He pulled her against him so she wouldn’t see his scowl. “I won’t. Now if you were to tell me the bird that gave you the hairclip last night had talked to you, then we might have a problem,” he drawled when he realized she was holding her breath again. “So, do ye feel up to taking a little climb?”
“You should have sent one of your new officers down for me,” she said without moving but to release another heavy sigh as she relaxed into him even more. “Whether you’ll admit it or not, you hurt your shoulder yesterday.”
He lifted his right arm and waved and flexed it when she straightened in surprise, then gently tapped her gaping chin. “Not even a twinge,” he said, giving her a wink. “Scots are also quick healers.”
“Here comes the cavalry,” Jake called down just as Niall caught the distant sound of a siren. “So come on, man, let us haul her up before those glory-sucking firefighters steal our thunder. Because I hope you know only guys wearing uniforms ever make the front page of the papers.”
“He doesn’t look like a local,” Birch said, dropping her gaze back to Niall—the color finally returning to her face, he was glad to see.
“Aye. Jake’s from away. You ready to climb?” he asked, standing her on the granite block beside him when she nodded, then untying the rope from his chest.
“Trees don’t talk, Niall,” she whispered as he secured the rope around her.
“Nevertheless, I think you were wise to listen to this one. The blocks on the pier are covered with damp moss and are slippery, and if ye can’t swim, your chances were better with the tree to hold on to if you had ended up in the river before we got here.” He grinned. “Cars don’t float for long, but trees do.”
“That’s what he said,” she muttered, her face flushing bright red as she took over the chore of sliding the knot under her bosom. She looked up at the two men and dog looking down at her as the siren grew louder, then back at Niall, her eyes narrowed in warning. “You tell anyone I talked to a tree, and there will be more purple splats on your windshield like the ones I saw there this morning.”
“Scots keep their word.” He turned her around and lifted her onto the next block, her growled threat finally letting him take his first full breath since the dispatcher had said her name. “And for the record,” he continued as he lifted her to the next block, “eagles eat little white dogs for breakfast.” He hopped up beside her, bent until their noses were nearly touching, and smiled at her gasp. “So if ye see your new feathered buddy again, I suggest you give him a blast of bear spray before ye find yourself having to rescue Mimi for real.”
She scrambled up onto the next block on her own. “You guys waiting for an invitation?” she called out to the two grinning idiots. “Because you might want to pull me up before I shove your boss in the river!”
Aye, there was his pint-sized spitfire, Niall thought with a laugh, jumping to the next block and cupping her bottom to hold her steady as Jake and Cole pulled her up—her equally heated curse nearly lost in their laughter and the siren of the arriving ladder truck. Tu maudit homme; he’d have to find out how to spell that so he could punch it into his new language app.
Chapter Eleven
Knowing Birch’s propensity to go looking for trouble—assuming it didn’t find her first, apparently—Niall worried he may have made a mistake letting Hazel work at the station, since she would have firsthand knowledge of everything that was going on; a point that was driven home when they’d arrived to find the frantic woman standing at the top of the lane holding his second portable radio, which she’d shoved in her pocket in order to throw her arms around her daughter the moment Birch had gotten out of his truck.
“I don’t need to go see Dr. Bentley,” Birch told her mother yet again as they all stood in the sparsely furnished station. “The EMTs couldn’t even find a scratch on me. And getting some color in my cheeks is nothing a couple glasses of wine at the Bottoms Up won’t take care of,” she continued, leading Hazel several feet closer to the door—which, for the last ten minutes, had been an exercise in futility.
“Oh, your car,” Hazel cried. “And your purse.” She broke free and paced around the room with nervous energy, only to stop in front of Niall. “We have to call a tow truck or find a boat large enough to drag her car out of the river.”
“It’s being done as we speak, Hazel,” Niall assured her. “Nova Mare has a crane helicopter, and Duncan and the crew will airlift the car out just as soon as the tide exposes the gravel bar it’s stuck on.” He leaned down next to her ear. “And I agree,” he whispered, “that a good stiff drink will go a long way to calming your daughter.” And you, he silently added as he straightened and led her over to Birch. “If I have any more questions, Miss Callahan, I know where ye live.”
Birch may have returned his smile, but he couldn’t miss the threat in her eyes—Niall presumed to remind him of the promise he’d made on their ride back that he not tell Hazel she’d been run off the road. “Thank you, Chief MacKeage. And Officers Wyatt and Sheppard,” she added, ushering her mother outside.
“Well, so much for worrying this gig would be boring,” Cole said, flopping down in one of the two chairs. “First day on the job and we already have a river rescue and attempted murd—” Having been in the backseat of Niall’s truck with Shep for the ride home, Cole snapped his mouth shut when Hazel suddenly came running back inside.
“Niall,” she said, grasping his sleeve. “I told Birch to go ahead and find us a table while I ran back to give you a message that came in while you were gone. Please don’t tell her I said anything,” she rushed on, “but you need to look into the possibility that another car may have been involved in the accident.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the open door, then nodded at Jake and Cole to include them as well. “It wouldn’t be the first time Leonard ran my daughter off the road. And while I was getting your sandwich, I called the shelter to ask if Birch had returned from her luncheon in Turtleback, and Noreen told me a man had called saying he saw a young woman walking down the road and that Birch had turned around to go find her. Did any of you see this girl?” she asked, looking at Cole and Jake again.
