She made a decent salary at the casino. She had a 401K plan. Her rent was low because she lived in a Tribal Council house. And she had bought her second hand Kia free and clear with six grand of Will’s prize money, and six grand from the sale of her Focus.
Even with having to save for Shelly’s future, she had some disposable income. She made enough that she could have her hair done. She took Shelly to the salon in town. She bought Shelly new clothes. It was just herself she was neglecting. She had turned into a crazy old maid.
Martha’s bed felt saggy and her pillow lumpy tonight. She tossed and turned, throwing off her comforter and then pulling it back over her. Her nightgown tangled around her waist and she pulled it over her head and threw it across the room. It was old and ugly. She was old and ugly. Dried up and withered. Will wouldn’t want me now. She pressed her head into her pillow so Shelly wouldn’t hear, and bawled herself asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Will had to assume that now that Kyle Brown was out of prison he would be tracking down his niece and daughter. That he blamed them for the death of his only son. And that he thought Martha had the prize money.
Two hundred grand was a lot of money. And Brown was the sort of grifter who would always go after easy prey. He wasn’t going to go get a respectable job if he could shake down a lone woman. And for sure Will’s Martha had a job, maybe two. And what if Brown knew exactly where to look?
He didn’t blame Martha for taking off with her cousin. That son of a sea cook, Lance, had been bad trouble. And Will knew that Martha finding him with Lance in the fight club must have gutted her, especially as he was holding the little bear. And particularly since he was supposed to be deployed. What a snafu.
But didn’t Martha know him better than that? Once she was over her initial panic he had expected her to get in touch with him. He had waited for her to call or email him. But nothing. Obviously she had decided he was the sort of shower scum who screwed around on his mate with little girls. Which hurt.
Of course it didn’t help that Joint Special Ops had deployed his team at zero four hundred next day. He had gone to Martha’s place as soon as he dumped Powell’s ass back at base. He had found Lance lurking in Martha’s parking lot waiting for her, but no sign of Martha or Shelly.
It had been pure pleasure to interrogate Lance. Like all bullies he caved as soon as he was leaned on. The loser had assumed that Will was mad about losing his chance with Shelly. Nauseating shower of sugar that he was.
“Listen, I’ll get her back for you,” he whined. “My fucking cousin’s got no right to her. I’ll make it up to you. You can have them both.” He gave Will a shit-eating grin.
There probably was a place in America where Will didn’t know a veteran working for the police. LA wasn’t one of those places. He had a choice of old friends to call. Johnston was a friend from Annapolis. But Will chose him because he worked Narcotics and he had a hunch Lance had a history in drugs.
Sergeant Johnston was only too happy to send a unit to investigate. The patrol officers had run Lance’s driver’s license and tapped into his convictions in Michigan. They had not been able to charge him with anything, but had moved him out of Martha’s lot.
Martha still had not returned to her apartment when Will had to report. He had gone on his mission worried about her but confident that his mate could deal with Lance. Johnston had promised to keep an eye out for her.
When he returned to LA. Johnston informed him that Lance Brown had been found dead two weeks after the fight. He had bled out in the alley behind the fight club. Multiple lacerations could not be explained by the pathologist, who suspected the deceased had been tortured.
The police had raided the bar, found DNA that matched Brown’s, but couldn’t make a case. The club continued to operate.
Will could have told him that Lance had probably been taken out by the cougar. He figured the cat had thought Will’s appearance had been set up by Lance. Martha showing up and knowing them both, would have confirmed whatever suspicions the cat already harbored about his partner. It was no loss to the world.
As part of the homicide investigation, Lance’s background had been thoroughly investigated. Johnston had gone over the file for clues about the child. Lance’s next of kin was listed as Kyle Brown, relationship father. Kyle was also Shelly Brown’s father. Which meant that shower of forking sugar was pimping out his baby sister.
Kyle Brown wouldn’t be a problem. He had fallen victim to the three strikes law in California, and his violation of parole and possession with intent had earned him a twenty-five year stretch in Folsom. So neither man was going to trouble Martha or Shelly anymore.
Johnston was helpful, but he pointed out that Martha wasn’t related to Will and that she had apparently left of her own free will. A missing persons report could not be justified. Sorry pal. No, he couldn’t supply her Social Insurance Number. But he did know that a car with her VIN had been sold in Reno for cash.
Nakamura couldn’t get a whisper in Nevada. Another dead end.
Will couldn’t give up. He was mated to Martha. Come what might, he had to find her. But in four years he hadn’t had a whiff. Nakamura had looked for Martha Browns in California, Nevada and Michigan, and he had found plenty, but none of them were Will’s life-mate.
And now time was running short with Kyle Brown at large.
* * *
It took Nakamura three days to get back to Will about Wisconsin. “I think we’ve got a hit,” he said. “I’ve found a Michelle (Shelly) Metcalfe registered as a member of the Menominee Tribe. She lives in Wesheno, Wisconsin with her cousin Martha Metcalfe who is employed by the Menominee Casino as a bookkeeper.”
