Peppermint Creek Inn

by Jan Springer

  “Maybe Blake wanted you off the property. You’d sell to him and he could control what happened on the land. Keep out trespassers and pocket the proceeds from all the illegal sales.”

  “But he doesn’t smoke,” she said when she remembered the smell of cigarette shortly after she’d entered the cabin the night Jack had been shot.

  “Oh, yes, he does. Closet smoker like Jeffries. Not a good image for a cop to be a smoker these days.”

  My God, this was a horrible tangle of information.

  “How did they know you were at Jackfish in the first place?”

  “Jeffries and Blake overheard Mrs. McCloud and some other woman who works at the store having a conversation about a scruffy-looking character on a brand new Harley who came into the store asking for directions to Peppermint Creek Inn. And how later that day I came back to ask if there was a cheap place to hold up until you returned. She suggested a couple of hotels but I figured since my bike had stolen license plates, I’d better keep a low profile. I casually hinted I was low on cash and if there was anywhere I could camp and she mentioned the ghost town. So that’s where I headed.”

  “Her name’s Sue. She works at the store Friday nights.”

  “That’s right—Sue. I gave her a fifty to copy a tape for me. I addressed the original to Garry care of Peppermint Creek Inn. I still have to tell Garry to go and pick it up.”

  Sara remembered Widow McCloud’s conversation about a handsome guy on a motorcycle who’d come into the store then she’d given Sara the mail including the package for Garry.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Don’t you remember? When we were returning from town? You had a headache. You looked in the bag for medicine? You must have seen the package then, and it triggered some flashbacks and you got violently ill. I thought you’d seen the condoms.”

  “Condoms were in the bag?”

  “They were in the bottom. I thought you didn’t want to have sex with me… I know it was silly, but at the time that’s all I could come up with.”

  Suddenly he laughed. A good laugh. Hearty and from deep inside his chest.

  She noticed the flash of pain or maybe it was regret in his gorgeous green eyes.

  “No strings, remember?” she said quickly, trying to relax him. 280 Peppermint Creek Inn He frowned and leaned back in his chair, his fingers finally breaking their lock on hers.

  A bad feeling, a sorrowful feeling, dug deep into her heart. Maybe he didn’t want a child with her? Maybe he thought it was all a big mistake? Well, too bad. It was over and done with now. If she was pregnant, then she would raise their child alone.

  “I don’t have any STDs. I’ve always used protection…until us.”

  She’d known he was a careful man but now that he’d said it out loud, a wave of relief splashed over her.

  “Where is Whitey?” she asked, trying to change the subject. Now was not the time to talk about all this. She needed to get Garry and Jo to help him, but first she needed to know how bad things stood for Matt.

  “In jail with a broken leg and a concussion. He won’t be getting out for a long time. If ever. At least if that tape holds up in court.”

  “So, it’s really over. And you’re free. Free to do what you want. Be with whoever you want.”

  She closed her eyes. She was tired. Drifting. Drifting away from Matthew.

  “I want you, Sara.” His low whisper permeated the thick layers of sleep clogging up her brain, and Sara loved what she was hearing. “I love you, Sara. Do you hear me? I love you more than my own life, more than my own happiness. Remember that always. No matter what happens.”

  I love you too, Tom. Matthew. I love you, too.

  —

  The next time Sara awoke, she found Jo sitting in the chair beside her with a huge smile plastered on her face, but the smile didn’t reach her concerned eyes.

  Instantly Sara sensed trouble.

  “Morning, sis. How you feeling?” Jo asked brightly. A little too brightly.

  “Better.”

  “You look better. A whole lot better. You had us all worried.”

  Sara licked her suddenly dry lips. “What’s happened?”

  “The bullet lodged itself right against your hip bone. They had to operate to remove it. No serious damage. You’ll be up and walking in no time flat.”

  “No. I mean what’s happened to Matt. Where’s Matt? His shoulder?”

  Jo frowned.

