But O’Brien seemed dead earnest about wanting to make amends with his daughter, who hadn’t written or spoken to him since he’d been convicted fifteen years ago.
Aaron asked O’Brien, “Where’ve you been?”
He held up a ski jacket. “I saw an unlocked car and thought I could use better clothes. I’m freezing.” He pulled several pairs of socks from his pockets, tossed a pair at both Aaron and Doug.
“You can say that again,” Doug mumbled. “Thanks, man.”
“So, are you coming with us to Montana or going back to see your kid?”
O’Brien frowned. “I can’t go back yet. The cops are all over the place, I need to lay low, let the heat die down, then go back for my daughter.”
“Just so you understand that this is my girl, my rules.”
O’Brien nodded. “Absolutely. When do we head out?” He sat down and unwrapped his food.
“Tomorrow morning. Before dawn.” Aaron kept his face blank. During his nine years in prison, he’d learned a lot—and something about Tom O’Brien wasn’t right. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
“What about the storm they were talking about on the news?” Doug asked.
Aaron waved off his concern. “We’ll be ahead of it. Besides, it may be cold, but it’s clear.”
He listened to O’Brien and Doug bitch about the cold. Something about O’Brien’s eyes. They were familiar, and Aaron didn’t know why. He’d never met the guy, not until he transferred last week and then not more than two words until the quake.
It was best not to talk to strangers in prison.
But…the sense of something predatory lingered. Aaron wasn’t going to turn his back on O’Brien.
In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be with Joanna. And finally, at peace.
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FOUR
It was after eight that evening when Jo finally settled at her desk to write.
The howl of the wind as it whipped the snow around the lodge was the only sound. There would be huge drifts tomorrow morning. Jo hoped their cottage guests were all right. She’d checked on them when the snow first started falling. The cabins were the two closest to the lodge; they didn’t have generators but were equipped with propane stoves and wood-burning fireplace insets. They were cozy retreats, perfect for the honeymooning couple as well as the two college kids—Brian Bates and his girlfriend Marie Williams—in the southernmost cabin who had planned to research their joint thesis for an advanced wildlife biology class at Missoula. They’d arrived yesterday and Jo suspected that now the weather had turned, there’d be more romance than working in the field.
She pulled up her current work-in-progress, a story she was calling Cry, Baby, Cry to fit her theme of titling all her books after Beatles songs. It had been her editor’s idea eight years ago when she called her first novel Act Naturally. But this story was much different than her others.
The only time she had missed a deadline was after Ken and Timmy were murdered. Deadline? She’d lost an entire year…she didn’t think she’d write again.
But then one day not long after she moved back to the lodge, she sat at her computer to order a sweater for her grandfather, and a story idea popped into her head. Her muse had returned, and in the process of writing Jo had found more healing than in the previous year of barely living.
Now that she’d rediscovered her love for writing, she wasn’t going to fall into that dark emotional pit again. She could control the pain, control her anguish just fine, thank you.
Her sweeping romances and family sagas had given her a wonderful fan base. She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint them with something a little different this time. It was as if Cry, Baby, Cry was writing itself, yet Jo was still trying to make it conform to her plan. Jo decided for the first time to let the story take her on the journey, rather than the way she usually wrote with a clear road map.
She was deep into it, on her third page that night, when her eleven-year-old niece ran into her room without knocking.
The sudden movement startled her. “Leah!” Jo admonished.
“Sorry.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Mom said to get you. Wyatt McBride is on the radio and asked for you.”
Jo saved her document. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know. Mom didn’t say. I think she was mad that he asked for you.”
Trixie had always had a crush on Wyatt, who was a year older than Jo and three years older than Trix. But Jo knew Wyatt’s heart belonged to one woman, Grace Worthington. And Grace was traveling the world. Living in the Centennial Valley was not in her top ten goals. It hadn’t been in Jo’s, either, but after Ken and Timmy were killed, this was the only place she had felt safe.
Jo put her arm around Leah’s slender shoulders as they went downstairs. She had a special affection for her niece, but was sometimes hesitant to show it. Trixie always acted weird whenever Jo wanted to take Leah out to do something in the valley, like cross-country skiing or snowmobiling over Red Rock Pass. Jo figured Trix was upset that she couldn’t do those things with Leah herself, so Jo tried not to push it.
She went into the office where Wyatt and Trixie were chatting on the VHF radio.
“Jo’s here,” Trixie said.
Jo and Wyatt had a long history. He, Jo, and Grace had been the Three Musketeers growing up, and when they were in high school Wyatt and Grace started dating. When Grace chose a college on the East Coast, Wyatt was devastated. He dropped out of nearby MSU and spent a year in the military. He eventually returned to the valley—told Jo it was in his soul and he didn’t feel right anyplace else. He became somewhat of a ski bum while spending the next six years in college, introduced Jo to Ken, and was best man at their wedding.
When Jo returned from California after Ken and Timmy were murdered, she and Wyatt picked up their friendship where it had left off. Wyatt had considered her husband Ken one of his closest friends. He’d even flown to California for the funeral.
