Two more vehicles made their way up the drive, Hunter’s Tundra and another Levy County Sheriff’s. A deputy got out of the car and approached her. “Right before getting to the mine, we saw someone pulling out of the drive. We need to see if you can identify him.”
She raised her brows. “Big guy in a light-colored Ford Ranger pickup? Blue jeans and flannel shirt?”
“Yeah.”
The deputy led her to his vehicle. The man she described was inside, head lowered. When the deputy opened the door, the man looked up. His eyes were a vivid blue.
She nodded. “He’s the backhoe operator and one of Wiggins’s goons.” She motioned toward her face. “What you see here is courtesy of his fists.”
“Looks like we’ll be adding battery to whatever other charges we come up with.”
She glanced at the truck sitting behind the deputy’s vehicle. Hunter was moving toward her. For many years, he’d been a good friend. Tonight he’d saved her life. Then Conner had saved it again by pushing her out of the way and taking her bullet. Doug had saved it a third time.
Another deputy hurried toward her. “We just got a call from Cherokee County. Your parents and son are safe.”
Darci’s breath whooshed out in a relieved sigh, along with all her strength. If Hunter hadn’t steadied her, she might have fallen.
Thank You, Lord.
In spite of everything she’d been through, she had a lot to be thankful for. Wiggins was in custody. She was safe. Her parents and Jayden were safe.
There was only one more prayer to be answered. And she would plead with everything in her for a positive outcome.
Dear God, please let Conner pull through.
* * *
Darci raised both arms and leaned over the back of her chair, enjoying the satisfying crack of her spine loosening. An older issue of one of the popular women’s magazines lay open in her lap. At the moment, she couldn’t remember which one. That was how thoroughly it had engaged her.
But it wasn’t the fault of the magazine. Except for those occasions when she’d gotten up to pace the waiting room floor, she’d sat in the same chair all night, alternating between worrying over Conner and praying for him. A few times she’d dozed, then woken up with her head cocked painfully sideways and her neck in spasm.
Two hours ago, she’d gotten the news she’d been waiting for. Conner was out of surgery. The bullet had been removed and the damage to the large and small intestines repaired. No vital organs had been hit. His chances of surviving were high.
She turned the page, and her eyes fell on yet another article that she didn’t really see. Conner had finally woken up thirty minutes ago and been transferred to a room. She would be able to go in and see him shortly, as soon as his mother and stepfather left.
The first thing she’d done on arriving at the hospital was to ask for his phone so she could call his family. And when the doctor had said he was awake and could have visitors, she’d insisted that they go in first. They were family. She was... Now that everything was over, she wasn’t sure what she was to him. And she wasn’t ready to learn. For now, it was enough to know that he had made it through his surgery and was going to be okay.
A short time later, his parents came back to thank her and tell her goodbye. She made her way toward Conner’s room, and when she stepped inside, her heart lurched. He lay on his back with his eyes closed. Unshed tears stung her eyes, and she had to swallow past a sudden lump in her throat. He looked so pale against the white sheets, his strength sapped.
She approached the bed and his eyes opened. The smile he gave her was weak, but it still made her stomach flip.
She smiled back. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve had better days.” The words came out slurred. He was likely on some pretty heavy-duty painkillers. “But I’m alive.” His eyes closed in a prolonged blink, reopening several seconds later. “A few hours ago, I didn’t think I’d be able to say that.”
She sat in the chair next to the bed, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. “Thanks for calling Mom.”
He released her to pick up a cup from the rolling table. When he tipped it, ice rattled. He shook several of the chips into his mouth and let them melt. “If they don’t bring me some water soon, I might have you fill this at the sink.”
“Not me. If you’re going to try to circumvent the doctor’s orders, you’ll have to find a different accomplice.”
“You’re no fun.” The grin he gave her was lopsided, as if it required too much effort to lift both sides of his mouth.
He let his eyes drift closed again, then started to speak without opening them.
“It looks like my fatherhood days are over.”
“What do you mean?”
He opened his eyes. “Mom and Tony are picking up Kyle.”
Sadness bore down on her, an unexplainable sense of loss. Parenthood was a common thread between them, that invisible bond that connected his life to hers.
She forced a smile. “So your stepdad has finally decided he’s recovered?”
“Or he feels my bullet wound is more serious than his six-month-old heart attack.”
“So you’re free. What are you going to do now?”
“Turn in my two-week notice. I won’t leave them in a lurch.” His mouth cocked up again. “They’re already short one CFO.” He shifted his position, then winced. “How about you?”
“I don’t know. With Wiggins out of the picture, I could probably get my old job back.” But for some reason, she didn’t feel ready. What she really needed was a time of healing, surrounded by the peace and tranquility of Cedar Key and the love of friends and family.
Conner’s eyes drifted closed again. This time they didn’t reopen until she spoke.
“I’m going to let you get some rest.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not very good company.”
“You have an excuse.”
