Secrets of the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  Apparently destiny had resorted to shouting.

  “Are you all right?” came a male voice. “You needn’t have jumped out of the way. I wouldn’t have hit ye.”

  Wonderful. Jack couldn’t think of a better first meeting with his future father-in-law. He spit out a mouthful of snow. “I’m fine.”

  “Let me help ye up.”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ll stay right here for a while.”

  “Jack?” Camry said, rushing off the porch and over to them. When she tried to stop, she also slipped on the ice, and skidded into Jack with enough force to make him grunt. She would have landed on top of him if her father hadn’t caught her. “Jack, what are you doing out here?”

  “Taking a snow bath.”

  “This is Jack Stone?” Greylen MacKeage said in surprise. He reached down, grabbed Jack by the shoulders, and lifted him to his feet. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Chief Stone,” the towering Scot said, grabbing Jack’s right hand and giving it a firm shake. The man looked like he was pushing seventy judging by his graying hair, but he had the grip of a bear. “I am Laird Greylen MacKeage, Megan’s father.”

  Laird? Did that title even exist anymore?

  “And I’m Grace MacKeage,” a petite, beautiful woman said as she appeared beside her husband. Her eyes shone a startling blue in the porch light. “You gave us a fright, Mr. Stone. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m fine,” he said, taking the hand she extended. “I just slipped on the ice.”

  “Are these yours?” another woman said, bending to pick up his crutches. She held them out with a smile, and Jack found himself staring into Megan’s eyes but not Megan’s face. “I’m Chelsea,” she said. “Megan’s twin sister.”

  “The lawyer from Bangor,” Jack acknowledged with a nod, taking the crutches from her. “Megan’s told me about you.”

  Another woman crowded Chelsea out of the way. “I’m Elizabeth Sprague, Megan’s younger sister. I teach third grade here in town.”

  Jack nodded. “I’ve met your husband. Walter, isn’t it? He’s the high school principal?”

  “Yes. He mentioned you stopped by his school a few days ago, to speak to him about our pranksters.”

  Pranksters was a cute name for the little bastards, Jack supposed. But then, Elizabeth Sprague was a teacher, and no teacher wanted to believe any child was a criminal.

  “It’s freezing out here,” Megan called from the door. “What are you all doing standing outside?”

  “We’re coming in,” Greylen MacKeage said, herding the women toward the house. He turned back to Jack. “Need any help getting in? I’ve been looking forward to speaking with you, Chief Stone. I have some ideas on how ye might capture your young hoodlums.”

  “I was just headed home.”

  “Then I’ll walk with ye, to make sure you don’t fall again. You don’t happen to have any cold ale at your house, do you, Chief?”

  Chief? Did that mean he supposed to call the man laird? “I have some Canadian lager,” he offered, tucking his crutches under his armpits and carefully making his way out the driveway.

  “Wayne? Where are you going?” Megan called from the porch.

  Jack kept walking.

  “I mean Jack. Jack, you can’t fend for yourself yet.”

  He finally stopped and turned to her, acutely aware that the man standing beside him had gone perfectly still, and that his hands were balled into fists at his sides. “I’ll be okay,” Jack assured her. “Your father can build me a fire.” He looked at Greylen and shrugged. “She calls me Wayne sometimes.”

  “I’d give my right arm for five minutes alone with Wayne Ferris,” Greylen growled. “He’s the bastard who got her with child and then discarded her like trash.”

  Jack started for home again. O-kay, then. When they reached the driveway, he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to prefer something a bit stronger than beer, would you, laird?”

  “I never turn down scotch, Chief.”

  “Then what say we build a nice crackling fire, I’ll dig out my good scotch, and then I’ll tell you an interesting story?”

  Greylen shot him a curious look, then nodded curtly, going up Jack’s porch stairs ahead of him.

  “The key’s under the mat,” Jack told him, following at a more labored pace.

  Greylen peeled back the mat and picked up the key. “Ye haven’t much sense for security, for a policeman.”