“Hey, Wyatt, what’s up?”
“Gotta little problem. I’m up at the Kimball homestead on the north end of the lake with six Boy Scouts. The storm came in faster than I thought.”
He sounded like it was a personal failure that he didn’t see it coming. “It surprised us all,” she said.
“They often do.” Even the weather service was sometimes wrong. “The Ward boy broke his leg. We’re shutting down for the night—have shelter, food. We’re good. But I need to get him medical attention ASAP.”
“I can call in search-and-rescue. Give me your exact location—”
“We’re not moving tonight. The storm is getting worse, and we’re safe where we are. I set Ben up with a temporary brace and the boys are building a sleigh. But I was hoping we could come to the lodge.”
“You’re that close? I thought—” She glanced at the map. “Kimball. Right. That’s about twelve miles, sticking to the trails.”
“Bingo.”
“Don’t move Ben. I’ll meet you there tomorrow morning. Between Trix and Stan they can take care of Ben.” Stan had been an Army medic and Trixie had extensive first aid training.
“Are you sure? We can meet you partway—”
“No, if the weather lightens up I can be there in less than an hour. If it’s still rough, it might take a little longer. I’ll have the sled hooked up, which cuts into speed.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Jo. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it. Let’s talk on the radio tomorrow at seven a.m. so I can give you a better ETA based on the weather.”
“Right after I check in with the Sheriff.”
“You mean your brother.”
Just thinking about Tyler McBride made Jo a bundle of nervous energy. She hadn’t seen him in over two months, ever since Thanksgiving dinner at Wyatt’s place when she and Tyler had been in the kitchen alone.
She’d been right to put distance betwe
en them. It had all happened too fast, too unexpected. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready. Why did he have to push it? Dammit, why couldn’t he just be happy with the way things were? With Tyler she’d been happier than she’d been in four years. And now…
Now Jo missed him.
Wyatt moaned. “Don’t remind me. I’ve never met such a high-and-mighty arrogant know-it-all—”
Jo cut him off and laughed. “Look in a mirror, Wyatt.”
“Touché, Joanna.”
She winced at her full name. No one called her that.
“I’ll be waiting for your call. Be careful.”
“You, too.”
She hung up. Instead of thinking about Wyatt and the boys, Tyler filled her mind. After meeting him on the Kyle Worthington rescue last winter, they’d started seeing each other casually. She knew he was being cautious because his ex-wife had died not long before he moved to Montana. Jo was cautious because—well, she still loved her husband. He was dead, but she couldn’t just turn off her feelings like a faucet.
She’d gone with Tyler and Jason to Wyatt’s ranch in Ennis. Wyatt had bought a hundred acres and renovated the rundown house himself. He was about halfway done, but what he’d completed was beautiful. Every room had a view—most of wide-open spaces. On a clear day, you could even see Centennial Mountain from the kitchen.
This past Thanksgiving was clear and after dinner the sun had just begun to set in the southwest. The mountains were alive with color, and Jo stopped scraping leftover food into the bucket for Wyatt’s animals.
As always, the Centennial Mountains, from any angle, took her breath away.
But that night…the vastness of Montana hit her with an intense emptiness, and she descended into the emotional pit she’d been in after Ken and Timmy had died.
Sometimes the past crept up slowly—she knew the sadness would come and she could prepare. But tonight the anguish seized her unexpectedly and all she saw was Timmy’s face.
How could she ever replace Timmy? How could she replace Ken? She had loved them so much, her heart twisted at the loss. Her loss. Yes, she was selfish and she knew it, but dammit, they were her family! She had chosen to marry the athletic wildlife biologist who made her laugh like no one else. She had given birth to a beautiful baby boy who should have had a chance to grow up. Nine years wasn’t enough.
Hands wrapped around her waist and she almost dropped the plate.
Tyler kissed her on the neck. He was taller, broader, more muscular than her dead husband. And when they made love for the first time, that weekend in September when Wyatt had taken Jason on a scouting excursion, she allowed herself to think that maybe—maybe—she could find love again.
Her heart slammed shut.
Tyler turned her around. “Is something wrong, Jo?”
She shook her head. How could she explain it to Tyler? He’d been nothing but kind and patient. She touched his cheek, kissed him. “Where’s Wyatt?”
“He took Jason out to bring in the horses.”
“Jason seems to be adjusting well.”
Tyler didn’t say anything.
“Don’t you think?”
“I think Wyatt’s pushing him. Trying to prove something, I don’t know what.”
“Jason would say something if he didn’t like it.”
“I don’t think so. He’s a private kid.”
“A little like his dad.” She smiled, tried to slide away, feeling suddenly too close, too intimate. Talking with Tyler about his son—his son, not her son. “We should finish clearing—”
Tyler pulled her back, kissed her. His hands found her neck, held her to him, and she let herself relax. The quiet intimacy comforted her. Just her and Tyler, without pressure, without words. Her body heated up, as it always did when Tyler touched her. He was a man of a thousand degrees. She wondered if he’d be comfortable naked in the snow. The vision of them making love in the snow made her grin.
