Blackbird Lake

by Jill Gregory

  Chapter Seventeen

  While Carly was driving home from town, Jake sat in his truck thirty feet from his huge cabin in the woods. He watched through the trees for several moments as Brady and a crew of four other men demolished the crumbling back wall of one of his fishing cabins, a scant three hundred yards away.

  The harsh rumbles of hammering, machinery, grunting, and swearing broke the peace of the isolated clearing not far from Blackbird Lake, but Jake knew that tomorrow silence would reign again in the thick woods leading to the lake. Tomorrow was the start of the weekend, and the crew would be off.

  His gaze shifted to Brady, who was hauling lumber from a flatbed truck, sweat sheened on his face despite the chilly wind racing through the brush.

  Cord’s brother had been working hard, tirelessly. He hadn’t once complained and he was stepping up. Denny was pleased with his work ethic, and Jake allowed himself to feel a measure of relief.

  Brady seemed to be headed back in the right direction—working and on track. Working damned hard, as a matter of fact. Jake had driven over to the Farraday house once or twice and noticed that Brady had fixed up the old place in his off-hours.

  The broken floorboards on the porch had been repaired. There were a couple of fresh coats of white paint on the shingles of the house.

  It seemed as if Brady had finally dislodged that chip from his shoulder.

  Jake thought of Cord, a lingering sadness filling him. He missed his old friend. So he could only imagine how Brady must feel.

  But at least it seems like he’s going to get through this. He’ll be okay.

  Hearing a whine, he glanced down at Bronco, who’d shifted closer to him, seemingly disturbed by all of the construction noise.

  “Come on inside, partner. Let’s do a walk-through.”

  He opened the door and led the way into his huge two-story house. The dog pattered through the door after him and curled up just outside the kitchen.

  Soon enough, the crew would be tackling this cabin, too—all six-thousand square feet of it.

  He’d had the place built impulsively after his first burst of big wins and his first sports endorsement contract. But now, as he crossed the high-beamed entranceway, gazed at the high-beamed oak ceiling, the hardwood floors, the sweeping expanse of rooms, he wondered what the hell he’d been thinking.

  The place was far too huge and empty for him. Hell, it was too huge and empty for ten of him. He had a much better use for it, for all the big bedrooms, the library, sprawling kitchen, and game room, and for the rugged land surrounding the house.

  As a guest lodge with five bedrooms and three bathrooms available on the second floor alone, and a massive dining room, first-class kitchen, and a living room easily converted into a lodge lobby and office on the main floor, the “cabin” would be serving a much better purpose. He didn’t need all these soaring ceilings and vast spaces.

  And what was more, now that the novelty had worn off, this huge fancy cabin in the woods didn’t mean anything to him.

  He was accustomed to much less. A motel room with a flimsy mattress, or a five-star hotel suite with a massive king-sized bed and all the trimmings—it was all the same to him.

  None of it was home. He didn’t need a home. Just a place to park his boots and a pillow to rest his head between gigs.

  Yet for some reason a big Victorian on a quiet, tree-lined street popped into his head. A bright-eyed little toddler with a dazzling smile. And a stunning, sexy redhead with mile-long legs and a way of looking at a man that made something inside him clench so hard and deep it was almost painful.

  He forced himself to shake those alluring images of Carly loose as Brady spoke suddenly from the doorway.

  “Got a minute?”

  Jake swung toward him. “Sure. What’s up?”

  The younger man took a few steps into the cabin. “First, thanks for getting me another shot with McDonald Construction.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a great opportunity. I know I don’t really deserve it and that you probably did it for Cord—”

  “Wrong,” Jake interrupted. “I did it for you. Granted, Cord would want me to help you out—he loved you more than anything, Brady. He only wanted the best for you. He hoped you’d have a better life than he did. But I’ve known you for a long time, too, and if I didn’t think you had the potential to be great at whatever you set your mind to do, I’d never have gotten involved. From here on out, kid, it’s up to you.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” Brady grinned. “And don’t worry, I won’t make you look bad for going to bat for me.”

