by BJ Daniels
“My God, you could have been killed.”
“I know, that’s what I told you,” she said with no small amount of satisfaction.
“Are you sure you’re all right? And the baby—”
She gave him a now-he-cares look. “I’m fine. The baby’s fine. But there’s something else you’d better see.”
He let her lead him back to the small door she’d nailed him with earlier. Taking the flashlight from his hand, she shone it inside the room.
Chase bent down to peer in. “A nursery?”
“For a dead baby,” she said, giving him a chill. “I told you I heard a baby crying,” He watched her duck through the doorway. It took him a little more effort to get through the door, even when he left his crutches outside the room.
She went to an antique crib set back against the wall and reached inside.
Instantly, he heard a baby fussing, then start to cry. Something about the sound freeze-dried his blood. Then Vanessa’s voice came on the tape.
He limped over and hit the stop button on the tape recorder, a feeling of abhorrence in the pit of his stomach when he saw the worn rag doll lying in the crib.
“See why I’m worried about Lilly?” he demanded.
“She wasn’t the only one on that tape. You heard Vanessa’s voice.”
“That makes Lilly even more perverse,” Chase shot back.
“Maybe Lilly wasn’t the one who did this. Or pushed over the armoire.”
He looked at her. “I thought you said you followed Lilly up here?”
“I thought it was Lilly. At the time.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Based on what.”
“Based on…” She took a deep breath and avoided his gaze. “I saw a flash of pale pink like Lilly wears, and the person seemed to kind of stagger.”
He couldn’t believe it. “You’re not even sure it was a woman?”
She didn’t even have to open her mouth. He saw the answer on her face.
“So you have no idea who pushed over the wardrobe. Or if it was even meant for you.”
She stepped away from him to finger a hand-knit baby blanket thrown over the back of the rocker, the only other piece of furniture in the small room. “It was meant for me. The person said my name and…”
“And what?” he asked, knowing she and her baby were the targets, but wishing she could give him another explanation.
“It was just a hoarse whisper from the other side of the armoire. The person said, ‘Elise? Poor Elise.’ Then I bumped against the chest of drawers, and I guess there was no doubt where I was. The armoire toppled over.”
He swore under his breath and almost launched into another one of his tirades—not that they seemed to have any effect on this woman. He could tell her that her life and her baby’s was in danger until he was blue in the face and she’d still do whatever she damn well pleased, especially if she thought someone else was in trouble.
Why couldn’t she be like Felicia, self-centered, mercenary, coldhearted? Just to make his life simpler. He saw her freeze in motion, her fingers on the baby quilt, her gaze directed at the seat of the rocker.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“There were knitting needles and a pair of almost finished pink baby booties on this rocker just minutes ago—” Her gaze leaped up to his; she looked as if she’d seen an apparition. “Do you smell that?”
He caught the scent on a slight breeze that seemed to whisper through the attic. He recognized it immediately. Gardenia. Lilly’s cloying perfume.
“Come on, you’re getting out of this house.” He crawled from the small room, anxious to breathe fresh air, anxious to get out of the attic. He picked up his crutches and took a few steps before he realized she wasn’t beside him. He turned to find her standing outside the nursery door, glaring at him.
“We’re just going to pretend we didn’t find this room?” he demanded. “That the armoire toppled over on its own? That Lilly doesn’t have a drinking problem or worse?”
He hobbled back to her. “Don’t you get it?” he said through gritted teeth. “Someone tried to kill you and your baby up here today. Forget Lilly. Forget her problems.” He gazed into her eyes. She looked frightened and he wondered if he’d gotten through to her. He doubted it. If she was scared, it was for someone else—not herself. The woman was incredible. “Just worry about yourself right now—and this kid of yours.”
“What is that, your philosophy of life?” she demanded. “Every man for himself?”
“It works for me.”