He reached for her hand. “You’ll come back?” His eyes closed. “No, it’s too far.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”
Moments later, his grip relaxed, and she slid her hand from his. Yes, she would be back, because she loved him. Her heart twisted, the longing inside almost breaking it in two.
Conner’s fatherhood days were over. But she would always be a mother. So they would never be more than friends.
She picked up her pace, suddenly anxious to be home. Not her house in Gulf Hammock. Home. Cedar Key.
When she got to her car, her phone rang. It was Hunter. He had given her a ride from the mine to her house in Gulf Hammock, and she had texted him updates on Conner throughout the night. Now it was his turn.
“They’re making headway on the case.”
“Already?”
“Doug is being super cooperative, spilling everything. He hasn’t just thrown Wiggins under the bus. He’s backed it up and run over him.”
She smiled. “There’s a lot of bad blood between them. Wiggins is Doug’s stepfather.”
“Interesting. Did Wiggins know who you were when they hired you?”
“I don’t know.” The first interview she’d had was with Turlong. The second was with Wiggins. Even though Turlong had the final say, he would have listened to Wiggins’s input.
“How’s Conner?”
“Pretty doped up, but good. I’m leaving the hospital now.”
“I’ll keep you posted on what I find out. The way it looks, Wiggins was involved in a lot more than just dumping toxic waste.”
After ending the call with Hunter, she stopped for breakfast, then began the hour-and-fifteen-minute drive to Cedar Key. It gave her time to think. For the first time ever, she had no direction for her life.
She’d given up the store to work at the mine. But the thought of going back
there left her cold. She’d have to make a decision soon. She wasn’t in a financial position to spend weeks making up her mind.
When she reached Cedar Key, she didn’t turn right to go to her parents’ house. They had left North Carolina at first light but wouldn’t be home for several more hours. And she had no desire to sit alone in an empty house.
Instead, she continued down D Street to Second, then eased to a stop in front of the store. Meagan had it all decked out for Christmas. Light-filled garlands framed the front window, and glittered stars and snowflakes hung at varying levels behind the glass.
As Darci reached for the doorknob, a sense of nostalgia crept over her, maybe even a little bit of homesickness, which didn’t make sense since she came home every weekend. But she missed being a part of everyday life in Cedar Key. And she missed her store.
She swung open the door and stepped inside. Meagan’s artistic touch was visible there also. Christmas lights and garlands were draped throughout, and one of the displays had been moved to make room for a tree. It wasn’t decorated with a hodgepodge of ornaments and tinsel tossed on without care. It was a work of art, with flowers, ribbons, snowflakes and a variety of glass shapes, everything in silver and white.
Meagan rushed forward and wrapped her in a gentle hug. “I’ve been so worried about you. Hunter’s been keeping us posted.”
“Thanks. It’s good to finally be home. I actually get to sleep in my own bed tonight.” Her Cedar Key one, anyway. Her bedroom at her parents’ house had remained essentially unchanged since she was fifteen.
“So what are you going to do now?”
It was the same question Conner had asked. And she still didn’t have an answer. “Wiggins fired me, but I don’t know if he hired anyone to replace me yet. Since he’s not there anymore, I suppose I could walk in as if nothing happened and see if they throw me out.”
Meagan seemed to be assessing her. “You don’t look very excited about that prospect.”
Darci sighed. “No, I guess not. Frankly, after everything I’ve been through the past few weeks, I just want to come home.”
“I can understand that.”
Darci’s gaze shifted to one of the paintings that Meagan had displayed. “I like this one.” It was a scene of a beach with a piece of driftwood. In the background, waves rose in a random series of peaks, curls and sea spray. “It has a more mystical, fairy-tale feel to it than your other paintings.”
“I’ve been experimenting with some different styles and techniques.”
Even though Darci was studying the painting, she could feel Meagan’s eyes on her.
Meagan continued, “Everything has been selling almost as quickly as I can get it finished, and I’m doing quite a few commissioned paintings. I’m having a hard time keeping up with it all.”
Darci met her friend’s gaze. Meagan wasn’t just chatting. She had something on her mind.
“I’m close to the point that I could almost make a full-time income from my painting, especially if I promoted myself, worked with a few galleries.”
Darci’s heart started to race. Was Meagan saying what she thought she was?
“I never changed the name of the store. It’s still Darci’s Collectibles and Gifts.” She leaned back against the counter. “If you wanted to buy it back, you wouldn’t even have to replace the sign.”
“Are you serious?”
“Totally. If you don’t want it, don’t worry. I’ll still keep making the payments. But if you want to come back, we can work something out.”
The cloud of uncertainty dissipated, and a sense of contentment swept through her. She could make it. She’d been making it before. It had just been tight, especially with having to pay for her and Jayden’s insurance coverage. But she’d done it before and she could do it again. First she would pray about it and ask for guidance.
She’d prayed before taking the job at P. T. also. But had she prayed earnestly, or had she already had her mind made up?
