by Alicia Scott
"Ah, kid," he murmured. "You scared the daylights outta me."
For her response, Maggie held him even tighter. Only slowly did she become aware of the third person discreetly clearing his throat.
She pulled back reluctantly, already wiping at her eyes. Brandon, impeccably clad in a charcoal-gray suit, was studying the floor and trying to pretend moisture didn't suddenly stain his sun-beaten cheeks. His face was grim and much leaner than she remembered. Wearing his usual faded jeans and loose cotton shirt, C.J. was grinning—he was always grinning—but his eyes appeared suspiciously moist as well.
Then her gaze came to rest on the new face that had appeared between her brother and cousin. Joel. Joel Epstein. She remembered those dark, burning eyes from the TV. How much he must have suffered. She wanted to grab his hands and tell him it would all be over soon. Cain would take care of everything.
Just as soon as she helped take care of Cain.
She summoned a smile to her face, shook Joel's hand as introductions were made and began guiding him toward the door. "So nice to meet you. Come back in ten minutes. Detective McDougal?" She began herding him briskly as well.
The men in the room exchanged startled glances.
"Miss Ferringer, we still have quest—"
"Of course you do. In a minute." The detective's mouth gaped, then he worked it a few times like a fish. Maggie gave up on benign smiles and stamped her foot.
"Excuse me," she declared in the most chastising voice possible, "but I have just been held prisoner by an escaped murderer for twenty-four hours. I'm exhausted, filthy, bruised and no doubt suffering from shock. All I want is ten minutes alone with my beloved brothers! Is that so much to ask for! Is it?"
Her voice rose to just the right fever pitch at the end. The room cleared in a hurry.
"Of course, ma'am."
"Sorry, ma'am."
"Let us know if you need anything, ma'am."
"Yes, yes, yes," she assured them and practically slammed the door of the room behind them. She turned immediately to C.J. and Brandon, both of whom were frowning.
"Are you all right?" Brandon asked immediately. His blue eyes skimmed down her intently, wanting to ensure that all was well with his baby sister.
She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "Of course. How are you? And where have you been these days?"
"Indonesia. I'm fine." His gaze was still narrow and his brow furrowed. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Indonesia?" She looked at him with genuine shock. "That's where Max's plane crashed. Brandon, what have you been up to?"
"Nothing." He turned to C.J. abruptly, but C.J. just shrugged.
"You're right," C.J. agreed. "She seems different. And what were you doing in Indonesia? I don't remember you saying you were going to Indonesia."
Brandon ignored C.J.'s question as well, returning his frowning expression to Maggie. "Are you sure you're all right? He didn't try … anything, did he? He didn't hurt you?"
"I'm fine," she said brusquely, then opened her mouth to launch her attack.
C.J. interrupted her at the pass. "If I didn't know better," C.J. said abruptly to Brandon, "I'd say she found a man."
"Hey!" She was flustered now. "What do you mean, 'if I didn't know better'? Why can't I find a man?" Then she gave up and decided this was as good an opening as she was going to get. "Fine then. I found the perfect man."
"Congratulations!" C.J. said immediately, clearly surprised, which didn't improve her mood. Abruptly, his eyes narrowed and she could see the pieces clicking into place as he realized what she had just said and whom she had spent the past twenty-four hours with. "Wait a second—"
"Maggie!" Brandon exclaimed. "What did he do? Why, that filthy—"
"Stop it!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Just stop it!"
And when their jaws quietly dropped to the floor at such a display of spirit from their meek little Maggie, she raised her chin haughtily and stared at them with all the blazing defiance of a Hathaway Red. "Cain's innocent," she declared in her most authoritative voice. "In fact, right now he's being pursued by his older brother, Abraham, who actually committed the crime. And if we don't help him, he'll never survive to tell the truth."
She leveled them with an impatient stare, waiting for them to hop to it.
Brandon said quietly, "You've been through a horrible ordeal, Maggie."
"I'm going to kill him," C.J. supplied, his tone a bit more succinct.
She stared at them both incredulously. "Haven't you heard a word I said?"
