0373447477 (R)

by Shirlee McCoy

  “That something scared Tabitha so much, she knew she had to run and take Jubilee with her. Not just the abuse. My sister would have taken pictures and gone to the police and taken Jarrod for everything he had if that’s all there was to it.”

  “She could have gone to the police anyway.”

  “She told me that Jarrod had a lot of connections. She begged me not to contact law enforcement until after Jubilee had been brought to her biological father.”

  “Because she didn’t want to be caught with her hands full of stolen property?” he suggested, and she shook her head.

  “That’s what everyone believes. It’s what Jarrod wants everyone to believe, but I think she wanted time.”

  “To do what?”

  “Prove whatever it is she suspects? Hide before she lets the police know what her husband had done? It could be anything. Until we talk to her, we won’t know the truth.”

  “She’s not making that easy.”

  “Would you, if you thought someone wanted you dead?”

  He wouldn’t, but he had plenty of friends and family who’d come to his rescue if he needed it, who’d keep him hidden, work behind the scenes to prove his innocence or to keep him safe. He’d had plenty of people come to his rescue over the years. Someone like Tabitha wouldn’t have known where to run, whom to ask for help. She’d lived her life on a surface level, and that never created good connections.

  “You said that you and your sister hadn’t seen each other in years?”

  “We hadn’t. She came to my wedding, got drunk as a skunk and had to be escorted off the premises.”

  “I wonder why she flew all the way to Maine instead of flying to Maryland and asking August for help.” It would have made more sense, would have been the safer option.

  “You’ve seen how August feels about her. He’d have called the police immediately.”

  “That might have been the better option. Look at the mess she’s in. The mess she’s gotten you in.”

  “It would have been her story against Jarrod’s, and she’d have been standing there with her pockets and hands full of stolen property, claiming that he was the bad guy. Eventually, the police might have checked out her claims that Jubilee wasn’t Jarrod’s child, but what if he’d left the country before then? What if he’d harmed Jubilee, or hidden her away? Let’s cut through here.” She took his hand, her hand cold in his as she tugged him to a path that seemed to meander through thick trees. “It’ll be a lot quicker.”

  “Quicker than what?”

  “Walking through town to get to the marina. I want to talk to Tom.”

  “It’s late. Are you sure he’ll be there?”

  “His house is a block away. Really pretty view of the lake. I went there for lunch one Sunday after church.”

  “A short cut through the woods when there’s a murderer walking around might not be the best idea, Quinn.” He stopped.

  Cold air swirled around them, a hint of winter and moisture in it. They couldn’t be far from the lake. He could see lights through the trees, a glint of water, but someone had been murdered the previous night, and Malone wasn’t into taking needless chances.

  “It’s a quarter mile through the trees. A mile and a half if we have to go around them.”

  “I like shortcuts. When I know what I’m going to run into on them. I’ll call Chance and have him meet us here. We’ll go to the Marina together.”

  “I thought he was out looking for Tabitha. That’s a better use of his time.”

  “A better use of his time—the only use of it that matters to me right now—is keeping you safe. Have you forgotten that you were attacked less than an hour ago?”

  “No, but—”

  “This is what we do, Quinn,” he said, cutting her off. “Don’t tie our hands and expect that we can protect you.”

  “I didn’t ask you for protection,” she mumbled, tugging her hand out of his. “I didn’t ask you for anything. All I wanted was to get Jubilee back where she belonged. The rest of this is a nightmare, and I just want it to be over.”

  She was close to her breaking point, and if he wasn’t careful he was going to push her right over the edge.

  It wasn’t what he wanted.

  He needed her strong, and he needed her focused.

  He also needed her to cooperate.

  “Listen to me,” he said, his hands resting on her biceps, his fingers curved lightly around slim, firm muscles. “You and I have exactly the same goals. We’ve got to work together on this, and we’ve got to be smart about it.” His hands slid to her shoulders, his thumbs brushing silky skin. “You’re running on emotion, and I’m running on logic. If you think about it, you’ll realize that I’m right—putting ourselves in danger isn’t going to keep Tabitha safe.”

  She frowned, but didn’t pull away from his hold.

  “I really wish I could argue with that. But I can’t, so call your boss and tell him we need a ride.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he said, reaching for his cell phone. He hadn’t heard from Chance or Stella. They must still be on the hunt for Tabitha. He texted his location and hit send, took Quinn’s arm and led her to the curb.

  “Let’s wait here,” he said, pulling her down so they were both sitting at the edge of the sidewalk.

  “Waiting seems like a huge waste of time.” She pulled a blade of grass from a crack in the sidewalk and ripped it apart. “And I know you agree, because you definitely don’t seem like the kind of person who likes to sit idle.”

  “You’re right, but this isn’t sitting idle. This is waiting for a ride that can take us where we want to go.” And, he hoped it arrived soon, because he was getting that feeling again—the one that said things weren’t quite what they seemed, that maybe danger wasn’t as far away as he was hoping.

  “What’s your family like, Malone?” Quinn asked, pulling up another blade of grass. “Because I’m hoping it’s just as crazy as mine.”

