legacy

by Valerie Hansen

  “I dunno.”

  “Mark...” She drew out his name. “If you know something that I don’t, you need to tell me. It’s important. The sheriff needs to know stuff like that.”

  “’Cause he has a badge?”

  “That’s right.” Maggie kept monitoring the dog’s paw, thankful to see no more seepage.

  “The game warden has a badge, too.”

  “Yes, he does.” She was beginning to see where the clever boy was going with his questions. “But it’s the sheriff who checks on people. Game wardens look after animals.”

  “People, too. I heard you tell Mamaw.”

  Maggie sighed in resignation. “You weren’t supposed to be listening.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it was grown-up talk.”

  “What’s the difference?” he asked with an impish grin.

  Maggie had to chuckle. “Good question. How about from now on I tell you when you’re not supposed to be listening? Will that help?”

  “Sure,” he said. The twinkle in his Crawford-green eyes said otherwise.

  Laughing softly, Maggie tucked covers around her son and herself, taking care to include as much of the dog as possible while leaving his cut paw sticking out. As soon as they both settled down she’d go outside and bring Harlan up to speed about the prowler being “ugly.” If he’d left by then she’d phone him in the morning. Being ugly was hardly a useful description.

  After about ten minutes she heard a motor and saw twin beams of light sweep across the bedroom ceiling. If the car had been the sheriff, leaving, his headlights would not have hit the house.

  “Rats. More company,” she whispered, hoping Mark was too drowsy to pay attention. Apparently, he and the dog both were, because neither of them stirred when she slid from beneath their shared blankets.

  One peek through her front windows told her that not only was the sheriff’s patrol car still there, but a silver state truck was now parked beside it, nose to tail, so the drivers could easily converse.

  Maggie wasn’t positive that Harlan had called Flint, but she had her suspicions. If it turned out that he was keeping the warden informed about her, she intended to raise the roof. There was no reason for Game and Fish to be notified if the Dodd Sanctuary was not directly involved. No reason at all. At least nothing valid.

  She stormed into her room and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt before stuffing her feet into boots. It was time to put a stop to this good-old-boy network nonsense. She certainly didn’t want to have to avoid reporting a crime just to keep Flint’s nose out of her personal life.

  By the time she was dressed, she’d decided that angry confrontation was not the best approach. Instead, she went into the kitchen to make coffee. Enough for three.

  Then Maggie put on her jacket, finger-combed her hair and headed for the confab in the driveway. No way was she going to let Flint and the sheriff get away with keeping her in the dark. Whatever was going on was just as much her problem as theirs.

  Her breath hitched as she quietly eased the front door closed behind her. It was more her problem. She had Mark’s future to worry about. God willing, she’d make it through these current attacks and live to see him grow to adulthood.

  And if not? she asked herself, realizing it was a justifiable question. “If something happens to me, Father,” she prayed, “please take care of my son.”

  Had God already answered that plea by bringing his father into the picture? Maggie wondered.

  She stood tall, gathered her courage and started down the porch steps.

  * * *

  Harlan leaned out his car window and gestured with his chin. “Heads up. Trouble’s on the way.”

  “So I see. I’m kind of surprised she’d come out after you said she was so scared earlier.”

  “Nothing about Miz Maggie Morgan surprises me,” the sheriff said. “She’s quite a gal.”

  Flint didn’t know how to respond without sounding infatuated, so he just nodded.

  “Think about it. There she is, a pregnant teenager with nobody to love her, a dying daddy, a flaky mother and an uncle with a police record as long as your arm. Did she run? Or hide? Nope. She got herself a job and worked as long as she could, then moved in with her widowed mama in order to survive while she took college courses by computer.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Flint said. He was watching her approach in the side mirror of his truck.

  “There’s probably a lot you don’t know,” Harlan huffed. “But I get the idea you’re about to learn more.”

  “Yeah. I’ll pull forward and park. You’re staying, aren’t you?”

  That made the older man chuckle. “Why? You ain’t scared of a little thing like Maggie, are you?”

  Flint grinned back at him. “Terrified.”

  * * *

  At first, it upset Maggie to think Flint was leaving. When he parked and got out, however, she didn’t know whether or not to be glad.

  “I put on a big pot of fresh coffee,” she called, careful to include the sheriff. “Why don’t we go inside and drink it instead of you guys sitting out here in your cars?” She chaffed her palms. “It’s freezing.”

  “Predictions of snow for next week,” Harlan said, ambling over to join her. “Got any pancakes to go with that coffee?”

  “I might be able to scare some up.” Maggie smiled at him, then diverted her gaze to Flint and quipped, “Even if you bring him.”

  The lighthearted diversion apparently worked, because Flint’s shoulders began to relax and his walk seemed less awkward. Would they ever regain the easy camaraderie they had once shared? She doubted it.

  Maggie paused at the front door, briefly blocking the way. “Shush. The boys are asleep and I’d like them to stay that way.”