“Bingo.”
“Maybe.” Nakamura was low key. “No photos of either of them. I tracked them from Hannah’s birth mother. Patricia Ann Metcalfe, aged seventeen, gave birth to two girls and a boy in October, 1987.
“Sounds like a match to me.”
“Maybe. If either Michelle or Martha has an email address it isn’t obvious. I couldn’t find them on social media. If it’s your Martha Brown she’s changed her style.”
“Give me the address.” Will said. “And find the boy.” He was going bride hunting.
CHAPTER NINE
Will drove to Wesheno from Wausau in his rental SUV. He figured the time saved by flying into Wausau instead of Milwaukee or La Crosse was worth the extra airfare if he got to Wesheno before Kyle Brown.
He parked in Martha’s drive and got out to sit under the tree on the lawn. Martha lived in a tiny bungalow. It needed a new roof and new windows, but there was fresh paint on the door and window frames. The lawn was trimmed and annuals ran up both sides of her front walk and filled the beds on either side. He figured it for a rental.
At sixteen thirty hours a short school bus pulled up in front of the drive and a dumpy, dark haired girl got down. She was wearing a blue polo shirt tucked into black jeans and wore a large backpack. She stared at Will’s SUV and turned to speak to the driver before beginning her walk to her front door.
As she passed Will, the girl turned her round face to stare at him. Her eyes and mouth opened wide, and she scurried up the path without stopping. The bus driver waited on the road until she had made it inside before she drove off. So that was the little bear? She hadn’t grown much, even if she was tall for a kid with Down Syndrome.
He wasn’t surprised when ten minutes later a white car with the Menominee Tribal Police insignia pulled up and a large heavy set man in navy uniform pants and shirt with a corporal’s double chevron got out. He set his cap on his head and approached Will.
“Gotta report of a stranger out here,” he said. “What’s your business?”
“I’m a friend of Martha’s,” Will said.
“Mind if I see some ID?”
The officer looked from the wallet Will had opened to his face and back again. He inclined his head. “Captain Enright,” he said formally, “Any relation to that fella what got the
Medal of Honor last month?”
“My brother.”
“Hmm.” The corporal handed Will’s wallet back. “Shelly’s worried because you’re out here.”
“That’s why I didn’t try to get her to let me in.”
“Fair enough. Tell you what. Martha will be about another thirty minutes. Why don’t I go reassure Shelly and then we’ll wait together.”
They sat on the rocks and talked. Corporal Francis Payawasay had served a tour in the army as an MP before joining the Tribal Police. He had seen combat in Afghanistan. What about Will? Will divulged what he could of the three tours he had participated in.
“No Enrights hereabouts,” Payawasay observed.
“My family is mostly in Washington State.”
“My family and my clan are from right here in Wesheno. Shelly and Martha are Ancestral Bear Clan too. We’re all relatives.” Payawasay tapped the bright blue patch on his hat, where a black bear dominated.
Abruptly Will realized he was being asked about his intentions. He sniffed. Nope, not a shifter. Just a big fellow. Ancestral Bear Clan. Go figure. His mate had run home when things got hairy. Smart girl.
“What does that mean?” he asked mildly. “You guys cousins?”
“It means Shelly and Martha are my clan sisters.” Payawasay’s broad, pleasant face got hard and stern, and his tone severe.
“It’s good they have family looking out for them.” Will paused a beat. “You seen anything of Shelly’s father?”
“Father?”
“Kyle Brown. He got out of Folsom last week.”
“No shit? I heard he got twenty-five without parole.” Payawasay was skeptical.
“Officers who testified as his trial were charged with perjuring testimony. Judge decided Brown could walk.”
“Jesus.” Payawasay got to his feet and moved rapidly toward his vehicle and his radio. He spoke urgently and answered some questions, before returning to the rocks. He sat down again. “Got someone looking into it,” he said. “We’ll watch for him. He’s got no business with Martha or Shelly anyway. Shelly turned eighteen in January. Had her dance and all.”
A little blue Kia drove up and parked in the narrow drive behind the Tribal Police car and Will’s SUV. Both men stood up. A tall woman got out and reached in for her tote. She strode over to the two men. Her body language radiated concern and maybe fear.
“Hey, Martha. Good to see you.” Will didn’t move. His mate looked shattered to see him.
“How are you, Will?” she asked cautiously. “Is Shelly all right, Frank?”
Payawasay cleared his throat. “ She’s fine. Inside making supper. You know this fella?” he jerked a thumb at Will.
Martha nodded.
“Gotta ask. Bertha phoned in a complaint. Shelly too.” The officer put his hands on his belt. “You need me to stay?” he asked.
Martha shook her head. “No. Will’s an old friend.”