He pulled back an inch, a smile curving his lips up. His green eyes sparkled. Tyler McBride was one handsome man, a cowboy at heart, and Jo couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him.
The first man who had started to weave his way into her heart since Ken.
“I love you, Jo.”
She blinked, her body frozen. Love. She pushed it from her mind. He hadn’t said it. He couldn’t. Too much was at stake when love came into the picture.
“I want to marry you. Will you?”
As if she had already said yes, he kissed her.
Her mouth was open in shock, not response.
He pulled back and in his eyes she saw that he already knew her answer.
“I—I can’t.”
His muscles tensed and he stared at her. Not talking.
“I’m sorry.” She ran from the kitchen. She should have given him an explanation. She should have told him how she felt, about him, about Ken.
About Timmy.
But just thinking about it made the tears come, and she couldn’t put her feelings into words. She couldn’t explain them to herself, let alone Tyler.
She hadn’t seen Tyler since.
The phone rang. “Moosehead Lodge,” she answered, her voice thick. She feigned a cough.
“This is Bonnie Warren from the Sheriff’s Department. Who’s this?”
“Hi Bonnie, it’s Jo.”
“Can you hold for the Sheriff?”
Hold for the Sheriff?
“Is something wrong?”
“No. Just a minute, please.”
Did Bonnie know about her relationship with Tyler? She didn’t think so, but there were only nine thousand people in the entire county of Beaverhead. And they all knew one another. She hadn’t advertised it, but they hadn’t kept it secret, either.
Why was she worrying about it? It was over. Tyler was calling about Wyatt and the boys, that was it.
“Jo.”
His voice was deep and sexy, even though he wasn’t trying to be anything but all-cop. Maybe that’s why Jo was so attracted to him. He didn’t know what he did to her.
“Hi, Tyler.”
“Have you spoken to Wyatt?”
“Yes. I’m going out to the Kimball homestead tomorrow morning and bring Ben Ward back. Wyatt will follow with the rest of the boys.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me, Tyler. I’ve done things like this for years.”
Why was she sounding so defensive?
“Jason’s out there with them.”
“Oh. I’m sure he’s fine, he’s a good kid, and Wyatt knows what he’s doing.”
But Jo also knew that while Tyler didn’t act overprotective, he kept a discreet, watchful eye over his son. Rightfully, Jo thought. The world was a dangerous place. Balance was hard—when to let them push, when to keep them sheltered.
“I—” What was she going to say? What could she say? “I’ll have Jason call you when they get here, okay?”
“I’d appreciate it. Nash called in about the avalanche. That wasn’t near you, was it?”
“No. It was about two miles east of Lakeview. We heard it, sounded like it was right in our backyard, but we talked to Nash and he planned to inspect it.”
“How is everyone there?”
“We’re fine. No problems.”
“Any guests?”
“I have one couple who weren’t expecting the vast solitude here. I think they’re going a little stir-crazy.” She was making small talk, and it felt uncomfortable.
“If anyone shows up out of the blue, give me a call, okay?”
“Why?”
“You never know. You’re way out in the middle of nowhere, Jo.”
“Everyone here had a reservation, Tyler. Sometimes being in the middle of nowhere is exactly what people need.”
“Unless you’re going nowhere.”
Jo’s jaw tightened. “What does that mean? That was uncalled for.”
“Was it?” he asked softly.
“Anythi
ng else?”
“Do you remember the interview you did for that national magazine a couple years ago? It’s hanging up in your lobby.”
The sudden change of subject confused her. “Yes,” she said cautiously. “Why?”
“What were you wearing in that picture?”
“And this is important why?”
“Just curious.”
Jo had no idea what was going on in Tyler’s head. “Um, a rust-colored sweater and jeans. No, a jean skirt,” she corrected after picturing the article. “Why?”
“Someone was talking about it and I couldn’t remember.”
“Why do you care what I wore in an old photo?”
“If any strangers arrive at the lodge unexpectedly, call me immediately.”
“Now I know something’s wrong. What is it, Tyler?”
There was a long silence, which proved to Jo that Tyler was worried about something other than Jason and the scouts. “I don’t want to scare you, Jo.”
“You’re scaring me now.”
“I had a strange call this evening from a guy who described that picture of you. He seemed to think that someone might want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?”
Why in the world would anyone want to hurt her? Lincoln Barnes, the vile man who murdered Ken and Tim, had died more than a year ago in a prison fight. Linc was the only person who truly hated her. Jo closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath.
“Jo?” Tyler asked softly. “Honey, are you okay?”
“I can’t think of any reason why someone would want to hurt me. Linc is dead. I haven’t gotten so much as a crank call or nasty e-mail.”
“I’m coming to the lodge tomorrow,” Tyler said.
“You don’t have to—” She stopped herself. Jo would feel safer with Tyler around. More than a sense of security, Jo realized she had missed Tyler. It had been more than two months and he hadn’t called after she turned down his marriage proposal. Not that she blamed him. Hell, maybe she didn’t want to see him, though the fluttering butterflies in her stomach told her otherwise. “You’ll come by to pick up Jason?” she asked.
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