“Nay,” Niall said.
The hand on his sleeve tightened. “Leonard knows the surest way to lure Birch into a trap would be to fabricate a woman in trouble.”
“You think your ex-husband had something to do with the accident?” Niall asked in surprise. “It’s one thing to act in anger after coming home to find himself locked out of the house and in the process of being divorced, but it’s quite a different matter, Hazel, for a man to cross into another country to commit a crime.”
“Leonard wouldn’t let anything like a border stop him.”
“But to what gain?” he asked gently. “You’re legally divorced, so what good would harming Birch do him?”
Hazel looked up, her eyes swimming with worry. “It’s possible he’s still angry enough to want revenge.” She put her back to the men and lowered her voice. “The bastard married me for my money,” she whispered, “and he might think he could charm his way back into my life if Birch . . . if she were gone.”
“Where are you from?” Jake asked.
“Montreal,” Hazel said, turning to him.
Jake gave her a warm smile. “I thought I recognized the accent.” He nodded toward Cole. “We have some connections in Canada, so if you give us Leonard’s full name, we can find out if he’s crossed the border recently. If he hasn’t, there’s no worry. But if there’s a record of him coming into the States, then we’ll take it from there.”
“Oh, that would be a great help,” she said, going over to them. “His full name is Leonard Calvin Struthers. He’s forty-two years old, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, and I think he still has an Ontario driver’s license.”
Niall felt his jaw slacken at the realization Hazel had married a man much younger than herself, noting that both Cole an
d Jake were equally surprised.
“I have to go,” she said, rushing to the door but stopping to look back. “Please don’t mention my concern to Birch,” she petitioned the three of them. “At least not until you can find out if Leonard really is in Maine. Then I guess we’ll have to tell her, so she can be on guard.”
“You have our word,” Niall said, walking over and watching her run up the lane, then softly closing the door and turning to the men. “But while waiting to hear, we’re going to presume Leonard was driving that car.”
Both men nodded. “Any thoughts on the female passenger?” Cole asked.
Niall walked to his desk and sat down with a heavy sigh. “A girlfriend, maybe.”
“Do you know how long they were married?” Jake asked.
“I believe Hazel married Leonard shortly after Birch left for Ottawa to pursue her doctorate,” he said, trying to recall their conversation in the Trading Post. “Hazel told me Birch had rushed home earlier this spring when she found out Leonard was trying to mortgage their home, then took her mother back to Ottawa while she finished her schooling.” He shrugged. “They were married just over a year, I would say.”
“Hazel’s quite wealthy,” Cole stated rather than asked.
Niall merely nodded.
“Then there’s a good chance our boy Leonard—which is probably an alias,” Cole said, “already had himself a poor wife or girlfriend when he hooked up with Hazel.”
“There’s also a good chance Hazel would have met with an unfortunate accident of her own,” Jake added, “once the bastard had sweet-talked her into changing her will.”
“You’re implying this is a common practice,” Niall growled.
“Because it is,” Cole said. “Rich single women are a con man’s favorite target.” He gestured at the door. “And if they’re as pretty and sweet as Hazel . . . hell, she wouldn’t have stood a chance against a pro.”
“They usually cruise pricey fund-raisers looking for lonely widows or recent divorcées,” Jake elaborated. “Even if they have to buy expensive clothes and drop a couple of grand on a ticket, they figure it’s merely the cost of doing business.”
Niall recalled Hazel mentioning that she’d met one husband at a Valentine’s Day ball and, if he wasn’t mistaken, that she’d met Leonard at a fund-raiser. He leaned back in his chair as several things suddenly clicked into place—not the least being Birch’s little explosion last night when he’d offered to take her to an expensive restaurant.
No wonder she’d accused him of trying to buy his way into her bloomers; she’d probably been a target herself, if only as a roundabout way to Hazel’s money.
Niall pushed his chair back and stood up. “Call your contacts.”
“Ah . . . exactly how personal was your climb down that bridge this afternoon?” Jake asked, his gaze direct.
“Personal enough that you’ll call your border people tonight and start hunting for that white car first thing tomorrow morning. Where are you staying?”
“With Sam and Ezra for now,” Jake said, also standing. “That little canister of bear spray I saw clipped to Birch’s belt isn’t going to do her much good, since Leonard’s weapon of choice appears to be a vehicle. Maybe for your next date you should take the lady to a gravel pit and teach her how to shoot a gun. I have an untraceable nine millimeter that would fit her hand.”
Nope, they definitely weren’t going to do much if anything by the book—which suited Niall just fine at the moment. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and headed for the porch. “Thank you. I’ll pass on the gun but give your suggestion for the date some thought. Lock up when ye leave.”
