Secrets of the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  “Oh, yeah. Sure.” Simon rushed over to his evidence kit. “I’ll have Ethel give them a call to find out how we send them stuff.”

  “It’s that Cleary boy and his brothers, I tell you,” Marge said. “Joan Cleary lets those boys run loose like a bunch of heathens. Everyone knows it was them who stole my sign last month, and took Rose Brewer’s moose antlers off the front of her store. We didn’t get our stuff back for a entire week. A fisherman found them hanging on his ice shanty two miles out on the lake.”

  Marge stalked up to Jack. “We hired you to stop this foolishness, but it’s only getting worse.” She raised her finger again, clearly intending to poke him in the chest, but when her eyes met his she changed her mind. “What are you going to do about this, Chief Stone?”

  “Deputy Pratt and I are going to fully investigate your break-in, Mrs. Wimple. We’ll gather fingerprints and evidence, take a look around outside, and talk to people in the hopes that somebody saw something. You can start cleaning up once we give you the okay, which should be sometime tomorrow morning.” He gave her what he hoped was a police-chief-like smile. “We’ll keep you apprised of what’s happening. Thank you for being so cooperative, Mrs. Wimple,” he finished, turning toward the back door of the bakery.

  He stopped beside Simon, who was scraping some of the mud into a plastic bag. “Take some pictures with that fancy new digital camera.” He nodded toward the large evidence kit that would make one heck of a fishing tackle box. “Get some shots in here, then take some pictures of the grounds outside and the front and back of the store.”

  “Sure thing, Chief.”

  “My name is Jack,” he told Simon for the umpteenth time. “White men stopped calling us chief several decades ago.”

  Simon’s eyes widened. “Y-you’re an Indian?” he sputtered, his face turning a dull red.

  “Half Canadian Cree,” Jack said. “So stop with the chief thing, will you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jack gave a snort and walked outside, ducking under the crime scene tape before putting on his sunglasses. He stopped in the middle of the lane that ran between the stores and Pine Lake, and scanned the downtown business district. A lot of money had gone into the storefronts on the street side, but the backs of the buildings were even more impressive. No alley full of dumpsters and recycling bins here. The stores came within fifty yards of the shoreline, and the town had capitalized on that, building a park with benches, landscape trees, and strategically placed logging artifacts. The Pine Lake Bakery & Bistro was sided by a craft supply store, an art gallery, then an outfitter store, and finally a restaurant with huge windows facing the lake.

  “Find out if that railing was already busted or if that break is new,” Jack told Simon when the deputy came outside with his camera. “Is the discoloring on the doorjamb more of that slime?”

  Simon leaned in close to look, then immediately jerked back. “It’s the same stuff, all right.”

  “Take a photo of it,” Jack instructed, turning to scan the snow. “What do you make of this?”

  Simon walked up beside him and squinted at where Jack was pointing. “Those are tracks.”

  “But what kind of tracks?” Jack asked, carefully stepping over the snowbank beside them, then following the tracks into the otherwise pristine layer of snow as he scanned the ground in a fifty-foot circle. “They simply begin here all of a sudden,” he said, pointing. “They come out of nowhere, like something flew in, landed here, and then walked to the bakery. Get a shot of this, too,” he said, hunching down over one of the holes. “I can’t make out the shape because something was dragged over the print.”

  Simon snapped several pictures, then continued photographing the path the tracks made. “They’re too large to be from a bird. One of those para-skiing kites maybe?” he asked as he worked. “Or an ultralight airplane? A bunch of home-built ultralights fly around the lake on the weekends.”

  “Any in the Cleary family?” Jack asked, walking toward the frozen shoreline.

  “Nope. The Clearys can barely manage to buy food. A small plane would have made a noise. Maybe someone heard something.”

  Jack shook his head. “There’s no tracks where it took off again. Whoever came in here walked away.”

  “Or used Main Street as a runway.”

  Jack thought about that. “A hang glider or large kite makes more sense than a plane, even a small one. And dragging a glider might have made those tracks.” He shook his head again. “But that’s a pretty unusual way to arrive to a burglary. Maybe the tracks don’t have anything to do with our break-in.”

