Bed of Lies

by Pam Champagne

Hyman sighed and rose to his feet. “The woman’s been dead well over twelve hours. The man died more recently. That in itself rules out a murder suicide since John wasn’t home when his wife was killed.”

  Ace’s mind spun with the implications. The murderer had killed Grace, then waited inside the house for John to come home to discover his wife’s body. No sign of forced entry, or a struggle. Grace had known her murderer.

  Brenna plucked an old winter coat of her father’s from a hook on the wall by the door. She handed it to Chris. “Best put this on. Looks like the temperature has dropped.”

  “Thanks. Guess I didn’t come prepared for the weather, although it couldn’t be as cold as the day of your wedding.”

  At her quizzical look, he continued. “I arrived at the church half-naked.”

  Brenna choked back laughter. “You’re kidding me. I didn’t know that.”

  She thought Chris might be blushing beneath his dark skin as he scuffed the toe of his moccasin on the floor.

  Brenna’s interest peaked. Why was Chris so uncomfortable? “Well? You’ve opened the barn door and the horses are halfway across the field. So spill it.”

  He looked everywhere in the kitchen but at her. “Ace asked me to disrupt your wedding to Anson.”

  Her heart rate increased. “Really?”

  “I figured if I showed up at the church, wearing nothing but a breech cloth, people would get pissed off and there’d be a ruckus.”

  Brenna laughed. A feeling of warmth stole over her. So Ace had cared about her from the time he came back to town—even believing what he did about her. “And then what? Ace planned to whisk me away when no one was looking?”

  Chris buttoned the coat and shrugged. “Not sure. He didn’t fill me in on his plans. Anyway, by the time I arrived, Anson had been shot, so Ace told me to get my ass back to the reservation.”

  Brenna stepped onto the porch and shivered. “I would have loved to have seen everyone’s faces if Ace’s plan had played out.”

  A mellow orange still covered the western sky, even though the sun had set quite some time ago. Heavy frost already coated the ground. Still two weeks until Thanksgiving and this might be the hard freeze that unpacked its gear and moved in for the winter. The chance of more thaws dimmed with each passing day. Why did winters always seem so long? For the first time in her life, she wished she could hibernate like a bear. Go to sleep and wake up when her wounded heart had healed.

  If Ace had his way, she wouldn’t see Kayden until school let out next summer. The Christmas holidays loomed ahead like a pitch-black cave. She regretted a lack of close friends to help her through the coming months. Trent was the only one. And if he couldn’t accept that friendship was all she had to give, then she’d be alone.

  “Feels like snow,” Chris commented as they reached the barn.

  “Sure does. The dampness in the air makes me want to soak in hot water.”

  Chris grinned. “Why do we live here?”

  “Because we’re idiots?” They both laughed.

  Chris stepped in front of Brenna. “I’ll get the door.”

  “I’d better do it. It sticks and I know exactly how high to lift to get it to open.” She moved ahead of Chris. Just as she opened the door, the report of a rifle echoed throughout the valley.

  Chris crumpled at her feet.

  Chapter Twenty

  Chris yanked Brenna’s legs, tumbling her to the hard ground. “Stay down.” His weak voice mobilized her into action.

  With her right foot, she pried the barn door fully open and wiggled backwards on her belly. Sweat prickled her scalp, despite the cold, as she maneuvered into position to tug Chris inside. Sheba crept into the barn, whimpering.

  “Where are you hit?”

  “Left leg,” Chris rasped. He pushed with his good foot in an effort to help her move him.

  A second shot cracked in the cold night air. Brenna threw herself over Chris. Wood splintered on the back wall. The horses whinnied in terror and kicked the sides of their stalls. Brenna inched her way behind Chris’s head. “Can you roll over?” She hooked her arms under his armpits. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

  Chris struggled to sit up. “Quick. I’ll push with my good leg while you pull. Head for the nearest empty stall.”