  Sara felt an awful sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as her sister leaned over and patted Sara’s shoulder reassuringly.

  “He’s fine. Um, here, he left this for you,” Jo lifted a lavender envelope out of her purse and handed it to her. “He asked me to give you this the instant you woke.

  “You want me to stay?”

  “No, I’ll be fine,” she lied fighting against the sharp sting of tears that were blurring her eyes.

  “I’ll be right outside, if you need me.”

  She nodded numbly and waited until Jo had stepped outside before she tore open the envelope and withdrew the single lavender sheet.

  My Love,

  I wish I could tell you in person again, how much I love you. But the longer I stayed, the greater the risk of you being hurt. I don’t want anything to ever happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to live knowing I’ve caused you any more pain.

  You deserve a chance at happiness. To be a mother, a wife to some lucky fellow. I know I’ll hate the guy’s guts but you’re a good judge of character. I’ll trust your judgment. As long as you’re happy, Sara.

  The best way for me to show you how much I love you is to keep you safe. Away from me. I know I’m a coward in doing it this way, but if I’d told you in person, I wouldn’t have been able to walk away. It’s better this way. I’ll always love you.

  Matthew. “Tom.”

  Bastard.

  Her head spun.

  Coward.

  How could he do this?

  Her mind reeled.

  Her heart felt as if it had been pierced by a bullet as she remembered the way his crooked smile curled her toes, the way his gentle touch made her melt in his arms, the sad way he’d looked at her the last time she’d seen him.

  He’d been saying goodbye. And she’d been too doped up to know.

  “Sara, I love you. Don’t ever forget that. I love you more than my own life, more than my own happiness.”

  Anger broiled and she clenched her fists.

  Ripping the letter to shreds, she threw the tiny pieces onto the floor. She wouldn’t let him get away with it this easy. She’d find that son of a bitch. She would confront him.

  If it took her the rest of her life to find him.

  She’d do it.

  —

  Garry and Matthew watched the TV screen go blank.

  “You did a good job, Matthew. Robin picked a good man to help him,” Garry’s compliment did nothing to dissipate the sadness clutching Matt’s heart.

  He wondered if Sara had woken and read the letter. It was the only way he could think of to keep her safe.

  He would have to stand trial for Robin’s murder, even if he hadn’t done it. Whitey wasn’t talking and Pauline and Scout certainly weren’t.

  Jo and Garry hadn’t been able to come up with anything to disprove that he hadn’t killed Robin. The fact that Whitey was now a criminal would certainly discredit his testimony against Matthew, but it was still Matthew’s gun that had been used and his bullet that had killed Robin. Not to mention only his fingerprints all over the weapon.

  Garry had said he might be able to get the charge reduced to manslaughter and Matthew would get out in a few years, but he couldn’t ask Sara to wait for him. He wouldn’t do that to her.

  Standing, he crossed the room to rewind the tape. Reaching out he was about to push the stop button when the screen on the TV suddenly flashed to black and a familiar voice sliced through the room.

  “Get going, kid. Out the ba
throom window. I’ll distract them.” It was Robin’s voice. A bit muffled but it was his voice. And he sounded scared.

  “My God, what is happening?” Garry’s voice cracked from behind Matthew.

  “I’m not leaving you here.” It was Matt’s voice and the sudden realization of what they were hearing slammed into his gut like a torpedo. “I brought them here. I got you into this. We go together.”

  Matthew’s jaw dropped open in shock.

  “You didn’t get me into this remember? I got you into it.”

  “Police! Open up!” A loud booming voice erupted from the TV set.

  “That’s Whitey’s voice,” Garry said as he wheeled up beside Matthew.

  Matthew shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t know it was taping. Robin must have accidentally pressed the button on the camcorder before stuffing it into the briefcase.” Matthew pressed the stop button—full realization as to what Garry was listening to sunk in.

  “Oh, God, Garry, you don’t want to hear this.”

  “The hell I don’t.”

  “No you don’t. It’s—”

  “I think I know what it is. And if it is what I think, then you’re in the clear. Turn it on.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I can’t listen to this.”