  “But they head directly to the bakery,” Simon pointed out.

  “None of the other stores were broken into?”

  “Nope. I checked the shops on both sides of the street. Everything is just as the owners left it last night.”

  Jack looked out at the busy lake dotted with tiny islands, zooming snowmobiles, ice shanties, and even a few pickups with plows on them. Hell, it was busier than Main Street out there. He looked back at the bakery. So, what had caused a bunch of bored teenagers to go from pulling a few harmless pranks to breaking and entering?

  And what in hell had made those tracks?

  Chapter Three

  “I thought I’d find you down here.”

  Megan looked up from the computer screen and scowled at her sister. “Go away,” she said, returning to the Internet page.

  Of course Camry ignored her. She sauntered into Gù Brath’s science lab, pulled up a chair, and cradled her chin in her hands as she also studied the screen. “I wondered how long it would take you to get bored working at Winter’s art gallery.” She reached over to hit a keyboard button to scroll down the page. “I’m surprised you lasted three months. Not Easter Island,” she muttered, hitting the button again. “Or Costa Rica, either. It’s too hot. There!” she said, pointing at the new Internet page. “You can go count Steller’s sea eagles off the coast of Siberia. That’s definitely far enough away to teach all of us a lesson.”

  Megan reached up and shut off the monitor.

  Camry immediately turned it back on. “No, I think you’re on to something here, Meg. You should run as far and as fast as you can, and to hell with everyone. You’re a fully grown woman, so why hang around here getting fawned over by a family who loves you?”

  Megan looked down at her lap. “It’s killing me, Cam. Mom and Dad treat me like a fragile piece of glass, afraid if they so much as look at me wrong, I’ll shatter.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Dad actually got down on his knee and tied my shoes for me yesterday.”

  Camry covered Megan’s hands. “He can’t help himself, coming from a time when being pregnant and single was just about the worst position a woman could find herself in. None of us can help being worried about you, because we love you. Mom said you came home in tears from your fieldwork in Canada, and cried for nearly a month when Wayne Ferris broke your heart.”

  “But everyone’s concern is only making it worse. I came home looking for support, not pity. I certainly expected better from you. We’re more alike than our own twin sisters, and I was positive you would realize I haven’t turned into a helpless idiot. So how come you didn’t tell me about Kenzie?”

  “Ahh,” Camry said, leaning back in her chair. “That’s why you’re searching for a job. So you can run away again, only this time from…from what, Meg? Why should Kenzie being Gesader throw you into such a tailspin? It can’t be the magic, since we grew up with it. So what is it?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “And just how was I supposed to explain that the panther you’d been sleeping with for the last four months was really a man?” She leaned forward. “Everyone knew how embarrassed you’d be.”

  “And none of you thought I would eventually figure it out when Gesader never showed up again? Cam, I told that cat everything,” she whispered. “All my deepest, darkest secrets.” She covered her face with her hands. “My God, I even told him how I’d
torn off Wayne’s clothes and made love to him under the stars!”

  “And Gesader saw you naked when you got ready for bed. That’s really what has you so flustered, isn’t it? That, and even though you’re not quite over Wayne, you find Kenzie mysteriously attractive. So who finally told you, anyway?”

  “He did. And I don’t like Kenzie that way.”

  “Why not? He’s handsome as all get out, and he’s seen you at your worst and doesn’t turn tail when you approach. So what’s wrong with liking him ‘that way’? I’m tempted to flirt with him myself.”

  “He’s a warrior.”

  Camry arched her brows at Megan’s tone. “And just what’s wrong with warriors? They make up most of our family, including our own generation. Half our cousins have served in the military.”

  “Which is exactly why I fell so hard for Wayne. His first reaction to a problem isn’t to bludgeon it into submission, but to solve it peaceably. He doesn’t have one confrontational bone in his body. He’s interested in stuff I’m interested in, he’s shy and gentle and sensitive, and he’s got this endearing little clumsiness thing going on.”

