Copper Lake Encounter

by Marilyn Pappano

  In addition to that, Nev would be a Calloway. Five years since Robbie had married Anamaria, and some of the family still hadn’t adjusted to that. Calloway blood running through Nev’s veins wasn’t going to thrill that part of the family. That was okay. Anamaria was fond of saying that the ones who cared didn’t matter, and the ones who mattered didn’t care. Nev could embrace that, too.

  Outside, Anamaria put on sunglasses and then withdrew her keys from the satchel she called a purse. “Well, kids, I’ve got to get home. Babies to spend quality time with, dinner to think about, people not to call.” Her smile faded. “I’m not saying anything to Mama Odette until we...”

  “Know,” Nev finished for her. “I understand. I’m not talking to Mama until we know. I may have even more questions for her if...”

  No one needed to finish it for her: if the test says I’m not your sister. If she wasn’t Glory’s baby, she wouldn’t know who she was, where she came from. Whom she’d inherited her eyes from. Whether anyone out there shared her DNA. What her medical history was. She would have no history, no people, no traditions.

  Anamaria enveloped both of them in a hug and then squeezed Nev again for emphasis. “It will be what it will be.”

  She thought the news, when it came, would be good. Ty could see that. She knew it in the way she’d known countless things she shouldn’t have, couldn’t have known. She was one of those who believed without proof, even though she did want proof before risking her elderly grandmother’s heart.

  It was called faith. Ty had a tremendous amount of it, instilled by his mother, his grandfather, most of the family and friends throughout his life. He had faith that everything would work out. That whatever the result of the DNA test, Nev would handle it. That he would be there to help her.

  No matter what, he would always be there.

  * * *

  Friday morning, Ty returned to work. Nev passed the first few hours after breakfast online, catching up on work, answering email and reading the past week’s posts on YaYa’s blog. This morning’s entry was short and pensive, about decisions that came back to bite a person on the butt, and it made Nev ache. She really preferred her grandmother’s normal snarky, humorous musings. Apparently, Rachelle Newton—she of the fruit-salad hat—agreed, commenting bluntly, You don’t have much of a butt to bite. Quit whining.

  Before closing the computer, Nev typed her own quick comment. Life’s too short for regrets. Love you, YaYa. Always had, always would.

  She was restless, wishing the phone would ring, that Marnie would have the test results back a few days early. As long as they were the results she wanted. “What if they aren’t, Frank? What if I don’t really belong to anyone? I don’t know how to go from being a Wilson to a nobody.”

  The dog laid his paw on her leg and ducked his head so she could scratch behind his ears. His grunts of pleasure made her smile, and she bent to press a kiss to the top of his head. “As long as I feed and scratch you, you’ll love me forever, won’t you, sweetie?”

  With another grunt, he slid bonelessly to the floor and decided to stay there. She should be more like him, she decided as she carefully stepped around him and took her empty coffee cup to the sink. He didn’t care where he came from; where he was now was the only thing that mattered. He loved all the humans in his life except Kiki and didn’t long for the ones who’d passed through. He found contentment in small things, in the present, and trusted that the future would take care of itself.

  While she fretted. She cared very much about where she came from, very much about the important people, including those who had deceived her for twenty-eight years. Her future held countless possibilities but no certainties. Once she moved out of Lima’s house—well, that had become a certainty—Marieka would certainly break off contact with her, and Lima most likely would.

  And Ty... She knew he cared deeply for her. It was obvious in every look, every touch, every kiss. Would his caring someday grow into love? They’d known each other such a short time, but she knew her love for him would only strengthen. No matter how illogical or unrealistic it seemed, she felt it in her soul.

  It’s not how long you know someone that matters but how well. Destiny doesn’t mark time the way people do.

  Nev cocked her head to one side. Must have been something she’d heard one of her aunties or cousins say long ago. It was the sort of sentiment that would make Lima sniff dismissively but that Marieka would embrace wholeheartedly. She had been wildly, passionately in love a dozen times before her twenty-fifth birthday. This was the first time for Nev. And the last.

