Shattered Blue: A Romantic Thriller

by Jane Taylor Starwood

  Behind her, Beth laughed. “In more ways than one. Look.”

  Shane looked where Beth was pointing and saw dozens of people lining up outside the gallery door—ordinary people, not a camera or microphone among them.

  Ten minutes later, when the police had the media more or less contained on the other side of the street, Beth opened the door to the art-loving citizens of Silver City.

  FORTY

  Whenever Shane thought about the gallery opening afterwards, it was a blur of pleasant conversation, gratifying admiration for her work, and joy in the presence of the people she loved. Matt had helped Beth pick out and pay for the wine, and it was several cuts above the norm. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the presence of the media, but so many people came through the gallery that Shane grew almost dizzy with trying to keep up, trying to talk with everyone.

  By the time Beth said goodnight to the last patron and locked the door, Shane was exhausted, and her feet were screaming from hours of wearing those silly stilettos. She leaned on the counter and slipped the sandals from her feet. Beth beamed as she crossed the gallery toward Shane and Matt.

  “Well,” Matt said, “how’d we do?”

  “What did I tell you? We sold every piece,” she said.

  Shane stared at her. “Every piece?”

  “Every single one. And several people want to talk to you about commissions. I told them I’d set up appointments next week.”

  Shane couldn’t believe it. She wondered how many of the buyers had just wanted to own a piece of the infamous Shannon Malone, but she decided it didn’t matter. She couldn’t change who she was, so she might as well embrace it.

  Matt wheeled a desk chair out of Beth’s office and came up behind her.

  “Sit,” he said. “You’re dead on your feet.”

  She laughed. “No, but my feet are dead.”

  As soon as she collapsed on the chair, Matt knelt in front of her, took one of her poor, sore feet in his hands and began to massage it. It felt so good that it brought tears to her eyes. Then she looked around at Beth, Gram, Jenna and Steffie, all smiling at her. Happy for her. Loving her. And there went her heart again, swelling to the bursting point. She had never imagined she could be so loved. She wanted to freeze this moment and keep it forever.

  Matt, looking up at her lovely face with her foot in his hands, watching her eyelids droop with exhaustion, was thinking exactly the same thing. He couldn’t wait to get her home, but there was one more thing he needed to do tonight. When he finished massaging her other foot, he got up and walked behind the counter, where he retrieved the box he’d placed there earlier, when Shane was busy elsewhere.

  Shane saw him coming toward her, holding what looked like a polished wooden jewelry box. She watched, puzzled, as he got back down on his knees.

  “Shane, where’s your purse?” he asked her.

  “Beth put it in the office for me. What’s going on, Matt?”

  He smiled at her and said to Beth, “Will you get Shane’s purse, please?”

  Beth went into the office, returned with Shane’s black velvet evening bag, and handed it to Matt. Matt opened the velvet pouch and found the tiny gold key. He held it out to her.

  “Will you do the honors, Shane?” he said.

  They were all gathered in a circle around her, Matt on his knees, Gram, Jenna, Steffie and Beth standing silently, watching, smiling. Did they all know something she didn’t know? Her heart was pounding as she took the key from Matt and inserted it into the lock. The box unlocked with a hushed click, and Matt opened the lid to reveal a satin-lined tray of lovely jewelry. Shane got only a quick glimpse, though, because Matt quickly found what he wanted, picked it up and held it out to her.

  It was a ring: a pear-shaped diamond set in a white-gold band.

  Shane stared at it, then raised her swimming eyes to meet Matt’s. She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat.

  “This was my grandmother’s,” he said. “No other woman has ever worn it. I know now that I was saving it for you.”

  Shane barely managed to nod; she waited for him to go on.

  “Shane MacKinnon,” Matt said, “will you marry me?” His voice was hoarse with emotion.

  In answer, because she still couldn’t speak, Shane held out her left hand and saw that it was trembling. As she watched Matt slip the ring on her finger, her voice was finally freed.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes, Matthew Brennan, I will.” She felt as if she’d loved him forever, that this moment was the culmination of an eternity of love.

