The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  She studied the details she’d been able to dig up on the property which matched the GPS location. Currently on the market, the MLS listing described it as a thirty-eight hundred square feet lowcountry style dwelling on ten heavily wooded acres. Additional questions could be addressed to the listing agent.

  An agent by the name of Anne Griffin.

  Kathleen would have liked some additional time to find out more about the property – including whether it was occupied at the moment. However, the situation being what it was, time wasn’t an option. If, as they thought, Anne Griffin had attempted to kill her sister, succeeded in murdering Mandy Hotchkiss and the orderly named Hodges, and had somehow managed to abduct Justin – with no clear indication as to what may have happened to either Shelley Kinson or James – then time, in fact, was of the essence.

  “Drive faster,” she said to Mac.

  “We’re almost there,” Mac murmured. “Hang on.”

  Kathleen did, literally, her fingers curling over the edge of the seat. She studied the dark surroundings – this area, unlike most of the land surrounding Charleston, wasn’t highly developed – and tried not to think about exactly what Justin might be going through right now. Anne obviously considered Justin… hers, which might lend one to believe that she wouldn’t treat him with undue harshness. But Kathleen had seen the results of that sort of obsession, up close and personal, and knew that when the object of affection didn’t adequately fulfill the fantasy role their stalker had created for them, that affection could turn to something much more deadly.

  “There,” she said, looking at the numbers on the mailbox. “The next house on the right.”

  Mac turned off his lights and eased to the side of the road. The current trend in law enforcement might be to go into each and every situation with as much force as possible – up to and including tanks – but in a potential hostage situation, Kathleen felt that tended to escalate things unnecessarily. In this particular case, escalation was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. She and Mac were well outside their jurisdiction, but the county Sheriff was an unknown entity. Therefore, they’d waited until the last possible moment to contact that department.

  “I’m not waiting for backup,” she said, pulling her Kevlar into place before opening her door. “Or permission.”

  Mac sighed. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “You don’t need to risk trouble for my sake.”

  “Will you just can it, Murphy?”

  When Kathleen reached over and squeezed his arm, he arched a brow. “Well, don’t just sit there. Let’s go find your doctor.”

  JAMES reevaluated his opinion of his physical condition. He’d thought he was in good shape, but damn if he didn’t feel like he was going to burst a lung.

  “Keep moving,” the voice behind him said. “You’re going too slow.”

  Panting, James turned and gave her an incredulous look. “You think carrying an extra hundred and eighty-odd pounds over your shoulder is easy?”

  “I think if you don’t move it, I’ll shoot you in the ass.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Funny how that threat was losing its effectiveness. At this point, he might not mind a bullet in the ass if it meant he could sit down and rest.

  Although sitting, in that case, may not be the most comfortable option. He could lie down, though. The ground here seemed pretty soft.

  “Move.”

  James stifled the retort that trembled on his lips. Settling for a glare, he shifted Justin’s bulk and trudged on through the saw palmettos that served as groundcover in these woods.

  “You know that song He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother? That’s total bullshit.”

  “Did I say you could talk?”

  “I didn’t realize I was supposed to ask permission. I’m new at this abduction thing, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t know the rules.”

  He thought he heard a snort, but when he glanced back, Sister Psycho appeared to be frowning.

  “You may look like him,” she said with disdain “but you’re not half the man he is.”

  “Well, if he was half the man he is, he’d be a hell of a lot easier to carry.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  They trudged cautiously through the moonlit sea of saw palmettos, James’ back aching and his lungs seriously considering looking for a different job, while his mind still turned over the possible avenues of escape. If he wasn’t afraid of leaving his unconscious brother to the questionable mercies of his stalker, he’d risk the much-discussed bullet and simply overpower her. Carrying Justin may have sapped his energy, but he doubted he’d have a problem taking her down. No, the problem was that if he charged her while carrying Justin, he risked a bullet hitting his brother, and if he dropped Justin first, he’d lose a few precious seconds and the element of surprise.

  What he needed, he thought, was a distraction.

  “So where are we going?” he asked, tone just this side of bored. Several seconds passed in which he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she finally said “There’s a creek up ahead. It borders the back of the property. There’s no deep water access, though it is navigable at high tide. A number of the neighbors have installed docks and keep small boats and kayaks.”

  “Is that part of your sales pitch?”

  She said nothing, and he figured she was remembering the havoc Shelley had wrought with her for sale sign. Which was how they’d come to be taking this evening stroll. Despite his frustration and fatigue, James smiled. He hoped Shelley had run into one of those neighbors with the small crafts by now.

  It was lighter up ahead, probably a result of moonlight shining off the water.

  Since he’d failed to get a rise out of Anne, James tried another tactic. Because once they reached a boat, he figured his usefulness as a pack mule was likely at an end.

  “Speaking of siblings,” he said, even though they hadn’t been, “what exactly did your sister do to piss you off? I mean, it must have been something pretty awful. My brothers annoy the hell out of me sometimes, but I’ve never done much except punch them. Well, there was this one time that I shaved off Jordan – that’s my middle brother. Anyway, I shaved off Jordan’s eyebrows while he was passed out. But shooting someone through the throat is taking it up a notch. What, she borrowed your sweater and stretched it out? Because she’s got some boobs on her.”