  “Better not or I’ll kick your butt,” Jake said cheerfully. “Denny’s told me some about the job you’re doing. He’s more than satisfied. So what else you got on your mind?” Jake watched as Brady crouched down to scratch Bronco behind the ears.

  “I made some sketches…ideas I had for a new layout for your place here. I heard you’re turning it into a main lodge for the kids and their families.” Brady rose, and Bronco pattered over to the rug by the empty fireplace and settled down again.

  “So I thought about how we could make maximum use of the space. I have a few ideas to bounce off you. I showed them to Denny—he seemed to like them but told me to run them by you. I thought we could review them, if you have time.”

  “Sure, we can do it right now.”

  “Great, but…there’s something else I need to ask you first.”

  This is what it’s really all about, Jake thought as he observed the tension in Brady’s neck and jaw. He got the other stuff out of the way, but this is what he’s working up to.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I want to know if you’ve seen Madison around—and how she’s doing. Does she…seem okay to you?”

  What the hell? That came out of left field. Jake’s eyebrows lifted. “According to Carly, you’re the guy who won a date with her. Don’t you know?”

  “We haven’t gone on that date yet,” Brady said tightly. “I’m just asking your opinion. She seem all right to you? Not…jumpy or…scared…or anything?”

  Jake’s inner radar switched into high alert. He hadn’t seen all that much of Madison, but when he had seen the girl, he hadn’t noticed anything odd about her behavior. Brady was the one who looked like he wasn’t okay.

  “I think you’d better tell me what this is all about.”

  “Madison thinks she’s being followed.” As Jake’s gaze narrowed, focusing on Brady with complete, razor-sharp attention, he added, “She’s never actually seen anyone, but—”

  “When did this start? Where was she when she first thought she was being followed?”

  “I’m not sure. I went to her gig one night at the Spotted Pony and she mentioned getting a weird vibe every now and then. She didn’t explain it much—except she told me about a day she brought Emma to the park for a picnic with Carly. She didn’t see anyone actually watching her, but she was pretty freaked out.”

  Tension sliced through every muscle in Jake’s body. Hell. He didn’t like this. At all.

  If someone was following Madison, that meant at least part of the time they were following Emma, too. If his daughter’s babysitter was in any kind of trouble, Emma could be at risk of getting mixed up in it, too.

  “Does Madison have any jealous old boyfriends—any enemies?” he asked sharply, thinking of all the wacky secret admirers a former beauty pageant princess might attract.

  “Not as far as I know. Madison doesn’t date.” Brady shrugged. “Most of the guys around here don’t really get her. And she’s busy a lot of the time with school, her job taking care of Emma, and her music. She has all these gigs at night with her band—and then there’s rehearsals. I don’t like her being scared,” Brady added darkly. “I want to know if she has anything to really be scared about.”

  “I’m going to make it my business to find out,” Jake told him grimly, then shot Brady a long look. “But if you’re so worried about her, why aren’t you going on that date with her—ta
lking to her about it yourself? Or tell Teddy Hodge what’s going on. He’d be pretty interested in the fact that his granddaughter believes she’s being followed.”

  “He sure as hell doesn’t want to hear it from me.” Brady snorted. “The sheriff might just have a heart attack if he finds out I know more about what’s going on with Madison than he does. And she doesn’t need any grief from him on my account. So forget it. Forget I mentioned anything.”

  “Afraid I can’t do that.” Jake sent Brady a level glance. “I’ll keep an eye out for her every chance I get, but if you’re worried, you should talk to her yourself.”

  Brady’s mouth tightened. “That’s not exactly an option. Having me involved in her life will only make things worse. Her grandfather hates my guts. He thinks I’m bad news. Her grandmother probably feels the same way.”

  “But you know better, don’t you? And so do I.” Jake held his gaze. “Why don’t you give Hodge a little time to get used to you? Show him you’re not the hothead he thinks you are.”

