by Rita Herron
He rapped the door knocker, slanting a look at the dog who groaned and lifted his head, then dropped it back down as if he was too tired or old to do anything else. Footsteps shuffled inside, and the door squeaked open.
A pudgy woman with short curly brown hair answered, leaning on a cane.
“Mrs. Dunn?” Roan asked.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Roan identified himself and Megan. “We’d like to talk to you and your husband.”
She made a sarcastic sound. “My husband doesn’t live here. He hasn’t in a long time.”
Roan frowned. “What about your sons?”
The woman pinned him with angry eyes. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t have any sons.”
Chapter Twenty
Megan studied the woman’s reaction as she gripped the door edge. Why was she denying she had children? They could easily find that out.
“I beg your pardon,” Roan said, “but I was told you had twin boys.”
The woman’s face turned ghostly white. “Where did you hear that?”
“From Dr. Cumberland,” Megan said, the doctor’s eyes haunting her.
Mrs. Dunn shook her head in denial. “You have the wrong information. I...can’t help you.”
She started to slam the door in their faces, but Roan caught it and shouldered his way inside.
“Stop it, you can’t come in here!” Mrs. Dunn shrieked.
“I can and I’m going to,” Roan said bluntly.
Sympathy for the woman tugged at Megan, but if she’d kidnapped the McCullen babies and knew about the murders, she wasn’t an innocent.
“But...I haven’t done anything wrong,” she protested.
“Nobody said you did,” Roan said, his tone indicating he didn’t believe her.
Ignoring her, he strode through the foyer then into the hall and den. Mrs. Dunn chased him, and Megan followed, her gaze sweeping the walls for pictures of the family.
Of the McCullen boys—men.
But only a couple of oil landscapes and a saddle adorned the walls. No family pictures or chronicling of children as they grew up.
Roan paused in front of the stone fireplace. The furniture looked worn and old, the house was cold and seemed almost...empty.
Mrs. Dunn clung to her cane, panic tightening her face. “Please, I don’t know why he told you that, but I lost my baby a long time ago. I...couldn’t have children after that.”
“Listen, Mrs. Dunn, cut the act,” Roan said. “We know that your husband blackmailed Dr. Cumberland into stealing Grace and Joe McCullen’s twin babies to give them to you.”
She gasped, then staggered sideways. A moment later her face crumpled, and she sank onto the threadbare sofa with a sob. “I told Bart it was wrong...not to take them...”
Megan sucked in a sharp breath. “So you did know he kidnapped them?”
She made a strangled sound. “We were having a rough time, I was depressed. He was...drinking too much. He wanted to make me happy.”
Megan and Roan exchanged looks. “Go on,” Roan said.
“Losing our baby ripped us apart,” she said in a muffled whisper. “I guess he thought giving me another child would fix things, make us closer.” She dabbed at her eyes. “But when I heard him talking to his foreman about what he planned, I told him no. I didn’t want to tear out some other woman’s heart the way mine was.”
“You told him to call it off?” Megan asked.
She nodded miserably. “But he said it was too late. We argued and I told him I didn’t want someone else’s children, that if he would do that, he wasn’t the man I married. We...said awful things, and he left.”
Roan let the silence stand for a heartbeat. “But he came back with the babies?” She looked up with such a desolate expression on her face that Megan did feel sorry for her.
“No. He said he’d risked everything for me, but I didn’t appreciate it.” She sighed. “Then he drove off and never came back.”
Megan sat down beside the woman and rubbed her shoulders. “What about the twins?”
“I have no idea what he did with those babies.” She wiped at her eyes. “Frankly, I told him I didn’t want to know, that he should give them back to their family. I...prayed he did.” She wiped at tears. “I even searched the news for mention of a kidnapping, but nothing ever came out, so I thought they must have been back with the family.”
“Nothing came out because Dr. Cumberland lied to the parents and told them their babies died,” Megan said.
The woman gasped, anguish streaking her face.