“Okay then.” Payawasay looked hard at Will. “He says Kyle got out of jail last week.”
The color drained from Martha’s face. “Do you think Kyle will come here?”
“No reason he should, I know of. But he might think he could get around you, account of Shelly. You lock up. I’ll tell patrol to pass by couple times each night.”
* * *
Of all the trouble he had anticipated with wooing Martha, it had not occurred to Will that the little bear would be the biggest obstacle. But she took one whiff of him and bolted for her room clutching the smallest, yappiest scrap of orange fluff Will had ever seen. Evidently his scent had seared itself into Shelly’s memory at the fight club.
Martha knocked on Shelly’s door and spoke soothingly to the girl and after a while the door opened to admit her. He could hear the two women murmuring together but not understand their conversation. He wandered into the kitchen and found the table laid and the crock pot simmering away. He opened the lid. Smelled good and there was enough for three.
He got busy with the potatoes that Shelly had started peeling. When Martha reappeared he had diced the potatoes and started them boiling.
“Very domestic,” Martha said tartly.
“That’s me.” He advanced toward her and put his big hands on her tense shoulders and kneaded.
She felt thin and weak and she looked anxious. He pulled her into a gentle hug and kissed the top of her head. Her beautiful hair was scraped back from her drawn face and screwed into the tightest, least flattering bun ever. He sniffed cautiously. It was June and she had not yet come into season. What had happened to his gorgeous, vital mate? Where had Warrior Woman gone?
“Is Shelly going to come out?” he asked.
Martha shook her head. “She’s scared and I told her she could eat in her room tonight.” She rubbed her forehead and moved out of Will’s arms. “I don’t know what’s come over her. She just huddles on her bed with Honey.”
“I’m the big, scary dude that fought for her in that shifter bar. She remembers my smell and how terrified she was that night and she’s overwhelmed. It’s a form of PTSD. Let her be. The dog’ll help.”
“Huh. You better tell me how you happened to be dueling for a minor.” Martha sounded scared but resolute.
“Dinner’s almost ready. Let’s feed the little bear and I’ll tell you while we’re eating,” he suggested. “You better dish hers, she doesn’t need my scent on her food.”
“What are you doing here?” Martha asked as soon as she sat down.
“You’re my mate. I’ve been looking for you ever since you left LA. Finally found you.”
“You can have the money,” she said.
“Money?” he asked blankly. “Oh, the cash in the hockey bag.” He laughed. “Don’t tell me there really was two hundred grand in there? I thought for sure Lance had shorted the prize. Or filled the bag with newspaper.”
“There was a hundred grand. I didn’t know it was supposed to be two. I had to use a little, but most of it’s in the bank. You can have it.”
Will shook his head. “I wasn’t fighting for the prize money. And I didn’t even know the size of the purse, and—believe you me—your little cousin was a total shock. I didn’t know she was part of the deal until Lance threw her at me. I was in that dive tracking Powell. I challenged the cat to save Powell’s butt. He was seriously outmatched.”
“That would be the guy with you.”
“Yeah. Idiot wolf. Three sheets to the wind and taking on a pro.” Will shook his head in disbelief. “Sugar for brains. I counterchallenged the cougar because I didn’t want to see Powell disabled or killed. It was like a bad movie when you charged down the stairs and lit into Brown.” He grinned. “I was never so scared. I thought he’d pull a gun on us for sure.
“But sweetheart, I swear I didn’t know he knew where you lived or I’d never have let you leave the bar alone. Where’d you go?”
“Hospital. Shelly was full of drugs. Rohypnol and something the hospital couldn’t identify. She doesn’t remember much of that evening, so I was surprised at her response to you.”
“Smell is primal. And she’s a bear. On some level she recognizes me as dangerous. Poor kid.” He forked up his stew. “This is delicious.”
“Thank you. How’d you find us?”
Will pulled out his cell and opened his photo gallery. He handed the phone to Martha. “That’s my brother’s fiancée,” he said. Fiancée sounded more sophisticated than mate.
“You found my sister! You found Hannah.” There was wonder in Martha’s voice as she scrolled through the pictures. “She knows about me?”
“Not as far as I know. I haven’t told her. She doesn’t know about any siblings, and I didn’t want to get her hopes up. I wasn’t sure myself I’d found you, until I saw Shelly get off the bus.”
“She looks like me.”
“Yup. Little shorter. But the first time I saw her I thought I was going to have to kill my twin.”
Martha’s eyes widened. “You thought she was me?”
“You were looking for me back then?”
“Well, sure. You’re my life-mate. But I was deployed at daybreak after the fight with the shifter, so I couldn’t really start looking properly until I got back from my mission.
“I found Lance in your parking lot that night, after I dumped Powell at base. I asked him some questions and found out that son of a biscuit was your cousin. That’s when I really started to worry about you. I got the cops to run him off and a buddy in the LAPD to keep an eye on him.
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