He could tell she was gearing up for an argument, but he didn’t give her a chance. “The storm has stopped. Get packed. You’re getting out of here, whether you like it or not.” He steered her through a labyrinth of boxes, more furniture and old trunks to a doorway that opened onto the attic stairs. “Give me the keys to your car and I’ll get it warmed up,” he said when they reached her bedroom door. “Stay here until I get back. Lock your door. And don’t argue.”
MARNI MCCUMBER had never taken orders well. Especially from men who thought it was their birthright to give them. But most especially from a man like Chase Calloway. The all-out arrogance of the man!
She stood in the middle of her bedroom, indignant and defiant. Pack? She had nothing to pack. She took off the ruined maternity top and threw it in the trash. She’d have to wear Chase’s shirt since she had nothing else. Once she’d retrieved her coat from the closet downstairs, she’d be as packed as she could get. So what was she supposed to do until then?
She felt herself begin to tremble. All the anger ran out of her and she stood in the middle of the floor, shaking. Chase was right. She had to think about Elise and the baby. That falling armoire had been for her sister—not Marni McCumber. But no one knew about Elise, Marni thought, hugging herself to keep out the cold fear. Elise and the baby were safe. For the time being.
She went to the window. It had indeed finally stopped snowing. Bits of blue broke through the grayness, bringing shafts of sunshine that made the snow sparkle like prisms. She could see Dayton behind the wheel of a Calloway Ranch pickup, plowing snow from the ranch yard. She was going home. Home for Christmas. Isn’t that what she wanted?
She caught a glimpse of Chase hobbling on his crutches from her car toward the barn. If she could have gotten the window open, she would have thrown something at him. “Whether she wanted to leave or not”? Was he kidding? She’d never even wanted to come here, let alone have to stay two days and pretend to be seven months pregnant and put up with Chase Calloway all that time.
So why was he going to the barn now? Probably to do something with the horses. Chase had a way with horses. And some women, she reminded herself. Maybe all women.
She watched him reach the barn and was surprised to see that Jabe had been waiting for him. Even from this distance, she could tell they were arguing. She figured that’s all they did. She wondered what about now. The will? Elise’s safety? Or would Chase tell Jabe about Lilly? Would he try to convince Jabe that his daughter-in-law needed help?
Marni couldn’t see Jabe Calloway being very sympathetic to Lilly’s plight. Actually, there wasn’t anyone in this house who seemed to care about Lilly. Except Hayes. Maybe. She prormsed herself she’d call Hayes once she got to Bozeman and tell him about the nursery in the attic. Surely he’d see that his wife got help. That was the least she could do, no matter what Chase said about not getting involved.
She hugged Sam, remembering the hoarse whisper, “Poor Elise,” just before the armoire fell. She was involved as long as there was any chance Elise and the baby were in danger.
Marni glanced toward the barn again. Chase and his father were no longer standing in the doorway. In the distance, she could hear a snowplow coming up the county road. She told herself she was as anxious to get out of here as Chase was to have her go. She already felt she’d betrayed her sister just letting the man kiss her, let alone—
Marni swung around at a sound behind her, remember
ing belatedly Chase’s instructions to lock her door.
The remorseful expression on Lilly’s face scared Marni as much as the realization that the woman had just sneaked quietly into Marni’s room, closed and locked the door and now stood with her hands behind her back.
“Lilly,” Marni said, all her surprise and fear echoed in that one word. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
She smiled, her lips turning up, her eyes turning hard as stones. “You’ve been listening to them, haven’t you?” She stepped closer, her hands still hidden behind her back.
Marni watched Lilly approach with uneasiness, desperately trying to assure herself that she had nothing to fear.
“The storm’s over,” Marni said, her nerves taut What was the woman hiding behind her? “Chase has gone out to start my car for me. He should be back any minute and then I’ll be leaving.” She hoped.
Lilly didn’t seem to hear. Her gaze skittered around the room. “What did they tell you?” she asked, drawing nearer. “Did they tell you I’m crazy? That I’ve never been well? Did Hayes tell you that I never loved him? That I married him for his money?” She stopped within a few feet of Marni, their gazes locked. Marni smelled alcohol and gardenia, the same scent as in the attic. “Did they tell you I killed my own baby?”