  The silence this time was of an entirely different quality.

  “Must have put a wrench in your plans, Justin saving her life like that. Of course, he does that, you know. Something you might want to consider if you’re planning a future together. You trying to kill people, him patching them up.” James shook his head. “I don’t see how it’s going to work out.”

  “If you say one more word,” she finally said. “I swear I will shoot you.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Oops. Sorry. That doesn’t count, right? Because I was just agreeing.”

  The sound she made was like a steam engine rolling into the station, and James thought now or never.

  He dropped to a crouch, allowing Justin’s inert form to roll off his shoulder. Then he flipped over, hoping to kick the gun out of her hand before she could get off a shot.

  Something came screaming out of the trees.

  James blinked, even as Anne whirled toward the sound, her finger depressing the trigger. A bullet whizzed no more than six inches over his head.

  “Shit!” He ducked, reflexively, until the sounds began to distinguish themselves into the screeches of two very pissed off women. James looked up, recognized Shelley literally clinging to Anne’s back, her hand yanking the other woman’s hair, even as Anne clawed behind her and tried to beat Shelley in the head with the gun.

  Figuring there was no time like the present, he launched himself forward, catching Anne behind the knees. She fell to the ground, taking Shelley with her, the gun flying from her hand.

  “Bitch. You bitch,” Shelley was saying, her hand still
fisted in Anne’s hair. James caught a foot under the chin – he wasn’t sure whose – and tasted blood as he bit his tongue.

  Rolling aside, he felt through the underbrush until his hand closed around the gun. Unfortunately, the two women rolled on top of him, and the gun skittered out of his hand.

  “Shelley!” he said trying to gain her attention, but she was pretty much in a blind rage. Freeing one arm, James locked it around the woman nearest to him, yanking her against him. He hoped it was the right one.

  “Let her go!” Shelley yelled, confirming that he had indeed grabbed Anne. “I’m going to kick her ass.”

  “I think you’ve done a pretty good job of that already,” he panted, feeling something warm run down his arm. A glance told him that Anne seemed to have suffered a broken nose.

  Because he didn’t trust her, he wrapped a leg around hers, flipping her over and pinning her beneath his weight.

  “Can’t. Breathe,” she said, bucking ineffectively, and James considered that with her nose broken, that might actually be the case.

  “Tough,” he told her, though he did ease his weight up slightly.

  A light pretty much blinded him then, and James blinked, unable to see the person who held it. Then the light swept over Shelley, who stood wild-eyed and disheveled, and Anne, lying still and bloody beneath him.

  He could just make out knobby knees between the edge of a robe and the top of rubber waders, and what looked to be the double barrel of a shot gun, aimed his direction.

  “What,” a scratchy masculine voice finally said “in the sam hill is going on?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  JUSTIN took Natasha’s hand in his and held it gently, heartened by the strength he felt there, as well as by her smile.

  “You’re looking a lot better today,” he told her.

  “I feel better,” she said, though her voice was still scratchy from the tracheostomy. “One less tube. Go, me.”

  Justin smiled. He searched her eyes, wondering exactly how to broach the subject. Or even if he should. Perhaps this was the sort of thing best reserved for the professionals.

  But she seemed to sense the unspoken question, and gave his hand a little squeeze. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tiptoe around it. My sister tried to kill me.”

  “I know I’m supposed to ask and how does that make you feel, Natasha, but I didn’t go into psychiatry for a reason. I mean, what kind of question is that?”

  Her smiled broadened a little, but then faded. “A difficult one to answer. How do you pinpoint one emotion among so many? Hurt? Angry? Betrayed? Vindicated? More like all of the above, and then some.”

  Justin nodded. He could imagine. But it was the vindicated part that he needed to ask her about. For his own sake. Though if he never got the answer, he’d live with that. Right now, it was Natasha’s wellbeing that was important.

  She let go of his hand, and fingered the edge of the bed sheet. Then her fingers stilled, and she lifted her gaze, resolution in her eyes.

  “You know how… that evening, when I came to see you, we talked about the other doctor? From when I was young?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, you know I was sick a lot, after the car accident. Weird stuff. But the thing is, I don’t know why, but I started to feel like, maybe… I wasn’t really sick. Not that I didn’t have physical symptoms, but I mean, it seemed like the sickness wasn’t in me, if you know what I mean?”

  “I think so.”

  “One time, I stayed with a friend of mine for a week, because Anne had the flu and couldn’t take care of me. Plus, me being in such delicate health all the time, it wasn’t good for me to be around her. In fact, that was the first time, after the accident, that I’d been able to really spend any time with a friend. Anne liked me to stay home. To protect me.” Her mouth twisted.

  “But the thing is, I felt great that whole week. We played outside and climbed trees and I remembered. What it felt like to be a kid, I mean. Carefree. Happy.”

