Ghosts of Culloden Moor 23 - Brodrick

by L. L. Muir

  He smiled. “Aye. That is just it. Ghostly Highlanders with the occasional panic attack.”

  “Have you ever panicked and had to call the bugler?” Yeah, she was drinking the Kool-aid. But she wasn’t about to let doubt shut him down just when he was opening up.

  “Aye and no. We all needed reassurance from time to time in the early years. But we never summoned the bugler. He simply knew to come.

  “Once we stepped into the 19th century, over fifty years after the battle, those panic attacks as ye call them came less frequently. There was so much to distract us, then, on those rare days when we chose to wake and observe the living. And wee Rabby, a young lad among our number, needed Assembly called more often than most. Understandably. His dog was not always a sufficient comfort.”

  “A boy? How heartbreaking!”

  “Auch, he wasna the only lad to fall at Culloden, mind. There were many a woman and child that fought and fell that April day. But Rabby was the only laddie to rise with us afterward.”

  “How can you stand it, knowing there is a little boy’s ghost out there?” Her heart was breaking at the image her mind had painted.

  Brodrick patted her knee. “Wheest, now. Rabby’s nae longer on the Moor. He was one of those Soni sent on first. She’s a soft-hearted lass, like ye.”

  Larkin snorted. “I’m not soft. You have to be fairly calloused to be a psychologist. You can’t internalize—”

  “Ye’re soft, lass. And it’s a fine thing for a woman to be.”

  She was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about her heart since he was currently staring at her lips. But in order to keep their conversation from dissolving into a make out session and leaving her with unanswered questions, she stood up and stretched her legs.

  “You make it all sound so believable.” She pointed to the broken piece of glass still sitting on the other bed without a trace of blood on it. “I really can’t deny what I saw for myself. But you have to be patient with me. I’ve never believed in fairy godmothers, never believed in anything supernatural. I don’t even believe in…” She grimaced at what she was about to say.

  “Ghosties?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “And yet yesterday, ye didna believe that Payette was an evil man. Now ye believe. ‘Tis the same adjustment ye must make when ye learn anything new. Just because ye held onto yer belief for a great while doesn’t mean ye canna change yer mind. And it doesn’t mean that everything ye believed beforehand can’t be true as well. For instance, just because ye now believe in ghosts, doesn’t mean ye must believe in werewolves.”

  She quickly checked his expression, worried.

  He laughed. “Nay, lass. So far as I ken, they are only fantasy.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And zombies?”

  He laughed and shook his head, lifted and arm and invited her to sit beside him again. When she did, he hugged her shoulder and pulled her into him. “I ken it is difficult to swallow. After all, it was only this morning ye had to give up the notion that the world is flat.”

  They both laughed at the reference to their earlier argument. But their laughter was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Larkin jumped to her feet and hurried to the table. The trailer’s booth seats were filled with sturdy apple boxes full of groceries, paper supplies, and kitchen gadgets. She had to find the phone before it stopped ringing.

  “Ye canna mean to answer it,” Brodrick said from behind.

  “No. But we can use it to check the news, if it’s not locked.” She found it stuffed down the side of a box full of dish towels and wash cloths. A smartphone, thank goodness. She swiped the ignore option, which ended the call without answering it. “Full battery!”

  They took it back to the bed and sat. It took her a minute to find a Minneapolis station’s website. It was just after ten a.m. She chose the live feed that took her right to the news.

  For a few seconds, she couldn’t hear—too stunned by the face on the screen. It was her own. The picture was one Justice had taken with his cell. A slight frown made her look like she wasn’t quite bright.

  “…also considered dangerous,” the newswoman said. “Dr. Nash is a local psychologist who law enforcement claims was seduced by the Scottish suspect when she was called to Landry Medical Center to evaluate him. They say Dr. Nash not only helped the man escape custody, but has remained with the suspect as a willing hostage. We should have a clip for you soon of the good doctor at Walmart this morning, buying clothes for the suspected cop-killer. She is now considered his equally dangerous accomplice.” The woman tried to remain sober, but the smile that pulled up one side of her lips suggested she thought it was pretty funny. “Maybe they’ll be changing the term Stockholm Syndrome to Scottish Syndrome. Brian?”