  Both men nodded. In the glow from the porch light, the green of Flint’s eyes looked exactly like Mark’s. The more she saw of this man, the more she associated him with their son. Part of her problem was undoubtedly that she loved her little boy so totally. The difficulty came when her heart and mind applied those same emotions to Flint.

  The kitchen was welcomingly warm. Maggie shed her jacket and left the men to find themselves comfortable seats at the table while she filled three mugs and delivered them.

  Sighing, she smiled at Harlan. “One cup of coffee first and then I’ll start your pancakes, Sheriff. I just need to wake myself up a little more.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Flint wrap both hands around his mug and lean forward, elbows and forearms resting on the table. “What happened tonight?”

  “I’m sure Harlan has already told you,” she replied, making a face. “I probably couldn’t sneeze without you showing up to hand me a hanky.”

  “That’s because I care, Maggie. We both do.”

  Flint hadn’t moved, yet seemed closer somehow. She nodded. “I’m getting that idea.”

  A snort of amusement from the older man didn’t help Maggie’s mood. When she tried to glare at him and saw his comical expression, she found herself snickering instead.

  “All right, all right.” She took a sip of coffee and leaned back in her chair to claim a little distance. “The sheriff has the mistaken idea I may have imagined it, but I know I didn’t. Wolfie went nuts and Mark said he saw somebody, too.”

  “Did he recognize the prowler?”

  She made a face at Flint before replying, “No. But he did tell me later that the guy was ugly. Wolfie charged at him, sounding like he was about to eat him for supper, and the man knocked me down in his rush to get away. That’s what made the dog’s paw start bleeding again.”

  Tension radiated from the game warden. “You think this prowler was after the boy?”

  “I don’t know. If he didn’t know the layout of the house, he might have ju
st been exploring.” It had already occurred to her that Abigail’s niece and nephew had probably visited as children, if not as adults, and she had to quell a shiver. “As soon as Wolfie alerted, somebody in a black hoodie pushed past me and hightailed it.”

  “How did he get in?”

  She slid lower in her chair. “That was my fault. After you went out the back door, I was so...distracted... I guess I forgot to lock the front again.”

  “You don’t have a regular routine? Unbelievable.”

  “Don’t raise your voice to me, Flint Crawford. Of course I have a routine. I always go around and check all the doors and windows before I go to bed.”

  “But not this time.”

  “No. Not this time.”

  “Harlan said a lamp was broken.” He glanced at the sheriff. “Right? If the guy touched it, there might be prints.”

  The older man huffed. “Nope. That was Maggie’s weapon. She’s the one who dropped it.”

  Flint rounded on her. “A lamp? That’s almost as useless as a rotten limb.”

  Judging by the firm set of his jaw and glint in his eyes, Flint was growing angrier by the minute. “Serves me right for telling you anything,” she countered. “Be sure to put plenty of syrup on your pancakes, Warden Crawford. You need a lot of sweetening.”

  “And you need to learn to shoot,” he called after her.

  Maggie whirled. “I help injured creatures, I don’t harm them. I don’t even like to step on bugs—and this is Arkansas, so there are plenty of those. Why would I want to shoot a gun?”

  “Self-defense, if nothing else. You’re out here in the middle of nowhere with no protection.”

  “He’s got a point there,” the sheriff said. “Until we figure out why all these crazy things have been happening to you, it makes sense to take precautions.”

  “I trust God. That’s all I need.” Maggie turned her back to them.

  Flint wasn’t about to back down. “Oh, really?”

  Maggie could tell he was coming closer, because his aura preceded him. Tiny hairs on her arms prickled and a shiver zinged up her spine.

  “Do you trust God or are you tempting Him?” Flint asked. “He gave you brains. You’re supposed to use them to figure things out, such as who might have been prowling around in your house.”

  Spinning around again, she found him standing directly behind her, so close they were almost touching. That was so unnerving, she spoke before thinking. “If I’d used my brains in the past, I’d have listened to my parents and stayed away from you.”

  Hostility that had been sparking between them suddenly vanished like smoke. She saw a flash of pain that he failed to hide quickly enough. The green eyes began to glisten and their emotional reaction reached all the way to Maggie’s tender heart.

  She touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Yes, you should. You’re right. We were wrong for each other in so many ways. But we were young and foolish. We thought we were in love.”

  We were, she countered silently, unwilling to break eye contact or step away.

  “I’m sorry for all you had to go through,” Flint whispered, bending even closer.

  Their lips were mere inches apart. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? What should she do if he did? With the sheriff in the room, there was no chance Flint would assume she was going to swoon and fall into his arms, so it was probably okay to accept one kiss. Just one, though. For old times’ sake and to heal the distress she’d just caused him. It had not been her intention to hurt his feelings. If there had been a way to snatch back her caustic comment about their failed relationship, she would have.

  Her eyelashes fluttered. Her lids lowered partway. Maggie held her breath and waited.

  The moment passed. Flint strode to the table and picked up the mugs, behaving as if nothing special had happened between them. “Okay. So far we know the prowler was ugly. That fits half the guys in Serenity, if you ask me. Any other ideas, Sheriff?”