  “It won’t work. Everyone in this town knows Madison deserves better than me.” Brady’s eyes held a bleakness and a steel that Jake had never seen before.

  “Maybe you should let her decide for herself. If you have feelings for her, don’t run from ’em, man. Don’t run from her. Tell her. Look, you punched out Hodge’s deputy when you were down, at your very lowest point. But you’re a better man than that and you’re back on your feet. You showed it when you apologized to Mueller. You just have to keep going forward and be the best man you can be. The man who saved that kid on that mountain. That’s what Cord would want you to do. Hold your head up. Stand up. Whether you know it or not, everyone in this town is pulling for you. I bet deep down, Hodge is, too. You make his granddaughter happy, he’ll give you a chance.”

  Brady looked incredulous. “You think the sheriff’s going to let me within ten feet of his only granddaughter?”

  “Only one way to find out.” Jake stared him down. “If you don’t care enough to give it a try, that tells you something right there.”

  Brady fell silent. Then took a deep breath. “You ready to talk about those plans now?”

  “Nope, changed my mind. It can wait until tomorrow.” Jake started toward the door. “I just remembered someplace I need to be.”

  “You know where to find me.” Brady followed him to the hall and glanced outside, toward the noisy construction site. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a really cool thing you’re doing down there. For those kids.”

  Jake paused. Studied him. “I’ve learned that everyone in this world needs a break now and then,” he said evenly. “And I do mean everyone.”

  Brady let the words settle into him. A slight smile tugged at his lips, then he nodded and, without another word, loped outside and back toward the construction site.

  “I gotta make tracks. You coming?” Jake muttered to Bronco as he went through the door and paused, holding it open. The mutt clambered to his feet and trotted over, tail wagging.

  Jake vaulted into his truck, glanced at his watch. He needed to talk to Carly right away. She should be home from work by now.

  His concern wasn’t only for Madison, but for Emma and Carly as well. He had to find out who might be following Madison—and why. It was likely the babysitter had some idea. She may not have admitted it to Brady, but she had to have a clue.

  And anything that affected Madison could also affect Emma….

  Uneasiness roiled through him. Carly was his friend, nothing more. They were both on the same page about that. But he was going to take care of her no matter what. As his foot pressed hard on the accelerator, the truck thundered past a startled buck grazing in a thicket of trees near the road.

  This isn’t just an excuse to see her, he told himself. It’s a legitimate concern. But a part of him knew he could have simply called her.

  The truth was, he hadn’t started to treasure only having Emma in his life. More and more, he’d begun to realize how much he liked having Carly in his life as well.

  Maybe a little too much, he thought grimly, considering how insanely attracted he was to her. They were only friends. They could only be friends. Anything more could mess things up for Emma.

  Right now she had two parents who were getting along. If emotions and sex and actual feelings started entering into it, everything would get screwed up. He couldn’t do that to Emma. Or, he thought, to Carly. He’d only hurt her—let her down.

  She deserved someone who could commit to her.

  He’d never been able to commit to anyone. So he’d given himself hands-off orders. No touching Carly, no kissing her. Nothing that might lead them both down a trail of regret.

  But Emma, he thought suddenly, his face tightening with determination, I’m committing to her. And to being there whenever I can be for Carly. I’d damn well better not bite off more than I can chew. Or make promises I can’t keep….

  Melanie would still be alive today if he’d kept his promise….

  A leaden weight settled directly over his heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After dropping Emma off at Martha’s for her sleepover, Carly let herself into the house as the sun glimmered in a dusky lavender haze over the peaks of the Crazies.

  The weather report promised a warm-up for tomorrow. The temperature would hit the upper sixties, and there would be plenty of sun. It might be one of the last gold-tinged days of autumn before winter came blasting hard and fast through Montana.

  Maybe she’d ask Martha to bring Emma to the shop at lunchtime tomorrow and they’d all walk to the park for one final picnic before the first snow came.

