by Linda Conrad
Mary understood immediately. Jake didn’t have anyone or anyplace to call his.
When she didn’t make any comments about what he’d told her, he asked his own question. “I know about your father’s death, and I’ve met your sister Lucy, but what about other sisters and brothers? What about your mother?”
“My mom is going strong.” As Mary thought about her mother, it made her warm and smiley all over. “She lives on the hobby farm where I grew up—where I still live. Right north of town. And she runs the family businesses that my father left her. With a lot of help from her boyfriend, that is.”
“Your mother has a boyfriend?”
That idea made her smile, too. “Craig Warner. An extremely nice man. I couldn’t have picked a better guy for my mom. He was my father’s accountant for years before he became CFO of the family’s company.”
“Craig knew your father?”
“Sure. They were in business together before my father faked his own death.” The nasty memory of her father’s betrayal brought another thought into her mind. “I can’t help wondering where my father really was all those years. Isn’t it curious?”
Jake’s eyes turned steely gray. Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “Do you think Craig Warner knew where your father was? I mean, maybe he did, considering they were partners.”
“No way.” That was one question she didn’t need to ask. “Craig would never have done that to my mother. Or to us kids. You can’t imagine how difficult life was for all of us after my father’s…uh…first murder. Craig helped us through it.”
Jake put his hands out, palms down, as though he was trying to gentle a horse. “I didn’t mean anything by asking. I only wanted to know what goes into making you who you are. How you think. That’s all.”
Mary realized her back had straightened impossibly and her shoulders were high and tight. She shook them down and sat back in the chair, taking a last sip of cool coffee to hide her nerves behind the oversize mug.
“Do you have other brothers and sisters?” Jake leaned on his elbows and tilted his head to watch her. “You said ‘us kids.’ How many are there?”
“There’s four of us. Two boys and two girls. Me and Lucy. And our brothers Peter and Jared.”
Jake nodded and gave her a wicked grin. “Exactly the right size of family. Do all of you live in Honey Creek? Still on the family farm?”
Mary felt the flush creeping up her neck again, but she fought it down. “I’m the only one still at home.” Yeah, and at twenty-nine wasn’t that extremely attractive?
She raced to shine a light on a different subject. “Right now Lucy is living above her store—until she and her fiancé get married. And my brothers have both been gone from home a long time.
“Peter is a single dad and lives with his son in a nice house near downtown.” Mary kept talking, desperate to use anything to keep the conversation off herself. “My baby brother Jared is far away—getting started in a finance career. I’m not exactly sure where he’s living at the moment. He was in New York, but I think he’s been taking special training at his company’s Washington, D.C., home office for the past few months.”
Jake knew a lot about Jared—probably more than Mary knew. But he was under orders not to reveal anything about the youngest Walsh brother.
Instead he refocused the conversation on the other brother. “What does Peter do for a living?”
Mary’s whole face dimpled. “My brother is a private investigator. He has a terrific business, but mostly he works outside of Honey Creek. Not much going on around here for him to investigate. This town is what you might call quiet.”
Jake almost laughed, but kept his face in a neutral position. Honey Creek was absolutely seething with crime and suppressed passions. The place was anything but quiet.
Her brother, Peter Walsh, had not been involved in the murder. No motive and no opportunity. But the idea of Mary’s mother, Jolene, having a romantic relationship with her dead husband’s partner had tweaked Jake’s lawman’s antenna.
Something for him to consider. To pick apart and inspect for hidden motives. In fact, Jake needed to wrangle an introduction to both Jolene and Craig Warner real soon.
Reaching out, he took Mary’s hand across the table again and winked at her. He had to swallow back the bubbling guilt, an emotion that was becoming a constant irritant. But while ignoring it and everything else churning in his gut, he leaned in for a quick kiss. After all, what could be wrong with wanting to meet his new girlfriend’s family?