“It wasn’t your fault that the baby died,” Marni said. “Sudden infant death syndrome is—”
“Is that what Vanessa told you?” She smiled. “They lie to protect the family name. They play tricks on me. They do things to make me think I’m crazy. To even make me think I killed my own baby.”
Marni looked into Lilly’s eyes, her heart urging her to reach out to this obviously hurting woman. Her brain screaming for her to run.
“I should hate you,” Lilly said, her gaze falling to Sam. “But I know it’s not your fault.” Suddenly Lilly brought her hands out in front of her. Marni stumbled back against the windowsill before she saw what Lilly held.
“I’m sorry they’re pink,” Lilly said.
Oh my God. Marni stared down at the pair of hand-knit pink baby booties nestled in Lilly’s palms. The same ones she’d seen earlier on the rocker in the attic.
“Pink was the only color yarn I had,” Lilly said as she closed the distance between them. “I started knitting them for—” She looked up, tears flooded her eyes.
“They’re beautiful,” Marni said, taking the tiny booties Lilly held out to her. “Thank you.” She cradled them in the palm of one hand, her heart a drum pounding in her ears. Lilly had been in the attic. The booties proved it.
But as she looked at the woman, Marni thought of how Lilly had finished the last few stitches of the booties to give them to the baby she thought Marni carried. A baby she thought was stealing everything from her dead one.
Marni felt a surge of emotion at Lilly’s generous gift. Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled Lilly into her arms and hugged her, expecting the thin body to be frail. Instead, Lilly felt incredibly strong.
Lilly pulled away first, seemingly embarrassed, then looked toward the door as if she’d heard someone out in the hallway. Chase? “I have to go.”
Marni’s heart broke at the fear she saw in the woman’s face. “I’m worried about you. What is it you’re so frightened of?”
Lilly looked up at her and seemed surprised by Marni’s concern. “They wouldn’t hurt me. A woman who’s too drunk, too crazy, to know what they’re planning.” Her eyes darkened. “It’s you they want—”
She stepped to the door, hesitated for a moment to listen, then was gone in a flash of pale pink, leaving only the hint of her perfume and her imbibed wine wafting through the room like a ghost.
Marni looked down at the tiny pink booties still nestled in her hand.
“You’re not going to keep those?” Chase said from the open doorway, making her jump. ‘For all you know, she tried to kill you in the attic earlier.”
Why then did her heart tell her differently?
“You’d be a fool to trust her,” he said. “But you’re also a fool if you think you and your baby will be safe as long as you continue to claim you’re carrying my kid.”
He shook his head in disgust as she placed the booties in her purse. “I’ve started your car to let it warm up. I’m sure you”ll want to get going as soon as possible.”
“You’re so thoughtful,” Marni said, not even bothering to hide her sarcasm. Chase turned and thumped down the hallway.
As Marni followed, she couldn’t help feeling that she was abandoning Lilly. And that Lilly Calloway was in more serious trouble than Marni McCumber ever imagined.
Chapter Ten
By the time Marni retrieved her coat, Chase was already leaning on his crutches beside her car with a scowl on his handsome face. Exhaust rose thick and white, a spirit curling up into the sunny December day. Everywhere, the snow sparkled, diamond bright.
Marni followed the freshly shoveled path to the car, the knowledge that she’d failed her twin making her steps heavier than when she’d arrived. She’d failed Elise in more ways than she wanted to think about. At least she could put it all behind her once she left here. But Elise—
“I wish I could promise you that once you drive away, you’ll be fine,” Chase said as he opened the door for her. ‘It’s not too late to straighten things out before you leave.”
She climbed in and buckled her seat belt without looking at him. “Jabe has assured me—”
“Have it your way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Chase slammed the door before she could finish. She watched his broad back retreat toward the house and told herself the best thing she could do would be to drive off. Nothing would be accomplished by rolling down her window and yelling something rude at him.