Shep stepped out of the shadows as Niall walked up the lane while seriously considering Jake’s suggestion. On the one hand he’d feel better knowing Birch had a less up-close means of defending herself, but on the other hand he didn’t think arming a quick-tempered spitfire would be all that wise. And if he remembered correctly, Birch hadn’t even wanted to touch his “stupid gun” yesterday morning when it had been poking her on the horse.
Hell, had it only been yesterday? Because Niall was fairly certain he’d aged at least ten years in the last two days.
• • •
Sitting in a crowded bar sipping a glass of wine (when she’d really wanted whiskey) and focusing on calming down her mother had had the added benefit of easing some of Birch’s own terror of the accident. Performing the familiar tasks of soaking in a steaming bubble bath, shaving her legs, slathering every inch of her body with lotion, and even taking a curling iron to her hair had also gone a long way to putting some distance between her and that cold, dark, swirling river.
Yet despite leaving the bathroom feeling like a limp lavender noodle, everything had come rushing back the moment she’d crawled into bed and closed her eyes; the sound of that car ramming into hers, finding herself hurtling out of control toward a huge tree, then helplessly floating down that river toward Bottomless finally compelled Birch to leave her downstairs bedroom and go in search of her fail-proof sleeping aide.
But when the muzzle velocities of various-grained bullets blasting out of a .357 magnum couldn’t quell the tremors still lingering deep inside her, Birch sat up with a sigh of defeat, slid the heavy tome under the couch, and simply sat in the quiet house listening to the thumping beat of her heart. Maybe instead of trying to block out the horrifying moment when she’d realized she was going to die, she should see each step that had eventually led her to the realization she would survive.
But where to begin?
Well, the first sign she knew she was in trouble was when that white car had slowed down beside her instead of passing. She hadn’t actually seen the face of the woman passenger, only the gaudy, diamond-studded ruby ring and brassy red nail polish on the perfectly manicured finger flipping her off. Birch recalled that her first thought as she’d flown toward the huge, solid-looking tree had been that Leo the Leech had followed her to Maine—except the presence of a woman had made her quickly dismiss that idea.
Although now that she thought about it, maybe Leonard had already found a new lady to scam. Only he was supposed to be impotent because of some old horseback-riding injury—from playing polo, Birch remembered her mother saying. So how could he have a new girlfriend if he couldn’t even get it up? Then again, a ruby-and-diamond ring—which the parasite had likely bought with Hazel’s money to show his new lady that he wasn’t after her money—might help a lonely woman overlook the lack of sex.
Heck, it had worked on her mom.
Leonard had found a younger victim this time, though, as that manicured finger had definitely belonged to a woman in her late thirties or early forties. Birch sighed, realizing she’d have to tell Niall about her violent encounter with Leonard in Ottawa, only this time not leave out the more disturbing details like she had with her mother.
Deciding she at least had a theory as to why she’d ended up in the river, Birch moved on to the next thought that had popped into her head during the accident, which had been that trees did not feel like big balls of cotton when you hit them.
She didn’t think they grunted, either.
Next was the realization that she would have preferred dying instantly to drowning in a cold, dark river. But there she’d been, perched in a tree floating toward the bridge, hearing a deep-timbered voice telling her to stay calm. That she’d talked back to it had only further proved she was dead. But then the voice had suggested—drawled, actually—that she might want to find her cell phone and call her next-door neighbor to come save her . . . again. Not that she ever intended to tell Niall that part of her conversation with the tree. Because really, how had the tree known?
She also wasn’t telling Niall that every time a branch had snapped, causing the tree to hiss a curse and settle closer to the cold swirling water, she had screamed like a six-year-old trapped in mangled steel beams
and crushing concrete with her dead grand-mémère and unconscious mother. But unlike twenty-five years ago, this time she’d had a dispatcher assuring her help was on the way, which had kept Birch from outright panicking.
She took a mental step back to see if any of this was helping.
Nope; because if the fact her heart had gone from thumping to pounding was any indication, reliving both the accident and the explosion was only making things worse.
Damn, she really needed to get some sleep, because she was in for a really busy day tomorrow. The first thing she would have to do was explain to her insurance company why she’d totaled a second car in only two months, then start shopping for a new one. But she was buying a truck this time; something big and heavy enough to ram back anyone trying to run her off the road. Yeah, a four-wheel-drive like Niall’s, only red.
She also had to replace her laptop and cell phone and all the important stuff in her purse. But maybe she could ask her mother to help with that, which should keep Hazel too busy to continue fussing and worrying over her.
Oh, she forgot; her mother already had a job. Birch didn’t know if she should feel sorry for Niall and his two new officers, or if she should warn them what they were in for. Because despite this being the first legitimate job Hazel Callahan had ever had, the woman could be downright scary when she was on a mission.
Used to watching her mother trying to save the world one charitable project at a time, Birch had immediately recognized the growing spark in Hazel’s eyes this morning as Peg had talked about Niall’s lack of funding for a desperately needed secretary. Birch had said yes before her mother had even finished trying to guilt her into letting her volunteer for the job—partly because she did feel guilty for dragging the woman away from all that was familiar to her, but also because she thought Niall deserved Hazel Callahan on a mission.
But then the jerk had gone and saved her butt—and likely her life—again.
The Highlander Next Door Page 15