  Adrenalin gave her astounding strength and clarity of thought. In the sanctuary of the stall, she scooted down to check the damage to Chris’s leg. As gently as she could, she used her jackknife to cut the material around the wound, praying it was only a flesh wound. The wet stickiness soaked into his jeans told her otherwise. She yanked the wool scarf from around her neck and tied it around his thigh as a tourniquet. “I’ve got to get back to the house and call for help.”

  Chris grabbed her arm in a not-so-gentle grip. “No! This hole in my leg would be nothing compared to what Ace would do to me if something happened to you.”

  Brenna tried to reason. “You need medical attention. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  “Cell phone…in my pocket…never use the damn thing.”

  Chris’s breathing took a turn for the worse. She slipped her hand into his jeans pocket. “Other one,” he croaked.

  Why couldn’t she remember Ace’s number? Come on, Brenna, think! Sweat soaked into her T-shirt.

  “Push one. Ace rigged it for speed dial.”

  Her hands shook, but Brenna managed to hit the right button with her thumb. The phone rang four times. She tried to swallow and discovered her mouth was bone dry. Damn it, Ace. Answer the phone. Almost as if he’d heard her plea, he picked up. “Chris? Is something wrong?”

  “Ace?” Her voice wobbled. “We’re in the barn. Chris has been shot. He needs an ambulance.”

  “How bad?”

  “It’s his thigh. He’s lost a lot of blood. I tied a tourniquet. I…I think he’ll be okay.”

  “What about you? Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head then realized he couldn’t see her. “No. Chris took a bullet meant for me.”

  “Is the shooter still around?”

  “I don’t think so…I don’t know. He shot a second round after hitting Chris. It hit the inside wall of the barn…”

  “Stay where you are. Do you have a weapon?”

  “A small jackknife.” She looked around. “A shovel and a pitchfork.”

  “Good. Keep them close. I’m on my way. The ambulance, too.”

  Then he was gone, and Brenna felt alone. Get used to it. He’s no longer a part of your life.

  Sweat trickled down her back as she squirmed on her stomach toward the pitchfork. Hooking her fingers around the wooden handle, she drew it close to her body and wiggled her way back to the stall. She scooted on her butt to lean against a bail of straw. Memories of making love with Ace flashed behind her eyes. When she gently lifted Chris’s head onto her lap, his cold hand clasped hers. Thank you, my friend. She heard the words clearly, although not a word had been spoken.

  She squeezed his hand. “You’ll be fine. Up running around in no time.”

  “I’m sorry I screwed up. Ace was counting on me.”

  “Hey! You took a bullet meant for me. Can’t do much more than that.”

  Brenna checked her watch every minute for the next fifteen. Chris didn’t lose consciousness. She worried when his breathing grew shallow. She inspected his leg closer and saw the bullet had passed through his thigh. Had it shattered any bones?

  She raised his head and made a pillow out of straw before edging down to loosen the tourniquet. A sigh of relief whooshed from her lungs when the blood didn’t gush from his wound. Surely, there’d be more bleeding if the bullet had hit a major artery.

  Her head snapped up at the wail of sirens echoed through the hills in the distance. Possibly a mile away, but close enough to make her breathe easier. “Help’s coming, Chris. Hold on.”

  “Where’s Ace? He should have been here by now.”

  Tires crunched on the frozen gravel outside. Brenna curled her fingers around the handle of t
he pitchfork. Her heart jumped into her throat when someone kicked open the back door. She placed her free hand over Chris’s mouth so he wouldn’t call out.

  “Brenna? Chris?”

  Chris grabbed Brenna’s wrist and yanked her hand away. “Over here.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  Several more vehicles pulled into the driveway, their sirens wailing different tones. The light flickered on and Ace ran toward them, holstering his gun. Dropping to his knee, he inspected Chris’s wound. “You’re lucky the guy was a bad shot. Any higher…”

  “Shot was meant for Brenna. Happened to get in the way.”

  “We need a stretcher in here!” Ace yelled as Chris started to shake. “He’s going into shock.”

  Brenna grabbed one of the horse blankets hanging on a hook. “Cover him up. He needs to be kept warm.”