  She was idly munching an almond cookie and staring out the window over the sink when a low growl from Frank raised the hair on the back of her neck. When she turned, he was on his feet, his own hair bristling down his back, his gaze locked on the front door. He headed that way, his overlarge paws making no sound on the wood floor.

  The knock came a moment later, startling Nev even though part of her expected it. Her heart pounding, she followed Frank, trying to imitate his stealthiness. Before she reached the living room, a louder knock sounded, and then a familiar voice called out.

  “Nev, it’s Detective Isaacs. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  Nev didn’t know if her heart skipped a few beats from relief or apprehension. On the one hand, Kiki was a detective who was investigating the threats and drama of the past few days. On the other, Ty thought she was likely responsible for them. He’d warned Nev to avoid Kiki until he could prove something one way or the other.

  Kiki banged on the door. “Come on, Nev, I know you’re here. Ty’s at work, and it’s not like you have a car to go running around in.”

  Without conscious thought, Nev backed away until she bumped the dining table. Glancing down, she caught sight of her cell phone, grabbed it and then circled to the other side of the table. She should open the door, she counseled herself. Pretend she didn’t have the faintest idea that Kiki could be the one who wanted to get rid of her. Keep Frank close, answer Kiki’s questions and then get her out of the house. Surely the other woman wouldn’t be anxious to hang around with the big dog bristling and growling at her.

  “Damn it, why do people have to do things the hard way?” Rattling sounded outside the door, and then the knob started to turn.

  Oh, Lord, how could Ty have forgotten to reclaim his key from her? Nev darted into the utility room, leaving the door open a tiny crack to watch the front door as it swung in. Wearing jeans and a yellow shirt that made her look sallow, Kiki stepped to one side, her hand on her holstered weapon, and snapped at the dog. “Go on, get out, you filthy mutt.”

  Frank snarled at her once more and then darted out the door. An instant later, the screen door banged behind him, and Nev bit back a sigh. Oh, Frank. You’re so good as an early-warning system, but you fail miserably as a guard dog.

  Then she imagined herself from the detective’s viewpoint, hiding beside the washing machine. If Kiki thought nothing of letting herself into the house, then she would most certainly look for Nev in the other rooms, and when she came into the utility room, how foolish was Nev going to look? She should start one of the machines, open the door and casually walk out as if she hadn’t heard the banging. She should play things cool...but heavens, she’d never learned how to be cool. She was what she was, and right now that was a little scared.

  Kiki disappeared into the hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom, and Nev took the opportunity to tiptoe to the back door, twist the lock and ease it open. She would feel more comfortable outside with room to run, Frank the coward nearby and neighbors to hear her scream, where the heat would explain the nervous sweat trickling down her spine and hide any awkward flushes.

  After one last look over her shoulder, she walked out onto the tiny stoop and stopped so suddenly that she was half-surprised she didn’t fall off her heels and land facedown i
n the grass. Standing at the bottom of the steps was her sister—adoptive sister—wearing jeans, a tank top and running shoes, a malicious smile with a gleam in her eyes to match and pointing a gun at Nev.

  Nev couldn’t quite process the information through her shock. Marieka in Copper Lake? Beautiful, sophisticated, big-city, fun-loving Marieka?

  With a gun?

  When she finally found her voice, the first words out of her mouth weren’t quite what she expected. “That was you at Chantal’s the other night, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It’s a great restaurant for a date. I never thought you’d be there.”

  Nev’s next question should have been What are you doing here? or Why are you pointing a gun at me? But again, her brain surprised her, maybe because the answers to all the questions were tied together. “You know I’m adopted, don’t you?”

  Marieka’s shrug was elegant and insolent. “Mama told me years ago. She wanted me to know that I was her only real daughter, that you were just some stray Daddy had brought home to try to make her feel better when she found out she couldn’t have any more kids of her own.”