  The shot switched to the male anchor who was also trying to control his smile.

  “I can’t believe Justice would just kick me to the curb like this.”

  “Larkin?”

  “What?”

  “Look at me.”

  She rolled her eyes and turned her head. “Apparently, I spent too much time looking at you back at the hospital. A whole two minutes I looked at you. And that was all it took, I guess, to be seduced.” She gestured toward his body like a new prize on The Price is Right and suddenly forgot what she was going to say. She rolled her eyes again and turned back to the phone screen before she said—or did—something she might regret.

  “We have Sheriff Justice Payette of Mille Lacs County standing by at the hospital where they have set up search headquarters for the area between the hospital and North Long Lake. Sheriff Payette, is it true that Dr. Larkin Nash was once your girlfriend?”

  Larkin’s heart stopped and an intense ache radiated out from somewhere beneath her collarbone. Justice hadn’t opened his mouth yet, but the disgust on his face was enough to make her flinch.

  “It’s true,” he said, “I dated Larkin Nash up until about a month ago.”

  Larkin grunted. “We didn’t break up. He had meetings—”

  “I couldn’t say what her mental state was last night when she was called in to the hospital. It is not known at this time whether or not she knew the suspect prior to the murder of Sheriff Robert Reiser, but she and Sheriff Reiser did know each other. Whether or not she hired the mental patient to kill the sheriff is a possibility we’re looking at. The suspect pretended not to speak English, but thanks to the Walmart footage, we see that they are obviously able to communicate. So we believed that was all an act on his part.”

  “How well did you know Sheriff Reiser?” the newswoman asked. But Larkin’s ears were pumped so full with blood, she couldn’t hear anything more. She watched Justice’s lips move, read the disgust on his face, but heard nothing more.

  She jumped when Brodrick’s hand rested on her shoulder, but she was too embarrassed to look at him again. He knew the truth, that she’d been forced to go along with him, not seduced into helping him escape. But then she thought about that moment in the elevator when he’d told her to move away from the door and she’d done it. Instead of running from him, she’d gone along, showed him an escape route—

  No wonder Justice thought—

  “Bastard,” Brodrick hissed at the screen. “Since I have had ample time to convince ye of the truth, he must ensure that no one will believe anything ye say.” He suddenly jumped to his feet with his hand out as if to protect her. “Larkin! The trailer has stopped!”

  They’d been so focused on the news, they hadn’t noticed!

  The trailer door swung open. The wet, fresh smell of rain flooded through doorway, but no one appeared.

  “Come on out,” a man said. “Keep your hands where we can see ‘em.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Brodrick held out his hand, commanding her to stay put. Then he moved toward the opening.

  “Not a chance,” she said, and joined him. He grunted and tried to keep her behind his back. She strained
to see what was waiting for them.

  The driver of the pickup stood about five feet back, his hand on the collar of a pit bull, a long sleek animal with the coloring of a mountain lion. Larkin had been expecting a gun.

  “Yeah,” the man said loudly, “it’s them. Make the call.”

  “Wait!” She lunged around Brodrick and stood in front of him. “We’re being framed by the sheriff of Mille Lacs County. Please don’t call the police!”

  The pit bull snarled and barked so viciously it gave her the chills, but it stayed put even though it was barely restrained. It’s owner looked toward the front of the vehicle. “Hang on.” He turned back to Larkin and glanced over her shoulder. “I take it you’re not his hostage?”

  She shook her head. “Not anymore.”

  “Weapons?”

  “No—”

  “Yes.” Brodrick shifted behind her, then reached over her shoulder and tossed something. After a loud smack, the handle of a small knife protruded from the short grass three feet to the right of the dog.