  Paramedics rushed through the doors. On a count of three, they hoisted Chris onto a stretcher and secured the straps. A state trooper ran in with two wool blankets. Within minutes Chris was whisked away, and the ambulance tore down the road, siren still blaring.

  “Are you all right?”

  Brenna looked at Ace for the first time since he’d arrived. “Physically, I’m fine. Emotionally, I’m…not so fine.”

  “How did this happen?”

  Brenna rubbed her arms to chase away the goose bumps. “We came out to the barn to feed the horses. Chris was opening the door. It sticks, so I said I’d do it. The moment we changed positions, he crumpled. I managed to get the door open. One more shot went over our heads and hit the wall.” She gestured toward the back of the barn.

  “Any idea where the shots came from?”

  “Over in the woods behind the paddock. At least that’s my guess.”

  Ace rose. “Let’s go inside.”

  Brenna stared at his outstretched hand. At her hesitation to grab a hold, he let it drop to his side. Refusing to yield to the hurt in his eyes, she pushed off the floor and walked into the darkness.

  Ace rose and squelched his desire to punch a wall. So nothing had changed. More important, why was he surprised? Hope was one of the greatest gifts given to man and he’d hoped she’d come around. He straightened his shoulders, swallowed his disappointment and followed her past the police cruisers and into the house where she was giving a statement to Sergeant Penny.

  “It’s snowing,” Ace remarked on entering the kitchen. He grabbed a soft drink from the refrigerator and popped the top.

  The sergeant closed his notebook. “Super. Guess that takes care of finding any tracks.”

  “’Fraid so. Ground’s too hard anyway.” Ace took a gulp of the cold soda and concentrated on Brenna, who seemed desperate to look everywhere but at him.

  “If you remember anything else, Brenna…anything at all,” the sergeant said, “give me a call or let Ace know.” With a nod, he opened the door and slipped outside.

  “Looks like I’ll be staying here with you after all.”

  “You can have my mother’s room or Colin’s. Your choice.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take the couch.”

  She shrugged as if she could care less where he slept. The thin cord holding back his anger snapped. “It must get real heavy.”

  A frown marred her forehead. “What?”

  “Your pain. You wear it around your neck like a freakin’ anvil.”

  He knew her well enough to know the tears filling her eyes were tears of anger. “How dare you.”

  “I dare because I care. You won’t score any points with Kayden if you look like you hate the world, me most of all, the first time she sees you.”

  Brenna came at him, fists clenched. He sidestepped and grabbed her shoulders from behind. Overcoming her struggles, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. God, if only he could bottle her scent for the future when she was no longer a part of his life. She managed to kick his shin once before he hooked a foot around her legs.

  Brenna tried to twist out of his grasp. “Let me go.”

  “Promise to behave, and we’ll discuss Kayden.”

  Kayden. The magic word. Instantly, she relaxed—almost slumped in his arms.

  He released her and took two steps back just in case. “Face it, Brenna. No one, especially a twelve-year-old, wants to be around someone feeling sorry for themselves because life has dealt them a low blow.”

  “Spare me the country-western wisdom.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  She shot him a scathing look and walked to the refrigerator. “I’m hungry. Want a grilled cheese sandwich?”

  This Brenna he understood. She’d always needed to stay busy in times of stress. “Sure. If it’s no trouble.”

  “Making two is just is easy as making one.”

  “How about three? I’m hungry.” Wow. That even earned him a half smile.

  Brenna stood at the counter buttering the bread. “What will you tell Kayden?”

  “The truth. That your father lied to you when she was born.”

  “When will you tell her?”

  Ace opened the refrigerator and helped himself to another can of Coke. “Soon. I have a feeling my job here will wrap up shortly.”

  Brenna slapped the sandwiches on a flat cast iron skillet and turned to Ace. “Really? What’s happened? Other than someone killing the Gars?”

  “Heroin and an assortment of other goodies were found on John’s plane—wrapped in rugs. Looks like his prestige and money made it easy for him to use his private plane to smuggle drugs into the country. The FBI is digging into his finances now. Anything he owned will more than likely be confiscated.”