"Of course. But we know you have a soft heart," C.J. said soothingly. "It's something I've always admired about you. But we all know it can be too soft—"
"Not this time!"
"Maggie, you once stopped picking strawberries because you thought the pulling motion was too painful for the vines."
"I was nine!"
"And you won't enter the meat section of the grocery store."
"Well, that truly is barbaric!"
"You won't even buy a down comforter!"
"I don't want to have a bunch of geese running around naked because of me!"
"Maggie," Brandon interjected in an exasperated tone of voice, "if you ever met the devil wandering the streets, you'd take him home, fix him dinner and offer him his choice of rooms. Worse, you'd give him your soul for free the first time he wrung his hands and said 'pretty please.' And we all know it!"
"Cain is not the devil, Brandon. And how would you know anyway? You've never met the man."
C.J. and Brandon both took deep breaths. She surprised them, however, by regrouping quickly and launching a counterattack.
"Who said they would always be there for me?" she demanded.
"We're here!" they both exclaimed.
"Oh yes, and a nice job of saving me you did, too. You're here because I had you paged!" They both looked immediately abashed and C.J.'s grin had slipped into a dark scowl. "And now I am asking you for help and instead of listening to me you're treating me to a walloping dose of patronizing anecdotes. I won't stand for it!" She wagged her finger at them in a fine impersonation of their grandmother. "I have always been there for you, I have always trusted you. I put up with you, Brandon, though you jet around the globe, are impossible to find and are scaring the living daylights out of all of us with your strange, Maxlike behavior. I put up with you, C.J., though I know perfectly well you do more than just run a bar in Sedona and your weakness for troubled women and lost causes will probably keep you from living to a ripe old age. Now I'm asking you two to do the same for me. And you can either sit down, shut up and listen, or turn around and walk out that door. But one way or another, I'm going to help Cain.
"And you're going to be very nice to him when you finally meet him or I'll leak to the press how the brilliant millionaire Brandon Ferringer once got sprayed down by a skunk as you tried to sneak up on it because you'd read somewhere that you could catch and sell them. I believe we even have a lovely picture of you standing buck naked on the patio while Grandma dumped tomato juice over your head." She whirled on C.J. "Then I'll describe how a big strong Marine like you used to run screaming from butterflies because Brandon told you they were genetically engineered vampire bats. I'm sure photos can be arranged."
Brandon and C.J. remained suspended for a moment, exchanging cornered glances.
"I liked her better when she was my little sister," Brandon murmured.
"I think she's gone and grown up on us," C.J. agreed.
"If he hurts her, you know what we'll have to do to him."
"Oh, yeah." C.J. shrugged philosophically. "But I think now we have to let her have the first crack at him. She's not too bad, you know. When she scowls, she looks just like you."
Brandon blinked startled eyes at that. Maggie beamed proudly. "So you're in?"
"Of course," Brandon grumbled. He gave her another once-over, then submitted with a sigh. "You know we worry about you."
"I know," she said quietly. "Ma
ybe I've let you worry too much. Maybe it's time for me to stop letting you fight my wars."
"Maggie, you know we don't see it like that—"
She held up a silencing hand, then gave up and stepped forward enough to catch her brother's hand. "But I saw it like that, Brandon. I did. And now I'm twenty-seven years old and I want to stand on my own two feet. I know you still don't believe me, but Cain is innocent. Once you've spoken to him, once you realize what kind of man he is, you'll know he couldn't have committed murder. You'll like him, Brandon. He's so much like you."
"You've only known him for twenty-four hours," Brandon warned softly.
Her expression settled. She looked at him levelly. "And how long did you know Julia before you realized she was the one?"
His face tightened spasmodically, that ache slashing through his eyes and hurting her because she knew she'd inflicted the pain by mentioning Julia's name. Maggie had never seen Brandon happier than the day he'd stood at the altar with the sassy, irreverent Julia at his side. And she'd never seen him so lost as the day he stood shell-shocked beside his lovely wife's grave.