  The man’s wife walked into view and over to the dog. She squatted next to it and told the animal to be quiet. It calmed instantly. Her eyes widened when she looked over Larkin’s shoulder.

  Wait ‘til you see the rest of him.

  “We’re sorry we broke into your trailer,” Larkin told her. “We were desperate.”

  The man glanced at his wife. “It’s your call, honey.”

  Larkin was tempted to duck back inside so the woman could get a clearer picture of Brodrick, but she didn’t dare move—like standing in the teleporter on Star Trek, trying to hold completely still so she came out all right on the other side. The rest of her life was being determined by something completely out of her hands.

  “I think it’s time for lunch,” the woman said, then straightened and brushed her hands together. “Let’s get out of this drizzle.”

  A half hour later, the four of them were seated around the table eating sandwiches and chips and drinking orange soda, which Brodrick said looked a lot like Irn-Bru, something they drank in Scotland.

  Elmer asked, “Does it taste the same?”

  Brodrick lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve never had the pleasure.”

  Maribelle exhaled in a quiet sigh. She was a surprisingly kind woman who had fixed four plates while the rest of them relocated the boxes of supplies to the beds. She stayed relatively quiet and unobtrusive, while Larkin and Brodrick told them about the past twelve hours, but each time Brodrick spoke, Maribelle’s head would turn his way so she could watch his mouth.

  Apparently, Larkin wasn’t the only woman in Minnesota who was affected by his brogue.

  When the Highlander hadn’t anything more to say, Maribelle turned to her. “So you’re a doctor?”

  She shook her head. “Just in psychology.”

  The woman frowned. “Just?”

  “Well, I’m not out there transplanting hearts or anything.”

  “Did you want to transplant hearts?”

  Larkin laughed. “No. No, I guess I didn’t. I grew up in the foster system and I knew I’d have to take care of myself. And for me, that meant I needed money.” Brodrick got a funny look on his face, then focused on his food again. She ignored it for the moment and went on. “I thought my best bet was a medical career. But needles aren’t my thing, so I chose something cleaner. Fewer plastic gloves required.”

  “Was there something else you wanted to do?”

  “Oh, not really. I liked the idea of helping people. As a teen, I was taken to a psychologist a few times who helped me find some perspective. And if I could do that for other people, I figured I could contribute a little.” She turned her soda can and played with the little drops condensing on the sides of it. “I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to practice now.”

  Brodrick’s hand reached over to squeeze one of hers and they exchanged and awkward smile.

  Elmer cleared his throat. “So? What are you going to do now?”

  Brodrick frowned. “Seek Justice—”

  “Stay alive.” They’d spoken at the same time. She gave him a frown. “I don’t know if we can do both.”

  “And I say, I canna leave ye behind until I ken the bastard is caught.”

  While they argued, Maribelle answered her phone. Her daughter had been the one to call earlier, which had led Larkin to find the phone. The girl had then called Elmer’s phone, which is why they’d stopped, so Maribelle could be sure she hadn’t lost hers. They’d been listening to the news on the radio, so when they heard voices inside the trailer, they feared the worst.

  The pit bull, named Abigail, but lovelingly called Abisnail, was their only weapon. But when the dog didn’t go crazy—she could have fooled Larkin—Maribelle decided to trust them. Abisnail, as it turned out, was a calm, clever dog that seemed to understand every word her owners said.

  The woman was quick to assure her daughter the phone had been found and they had just stopped for lunch. She omitted the fact that they were sharing their meal with the fleeing suspects from the news.

  The couple agreed to take them as far as North Dakota, but she and Brodrick were both reluctant to drag their new friends into their troubles.

  “You and Elmer could go to jail,” Larkin pointed out.

  Her comment led to an entire discussion about where the name Elmer had come from. They were good sports about it and, and for the rest of the meal, the two called each other Elmer and Maribelle every chance they got.

  “Don’t you worry about us,” Elmer said. “We’re not the types to hide our heads in the sand.”