  He smiled, thinking about the siblings and cousins he’d helped raise, all the trouble that they’d gotten into and that Malone and his grandfather had helped them out of. “They are.”

  “Do you have a big family?”

  “Eleven kids all living in an old farmhouse with one bathroom and three bedrooms.”

  “Wow, your parents had their hands full.”

  “My grandparents, actually. My parents and aunt and uncle were killed by a drunk driver when I was eleven. After that, Granddad and Grandmom raised me, my four siblings and my six cousins on their farm. I was the oldest, so I helped out with the younger kids a lot, and I can assure you that every single one of them was nuts.”

  “That must have been tough.”

  “Losing my parents was. Living with my grandparents...it was good. It taught me a lot about the value of family. It taught me everything I know about love and faith and keeping on. You learned that, too, Quinn. That’s why you’re fighting so hard for a sister you haven’t seen in years. It’s why your brother keeps an apple pie in his freezer. It’s why Tabitha made sure Jubilee was safe before she did anything else. In the midst of whatever craziness your family had, the three of you were taught what to value.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “No guessing. Love is the thread that’s sewn you three together. That thread is made of steel, and it can’t be broken.”

  “Death can break it,” she said, the fear in her voice palpable.

  “Even death can’t break love’s hold. Look at you,” he said, lifting her right hand and touching the narrow gold band. “You haven’t stopped loving your husband.”

  “No, but it’s not the same.”

  “Would you want it to be? Would you want to still have that great love for him, still be tied to him even though he’s no longer tied to you?” he asked, even though it was none of his business. Even though he shouldn’t care.

  He did care.

  He wasn’t so much of a coward that he couldn’t admit it.

  He’d
never wanted to get in a deep relationship with anyone. He’d never wanted marriage, family, the kinds of things his parents and grandparents had cherished. He’d done his time, helped raise a bunch of kids before entering the military. That had always seemed like enough. Until recently. Until his busy schedule had become just one job after another, until he’d realized that his nieces and nephews were growing up and didn’t even really know him.

  Until he’d looked around and saw friends getting married, having kids, settling into family, and he’d still been chasing after the next adrenaline high.

  Looking at Quinn, her shoulders hunched as she stared across the street, that ring glinting in the moonlight, he thought he’d been a fool to think that there would never come a time when he’d want more than what he had.

  “Quinn.” He lifted her hand again, heard her sigh. “Would you want it to be?”

  She turned her head slowly, and he could see the tears in her eyes, knew that she understood what he was asking—was there room for someone else? Was she able to let go of what she’d had so that she could grasp something new?

  “It feels like betraying him,” she said. Not an answer to the question, but he thought it was all she could give.

  “When it doesn’t—” he stood, pulled her to her feet “—let me know, okay?”

  She nodded as a car turned onto the road, sped toward them without any indication that it planned to slow. Not Stella and Chance. That was for sure.

  Malone yanked Quinn toward the trees, shoving her behind a wide-trunked oak.

  “Get down,” he yelled, pulling his firearm as the vehicle jumped the curb.

  * * *

  Tires squealed, brakes screamed, gunfire exploded through the trees. Quinn wanted to run, but she couldn’t leave Malone behind. She scurried through dead leaves and pine needles, crawling on her hands and knees, her heart pounding frantically. She needed to find a weapon, some way to help if Malone got into trouble.

  Her palm scraped over tree roots, and she dug through the leaves, hoping to find a stick or a rock. The world had gone silent and graveyard still. Not an animal or bird moving through the trees.

  She wanted to call for Malone, make sure he wasn’t lying injured somewhere, but she knew if she did it might be both of their death sentences.

  You’re running on emotion. I’m running on logic.

  He’d been right about that.

  She couldn’t afford to mess this up. She needed to be careful, methodical. She ran her hands through the dead leaves, finally felt the thick end of a fallen branch. She pulled it out as she stood, trying to be as silent as possible. Still no movement in the woods, no doors slamming or footsteps pounding. Headlights illuminated the path she’d planned to take, and she stayed out of their range, ducking into the shadowy fold of the dense undergrowth, creeping back toward the road. She’d circle around, see if she could get a better look at the vehicle and whoever was in it. See if she could find Malone.

  Would you want it to be the same?

  His words echoed through her head, mixing with the uneven thump of her heart as she moved closer to the road. She’d been too much of a coward to say she wouldn’t, too much of a fool to admit that she felt herself moving on, letting go.

  Maybe she just hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself.

  Maybe she was too afraid to be hurt again, to fall in love and say goodbye again.

  Somewhere to her right, a twig snapped, the sound chilling her blood.

  She froze, her hand sweaty around the jagged edges of the stick, her heart thumping rapidly.

  Leaves crackled under someone’s feet.

  Not Malone. He moved through woods as silently as a cat.

  She pressed back against an old pine tree, the prickly bark digging through her clothes. A dove called from somewhere deep in the woods. Another one answered.

  It took a moment for her to realize it was a signal.

  Malone and his team, or someone else?