  Jack merely shrugged. Greylen opened the door and snapped on the light. “What is your story about, Chief?” he asked, walking to the woodstove in the middle of the back wall.

  “Oh, it has a little of everything,” Jack told him, limping to the cupboard that held the scotch. He took down the unopened bottle and two tumblers, then filled both glasses three-quarters full. “There’s a mystery, a murder, and even some romance.”

  Greylen placed paper and kindling in the firebox. “And I will be interested because?”

  Jack carried both drinks over, handed one to Greylen, then touched their glasses together. He took a long gulp, letting the liquid fire slide down his throat as he hobbled back to the counter to put some distance between them. “I believe you’ll be interested because it’s about me and Megan and our child, and the fact that the mystery and murder I was trying to protect her from may have followed her home.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Jack Stone is Wayne Ferris?” Grace whispered, plopping down on the single bed in shock.

  Camry’s announcement brought utter silence to the tiny bedroom. Megan also froze in surprise, torn between wanting to strangle her sister and wanting to hug her for taking the burden off her shoulders—though she probably wouldn’t have been quite so blunt about it.

  Camry straightened with a box of baby clothes in her hands. “And he’s claiming he broke Megan’s heart so that she would come running home, because he thought she was in danger.” She shot Megan a frown. “Seems Meg forgot to mention that a man was murdered in camp just before she realized she was pregnant.”

  Grace looked from Camry to Megan. “But why was he calling himself Wayne Ferris?”

  “It was an alias,” Camry said. “He claims he was working undercover to get close to one of the students; that the kid was a runaway, and his parents had hired Jack to find him.”

  “Is this true, Meg?” Grace asked. “A man was murdered on your study? And Wayne—Jack—was trying to protect you?”

  “That’s the story he’s telling.”

  “Meg’s just angry because Jack came to Pine Creek to win her back before she could go after him herself,” Camry continued, as if Megan hadn’t spoken. “Jack’s here because Meg and the baby are all the family he’s got left. His parents died in a car crash when he was nine, and his great-grandfather raised him. But then he died when Jack was fifteen.”

  “Oh my God,” Elizabeth said, hugging a bundle of baby blankets to her chest. “He broke your heart to save your life, Meg. He really does love you.”

  “And he’s taken a job here,” Chelsea interjected. “So you can raise your baby in Pine Creek after all.”

  “Hell-oo!” Megan said, waving her arms vigorously. “Are you all forgetting that not only did he break my heart, but that he’s all but admitted he’s a liar?”

  “He’ll fix your heart,” Grace said, her smile warm and motherly as she stood to take hold of Megan’s shoulders. “And he has to lie for a living, if it helps him find runaway kids. The important thing, Meg, is that he’s here. I told you he would come for you, didn’t I?”

  “Damn,” Camry said with a groan, dropping her box on the bed. “I just realized this means the curse is still intact. There goes my love life again.”

  Megan stepped out of her mother’s embrace and scowled at her sister. “No, the curse is not intact, because I am not marrying Wayne.”

  “Right. You’re marrying Jack.”

  “I am not! He lied to me four months ago, and for all we know, he’s lying now.”


  Camry looked at Chelsea. “You must know a good private investigator. Let’s get Jack checked out, and if he is lying, then we get Winter to turn him into a toad.”

  “And if he’s telling the truth?” Grace asked, directing her question to Megan.

  “Do you honestly expect me to simply forget what he did, and how he did it? You have no idea what he said to me that day. He nearly killed me.”

  “But he didn’t,” Grace said softly. “And if he really does love you, and only said what he did to protect you, then yes, you have to forgive him.” She smiled sadly. “But if your heart says Jack Stone is not the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, your father and I will respect your decision.”

  Grace turned to Camry, giving her a warning glare. “Winter is not turning anyone into anything. The magic’s been messed with enough lately. Let’s just let Providence get used to our new resident wizard for a while, shall we?”