“When was the last time you talked to Bart?” Roan asked.
She grabbed a tissue and scrubbed her face. “He sends me a Christmas and birthday card every year. But he never says much in it.”
“He never mentioned the babies or sent pictures of them?” Megan asked.
She shook her head. “No, like I said, I thought he gave them back.” She turned a terrified look at Roan. “Why are you asking about all this now?”
* * *
ROAN STUDIED MRS. DUNN. The woman seemed sincere, and he certainly didn’t see any signs that a man or any children had been around for a long time. “Because the father of those babies was recently murdered. We believe it was because he hired a PI to find his sons.”
She blanched again, fingers frantically working at the tissue in her hand.
“Did you keep any of those cards and the envelopes with the postage on them?”
She bit down on her lip. “I kept them all. I...loved Bart, and I kept hoping he’d come back and we’d work things out. But losing the baby, then the whole thing with him talking crazy...it completely destroyed our marriage.”
“Would you mind getting the cards and envelopes,” Roan said gently. “It might help us track him down.”
Panic flashed across her face. “If you find him, what are you going to do to him?”
Roan ground his teeth. “We just want to talk to him, Mrs. Dunn. If he took those babies, the family has a right to know where they are. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” she said in a choked whisper. “But...he meant well, and I still love him. I don’t want to see him hurt.”
Roan reached out and patted her hand. “I promise that if we find him, I’ll do everything I can to make sure he’s not hurt. Right now we just want to talk, that’s all.”
She hesitated, her expression anguished, but finally she inhaled a deep breath, stood and lumbered down the hall.
A minute later, the woman returned with a box filled with cards and envelopes. “The most recent ones are on top,” she said, her tone worried.
“Thank you.” Roan lifted the top one and studied the envelope. The address and postal stamp indicated it had come from Cheyenne.
Not too far away.
Roan gestured toward the box. “Do you mind if I take these with me?”
Mrs. Dunn looked hesitant, but finally nodded. “I would like them back. Please.”
“Of course.” He patted her hand again. “I’ll take good care of them.”
The woman escorted them to the door. As soon as they stepped outside, the wind picked up, swirling leaves around their feet as they hurried to his SUV.
“The last address was Cheyenne.”
“For her sake, I hope we can keep that promise,” Megan said as they drove away.
So did he. But if Dunn was behind these murders, and behind the threat against Megan, he’d do whatever necessary to bring him in.
* * *
THIRTY MILES DOWN the road, though, Roan sensed they weren’t alone. Someone was following them. The bright lights of a van nearly blinded him as the vehicle closed in. A van with tinted windows.
“Hang on,” he told Megan. “We’ve got company.”
Megan darted a glance over her shoulder and winced. “He’s speeding up.”
Roan pressed the accelerator and rounded a curve, tires squealing, but the van raced closer.
“Dammit.” Roan pres
sed the gas again, an oncoming car’s lights flashing as the driver swerved to avoid him. The van let the other car pass, then sped up beside Roan.
Suddenly a gunshot pierced the air. Just like before.
He cursed again, then jerked the wheel to the left to slam into the van, but it swerved toward him at the same time and knocked him into a spin.
“Hang on and get down, Megan!” He tried to maintain control, but a bullet shattered the windshield on his side, and when he ducked to avoid being hit, the van slammed into them again and his vehicle sped out of control.
They skidded, his SUV hit a boulder, bounced back, then flipped and rolled.
Megan screamed. He tried to put a hand out to keep her from hitting the dash, but the air bags exploded, pinning them against the seat. The car skidded a few more feet then careened into a ditch.
“Roan!” Megan shouted.
“I’m here.”
Seconds later, the scent of gas assaulted him.
“We have to get out!” He fumbled, pushing at the air bag as he reached inside his pocket for a knife. He jerked it out and frantically ripped away the bag and his seat belt, then did the same for Megan.