  She tightened her grip on the stick, the silence of the forest enveloping her again. If she looked carefully, she could see the lake through the woods, the water glinting with reflected moonlight.

  The dove called again. This time closer. Seconds later, the headlights of the car went out, and the world plunged into darkness.

  ELEVEN

  She needed to move.

  She could not keep standing in the shelter of the tree, hoping for the best. She had to find Malone or find help.

  Quinn eased around the tree trunk, tried to see into the blackness. Nothing moved. No more dove calls or snapping twigs. She could have been alone in the woods, but she knew she wasn’t. People were there, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d run into one of them.

  She tightened her grip on the stick, took a step away from the tree. Someone grabbed her, throwing a hand over her mouth so quickly she didn’t have time to scream.

  “Shhhh!” The voice wasn’t Malone, and she panicked, kicking backward, connecting with a shin.

  Her assailant didn’t release his hold, just leaned down and whispered. “It’s Chance. And I bruise easy, so lay off.”

  “Malone,” she mumbled against his hand.

  “He’s chasing after the guy who was in the car.”

  “What—?”

  “How about we talk about it once you’re safe?”

  “I’m not worried about being safe, I’m worried about Malone!” she protested as he hurried her to the road, waved at someone she couldn’t see.

  Headlights flooded the street, and the SUV pulled up beside them. Chance hurried Quinn into the backseat, slammed the door and slapped the roof. Then he was gone, running back the way he’d come.

  The SUV rolled forward, turned onto Lake Way, a GPS device spouting out directions as Stella drove, her expression grim and tight.

  “You’re a lot of trouble, you know that?” she said.

  “I’m not trying to be.”

  “Apparently you don’t have to try. It just happens when you’re around. Bet that sister of yours is the same way.”

  “Did you find her?” Quinn shifted, trying to see out the back window. Where was Malone? Chance had said he was okay, but would he stay okay? She’d heard gunfire. Had Malone been the one shooting, or had the bullets been flying toward him?

  She tried not to think about him, lying bleeding and wounded, but she couldn’t stop the image from filling her head.

  “No sign of your sister. She’s as wily as you are. But we’ve got an idea where she was heading. There’s an old factory just outside of town. Abandoned. You know the one I’m talking about?”

  “Factory?” She tried to think of the building Stella was talking about.

  “Factory. Shop. I don’t know what it is. A couple of stories high. Boarded-up windows?”

  “The tannery?” The place had been in its heyday a hundred years ago, when there was a premium for leather goods and hunting hadn’t been regulated. It had closed in the sixties, when the old-fashioned process of tanning hides had been too expensive and time-consuming to be lucrative.

  “Quinn, you’re the one who lives in this town. I’m just passing through on my way back to a normal life,” she said wearily.

  “It’s on the north side of town, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the tannery. It’s been closed for decades.”

  “Which makes it a good place for people to squat. We talked to some locals. They seemed to think that if someone wanted to hide, that’d be the place to do it.”

  “Did you tell the sheriff what you suspect?”

  “We did one better than that. We went ourselves. Didn’t have time to get in, thanks to Malone’s SOS, but one of the boards on a back window had been taken down. Seemed like an easy access point. Once we get this newest mess cleared up, we’re heading back.”

  “Shouldn’t the sheriff be told about this newest mess?” If Quinn had her phone, she’d have already called, but she had no way to contact anyone. Not the sheriff. Not he
r brother.

  Not Malone, and he was the one she most wanted to hear from.

  “Trust me, that grumpy old man has been informed. Your brother has been at the station for hours, trying to get information about Tabitha. I texted him and told him to send the old guy this way.”

  “Sheriff Lock isn’t old or grumpy.”

  “He acts old, and he was sure grumpy with me when I spoke with him earlier. Guess the guy isn’t used to dealing with chaos.”

  “Echo Lake is usually calm and quiet.” Quinn had loved it from the moment she’d visited for the first time, met all Cory’s friends, his family, the people he’d grown up with and loved.

  Now that he was gone, she was part of that network, as completely enmeshed in it as he had once been.

  “It seems like it. It’s pretty, too. Trees and water and beautiful old houses. I bet there’s a bed-and-breakfast somewhere, right? Some huge old Victorian that some old lady inherited from her family.”

  “Blue Bonnet Hill. It’s on a double lot in the middle of town.”

  “I knew it!” Stella said. “I’ve always wanted to live in a place like this. When my husband was alive, we used to...”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just silly kid stuff dreaming about things that are never going to happen.”

  “Like moving to a little town and raising a family?” Quinn guessed.

  “Like I said, it was silly kid’s stuff. Sometimes it works out for people.” She pulled into Tom’s Marina, and shifted so she could meet Quinn’s eyes. “When it does, it’s pretty special. Look at my friend Boone. He’s married now, with two beautiful kids, and soon he’s going to be reunited with the child he’s spent five years searching for. Everything he’s hoped for is working out.”

  “What about you, Stella? What are you hoping will work out?”

  “Us finding your sister and me getting back home. When you get to be my age, it takes a little more rest to look good, and I wouldn’t want to look rough for my date.” She patted her unlined cheeks and smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.