  Before getting back on the road, they listened to the news again. There was a road block about ten miles from where they were and no way to evade it without turning around and heading back. So Maribelle found Larkin a change of clothes, just in case, so the two of them could ride in the pickup while Elmer and Brodrick stayed in the trailer. If the cops insisted on looking in the RV, Elmer would distract them from searching the bathroom, where Brodrick would hide with the dog.

  Unaccountably, Abisnail refused to leave the Highlander’s side, which everyone found charming. To Larkin, however, it was a reminder of everything supernatural about the man she had come to care too much for. For a good hour, she’d been able to forget, to pretend they were just two couples sharing lunch and stories. But reality—or rather, surreality—stared her in the face again.

  Maribelle opened the door and climbed down the steps. Larkin made it to the door, but turned around to look at Brodrick. “I don’t know about this. I mean, we haven’t been separated for what, hours?” She laughed lightly, but it hadn’t really been a joke. She was experiencing separation anxiety, and wanted to acknowledge it somehow.

  Elmer laughed with her, but Brodrick was sober as a judge. He closed the few feet of space between them, put his hand behind her head, and pulled her up to meet his mouth. It was exactly what she’d needed. Nothing else mattered anymore. If they could stand there until the witch called him back, she wouldn’t complain. In fact—

  Elmer cleared his throat again, and Brodrick finally ended the kiss whether she wanted him to or not.

  “We’d better get moving,” the man said. “We don’t want the police stopping to check on us, now do we?”

  Brodrick’s hand slid down her arm as she turned and climbed down the steps. She could still feel the tingle of contact while she waited for Maribelle to fold up the stairs.

  Once they were on the road, the woman called her husband’s phone and told him she would leave it on speakerphone, so the men could hear anything that was said by the police. And that little suggestion got Larkin to thinking.

  Maybe there was a way to expose Justice for the murderer he was…

  CHAPTER SEVETEEN

  They’d gone a couple of miles down the highway when Larkin heard the deep rumble of men’s voices on the phone. Maribelle reached over and turned up the volume.

  Elmer was speaking. “…and you never went home afterwar
d?”

  “I couldna. Too ashamed. I’d talked them into donating every penny they had to the cause. Pennies they could ill afford. And when the fight was lost, they were left with nothing at all. I might as well have held a gun to their heads and robbed them blind. As it was, the clan never recovered.”

  He was referring to the battle he’d died in? Was he crazy? He couldn’t tell just anyone he’d recently been a ghost. He’d get locked up whether he killed someone or not!

  “Oh, come on now. There is nothing wrong with dedicating your heart and soul to something. It’s how great things are done. It’s how things are changed.”

  “Aye, but I had no right to dedicate their very lives to something they didna believe in.”

  There was a short pause. “I’m sure your family has already forgiven you. All you need to do is give them a chance to tell you that.”

  Brodrick laughed. “Sir, ye have no ken how many years I have been trying to avoid that very conversation.

  Larkin relaxed. It sounded like Elmer didn’t know what century Brodrick was talking about.

  “What about the girl?”

  Larkin glanced at Maribelle and without a word, they agreed to leave the speakerphone on. Maribelle even turned down the air conditioner so they could hear better.

  “I’ve begrudged her. I’ve judged her for the spoilt American I assumed she was…”

  The square lump in her pocket felt like ten pounds sitting against her hip bone.

  “But I’m ashamed. As it happens, the lass has a good heart. I kenned it the moment she stepped into that small room to try to calm everyone down—no doubt hoping to keep any of us from getting hurt. But I’d already made up my mind to take her away from the bastard, if only to put a thistle in his britches.”

  Both men laughed at that. But she could feel a thistle getting lodged in her own chest hearing that he’d only taken her along to get back at Justice. Maybe that kiss on the second floor had been all about Justice too. The one on the hillside was probably just to prove he was in charge. The kiss on Paul Bunyan Trail might have been his way of making sure she’d come back.