  For tonight, she planned on paying some bills, emailing Sydney, and getting to work on the Tinkerbell costume she was sewing for Emma to wear on Halloween.

  She hung her jacket in the hall closet and made a beeline for the kitchen. As she began sorting through the stack of mail on her writing desk, she noticed Annie’s pumpkin pie recipe paper-clipped to a message pad beside her laptop and suddenly remembered she needed to write a list of ingredients she’d need for the pie.

  Annie had also served a special Thanksgiving punch, she remembered. That might be nice for the big fund-raising dinner dance to be held in Lonesome Way High School’s gymnasium. Of course she’d have to run it by Georgia Timmons first.

  The fun never stops, she thought wryly.

  She was just about to get to work at her writing desk when she paused, noticing that the kitchen felt cold. Much colder than the front of the house and the hall.

  Odd.

  She swung toward the sliding door leading out to the wraparound deck and yard, and froze.

  The door was open. Not wide open…but several inches open. So was the screen.

  A prick of fear stabbed her. That door had been closed when she left for work that morning, and it was closed when she checked again a short while ago before bundling Emma into her jacket and driving her to Martha’s apartment.

  Now as she moved toward the open space her breath seemed trapped in her throat. Chilly air wafted into the room. She shoved the door shut, fastened the lock, then whirled around to glance uneasily around the kitchen.

  Had someone broken in? Was anything missing or out of place?

  Her desk drawer was closed. Nothing looked disturbed. She hurried into the hall, checking each of the downstairs rooms, then rushed up to Emma’s room, the third bedroom, her own bedroom…

  Her bureau drawers were all closed. Her nightstand drawer…

  Open.

  Only a few inches, but she always closed every drawer tight, worried that Emma might accidentally catch her fingers in one.

  And that wasn’t all….

  She suddenly noticed the overhead light glowing in the small closet Denny McDonald had built for her in the corner of her big, airy bedroom.

  She was certain the only lights on when she’d left with Emma had been the living room light and the porch light.

  Her heart thump
ing, she edged toward the closet and peered inside. Calm down. Everything is in order….

  Except…it wasn’t.

  The vintage hatbox on the top shelf. A gift from Annie. It was where she stored scraps of fabric, photos of quilts she loved, notes Annie had written her while she was in college, and poems she’d collected over the years, copying favorites onto stationery and storing them in the box to keep. The hatbox was now turned sideways on the shelf, the front portion of it nearly teetering over the edge. Seizing it with cold fingers, she took it down and peered inside.

  On first glance, it didn’t seem as if anything was missing.

  But someone had been here and moved it. Had they been searching for money?

  Only one name popped into her mind.

  Phil.

  Icy fear slid through every inch of her body as she tried to fight off panic.

  It had been over a year since he called. Was he so desperate for cash that he’d actually tracked her down after all this time, come after her, all the way to Montana? Had he broken into her home, trying to grab whatever cash she had lying around, figuring she wouldn’t call the police on him, that she’d still be that scared, timid little girl who didn’t want to cross him, who cried and begged him to let her out of that tiny hall closet?

  If that’s what he thinks, he’s dead wrong. Taut with anger, she left the hatbox on the closet floor and darted back into the hall and down the stairs toward the tiny room—an alcove really—that served as her sewing room. The childproof hook at the top, which she used to keep Emma from wandering in there alone, was unlatched.

  Bursting inside, she pushed the oval embroidered rug in the center of the little sewing room aside, then knelt and curled her fingers around the single loose floorboard.

  Beneath that floorboard was the metal box where she kept five hundred dollars cash hidden in case of an emergency. Copies of her passport and driver’s license were stowed there, too, as well as her birth certificate and Emma’s, a copy of her will, and the title papers to her home. The originals were in a safety deposit box at the bank. In Annie’s old neighborhood in Boston, there had been occasional break-ins, and Annie had taught her to store her personal valuables and copies of her really important documents beneath the floor and to cover it with a beautiful rug.