  Justin recalled the day he’d bumped into Anne, when she’d dropped the bottle of kava, and things began to make sense. “So you began to suspect that your sister was making you sick.”

  “I don’t know if I had put it together, exactly, but… Doctor Fletcher – that was his name. Paul Fletcher. Well, he talked to me alone on one of my visits. Asked Anne to wait outside. I don’t know if he’d begun to suspect something already, but, after talking to me, I’m pretty sure he knew. Or at least suspected pretty strongly.”

  “So what happened?”

  Natasha sighed. “His wife had died a few months before that. Someone ran her off the road.”

  Justin’s stomach twisted, thinking of Kathleen, but he reminded himself that she was fine. Alive. Healthy, whole. Beautiful.

  “Anyway, he committed suicide. A cocktail of drugs and alcohol.”

  This time he thought of Mandy, who though she may have been problematic, hadn’t deserved to die. His mouth tightened.

  “I’m sorry,” Natasha said. “I should have put it together sooner, and warned you. After I was shot – the first time – I didn’t seem to get better. And the overdose, I really thought it was the gang, trying to get rid of me. Maybe I knew, subconsciously, and just didn’t want to admit that it was happening again. That my sister was, was… deliberately hurting me, because she wanted your attention. Like she wanted Doctor Fletcher’s attention.”

  Justin recalled Kathleen asking about Munchausen by proxy. She’d been on the right track, it seemed, but with the wrong person.

  “Hey,” he said, taking Natasha’s hand again when a tear slipped down her cheek. “It’s okay. You did warn me. You don’t have to say any more.” He glanced at her heart monitor, saw that the rate was elevated slightly. “Just rest.”

  “No,” she said, her voice breaking as she gripped his hand. “I need to finish.”

  “Okay. But have a drink of water first.” He took the cup by her bed, helped her take a sip. “Better?”

  She nodded. “The night I spent with Anne – after Shelley and I fought? I found some things. Some old newspaper clippings – Doctor Fletcher’s wife’s accident, his suicide. His funeral. And a hat. He had this crazy fishing hat that he’d wear sometimes, said he was fishing for germs and diseases and he was going to catch them all and fry them up so they wouldn’t bother kids anymore. Just a silly way to make his patients laugh a little. But Anne… Anne had that hat.”

  Justin could see what a blow that had been. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t enough.

  Natasha brushed away another tear. “She had some other stuff. Newer stuff, about you. Articles about the shooting at Jugs. Pictures. A wine cork. And a man’s coat and shoes. I guess she stole them from you?”

  Justin nodded. Despite her protestations, he could see that the conversation was wearing on Natasha. He reached out, stroked her hair back from her pallid face. “That’s enough for today,” he told her. “You need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”

  That earned him a little smile. “You’ll come see me again?”

  “You bet.”

  “I hope you don’t think… I mean I’m not like my sister. I just… hope that we can be friends.”

  “We are friends,” he assured her. Then he patted her arm and stood up. “Rest now.”

  She closed her eyes, and he let himself out of her room.

  Kathleen was leaning against the wall at the other end of the hallway. She looked up, and the smile that lit her face was the one she reserved just for him.

  He figured his own face wore a similar expression.

  “Hey,” she said, pulling away from the wall when he reached her. “Everything okay?”

  He took her hand. “It will be.”

  They walked through the hospital, hand in hand, content simply to be together. When they passed the cafeteria Kathleen stopped suddenly, peering through the window.

  “Is that your brother with Shelley?”

  Justin nodded.
“They seem to have a thing.”

  “A thing?” Kathleen’s voice was amused.

  Justin lifted his shoulder. “No other way to describe it. I can’t figure out whether they’re friends, lovers or have some strange sort of symbiotic relationship based on annoying each other as much as possible while suffering an inability to spend more than several hours apart. It’s… a thing.”

  Kathleen laughed. “Huh. Interesting.”

  Justin lifted a brow. “And how do you feel about the fact that my brother is going to be working with your ex-boyfriend?”

  “Well, I’m mostly wondering how long it will take before he turns Anthony’s hair white.”

  “Not long,” Justin assured her.

  “I still can’t believe he and his… thing in there had everything wrapped up before Mac and I even got there.”

  “Hey, at least you didn’t sleep through the whole thing.” Justin considered, and then patted his pocket, figuring what the hell. He drew his surprise out, passed it to Kathleen.

  “What’s this?” She stared at the envelope.

  “You’ll have to open it to find out.”

  She arched a brow, but then slid her fingernail beneath the edge of the paper. Justin waited patiently for her to draw out the contents.

  “Ireland?”

  He nodded, then gestured to the tickets. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I know it’s short notice, but I figured it’ll be fairly cold this time of year. Not sure about the snow, but we can still enjoy cuddling by the fire. The cottage has one in the bedroom; I made sure.”

  Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Cuddling, huh?”

  “You always mock my euphemisms.”

  She kissed him then, her mouth hot and sweet on his. “Just as long as you don’t sleep through it.”

  “Believe me.” He kissed her back. “I won’t.”

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