  “Do it or I will.”

  “I can’t….” Matt choked. If that tape had been recording everything he wanted nothing to do with reliving it.

  “I’ll listen to it, Matt,” Garry’s voice softened. “You go on now. Like we planned. I’ll listen to the tape and take care of everything.”

  Matthew nodded numbly and headed toward the door.

  The instant he cleared the room he winced as the unmistakable roar of a gunshot echoed from the TV.

  —

  That Friday night, true to Jo’s word, Garry took the Widow McCloud to bingo. Enjoying her company so much, Garry continued to take the widow out to bingo every Friday evening and dinner at her place every Sunday.

  As for Tom? Or maybe she should start thinking of him by his real name, Matt.

  She didn’t hear a peep from him.

  If Jo and Garry knew where he was staying, they weren’t saying.

  But just the thought that Matt wouldn’t have to stand trial for any murders and that he was alive and safe somewhere, gave Sara the courage to remain cheerful and determined she would get her wish to see him again.

  One afternoon in mid-June, while returning from a trip to town, Sara discovered a new hand-carved sign had been hung out on the road replacing the old weather-beaten sign people had complained about.

  Racing up the laneway, she’d discovered a newly planted beech tree in the same area as the old romance tree had once stood. Heart cracking against her ribs with excitement she rushed to the barn, and found the old sign.

  Curls of wood and sawdust littered the floor where the carving had taken place. Sara’s breath quickened at the sight.

  Matt had been here. He’d finally come close.

  Now it was her turn.

  —

  Matthew bolted upright in his sleeping bag. Cold sweat drenched his back, dampened his face. His breath escaped in ragged gasps. His heart beat frantically against his chest.

  He’d had the dream again. The same dream he’d had every night, replaying the events of the day he’d been so helpless in the foggy waters off Jackfish Bay when he’d seen Scout McMaster grabbing Sara and pointing the gun to her head.

  Matt’s own gun forced from his fingers as Pauline’s bullet had slammed into his shoulder, then he’d watched in stunned terror as Pauline aimed the gun at Sara on the beach.

  The mist had enshrouded him blocking his view of what was happening to her. At that point, gut-wrenching sounds of gunshots had ripped through him. He’d almost slipped under the water and just allowed himself to drown at the thought that Sara was dead.

  But then he’d heard Sara call his name.

  She’d found him in the water and they’d gotten back to shore. She’d fainted in his arms, and his heart had stopped at the sight of the blood flowing out of her.

  All that blood.

  The same question still burned inside him. Why hadn’t he shot Pauline instead of Scout McMaster? He’d made eye contact with Jo mere seconds before all hell broke loose. He’d indicated to Jo to cover Pauline and he would take out Scout. He’d thought Sara had been safe.

  But she hadn’t. Sara had still gotten shot.

  He’d made a wrong calculation and it had almost killed her.

  He heaved a shuddering sigh. He’d let Sara down. And he’d let Garry and Jo down. He’d promised to keep Sara safe.

  And he’d failed all of them. Big time.

  Unzipping the sleeping bag, he crawled out and stood on the cold wooden boards of the boathouse he’d shared with Sara.

  Christ! He missed her like crazy.

  Grabbing for the matches, he lit the tiny Coleman lantern that Garry had given him.

  His let his hand run over the smooth plastic exterior of the camcorder. The police officials had found it inside the suitcase Robin had given him. Apparently Justin had found it in the cabin Matt had been staying in when they’d jumped him and thrown it into the well with Blake.

  He’d been able to clean the grunge and water from it and it now worked perfectly. But he didn’t know if he could ever use it again. It always brought back memories of the night he’d seen Robin killed.

  Maybe someday he’d use it again. For pleasure. Not work. But he needed time to heal. Lots of time.

  Garry wanted Matthew to tell Sara he was back from his debriefing with the FBI and the CIA, and even National Security had been in on it, but Matt couldn’t be near her.