It was a question she couldn’t answer without a lot of soul-searching. Right decision or not, some good had come from it. If she’d never taken the job, she would never have met Conner. And chances were good that he would never have found justice for Claire.
Now that it was over, what would become of her and Conner? They often shared meals and let the boys play together. And they’d made it a habit to go to church together on Sundays, the four of them. But Kyle was no longer living with Conner. Would she and Jayden ever see him again?
Without Kyle or the investigation, would Conner have any reason to see her? The thought left her with a hollow emptiness inside.
She would likely end up taking over the store and moving back to Cedar Key on a full-time basis. The decision just felt right. Sometime soon, her work life would be settled.
Unfortunately, her personal life was nowhere close.
THIRTEEN
Conner rinsed his breakfast dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Bacon and eggs. That was his specialty. But he’d hardly tasted them. Now they sat like lead in his gut.
Claire was gone. He’d suspected it since the moment she disappeared. But he’d always held out some sliver of hope that she’d simply gone into hiding to save her life. Thursday night, though, while he was on his way to the hospital, they’d recovered her body. And that made it final.
And Kyle was gone, too. Conner’s parents had taken him back. So now he was free, responsible for no one but himself. This was what he’d looked forward to for the past six months.
So why did he feel as if he’d lost everything dear to him?
He strode toward the living room, trying to tamp down the antsiness poking at him. He needed to move, to do something strenuous to work out his frustration. Yard work was out of the question. So was lifting weights or pounding out his dissatisfaction on the tennis court. Darci had brought him home from the hospital yesterday, with strict instructions in hand. He was to do basically nothing.
When he reached the living room, hundreds of tiny lights shone from in front of the window. He’d flipped the switch out of habit when he passed through on his way to fix breakfast.
It was Christmas Eve. But the beautifully decorated tree didn’t cheer him. In fact, it mocked him. For a brief moment, he’d held something wonderful in his hands. But before he could tighten his grip and capture it, it had slipped through his fingers.
The day they bought and set up the tree, Kyle’s excited chatter and Darci’s sweet voice had filled the house. And for the first time in many years, he’d looked forward to the holiday with a childlike excitement. He’d gotten a small taste of what it meant to be part of a real family, and it had left him with a longing for more—a longing that would likely never be satisfied.
He sank down on the couch and stared at the tree. Kyle had been the one to attach the hooks to every one of the ornaments. And he’d hung a good one third of them. The placement wasn’t always the best, but Kyle was proud of what he’d done, and Conner wouldn’t dream of moving a single piece.
The way he was missing the kid had caught him totally off guard. He missed the knowledge that he was living for someone other than himself, and he missed having another living person in the house. He even missed the complaining.
With Kyle, there had been constant activity—running through the house to ask what was for dinner or if they could go somewhere, battles over homework and explosions and zings of lasers once said homework had been completed. Today, instead of surrounding him with warmth and vitality, the cold, still house wrapped him in silence.
But he wouldn’t wish Kyle back, no matter how much the loneliness dogged him. Kyle was better off being raised by his grandparents. After over thirty years of failure, his mother was finally in a position to provide a stable home. And Tony seemed like a good man. The two of them had been together for four years.
He pushed himself to his feet. Kyle was no longer living with him, but that didn’t have to stop him from still being a part of the kid’s life.
He started to retrieve his keys from the hook by the door, but his hand stopped in midair. That was another one of his restrictions—no driving. If he showed up at his mother’s house in his truck, she would wring his neck.
When he called her to ask for a ride, she was thrilled.
“Kyle’s been mopey ever since we brought him home.”
Conner smiled. “That’s pretty much par for the course.” Kyle had displayed plenty of that mopeyness at his place, too.
“I think he misses you.”
“It seems strange to admit it, but I miss him, too.”
Ten minutes later, Tony pulled up in his driveway and Conner slid into the front seat of the Cadillac. Today he would hang out at his mom’s place. Or maybe he would see if they could all take Kyle somewhere.
Cedar Key.
No. He couldn’t keep seeking out Darci. She’d fallen in love with him. She had told him the night he was shot. Of course, at the time she said it, she was afraid he was going to die.
But that didn’t lessen the meaning of the words or diminish the importance of what she felt for him. It was in her eyes every time she looked at him.
And that was why he needed to tell her goodbye. Darci deserved someone who would be a good father and a good husband. He would be neither. And delaying the inevitable would only make it harder for everyone.
When he walked into his mother’s house, Kyle was sitting on the living room couch, a game controller in his hands. He cast a quick sideways glance Conner’s direction, then did a double take.
The controller hit the floor with a thud. The next moment, Kyle was on his feet, running full speed toward the door. At the last minute, Conner turned to offer his good side. Then Kyle hit him with such force, he had to take a couple of steps backward to regain his balance.
“Whoa, buddy.” He laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were happy to see me.”
Mistletoe Justice Page 17