  And then they were in each other’s arms, kissing and laughing, Shane’s tears flowing freely now. Dimly, under the pounding of her heart, Shane heard the joyful applause and excited laughter of three women and a young girl.

  Moments later, while they were enjoying the expensive Champagne Matt had also snuck into the gallery, he asked her when she wanted to get married. She thought about it, and then she decided.

  “On my birthday,” she said, “October fourteenth.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Jenna, “especially since it gives you four whole months to plan the wedding. Do you want some help with that?”

  Shane smiled at her. “Of course,” she said. “I don’t know anything about planning weddings. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “I’ve had some experience in that department,” Beth said.

  “I’d like to help, too,” said Gram, “in whatever way I can.”

  Steffie raised her hand. “I want to help, too,” she said. “Can I, Shane?”

  “Of course you can, Steffie. At this rate, I won’t have to lift a finger.”

  “Oh, man,” Matt said, “this is going to be a really big deal, isn’t it. Why don’t we just elope? We could catch a plane to Bora Bora and get married by a tribal chieftain on the beach.”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Jenna said. “You’re not going to cheat us out of a big, beautiful wedding.” Then she turned to Shane and took her elbow, pulling her away from Matt. “Now, where do you want to have the ceremony? Silver City, or L.A.?”

  Shane gave Matt a “What can I do?” shrug and huddled with Jenna, Gram, Beth and Steffie to talk about possibilities for the wedding.

  A good fifteen minutes went by, and then Matt made a huge, noisy show of yawning. They all turned and looked at him.

  “What?” he said. “It’s nearly ten, that’s all I’m saying. Shane’s been working nonstop for days now. Not to mention almost— Never mind that. Look, can’t you continue this another time? It’s four months away, remember?”

  Jenna glared at him with her hands on her hips. “Do you have any idea how much planning goes into a wedding?”

  Matt lowered his head into his hands and groaned, and Shane took pity on him. “Jenna, I’m afraid he’s right. I’m exhausted. Do you want to meet for breakfast tomorrow? There’s a great café right across the street.”

  “You do look tired, honey,” Gram said, “and frankly, so am I. Let’s continue this at breakfast.”

  “Oh, all right,” Jenna said. She pulled Shane into her arms for a warm hug. “I’m so glad we’re going to be sisters,” she said.

  “So am I,” Shane answered.

  “Are you going to be my sister too?” Steffie asked Shane.

  Shane bent down to her. “I’m going to be your aunt,” she said, “and I’m really looking forward to it.” She planted a kiss on the top of Steffie’s head, then she went to Matt and took his hand.

  “Let’s go home, bridegroom,” she said.

  He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said.

  It took five more minutes for proper goodbyes, and then they were all trooping out the door, with Beth bringing up the rear. Shane glanced across the street; the media vultures had packed up and gone back to their nests. She’d been so busy starting her wonderful new life that she hadn’t even noticed when they left.

  Matt took her hand and they walked down the bl
ock to where she’d parked her truck. She didn’t want to let go of his hand.

  “I wish we could just beam ourselves home,” she said.

  “So do I,” he said, “right to your bedroom. I can’t wait to get you naked.”

  Shane laughed. “In four months we’ll be an old married couple,” she said. “Will you still want me as much when I’m there all the time?”

  He brought her left hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. “More,” he said. “The sooner we get home, the sooner I can show you how much.”

  She started to turn away, then remembered something she wanted to ask him and turned back. “Matt, why did you have the key to your mother’s jewelry box on your key ring?”

  He grinned. “Doesn’t everybody?”

  “Come on, tell me.”

  He took her hand again and looked at the ring on her finger. “When I was eight,” he said, “I fell out of a tree and broke my leg. I was in a cast for weeks, stuck in the house. That was during my pirate phase.”

  “Pirate phase?”