  He was too damn dangerous for her.

  Chief Jeffries didn’t know his true identity, but the chance existed Jeffries may find out. Matt had contacted his younger brother Daniel and his father who was helping Daniel on an archeological dig in Mexico, and had warned them about possible retaliation from the chief.

  He’d also contacted his sister-in-law Emily who lived on Prince Edward Island, and Sara’s parents and her brother Jessie, warning them of potential danger regarding the case.

  Then he’d returned to Canada.

  He’d opted to stay at Jackfish. At least he was near to Sara. For one more night anyway.

  Matthew padded barefoot to the rusty basin he’d found in one of the houses in the abandoned town. Cupping his hands, he splashed the mild water against his face, relishing in its freshness. After tonight, he’d be whisked off to a safe house somewhere in the world. He’d return to New York when the trial ensued. And then who knew what would happen.

  He might have to stay underground forever. Or perhaps Chief Jeffries, after having cooled off, might follow the police code of honor and call off any hits on Matthew after realizing Matthew had just been doing his job in uncovering crooked cops.

  Not bothering to wipe the water from his face, he headed outdoors.

  Bullfrogs greeted him as they croaked loudly from the shoreline. Fireflies blinked with enthusiasm throughout the thicket and the moon, full and bright, shone down onto Jackfish Bay illuminating it like a mirror.

  He stopped on the sandy beach in the area of the shooting.

  Dammit!

  He missed her. Missed her with every inch of his body, every fiber of his soul. More now that he’d visited Peppermint Creek Inn and hung the new sign out on the main highway for her. He’d planted the tree while she’d been in town today. Last night he’d snuck into her bedroom and watched her sleep. He’d touched her hair, her eyebrows, her pouting lips. Had memorized every inch of her.

  It had taken every ounce of willpower not to wake her, to ask her to come with him.

  But too much danger surrounded him. Hadn’t he proved it when she’d been shot?

  He let his hot feet sink into the coolness of the still water.

  Four weeks. Exactly four weeks ago today, he’d stood here on the beach, clad only in his underwear, much
the same way as he did tonight.

  Back then Sara had tried to stop him from going into the frigid waters. He only wished she could be here now with him, talking him out of going into hiding.

  He looked out over the bay at the island where he’d stashed that copy of the tape. The island stood dark and giant, popping out of the moonstruck bay like a huge whale, taking a midnight swim.

  Matthew shook his head at the silly thoughts creeping into his head. Lack of sleep did that to him. Kept him off balance.

  Lightning flashed somewhere to the north and a welcome cool wind picked up, brushing softly against his naked skin.

  It felt good. Soothing almost.

  He should be with Sara. They should both be lying here on the beach, intertwined in each other’s arms, watching the storm come in.

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

  Shit! He missed her so much he could even smell her sweet minty aroma waft over him. Tugging at him. Luring him into her arms. Her hushed whispers comforting him, telling him everything would be all right.

  At his thoughts about Sara, his cock hardened, thickened, pressed fiercely against his prison-tight underwear.

  A sting needled at his elbow and he cursed wildly, quickly swatting a pesky mosquito. Then he cursed again when another one bit behind his left knee.

  A soft giggle split the air from somewhere behind him. His heart leapt with joy.

  “Sweetness?” he whispered beneath his breath. He was too stunned to do anything but to stand there.

  “Got something here for you,” she said softly.

  Slowly he turned around, his breath catching in his throat.

  She looked so beautiful. So damned beautiful clad in a sweet body-hugging Spring floral dress, her hair tumbling down over her shoulders, covering her breasts. He barely noticed the white box she held in her hand as a strong desire erupted within him.

  The urge to reach out and run his fingers through her silky strands was powerful. He wanted to push aside the thin fabric covering her breasts, to touch her naked skin, suckle her nipples. To press her naked body onto the sand and sink his throbbing cock into her warm, welcome pussy and feel her bucking beneath him as he thrust into her over and over again just to show her how much he loved her.