He didn't say anything now. She hadn't thought that he would. But his fingers squeezed hers and that was enough.
She turned enough for her gaze to include C.J. "All right," she said quietly. "We need a plan."
The sky was growing dark when Maggie and C.J. crept back up the hillside. It was only two o'clock, but storm clouds were gathering and another spring downpour seemed imminent. They'd sent Brandon into town to purchase supplies, including any surveillance equipment possible. In the meantime, Maggie and C.J. had retrieved the field first-aid kit C.J. had brought with him from the trunk of the rental car and they were off to find Cain. Of course, C.J. had suggested he go alone and Maggie attend to some vague duty such as "keeping others occupied." She'd set him straight in a hurry—she was going up that hill to help Cain.
There weren't many officers to keep busy anymore anyway. Most were merrily encircling Bend after Maggie had told them Cain planned backtracking and holing up for a spell. Only Joel and Detective McDougal remained, and that was because ostensibly they had more questions for Maggie. She'd informed them she needed a nap first and she would come find them when she woke up. Really, these covert activities weren't as difficult as she would have guessed.
Now, the stark red hillside was barren and quiet. The wind whipped at her cheeks, pressing the light cotton of her new khaki pants against her legs. The black baseball cap covered her hair and she still wore the too-big T-shirt, though Brandon had brought fresh clothes for her. The cap and T-shirt tied her to Cain, and she didn't want to lose those ties.
C.J. paused in front of her, finally twisting his flattened body enough to peer back at her.
"I think I see the ravine. Is he armed?"
"Yes."
"Is he going to shoot me?"
"Oh." She hadn't thought of that. "Maybe I should go first."
C.J.'s expression clearly stated what he thought of that idea. She ignored him and scurried forward impatiently.
"If he was going to shoot me," she informed her distrusting brother sourly, "he would've done it already."
"I don't like this," C.J. stated for the record.
"Just keep moving, MacNamara," she retorted defiantly and crept stealthily forward.
She could see the ravine now, as well. Her footsteps quickened and she would have clambered up to run if not for C.J.'s hissed warnings to keep her butt down. She kept her eyes on the ravine and slithered forward as rapidly as possible.
"Hang in there, Cain," she murmured. "I'm coming, I'm coming."
Had he passed out by now? Was he delirious from blood loss and pain? Would he forgive her for taking so long to return?
She wanted so desperately to see his face again so she'd know for herself that he was all right.
The ravine cracked open, its depths protected by an inky blackness. She glanced back one last time. C.J. was on her heels, Beretta in hand, but other than that the hillside was clear. They'd made it.
"Put the gun away," she commanded her overactive brother.
"Like hell," he informed her. "Locked, cocked and ready is the only way a Marine makes an entrance."
"Rambo," she muttered.
He grinned charmingly. "Rambo was a wimp, Maggie—an army man."
Maggie gave up on him and rolled her eyes. "Cain?" she whispered instead. "Cain?"
She thought she heard the soft echo of her voice bounce through the snaking ravine. Other than that, she heard nothing. She took another step forward, then another. C.J. was pressed to her side, his ribs against her shoulder. She could feel the tension radiate from him and see the dark shadow of the gun held poised against his chest.
"You're making me nervous," she whispered, and true to her words, her voice held an unsteady warble.
"Call his name again," C.J. ordered. Compared to her he sounded like steel.
She did. She called Cain's name again and again. She walked deeper into the ravine. She searched the shadows. She reached out her hands as if that would make him materialize once more in her arms.
But he was nowhere to be found. Nowhere at all.
"I don't understand!" she cried at last, and C.J. finally lowered his gun, wrapping his arms around her trembling shoulders instead.
"You only knew him twenty-four hours," he said softly.
She beat her fists against his hard belly. "It's not like that!" she insisted. "It's not like that at all! You don't understand. He's a good man. He's not like…"
"He's not like Max," C.J. said quietly. "At least you hoped not."
He cradled her head and she began to cry. She couldn't believe he'd left her. She'd been so sure he wouldn't do something like that. He was supposed to trust her as she trusted him.