It took a couple of days to arrange their visit with Damien in prison, but they were finally on their way. Jake had taken care of the details. Meanwhile, Mary spent most of that time sweeping up her old life and packing it away in boxes.
At one point yesterday her mother saw her leaving the house carrying her fat clothes to the car for donation. “What’s going on with you?” her mother had asked. “First the vacation from work and now cleaning out your closets. If I didn’t know better, I would say you were in love. Is this about that new man in town Lucy says she met?”
Mary murmured something under her breath to indicate her life was on a new track. She wasn’t quite ready to tell her mother how she felt about Jake—since Mary barely knew her own feelings on the subject.
Glancing over at Jake now in the driver’s seat, she couldn’t help wondering why, after over a week, they’d yet to have a repeat performance of their first night. Sure, he’d given her a peck on the cheek a few times. And once or twice he’d surprised her with a deep, warm kiss. But all their encounters were short-lived and fairly chaste. No secret touches. No glassy-eyed looks that promised remarkable things to come.
Mary couldn’t quite put it all together in her mind. But then, maybe all newbies felt as lost at first as she did. She wished this was something she could comfortably ask her mother. Or talk over with her BFF Susan. But she couldn’t. Talking would mean actually admitting that she’d been twenty-nine before her first sexual encounter.
Every time she thought of it in those terms the whole thing sounded more and more outrageous.
“You’re awfully quiet again this afternoon.” Jake glanced over at her and opened his hands on the steering wheel. “Have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all. You’ve been perfect.” Too damned perfect. What the hell was wrong with him? “I was just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
“How pretty it is in this part of the state.”
Ever since they’d passed through Butte, traveling on Interstate 90, the mountains had gotten higher and the trees more lush. As she looked out the windshield now, she spotted Elk Park Pass on their right and Mount Haggin to the left. They’d been dropping down into a wide valley ripe with bunch-grass prairie.
“See the silky lupine and those blanket flowers? Aren’t they colorful?”
“All I see are miles and miles of cattle and fences. What are you talking about?”
“Purple and yellow wildflowers. Beautiful this time of year. The mountains off in the distance always look like a picture postcard during August, too.”
Jake grinned as he looked out the window. “If you like the mountains in August, maybe we should take Highway 12 over the pass on the way back. It’s a little out of the way, but this is a terrific time of year for sightseeing. What do you think?”
“Maybe.”
A highway sign announcing their imminent approach to Deer Lodge and to the prison sent a sudden chill down Mary’s spine even in the bright sunshine of the warm day. The idea of prisoners—of a prison with no escape—landed heavily in Mary’s gut.
That does it. You know where fat, ugly little girls belong. Go! Echoes of curses spoken long ago rang in Mary’s head. No. No. Please don’t lock me in there.
Mary covered her face and breathed in and out of her mouth trying to slow her speeding pulse.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m…” She lifted her head and trie
d to find somewhere else to focus her attention—anywhere instead of the looming prison.
“I’m fine. Maybe a little tired of riding.” She stared out her window and gazed into the outside rearview mirror, desperate for something else to see—to say.
“Hey, they’re not back there anymore,” she said without thinking. “I figured for sure they must be going to the prison, too.”
“Huh? Who’s not where?” Jake checked his mirror and then glanced over to her with the question in his eyes.
“Oh, nobody, I guess. It’s just that I noticed a fancy four-wheel-drive truck following us out of Honey Creek, and I’ve seen them behind us several times since.”
Jake suddenly pulled his SUV off to the side of the Interstate and put his foot on the brake. “What did the truck look like exactly?” His eyes were tight. His mouth a narrow line.
“Jeez, Jake, I don’t know. It was black. Big. Shiny. With loads of chrome. I’ve never seen it before around town.”
He started up the SUV again and pulled back on the highway. “If you ever see that truck again…or any vehicle that seems to be following us, I want to know right away. Understand?”
Wow. What the heck was that all about?