The scent of gas grew stronger, then a spark ignited. God, the car was on fire. It would explode any minute.
“We have to hurry, Megan. The car’s about to blow.”
She frantically jerked at her door, but the impact had crushed the side in, and she couldn’t open it. His was the same.
Flames darted up, visible through the back window. “Cover your head!” he shouted.
Megan dropped her head to her knees and covered it with her arms, and he shifted, then kicked at the front windshield. It took several attempts, but finally the glass cracked and shattered. He removed his jacket, wrapped it around his fist and used it to knock the remaining glass free.
He crawled through the opening first, kicking away broken shards on the hood, then reached for Megan. The flames bounced higher, smoke starting to fill the air. Heat seared his hands and face as he dragged Megan from the car.
Her ragged breathing punctuated the air as she gripped his arms. By the time they cleared the car, flames shot up along the doors and the sizzle of an impending explosion rent the air.
“Come on!” They ran for cover and collapsed against a tree just as the SUV burst into a fireball.
* * *
MEGAN CLUNG TO Roan as the flames lit the sky. The scent of burning metal and rubber filled the air, the sound of hissing flames echoing shrilly around her.
A second later and they would have died in that explosion.
“You didn’t see him?” she whispered.
“No, but it was a van with tinted windows just like before. I couldn’t get the license, though.”
Megan fought a sob. She was not going to fall apart here. Even if they had come within a hairbreadth from burning to death, they were alive.
Roan rubbed her arms, his own breathing labored. Sweat beaded his face and droplets of blood dotted his arms. In spite of the jacket he’d wrapped around his fist, the glass shards had punctured his skin.
“You’re hurt, Roan.”
“No, I’m fine.” He shrugged off her concern, retrieved his phone and called for help.
Megan tried to compose herself as an ambulance and fire truck arrived along with a deputy sheriff from Cheyenne.
The paramedics cleaned his arm and examined them both while the deputy snapped photos of the scene and listened while Roan explained about his investigation and what had happened.
“He shot at you?” the deputy asked.
“Yeah. I think it was the same man who shot at us before.”
It was nearing midnight as the crime team arrived to process the car.
“I’ll have one of my men carry you home. I’m going to try to locate Bart Dunn,” the deputy said. “If he’s at the address you gave me, I’ll bring him in.”
“We’d rather go with you tonight,” Roan said. “I don’t want this man to get word that we’re on to him and disappear.”
“Ma’am, are you sure you’re all right with that?” the deputy asked.
Megan nodded. “Whoever did this has nearly killed me three times now. If Mr. Dunn knows who did it, I want him locked up.”
The deputy and Roan spoke to the crime team, then she and Roan climbed in the deputy’s SUV. The deputy plugged the address into his GPS and eased onto the highway. Megan rode in back while Roan sat up front with the deputy who asked question after question about the investigation.
The gloomy weather intensified her anxiety as they neared the trailer park where they hoped Bart Dunn still lived.
The trailer park was run-down, weeds choked the tiny yards and battered kids’ toys were scattered around.
“Dunn lives in the end one,” Roan said.
The deputy cut his blue lights and coasted to the last trailer. An old rusted Impala sat on three wheels, obviously in need of repair and bodywork. There were no other cars in the drive.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” the deputy said.
Still, he and Roan pulled their weapons as they crept from the deputy’s SUV and inched up the graveled drive.
Megan held her breath, half hoping the man was there with answers, and praying he wasn’t armed and dangerous.
* * *
ROAN CLENCHED HIS Glock in a white-knuckled grip as he climbed the rickety stairs to the trailer door. The deputy veered right and inched around the back of the trailer, scanning the property beyond and searching for a back door in case the man was inside and tried to run.
Roan pressed his ear to the door and listened, but heard no movement inside. He leaned to the left to peek through the window, but the lights were off and he didn’t see movement.
Shoulders tight, he raised his fist and knocked, his gun at the ready. The wind howled, rustling trees and sending a tin can rolling across the yard. He knocked again, but no one answered.