  “The men in our family can be sensitive and gentle.”

  “Wayne wouldn’t even know which end of a sword to hold,” Megan countered, “much less how to shoot a gun. You should have seen him with the students out on the tundra, Cam. No matter how heated their petty arguments got, Wayne disarmed the situation without even raising his voice.”

  “He sounds like a nerd.”

  “He is. A wonderful, beautiful, sensitive nerd. And for an added bonus, he’s only five foot ten, so I don’t get a crick in my neck talking to him. I love the men in our family, Cam, I just don’t want to be married to one. I want Wayne.”

  “Then go get him!” Camry snapped. “Instead of looking for a new job halfway around the world, get your sorry butt back to Canada.”

  “And do what?” Megan snapped back. “Beg Wayne to marry me?”

  “MacKeages do not beg.” Camry narrowed her eyes. “The Megan I grew up with would have fought for the man she loved. She sure as hell wouldn’t be hiding in the family fortress, having a four-month pity party.”

  Megan lifted her chin. “I am not hiding. In fact, I’m planning to confront Wayne.”

  “When?”

  Megan started scrolling down the page again. “Just as soon as I get my ducks in a row,” she muttered. “That’s why I’m looking for a new job. I’m going to become gainfully employed again and move into my own home, and then I’m going to track down Wayne and show him exactly what he threw away.”

  “That’s the sister I grew up with.” Camry’s face suddenly brightened even more. “You know what this means, Meg? If you give wimpy Wayne the boot, you’ve broken the curse of us girls getting pregnant the first time we make love to our future husbands!” She bobbed her eyebrows. “Which also means I’m free to start dating again. Maybe I will go after Kenzie.”

  Only Megan wasn’t feeling her sister’s enthusiasm. “Why didn’t the curse work for me? And are you…still a virgin?”

  “No,” Camry said softly, her face pink. “Were you?”

  Megan shook her head. “I’ve had other relationships.”

  “Hmm…so that means it’s not making love that’s the danger, just that we get pregnant by the men we’re destined to marry.”

  “Then what happened to me?”

  Camry shrugged. “Who knows? The upset Matt caused to the continuum might have messed up the magic enough to stop the curse. Anyway, come on,” she said, standing up. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Megan turned back to the computer. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You have to face Kenzie sometime, Meg. He’s not going away.”

  “No, but I am. Look! There’s an opening for a field biologist right here in Maine.”

  Camry leaned over her shoulder and read the posting. “It’s for the Pine Lake watershed.” She straightened with a frown. “What are the chances of that?”

  “Slim to none.”

  “Exactly. And it’s not state or federal, but private money backing the grant. I don’t think you should apply, Meg. You remember what happened to Aunt Sadie, don’t you? She thought she’d been hired by a development corporation, but it turned out to be a front for some guy looking for a nonexistent gold mine.”

  “This has to be legit.” Megan pointed at the bottom of the screen. “It’s a preliminary impact study for a new resort being built at the north end of the lake. A guy named Mark Collins is looking for an assistant to do the actual fieldwork. I prefer fieldwork to running the show, so it’s perfect for me.”

  “It’s spooky, I tell you,” Cam countered. “The magic’s been so screwed up lately, there’s no telling why this job showed up here, much less now.”

  “But it would mean I could move out of Gù Brath and find a rental in town. I can handle Mom and Dad in small doses if I have a place to escape to. I need to get my life back.”

  “In Pine Creek?” Camry asked, obviously still doubtful.

  “The watershed covers hundreds of square miles. I’ll look for a rental a little farther out.”

  “There’s nothing farther out but bears and trees.”

  “And blessed peace.”

  Camry shook her head. “I still say it’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “Maybe Providence is trying to make amends for screwing up my life,” Megan suggested, suddenly feeling more cheerful. “Let’s go eat, I’m starved. But don’t mention this to anyone,” she said, turning off the lights. “Promise me you won’t bring it up.”

  “You don’t even know if you’ll get the job.”