Chapter 6
Jake stood behind Mary’s chair with his arms folded over his chest and his mind racing behind what he hoped was a stoic expression. She’d been acting as if coming to this prison was a death sentence.
He’d asked her twice if something was going on. But she wouldn’t discuss it. Only said she was a little tired and nervous about seeing Damien.
Whatever was affecting her head, he must’ve caught it, too. He couldn’t imagine what was wrong with him that he hadn’t noticed a truck following them. In ten years of undercover work, he had never been this sloppy.
“You have twenty minutes.” The guard ushered Damien into the visitors’ room and left to stand at the door.
Jake paid close attention to Mary’s expression and body movements. He’d figured she’d been lying about something having to do with Damien and that was why she’d been jumpy. But as the prisoner sat down across from her, she never flinched and actually smiled at the guy.
“Do you remember me, Damien?”
The prisoner was big—and threatening—at around six foot four. His dark brown shaggy hair hung down around his collar. He had muscles on top of muscles. No question they came from prison workouts. Physical training was a typical way for prisoners to pass their long days.
“The guard told me Mary Walsh was here to see me,” Damien said with a sneer. “But if he hadn’t told me I wouldn’t have known. You look different, kid. You’ve turned into a real babe.”
Jake fisted his hands at his sides and fought the urge to force those words back down Damien Colton’s throat. Prison hadn’t done much for this jerk’s attitude. Whatever he might have been at twenty had obviously been beaten out of him in here. Now he was nothing more than an ordinary head-up-his-ass con.
“I… Thanks,” Mary told the bastard. “My friend Jake came with me.” She waved her hand toward him standing behind her. “Lucy asked me to come.”
“Why?” The bitterness suddenly rolled off Damien like sheets of rain. “Why now? I haven’t heard one word from her in fifteen long years. Lucy couldn’t even be bothered to come to my trial. And after fifteen years she has something to say now? Now, when I’m finally done with this hell and about to be released?”
Damien spewed out a string of curses, making Jake wonder if Mary should still be sitting there listening to him vent his anger. This wasn’t even her fight. She was only the messenger.
Jake took a step closer to Mary, but she spoke up before he reached her. “I agree with you, Damien. Lucy tends to think of only herself. But it’s not one hundred percent her fault. You remember what she went through?”
“Bull.” Damien pounded his fist on the table. “She went through nothing compared to what I went through with that bastard. Whatever Lucy wants from me at this point, tell her it’s too damned late.”
“She’s engaged to be married, Damien. I’m sure she doesn’t want anything from you. Finding out that our father was actually alive all those years has been a big shock for us. I think…I think she just wants you to know she’s sorry.”
Jake watched defeat pour into Damien’s eyes. “Yeah? Well, her sorry can’t even buy me an extra minute of freedom. Tell her I don’t need it, and I sure as hell don’t want it.”
Mary sighed and rose from her chair. “I’ll tell her. Is there anything else I can do for you? Any other messages you want me to take back to Honey Creek before you get out?”
Damien hung his head as though he was ashamed of his behavior toward Mary, a woman who had never harmed him and had always believed in his innocence. “No. I’ll carry my own messages.”
Mary grimaced and sighed again. “Okay. Bye, Damien.”
Before she could turn away, Damien said, “You shouldn’t have come, Mary. I’m…sorry.”
The corners of her mouth turned up in a weak version of a smile. “Goodbye.” She turned and left the room.
Jake stood where he was for another second. “Are you planning on coming back to Honey Creek?”
Damien looked up at him from where he remained seated. “You’re some kind of cop, aren’t you?”
Crap. “No. I’m in real estate.”
“Liar. I’ve spent the bulk of my adult life learning to spot narcs. What do you want from me?”
Jake looked Damien straight in the eyes. “I came here for Mary. She’s fiercely loyal to her sister, so she came all the way out here for her—and for you. She cares about you as an old friend, Colton.”