  “Speaking of Winter, why isn’t she here tonight?” Camry asked, obviously anxious to change the subject.

  “Matt had to fly to his New York office this afternoon, and she went with him.” Grace turned and surveyed the bedroom, shaking her head. “I think we’ve overdone it with the hand-me-downs. This poor baby won’t have anything new to call its own.”

  “Chelsea, could you come upstairs with me?” Megan asked, heading into the hallway. “I have a box up there I need to go through. You can carry it down for me.” She stopped in the door and looked back at the others. “The closet has built-ins and the bureau is empty, so you can put everything away as you sort. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  The moment they reached the top of the stairs, Megan looked down to make sure no one had followed, then turned to her twin sister. “I’m going to do as Camry suggested and have Wayne checked out. Your law firm must use private investigators. Can you give me the name of a good one?”

  “Are you sure you want to do that, Meg? It’s been my experience that their reports never tell the whole story.”

  “You know the saying ‘fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, shame on me’? Well, regardless of what Mom says about following my heart, this time around I’m listening to my left brain. I don’t care what it costs, just find me an investigator who can travel all the way to Medicine Lake if he has to. I want more than a report filled with public documents; I want pictures and personal interviews, right down to what Jack Stone’s favorite food was when he was five years old.”

  “Holy smokes, you really are angry, aren’t you?”

  “I’m so angry I bet I could turn him into a toad without any help from the magic.”

  Greylen MacKeage was no saint, nor did he have any desire to become one. He was wise enough, however, to know he shouldn’t be entertaining thoughts of violence when he was getting so close to meeting his Maker. But God help him, he really wanted to beat Jack Stone to a bloody pulp for what the bastard had put his little girl through. Then again, his warrior’s heart made him wonder if he might have behaved just as badly toward Grace thirty-six years ago, when she had been in danger.

  “You’re saying ye have no idea why the man was murdered,” Grey reiterated. “Only that you suspect it had something to do with the study being conducted on the tundra. May I ask why ye never bothered to find out?”

  “Because it wasn’t any of my business,” Jack told him. “Once Megan was safely out of the way, I focused only on getting the boy back to his parents in one piece. The murder, and whoever did it, is the Canadian police’s problem.”

  “Yet you’re thinking now that the problem has followed my daughter home.”

  “Yes.” Jack Stone shifted in his chair beside the woodstove, opposite Grey. “I did discover who headed the organization funding the boy’s education. It’s the man Megan is working for now, Mark Collins. And I find that a bit too much of a coincidence.”

  Grey suddenly stood up, hiding his smile when Jack flinched. Good. If he couldn’t beat him up, by God, at least he could enjoy watching the bastard squirm. Grey walked to the counter, grabbed the bottle of scotch, and refilled Jack’s empty glass before sitting back down and filling his own. “I’ll tell Megan she has to resign her position immediately.”

  Jack took a gulp of the scotch. “That’s not going to make the problem go away. Collins will simply find another way to get to her.”

  Grey nodded. “You’re right. If he went to the trouble of fabricating this project and she resigns, he may come at her directly. Any idea why, Chief?”

  “Nope,” Jack said, frowning down at his glass. “Until Collins’s name came up at dinner an hour ago, I thought the problem had stayed in Canada.” He looked toward the woodstove, staring at the fire lapping the glass. “I need to think about the connection.”

  “I’ll have Megan move back to Gù Brath until this matter is cleared up.”

  Jack looked up in alarm. “You can’t mean to tell her.”

  Greylen lifted one brow. “Are you not a man who learns from his mistakes?”

  “She’ll throw a fit when she finds out it was Collins who planted that kid on her study, to watch over whatever he was doing on the tundra. She might confront him herself.”

  Grey leaned back in his chair. “I see you’ve come to know my daughter quite well.” He shook his head. “I can control her. And if not, then I’ll ask her cousin Robbie MacBain to have a talk with her.”

  Jack Stone’s face darkened, and Grey once again stifled a smile. “No offense, MacKeage,” Jack said in a growl, “but Megan is my responsibility now. She is carrying my child.”