Braced for trouble, Roan turned the doorknob and eased open the door. The stench of rotting food, stale beer and cigarettes sucked the breath from him. He covered his mouth with his handkerchief, visually sweeping the den and kitchen, but no one was inside.
The couch was not only threadbare, but birds must have gotten inside, pecked the stuffing from the cushions and nested. The floor creaked as he crept to the hall and glanced in the one bedroom and bath. Mold grew along the wall and floor, trash was overflowing and the bed had fared like the couch.
He quickly surveyed the walls and furniture for photos, for some clue that Dunn had lived here with one or both of the twins, but the place was empty.
He checked the dresser drawers, desk, then returned to scour the kitchen for mail, bills or a paper trail that would clue him in to Bart Dunn’s location.
Frustration knotted his gut. Dammit, they had to find the man. He was the key to locating the McCullen twins.
Chapter Twenty-One
Megan was still shaken as the deputy dropped them at Roan’s cabin. The deputy had driven them first to her place, but Roan insisted she come home with him. He was ever the gentleman, the bodyguard, and refused to let her stay alone, so they took her car to his cabin. “You can use the shower first,” he said as he combed the rooms to make sure no one was waiting inside.
Grateful they’d run by her house for an overnight bag, she ducked into the bathroom, stripped and stepped into the shower. Bruises colored her torso, arms and chest, and her ribs ached from the impact of the air bag.
The warm water felt heavenly, easing the tension from her limbs, and she washed the sweat and scent of smoke from her hair, although she couldn’t erase the image of the burning vehicle from her mind.
As an ME, she’d seen the results of fire and smoke, and how it ravaged the human body. It was a painful way to go.
She rinsed off, desperately trying to obliterate the thoughts. Too exhausted to care about dressing again, she pulled on a pair of pajamas, combed her hair and left it damp around her shoulders.<
br />
When she left the bathroom, she felt warm and cozy, yet she still shivered at the memory of the explosion.
Roan handed her a glass of wine as she entered the kitchen. He was halfway through a beer. She thanked him, well aware that he looked fierce and rugged with that leather tie holding back his hair. His eyes were dark with emotions—anger, worry...hunger.
“My turn.”
She wanted to tell him she didn’t care if he showered, that she wanted him to hold her and comfort her and...love her. But the scent of smoke lingered on him, a reminder of their close call with death.
Besides, if he stayed in the room she might throw herself at him, and if he rejected her, she wouldn’t be able to stand it.
Tonight of all nights, she didn’t want to be alone.
He disappeared, and she walked to the window and looked out. A few stars struggled to fight their way through the clouds, but the woods looked eerie, dark and filled with places predators could hide.
Shivering, she jerked the curtains closed, heard the shower water kick on, imagined Roan standing naked beneath it and her body heated with desire. Trembling with the urge to go to him and wait in his bedroom, she phoned Dr. Mantle and explained about the ambush, then left a message telling him she was staying at Roan’s and for him to call her if he had any information on Dr. Cumberland’s autopsy to share.
Too antsy to sit still, she headed to the den to pace, but as she passed the kitchen table where his computer was, her hip brushed a stack of papers and they fell onto the floor, scattering across the wood.
She stooped to pick them up, shoving the stack together, but one of the pages caught her eye.
A birth certificate. Roan’s.
Curious, she couldn’t help herself. She’d met his mother, but when she’d asked about his father, he’d clammed up and refused to discuss him.
She glanced down at the line where the father’s name was listed and stared in shock.
Joe McCullen.
Her breath stalled in her chest. God... Roan was Joe’s son. Which meant he was Maddox, Brett and Ray’s half brother...
* * *
ROAN TOWEL-DRIED HIS hair as he stepped into the kitchen. He’d yanked on jeans and a shirt, although he hadn’t buttoned it yet, but he was so damn hot he had to wait until he cooled down from the steam.