  “Yeah, I was nuts about pirates. Mom saw how bored I was sitting there on the couch. She didn’t want me watching TV all day, so she brought me a bunch of books from the library. But I wasn’t much of a reader when I was that age.”

  He paused, and Shane recognized the look in his eyes: happy memories burdened with sorrow.

  “One of the books she brought me was ‘Treasure Island.’ She read me the first chapter, and I was hooked. She put the book on my lap and told me if I read some every day, she’d let me pretend her jewelry box was a treasure chest. Well, I read that book in less than a week, and Mom brought me her jewelry box so I could pretend I was on Treasure Island. She had an extra key made and gave it to me on a gold chain. I wore it around my neck for years, in spite of the merciless teasing I suffered for it. After she died, I put that key on my key ring, and I never took it off until I gave it to you.”

  By the time he’d finished the story, Shane’s eyes were filled with tears. As she wiped them away, it dawned on her, the significance of what he’d said.

  “You gave me the key that first night at my house,” she said. “You hardly even knew me.”

  Matt reached behind her neck and pulled her close for a tender kiss.

  “But I already loved you,” he said.

  Overcome, Shane could only bury her face against his chest and hold him close.

  FORTY-ONE

  Matt waited for Shane to pull ahead of him in her Ranger, then he stayed as close behind her as he could without tailgating. He didn’t trust that old rust-bucket she drove. He planned to buy her a new pickup—or maybe a hybrid SUV, whichever she preferred—as an early birthday present. He knew she might protest, but he was confident he could persuade her. Hell, he’d have fun persuading her. Wishing she were in the seat beside him, he followed her as they turned onto the highway, heading home.

  They’d only gone a few miles when Matt’s satphone rang. He found the jaunty, musak-style ringtone irritating, but he hadn’t taken the time to change it yet. He had it on hands-free; the screen showed a photo of Jenna and Steffie. He was smiling when he answered the call.

  “Hey, Jenna, what’s up? Not more wedding plans already, I hope.”

  There was silence on the line for several seconds, and Matt frowned. Had he lost the connection? Then a deep male voice filled the cab.

  “Hello, Mr. Brennan.”

  Matt almost swerved off the highway. “Who is this? Where’s Jenna?”

  “Don’t worry, she’s here with me, and she has plenty of company. I’m keeping all three of them comfortable, for the time being.”

  No. God, no.

  With his heart slamming against his ribs, Matt braked, pulled into the outside lane, then came to a jarring stop on the shoulder.

  “Who is this? What do you want? If you hurt them, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? Kill me?”

  The voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t Galvin. What was his real name? Winger. Henry Winger. It didn’t sound like him at all. Where had he heard that mocking voice before?

  The answer jolted through him. No. It couldn’t be.

  “Ripley?”

  “Very good, Mr. Brennan,” the voice replied.

  Matt tried to get his mind around what must have happened. It was Galvin—Winger—who’d died in the flood. Winger must have grabbed the jacket with the diamond in the pocket. Ripley was still in the house while he was chasing the wrong man.

  Shane had been right in a sense, but she’d gotten the players wrong: It was Ripley who found and mutilated Winger’s body, recovered the diamond, and placed his own ring on the dead man’s finger.

  Shane was still in danger. But right now Ripley was miles away from her, and Matt had to deal with the immediate threat.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Money, of course.”

  “Four million isn’t enough for you?

  Jordan Ripley laughed. “It’s not about about how much I have, Mr. Brennan. It’s about taking everything you have.”

  “All right. I’ll give you everything I have,” Matt said. “Just don’t hurt them.”

  “That’s a good boy. Silver City Airport parking lot, twenty minutes. Look for a white van.”

  “Will they be there? I won’t give you a damn cent until I know they’re all right.”

  “They’ll be there. I’ll let you see them, briefly, and then we’ll begin the negotiations. Twenty minutes, Mr. Brennan, or I start to get nasty. And if I see the slightest sign that you’ve called for help, they’re all dead. Though I might have some fun with the little girl first. She’s at such a precious age.”