  At least part of the story Nev had been told had been true. But in the story, she was the older child; it was after Marieka’s birth that Lima learned there could be no babies. The adoption didn’t mean Nev’s birth date had been changed. She still might be older than Marieka—too old to be Glory’s baby.

  Oh, how she wanted to be Glory’s baby.

  “Daddy didn’t even ask Mama. Some guy at work asked if he was interested in taking a newborn whose family didn’t want her, and he just brought you home, a done deal. Like getting a puppy.” Sweat trickled down Marieka’s forehead, but her spiteful smile was icy. “Mama would have preferred a puppy.”

  Nev moved then. She didn’t intend to; her legs just went weak, and she stumbled back to lean against the solid wood of the house. She’d been a newborn, a voice in her head was shrieking. Marieka had already been born; Lima had already found she couldn’t have more kids. She was younger than her sister, maybe young enough to be Anamaria’s sister.

  “If she didn’t want me, why didn’t Mama—”

  “Don’t call her that!” Though Marieka’s hand had been steady until now, the barrel of the gun dipped and bobbed as anger vibrated through her body.

  Nev raised both hands placatingly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Why didn’t Lima tell Da—him no?”

  “Because he wanted to keep you. And, of course, there was the money.”

  “Money?” Nev felt as if she were three steps behind. Too many shocks, too much time spent trying to absorb it all. “What money?”

  “Mama and Daddy got a check every month to cover expenses, and there’s even a trust fund.”

  “I have a trust fund?” Nev repeated numbly.

  “No.” With a smile that radiated happiness, Marieka made a sweeping gesture with her free hand. “I have a trust fund. I have your name, I have your records and, on your twenty-eighth birthday, I’m going to have your money. Mama planned it that way. Now, come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

  A walk? Oh, no. Nev watched enough TV to know that never ended well. If Marieka was going to shoot her, she could do it right here.

  Oh, dear Lord, Marieka was going to shoot her. The sister she’d always thought merely found her inferior hated her enough to buy a gun, learn to use it and spend hours at a range practicing to perfect her aim so she could kill her. For money. Dear God, she could have every penny Nev might ever have. All the fortunes in the world weren’t worth her life.

  And what was it she’d said? Mama planned it that way. Not murder, Nev was sure. Lima would never condone murder, not even for her precious Marieka. But she’d changed everything about their lives; she’d lied and schemed just so the money Nev’s real family had paid to hide her existence could go to her own daughter instead.

  In that moment, Nev was happy to be adopted, happy that crazy Wilson blood didn’t run through her veins. If she weren’t terrified, she would be downright ecstatic.

  Slowly she pushed herself away from the wall, testing the steadiness of her legs before she let go. She didn’t know what she was going to do—run back into the house, kick off her shoes and race for the nearest neighbor or, heavens, maybe even launch herself at Marieka and knock that gun out of her hand. They hadn’t had a good old-fashioned hair-pulling/kicking/scratching fight in forever, but if ever there was a time, this was it.

  Before she could decide, though, a voice spoke from just inside the door. “Police. Charlotte Wilson, drop your weapon now.”

  Lord, Nev had forgotten all about Kiki! This time it was definitely relief that made her heart stutter. The detective might resent Nev’s relationship with Ty, but she didn’t hate her the way Marieka did.

  The relief faded as quickly as it had come when Marieka coolly pointed the gun a few feet to the right and pulled the trigger. Nev didn’t need to see. The blast, the grunt, the muffled thud of a body hitting the floor told her everything.

  Her greedy, insane sister had shot Kiki.

  And she was coming now for Nev.

  Chapter 13

  Walking into Sophy’s quilt shop was always a trip back in time for Ty, to lazy afternoons at one aunt’s house or another, playing with his cousins while the women worked on quilts stretched on big wooden frames. When the weather was good, they had moved the frames into the yard beneath a shade tree and gossiped at least as much as they’d stitched. They were good memories, ones he wished he could insert his mother into, but she hadn’t been interested in quilting.