  “Are you kidding? The magic owes me big-time. But I don’t want to tell Mom and Dad until after I’ve found a rental and moved in.”

  “Dad’s going to throw a fit.”

  “I’ll survive. Hey, you’ve survived his complaints that you’re still a spinster at the ripe old age of thirty-one.”

  “I’m not ready for hearth and husband. I have galaxies to explore.”

  “Mom found a way to do both.”

  “But she forgot to hand down her multitasking gene to me. I can’t focus on more than one thing at a time.”

  Megan hooked her arm through Cam’s and headed upstairs. “Yeah, but you got the looks in the family. Sit next to me at dinner and steer the conversation away from anything awkward, would you?”

  Camry gave an exaggerated sigh. “See why I’m scared of getting pregnant? In only five months, you’ve gone from being the family brat to the family mouse.”

  “Oh, I might still have a few pranks up my sleeve,” Megan said with a laugh.

  Megan’s fears about dinner were soon put to rest, as the main topic of conversation was last night’s break-in at the Bakery & Bistro.

  That, and the town’s sexy new police chief.

  Well, the men weren’t referring to Jack Stone as sexy, but Megan’s twin sister, Chelsea, certainly was—much to her husband’s dismay. “He’s not very tall, but he sure does fill out a police jacket nicely,” Chelsea said to Camry. “And he’s got a bit of a swagger. You should ask him out.”

  “I’m leaving in four days,” Cam reminded her. “So what would be the point?”

  “A couple of fun dates?” Chelsea offered. “You need to start dating again, and you could practice on Jack Stone.”

  “Exactly how does one practice dating?” Cam asked with a laugh. “Besides, my life is full enough without adding a man to the mix.” She glanced at Megan, who sat between them. “Meg’s available. Fix her up with swaggering Jack Stone.”

  Megan side-kicked Cam in the leg.

  “There’s no reason you can’t date,” Cam muttered, reaching under the table to rub her shin.

  “So,” Grace MacKeage piped up. “Do they have any idea who broke into the bakery? Or why? Marge never leaves cash in the shop overnight. And who’d want to steal day-old doughnuts?”

  “I spoke with Simon Pratt when I was in town t
his afternoon,” Chelsea said. “Did any of you know he’d gone to the police academy?”

  Megan’s younger sister, Elizabeth, shook her head. “I had him in school, and he’s the last person I expected to see in law enforcement. Simon spent more time in the principal’s office than he did in class. The selectmen must have hired him because he’s a local, since Chief Stone is from away.”

  “That’s another thing Simon told me,” Chelsea added. “He said his boss doesn’t like being called chief because he’s half Canadian Cree.”

  “Is it significant that Stone is a Canadian Cree?” Greylen MacKeage asked from the head of the table. “If he’s an Indian chief, he should be proud of that fact. And if he’s our chief of police, it’s only respectful that we use his title.”

  Grace covered her husband’s hand. “Chief can sometimes be taken in a derogatory context, Grey,” she explained. “It’s a sensitive area for First Nation People, as they’re called in Canada. Maybe you should just call him Mr. Stone when you meet him. Or Jack.”

  Greylen got a twinkle in his eye. “Maybe I’ll introduce myself as Laird MacKeage.”

  Camry snorted. “Oh, that’ll help Megan get a date with him. Men just beg to go out with us when you’re acting the laird.” She pointed her fork at him. “You scared off half my boyfriends in high school with that act.”

  Greylen nodded solemnly, though the twinkle remained in his eyes. “You may thank me later, daughter, for making sure you made it to college.”

  “So what was stolen from the bakery?” Matt Gregor asked.

  “Nothing but day-old doughnuts and some pies, according to Simon,” Chelsea said. “But they trashed the place in the process.”

  “I told ye to gather some men and root out those no-goods,” Father Daar said, looking at Greylen. “Ye should have done it last month, when they strung those Christmas lights all over your old snowcat. Didn’t I warn ye their pranks would get worse?” He drove his fork into his potatoes. “They’ll be coming up to my place next, I tell ye. An old man living alone makes a good target.”