The prisoner stared at him with absolute misery in his eyes. Jake’s few words didn’t seem like enough of an explanation.
“Give Mary time,” Jake added. “She’ll come around and accept your apology.”
Jake took one of the biggest risks of his entire covert career and pulled a blank card from his pocket. “When you get out, if there’s anything you want to…say. Or anything you need help with, call this number.”
He scribbled down the FBI field office number on the back of the card and laid it on the table. Jake wondered if he wasn’t coming out of cover to one of the bad guys. But his gut told him that Damien Colton was not the murdering type. He didn’t even seem like the criminal type. Not to mention, this Colton was probably too young when he went to prison to be involved in any money-laundering schemes.
Turning his back, Jake sent up a quiet prayer for the man’s soul. Damien had been wronged. Terribly wronged. And he might never be able to recover from it.
Damien fingered the card for the tenth time as he waited for his phone call to go through. He’d almost torn the thing up twice, but something had made him hold on to it. Finally, he’d stuck the paper card down into his shoe, deciding to tear it up later. He looked around to find out if anyone was watching.
Seeing no one, he breathed deeply just as his call was answered. “Hello, Darius?”
“Ah. The black sheep calls. What do you want from me, Damien?” Darius Colton sounded as distant and cold as ever.
Damien bit his tongue to keep from begging his father for help. “My court-appointed attorney isn’t returning my phone calls. I want to know why it’s taking so long to clear up the paper work for my release.”
“Not my problem, son. I told you fifteen years ago that I’d spent my last penny on your defense.”
Yes, Damien remembered it distinctly. As devastating as being convicted of murder had been, learning that a few family members believed in his guilt was enough to drive any remaining love for them away for good.
“But now that you know I’m innocent can’t you at least make a phone call or two?”
Darius Colton mumbled something under his breath. Then he said, “The system will let you out of prison eventually. Wait your turn. No one remembers or cares about you anymore.”
“That’s not true, Dad. People do rememb
er me. Mary Walsh came to see me today.”
“The librarian? Mark Walsh’s fat kid? I don’t believe she came all that way by herself.”
Damien blew out another breath and counted to five. “She’s not fat now. And she came with a friend. Not anyone I remember from Honey Creek.”
“Sure she did. Who?”
The question was abrupt and it took Damien aback. This was getting him nowhere. He should never have contacted his father for help.
“Just skip it,” he said. “I’ll wait. Don’t…”
“I’ll contact your brother Wes.” Darius’s interruption was another shock. “Maybe the sheriff can do something to speed things along. But that’s the best I can do.”
“Sure,” Damien said as he let the sarcasm drip from his words. “Wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“What are your plans for after the release?”
Damien couldn’t help himself, the opportunity to dig at his father was too good to pass up. “Thought I would come back and live off you, Dad. The Colton ranch can be a good life.”
Actually, ranch life was exactly what Damien had in mind for his future. Not the Colton ranch, of course. But it would have to be a jumping-off point. He needed time to get his feet on the ground.
Darius was quiet for a long moment until at last he said, “Your mother wants you back on the ranch. You can come home—for a while. But I’ll expect you to work while you’re here.”
Sighing, Damien gave up. He had never been able to figure his father out beyond his womanizing and secretive business deals. And it didn’t sound as if fifteen years had done anything to make the man more transparent.
“Right, Darius. Well, I guess I’ll see you when I see you then.”
Hanging up and cursing his father under his breath, Damien swore to put all of Honey Creek in his rearview mirror as soon as possible.
“If you don’t still want to do this, we can turn around and head back to Honey Creek the more direct way.” Mary looked over at Jake’s profile and could see his jaw twitching.
“I promised you the ride,” he muttered. “And it will work out fine. It’s only that it’s getting late. I’m afraid your pretty views will turn to darkness before we reach the top of the mountains. Not much sightseeing to do after dark.”