  Grey made a point of letting his gaze travel over Jack’s battered body. “No offense, Stone,” he growled back. “But ye seem to be having trouble defending yourself.”

  “I am aware of my track record here in Pine Creek, but maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to judge me. I can be surprisingly effective when I put my mind to it.”

  “Can ye, now?”

  Jack’s eyes darkened to the color of tempered steel. “Pacifism is not the same as defenselessness, MacKeage. When push comes to shove, I am more than capable of protecting what’s mine.”

  With his door closed and a request that Ethel send his phone calls to Simon, Jack sat in his office tucked in the back corner of the police station. The citizens of Pine Creek, Frog Cove, and Lost Gore had spared no expense in remodeling the hundred-year-old storefront on Main Street. They reasoned that by putting an impressive face on law and order, criminals would think twice about targeting their tiny resort communities.

  Too bad their plan wasn’t working.

  Not that his own plan was doing any better. In winning back Megan, he had gone from being optimistically hopeful to suddenly desperate last night at dinner. What in hell was Mark Collins up to on the tundra, and what was his connection to Megan?

  Jack laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his plush leather chair as he stared at the four yellow pads of paper lined up on his desk. Each pad represented a problem he was dealing with; four seemingly unconnected issues occurring simultaneously.

  Why, then, was his gut telling him a common thread held them together?

  Lord, he hated puzzles. He didn’t care how hard his military superiors had tried to persuade him that he belonged in covert intelligence; Jack had no patience with puzzles as a kid, and he hadn’t grown any fonder of them since. And despite having a sixth sense, as they’d called it, for seeing threads running through the information he’d gathered for them, puzzles still drove him crazy.

  Jack studied the first pad, where he’d written LITTLE BASTARDS in bold letters across the top. This was the problem that had gotten him hired, and likely the only one that wasn’t connected to the others.

  Pad two, THE BREAK-INS, denoted much more serious offenses. Definitely criminal. Though nothing of great value was ever stolen, the last break-in had resulted in physical contact. Jack wondered just how far his attacker would have gone if MacBain hadn’t shown up. As for whatever the hell ha
d run out of that store, he’d swear it had flown off into the night.

  And that’s where the first thread appeared, linking pad number two with pad number three, which he had titled MEGAN. Topping Megan’s list was Kenzie Gregor, sublisted by secrets, designs on Megan, hermit boy, right size for attacker, and possible odor link to break-ins.

  Next was MacBain: why had he been in town that night?

  Camry: how to ditch her long enough to get Megan alone again.

  Win over Megan’s family: he was making progress there.

  Turn some of Megan’s anger back into some of that mind-blowing passion. Yeah, like that was going to happen anytime soon.

  And then there was the thread linking Megan to pad number four, MARK COLLINS. Collins headed some sort of environmental organization that attracted runaways with the promise of an education, possibly brainwashing their altruistic young minds to help him…do what? Then there was the murder, which was tied to Billy Wellington, who was tied to Collins.

  But what did any of it have to do with Megan? Had she seen or done something that might have interfered with whatever Collins was doing on the tundra? Could she have something he wanted? Data? Notes? Samples of…whatever?

  Jack looked back at the other three pads. There was something else linking everything together. Something he was overlooking. His gaze moved from pad two to pad three, and his mind’s eye saw another thread slowly weaving between them.

  Well, hell. Jack grabbed a pen and flipped the page on Megan’s pad, where he added magic to the list, followed by a question mark. Under that he wrote shaman, then wizard…and then he hesitated. Finally he wrote baby, followed by another question mark.

  He set down his pen, closed his eyes, and rubbed his face with a tired sigh.

  His office door suddenly burst open, and Megan stormed right up to his desk and planted her hands on her hips. Jack casually piled the legal pads on top of each other and folded his hands over them with a smile. “It’s okay, Ethel,” he called. “Beautiful women can disturb me anytime.”