  Rage turned Matt’s vision red. “If you touch her, you sick bastard, I’ll rip your balls off and ram them down your throat!”

  Laughter echoed through the cab; Matt slammed his hands hard on the steering wheel.

  When the laughter died away, Ripley’s voice was filled with humor. “You do delight me, Mr. Brennan. I’m sorry we couldn’t have met under different circumstances. But, unfortunately, you’re in no position to threaten me, are you?”

  Matt was silent. He ached to get his hands around Ripley’s smug neck.

  “Are you? I’m waiting for an answer.”

  The word almost stuck in his throat, but he forced it out. “No.”

  “Good. I’m so glad we understand each other. Eighteen minutes.”

  The line went dead.

  Matt jammed the truck into gear, pulled back onto the highway and barreled straight across the median, heading back toward Silver City as fast as he dared. He couldn’t risk getting pulled over for speeding, or having a cop on his tail. The airport was on the other side of town; eighteen minutes was barely enough time to get there.

  He thought about calling Shane, but he knew she’d turn around and follow him, and he didn’t want her anywhere near Jordan Ripley. He would handle this himself and keep her safe, even though she’d be furious with him when it was over. Better furious than dead.

  His rage threatened to overwhelm him, but his fear was greater: Fear that he’d be too late, or that Ripley wouldn’t be satisfied with the amount Matt could give him. If he hurt them, Matt would never rest until Ripley was dead.

  Again. That fucking bastard had more lives than a cat.

  He thought about Shane, pictured her driving toward home, happy, feeling safe and loved, with his grandmother’s engagement ring on her finger. If he lost her now—

  But Ripley was miles away, on the other side of Silver City. That was the only thing that consoled him. He pushed harder on the accelerator and the big red truck surged ahead.

  When Shane swung a sharp left to cross the new bridge over the arroyo, the Ranger’s headlights swept over the old wooden gate she never closed. What was the point, when there was no fence? The gate was a vestige of earlier times, earlier owners.

  Suddenly she braked and stared at the gate. It took a second—the space of an indrawn breath—for her
brain to make sense of what she was seeing: The jagged necks of blue bottles ranged along the top of the gate like shattered sentinels and the ground glittered with tiny blue stars.

  Her heart began to race and she felt the telltale trembling in the pit of her stomach. She took a slow, deep breath, let it out, took another one, then another. She would not allow herself to panic. It could only be vandals, most likely teenagers with a few beers in them and nothing better to do than destroy somebody else’s property. She couldn’t let them get to her. This was her night, and she wasn’t going to let anything spoil it for her, especially not some young jerks with hammers, or bats, or whatever they’d used.

  She’d call the San Miguel sheriff’s office in the morning. Not that there was much they could do about it, but at least she’d get it on record this time. Then she’d have to decide whether or not to take down the bottles. They seemed to be an irresistible temptation to a certain class of idiot.

  She hated the thought of removing the bottles, though. And even more, she hated giving in to the vandals, whoever they were. Maybe Matt could help her figure out how to catch them at it so they could put a stop to it. Motion-sensor cameras? The idea made her smile again.

  Shane stepped on the gas, drove to the top of the hill and parked in her usual spot outside the kitchen door, leaving room for Matt’s truck. As she got out of the Ranger, she wondered what was taking him so long. He’d been right behind her when they started out, and then she’d lost sight of him. He must have gotten stuck behind a slowpoke.

  Thinking about Matt made her smile so hard she thought her face might split. She was humming happily when she walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights. On a whim, she turned on the living room lights, too. She wanted Matt to see the whole house ablaze with light, welcoming him home. She looked through the window toward the access road, expecting to see his headlights jouncing down the hill. Where was he?

  She paused long enough to kick the beautiful instruments of torture from her feet, crossed the living room to the sliding glass door and flipped on the patio lights.