  “I still have my officers looking for clues along the highway where Maggie wrecked, and you put your guys on the wolf ruse, right?”

  “Right. Looks like that’s a dead end. Nobody found signs of a pack of wolves in the area.” He lifted the coffeepot. “Refill anybody?”

  If Maggie hadn’t had the kitchen counter to lean against, she might have staggered. Her equilibrium was certainly upset. And her pride was in shambles. When she should be celebrating a narrow escape from Flint’s unwanted advances, she was actually so disappointed she could have wept.

  She grabbed a whisk and took her frustrations out on the pancake batter. Those were the lightest, fluffiest hotcakes she’d ever made.

  TEN

  By the time Flint had endured breakfast at Maggie’s, he was ready for one of Ira’s daily naps. Instead, his assignment took him up on Nine Mile Ridge to check a report of white-tail deer poachers who had left behind everything from the animals except tenderloin. It was disgusting. He was still muttering about wasteful gluttons when he got back to regional headquarters in Mammoth Spring to handle the pile of paperwork that had accumulated. Clearly, he had been spending too much time in Serenity.

  Wardens Samson and Wallace both looked up when he entered, greeted him, then found reasons to immediately head for the break room. As Samson passed he cocked his head toward the private office of Captain Lang. That was not a good sign. Neither was the sight of Lang standing in his doorway, beckoning.

  Flint hitched his duty belt and stood tall. He hadn’t worked out of this office long enough to know the captain well, but it was pretty clear that the man had something serious to say.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Lang closed his office door. “Have a seat.”

  Flint assumed he was about to receive a reprimand and was surprised when his superior didn’t launch into a tirade.

  “How are you coming with the Morgan woman? Have you asked her how we can locate Witherspoon?”

  “I did bring it up. She wasn’t cooperative in the least and I haven’t managed to pin her down since.”

  “Well, work through your problems with her and get us some answers. I took a chance sending you over there without backup because I thought I could trust you. Don’t disappoint me.”

  “I won’t,” Flint promised. “He’s a recluse. Without specific information we might never run across him. He knows that backcountry better than anybody.”

  Leaning back in his desk chair, Lang appeared to be mulling over a decision. When he said, “I’ll give you one more week. Finish this,” Flint’s heart sank.

  “Do whatever it takes. I want to close Elwood’s file for good.”

  “There’s something you should know,” Flint explained. “Maggie and I have both suffered unprovoked attacks since I came back.” He pointed to a stack of forms in the captain’s in-box. “I reported shots being fired at me several times. And Maggie was run off the road and her place was broken into.”

  “What makes you think there’s a connection?”

  This was the first test, Flint realized, his chance to own up to his past mistakes. “Because she and I have a connection. We have a son.”

  “Whoa.” Lang’s eyebrows rose. “That’s not in your personnel file.”

  “I just found out,” Flint said with a deep sigh.

  “Talk about complications.”

  “Yeah.” Flint rose and began to pace the small office. “And that’s not all. There’s also an old feud between the Crawfords and the Witherspoons to consider. That’s one of the reasons it never worked out between Maggie and me. Our extended families hated each other. As far as I know, though, the only old-timer who is still likely to stir up trouble is Elwood. Maybe if I can prove enough to land him in jail for poaching it’ll solve both our problems.”

&
nbsp; Lang steepled his fingers. “I can always put Samson or Wallace on it instead.”

  “That won’t help. There’s no way I can stop being involved,” Flint said flatly. “Even if I transferred out tomorrow, Maggie might still be in danger, not to mention our little boy, Mark.”

  Nodding, the captain said, “All right. We’ll work with what we have. What’s your plan?”

  If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Flint might have laughed. “Plan? So far I’ve been a step behind whoever is harassing us since this whole thing started.”

  “You’ve brought in local police?”

  “Yes. Right away. Maggie lives in the county and the sheriff has been a lot of help.”

  “How about city or state police?”

  “I’d rather not involve too many more departments until I get a better handle on the situation,” Flint said. “Some of the suspects are good old boys with hunting in their blood. They know every inch of the woods around Serenity. I’d hate to feel responsible for getting some street cop hurt just because he’s used to paved roads and sidewalks.”

  “Some of the suspects? Who else?”

  “There are a couple of people who have a financial ax to grind regarding the Dodd Sanctuary. They made actual threats against Ms. Morgan.”

  “Okay. Keep me posted.” He gestured at the overflowing in-box. “If anything else happens, report directly to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just don’t blow it.” Lang was scowling. “I’m nearing retirement age and I don’t want to lose my pension over you and your girlfriend.”

  Flint opened his mouth to insist that Maggie wasn’t his girlfriend, then changed his mind. Whether she was or not, she was still in someone’s crosshairs. That was all that mattered. That, and keeping her and Mark safe.

  Nothing critical lay beyond those goals.

  * * *

  The next couple of days passed in a blur for Maggie. She went through the motions of caring for her animals and getting her son to and from school safely, but she could not seem to relax. Mostly, she kept waiting for the next disaster to occur.