  Lucky for him, Nev was.

  Sophy was helping a pair of elderly sisters, so he greeted her with a nod and then went to the back table where Dahlia and Daisy were also occupied with fabric. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hey.” Daisy flinched when her sister poked her with a bony elbow and said defensively, “Well, I am! Mama says so.”

  “We don’t talk to cops.” Dahlia scowled at him with that trademark Holigan distrust.

  “Do you talk to family friends?” He pulled out the chair opposite her, spun it around and straddled it. “Because I used to be friends with your uncle Sean. He even lived with Granddad and me for a while.”

  The older girl stared at him as if he were the big scary cat and she were the tiny mouse he’d just cornered, but she intended to go down fighting. If Daisy had worn the same expression, he might have worried what kind of image he was projecting, but the little one was moving patches of color from one block to another when she absently asked, “Who’s Uncle Sean?”

  Dahlia still stared, her mouth clamped tight, until Ty opened his own mouth. Then she rushed an answer before he could. “He’s Mama’s brother that lives far away. He don’t count as family.”

  Daisy rubbed her nose and then switched a traffic-cone orange shade for pale green. “‘Far away’ means prison,” she said matter-of-factly. “My uncle Declan and my uncle Colin are far away, too. Is our mama goin’ far away?”

  That was a disappointment. Ty had always hoped Sean’s leaving town meant he was making a new, respectable start without the Holigan family burden. But he leaned to put himself closer to Daisy’s level and said, “I don’t know, little one. But whatever happens, you and Dahlia will be taken good care of.”

  Sophy joined them, arms folded across her middle. “Girls, there’s milk and fruit in the refrigerator. Want to grab some?”

  Ty watched them race to the fridge against the wall, Daisy winning by a hair only because Dahlia let her, and then he turned his attention to Sophy. “I just wanted to stop by and make sure you weren’t tied up in the closet or something.”

  “We’re doing fine.” She screwed up her face. “They got away from me in the grocery store yesterday. The only thing that saved me was I knew the layout. But they’re settling down a little, though I�
��m pretty sure Dahlia’s constantly plotting an escape.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that look. She’s a devious little—” His cell phone rang and, recognizing the number, he answered.

  Ryder Benton was young, a relatively new cop, and like young, new cops, he tended to get a little rattled. Today he’d surpassed that and was hovering somewhere near totally freaked out. It didn’t help that the signal wasn’t the strongest.

  “Benton, slow down, man, I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

  A powerful engine revved in the background, along with bits of dispatches from Benton’s radio. His voice faded in and out, but what Ty could hear turned his blood cold. Got a text...Kiki...said nine-one...your address.

  “Call backup. I’ll be there soon.” Ty surged to his feet, gave Sophy’s arm a squeeze as he passed and then strode across the room. Outside, he jogged down the sidewalk, jumped the gate and ran across the street to his vehicle. Why would Kiki text her boyfriend instead of calling the dispatcher on her radio? What was she doing at his house? Had she gone to confront Nev in person this time?

  Flashing lights were enough to get him through downtown traffic and onto River Road, where he flipped on the siren until he turned onto Tillman Avenue. With no idea what was going on at his house, he shut it off again. Better to give no warning.

  Everything looked middle-of-the-day normal. A few kids played in their yard. It was Friday, so Granddad’s blue barge was gone for the weekly old men’s gossip and lunch at B-Jay’s Smoke Shack. The beagle was baying next to his house. The only things out of place were two vehicles: Kiki’s blue police sedan was parked in Ty’s driveway, and a highly polished and gleaming black Lexus was past his house at the end of the street.

  Lights flashing behind him caught his attention as he parked, blocking his drive. Ryder Benton was practically out of his car before it stopped moving, jittery as hell and scared. The kid really cared for Kiki, Ty realized.