But the thought of letting Chase Calloway have the last word was too unbearable. She rolled down her window. “If you select to remember you have a child—” She was going to say, “Call me.” But Elise didn’t have a place yet. And Marni McCumber wasn’t Marni McCumber. “Call my sister. It’s the only McCumber in the Bozeman phone book.”
Chase turned, his narrowed gaze a pale blue that perfectly matched the wide-open Montana sky. She thought he’d say something nasty. She wanted him to. She told herself she’d been much too kind to Chase Calloway. He’d tried to frighten her, to intimidate her, to confuse her. She wanted to tell him just what she thought of him. All he had to do was say one word, any word and’—
His gaze widened and she blinked in shock as he threw down his crutches and half hopped, half ran back to the car, jerked open the door, unsnapped her seat belt and, to her amazement, pulled her out and carried her toward the house.
For a moment, Marni was too stunned to speak. The moment passed. “Put me down, you—”
He did. But not until he’d kicked open the front door of the house and placed her inside as if putting down a very rare piece of glass. “Stay here,” he commanded. Then he turned and hobbled/ran back to the car.
Marni rushed to the window to stare after him, shocked to see that her car appeared to be on fire. Smoke rolled out from under the hood and she could hear flames licking at the metal. She watched in horror as Chase reached in, turned off the engine and popped the hood latch. The flames licked up and out, bright orange; the smoke billowed higher and for a moment, Marni lost sight of Chase. Faster than most men can move without one leg in a cast, he had the hood thrown up and was dousing the engine’s fire with shovelsful of fresh snow.
MARNI LET CHASE ease her into a chair in front of the fireplace in the library. The room grew quiet after Jabe had sent the rest of the family away. They hadn’t gone easily, still asking questions about the fire and what was going on.
Marni was glad when they were gone. Unable to stop shaking, she watched as Chase rang Hilda for hot chocolate. Neither she nor Chase said anything to the man standing in front of the fire. Jabe looked pale and shrunken. He stood, holding on to the mantel, watching them with a look of total disbelief.
For a long m
oment, he didn’t speak, then, “It was definitely not an accident.” It was more a clarification than a question.
“The car was rigged so the engine would catch fire, very amateurish,” Chase said and Marni wondered how he knew anything about such things. “This one worked off the heat of the engine. Whoever rigged it planned for the car to catch fire somewhere down the road after the engine got hot. They didn’t plan on me starting the car and letting it warm up for such a long time.”
Marni listened to Chase’s voice but heard only one thing: Someone had tned to kill her because they thought she was Elise McCumber. Again. Because they thought she was carrying Jabe Calloway’s first grandchild. This was no possible cry for help from a woman in pain. This was attempted murder. She met Jabe’s blue-eyed gaze. “You said I was safe.”
Jabe let out a low curse and headed for the liquor cabinet. “You need a little brandy to steady you.” His hands shook as he splashed some into a snifter.
“She doesn’t need brandy,” Chase snapped. “She’s pregnant.”
Just then Hilda came in carrying Chase’s crutches in one hand and a cup of something steaming in the other. Chase tossed the crutches aside and pressed the cup of hot chocolate into Marni’s hands. She curled her fingers around it, hoping the warmth would help melt the core of icy fear inside her.
Chase laid a hand on her shoulder. Warm. Reassuring. She hadn’t wanted to believe that he might be right. She thought he was just trying to scare her. Her perception of him kept changing. A kaleidoscope of characteristics. She wondered how many people got to see the real Chase Calloway. Obviously Elise had.
He removed his hand and Marni felt a sense of loss. She took a sip of the hot liquid, forcing the cold to retreat. But nothing could scare off the fear. Someone had really tried to kill her. As crazy as that sounded. This was no toppling armoire. This was so much more deliberate. So much more frightening. If they’d succeeded, they would have only killed Marni McCumber and a maternity form. Of course, after that they’d have realized their mistake. Marni felt a shudder and took another sip of hot chocolate.