At last, she forced herself to stand away, stubbornly wiping the tears from her cheek. "He had a good reason," she insisted tremulously. "Maybe the dogs were on his tail, or the helicopters got too close…" She looked at C.J. for confirmation. "Do you think?"
"We should go back to town, now," C.J. said quietly. "How long has it been since you've slept, Maggie?"
"I'm not leaving the area."
"Maggie—"
"I'm not leaving."
C.J. took a deep breath. "Listen, the town is just at the bottom of the hillside. We'll check into the hotel, you can get some rest, Brandon and I will continue looking for Cain." C.J. held up a hand against her automatic protest. "I swear to you Brandon and I will behave ourselves. No rampant death and destruction. We'll be perfectly nice vengeful relatives. I promise."
Maggie thought she should argue more, but suddenly the trauma and exhaustion caught up to her and she would have fallen if not for C.J.'s arm suddenly gripping her shoulder. He looked at her with so much compassion, she almost burst into tears again.
"We'll help you," he whispered and his fingers rubbed her neck lightly. "You know we'd give our eyeteeth to make you happy."
"I want to fight," she whispered soggily.
"In a few hours," he assured her. "Even G.I. Joe requires rest."
He took her hand and led her out of the ravine. The wind slapped them immediately, ripping through the stubby brush and howling its growing rage. Night seemed to have descended in just five minutes, the storm clouds reaching full boil.
C.J. shook his head once more, and when he looked at her his eyes were knowing. "Ugly night, Maggie," he murmured. "Ugly night."
Joel paced the tiny room three more times, then gave up. He scowled at Detective McDougal, but the older man could only shrug. Maggie had said she'd ring them when she woke up, but that had been two hours ago. Of course, the poor woman was exhausted so who knew how long she'd sleep.
Joel felt more frustrated than ever before. "I'm going to Bend," he snapped at last.
Once again, McDougal shrugged. Joel was on personal time; he could go wherever the hell he chose. Still disgruntled and restless, Joel finally stalked out to his four-by-four and sta
rted up the engine.
He'd just put it in gear when the gun was pressed against his ear.
"Joel," Cain said quietly.
The young man's eyes widened in the rearview mirror, then just as abruptly his face split into a snarl.
"No!" Cain pressed the gun hard to remind the rash young man of all the things at stake. "Don't do anything stupid now. That won't help Kathy."
"Don't you say her name. You haven't the right to say her name!"
"I have more right than you think," Cain said softly. He risked a glance around the parking lot. The first fat raindrops plastered the windshield, providing him with more cover. Still, his thigh felt as if it were on fire and he was growing woozier. His original plan of running to Idaho to search for evidence had already come and gone.
Now he was down to hours and minutes. Now he was making it up as he went along and hoping he didn't pass out before it was over. He didn't want a confrontation. He didn't want to shoot his brother or any more violence. He just wanted the truth.
Heaven help him.
"Shoot me," Joel snarled from the front seat, his nostrils flared impressively with his rage. "Shoot me or get the hell out of my vehicle!"
And Cain felt the weariness press down against him. He wanted to slap this young man silly and tell him to stop being so stupid. Life was more precious than that. Survival more important. As long as you were alive, you always had a chance.
Maggie.
He kept his voice steady, though his vision was starting to swim. "I know you don't believe me, Joel, but I didn't kill Kathy. I know who did, though, and you're going to help me catch him. I'll give you justice, Joel. Grant me two hours and I will give you justice."
Joel still gnashed his teeth, but when Cain finally demanded the CB, he complied. At Cain's instructions, he issued the call code for Ham, broadcasting it over several frequencies.
Abruptly there was a click across the crackling airwaves as one of the frequencies finally found their target and Abraham responded.
"Hello, Ham," Cain said simply. "We need to talk."
"I won't talk about that bi—"
"We're not going to talk about her," Cain overrode steadily. He looked at Joel, taking in the young man's dark gaze, filled with so much rage. He thought of Ham and just how lethal his older brother could be. Knight to rook two. Winner takes all.