  “Any ideas who killed them?” she asked as she flipped the sandwiches.

  He loved watching her work. Hell, he loved watching her no matter what she was doing. “A pissed-off someone, by the looks. It’s a certainty that John and Grace didn’t run around Spruce Harbor selling bags of cocaine and heroin. There’s at least one accomplice, if not more.” He rose and grabbed two plates and a couple of glasses from the cupboard.

  She set the sandwiches on the table and hefted a gallon of milk from the fridge. “I know for a fact that Colin had never met the Gars, so that vindicates him as far as I’m concerned.”

  Ace bit into the toasted sandwich and closed his eyes in sheer bliss of the moment. “You remembered,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

  “Guess I did. Not too many people like grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches with slices of onion.”

  “Thank you. They’re good.”

  “And you figure this unknown accomplice is the one who wants to kill me?”

  “Not sure about that. I’m thinking there must be a separate level of intrigue going on.”

  “Like what?”

  “Ethel Pinkham.” Ace winced at her laugh. “I know you think I’m crazy, but hear me out.” He regaled her with the reasons he suspected Ethel. The note Grace Gar had left in Ethel’s door got Brenna’s attention.

  “Ethel, a blackmailer?” She shook her head. “I just can’t picture it.”

  Ace put the sandwich on his plate. “Why not? What easier way to make money, if you can get away with it.”

  “You’re telling me that John and Grace, or at least John, was a drug dealer. Wouldn’t he have simply taken care of Ethel if she attempted blackmail? Dropped her off the pier with a couple of concrete blocks tied to her feet?”

  Ace pushed away from the table and brought his plate to the sink. “Maybe John wasn’t the one she was blackmailing. Perhaps Ethel had something on Grace.”

  Brenna smiled in amusement. “Like what? She went to Bangor twice a week to get her hair done, rather than once like she told her husband?”

  “How about she wasn’t having her hair done at all? Instead, she was having an affair with someone in Spruce Harbor?”

  Brenna chewed on that for a moment. “Well, I suppose that’s possible. Except I can’t think of one man in this town who’d live up to her standards. I mean, can you picture her get
ting it on with Joe French? I didn’t know John and Grace, but from what I’ve heard, he was never home. If you’re right, maybe Grace had too much time on her hands.”

  “Still none of this connects to you. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless I can fit Anson into the puzzle.”

  “You told me his alibis were airtight.”

  “Alibis can be bought. But you’re right. Unless a corroborating witness comes forward and admits to lying, he’s officially not on our suspect list. Besides, every co-worker I’ve talked to tells me Anson is heartbroken that you decided not to marry him. They say he’s still in love with you.”

  “Anson’s a control freak. He’s disappointed because he didn’t set the hook right, and I got away.” Brenna heaved a sigh. “I’ll be so freakin’ glad when this is over. I just want to get on with my life.”

  “You mean a life without me.” Ace cursed his lack of self-control.

  A brief look of pain came and went on her face. The chair legs scraped on the linoleum as she rose. “Please. Let’s not get into an argument. I’m too tired.”

  The demons within cheered him on. “Answer one question for me with complete honesty. That’s all I ask.” He braced himself for a refusal when her hesitation stretched on.

  Finally, she nodded her agreement. “One question.”

  “Would you have forgiven me if I’d told you about Kayden that first night—the night you revealed she’d died at birth?”

  Ace held his breath. Wondered if she’d lie to him. It didn’t matter if she did because he’d seen the answer flash in her eyes.

  Her gaze lowered to her plate. “No. You had twelve fucking years to tell me, Ace.”

  Relief that she’d at least been honest turned to fury. “So you’re telling me that I was screwed if I did and screwed if I didn’t.”

  She leapt out of the chair. He seized her arm as she brushed by him on her way out of the room. “Then I’m glad I didn’t tell you. I wish I’d managed to keep you in the dark longer.”

  He stared at her shocked expression. Way to go. Nothing like kicking a dog already cowering in the corner.

  Blue eyes dominated her pale face. “How can you say that?”