Secrets of the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  Jack stepped out directly in front of him. “Whoa, there,” he said, steadying the kid when he yelped in surprise and nearly fell. “Easy, Tommy. I just want to talk to you.”

  “I didn’t do nothing,” the boy said, panting heavily.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say the improvements to my cruiser are nothing. They turned my poor little wannabe into a real truck.”

  Tommy’s eyes widened in surprise, and he suddenly plopped down in the snow to catch his breath. “How come you ain’t winded?” he asked.

  “I don’t even work up a sweat running through the woods.” Jack hunched down in front of him. “I have a proposition for you, Tom, and you only have tonight to think about it, because I want your answer tomorrow morning before you head off to school.”

  “What sort of proposition?”

  “I burned up the engine in my new snowmobile, and I want you to fix it.”

  “You do? Me? Why?”

  “Because you can. And if you get it purring like a kitten again, I can get you a mechanic’s job at Pine Creek PowerSports.”

  Tommy snorted. “Dempsey won’t hire me. I already tried to get a job from him last summer. I offered to sweep floors and wash windows, but he wouldn’t even talk to me. He sure as hell won’t let me near any of his sleds or ATVs.”

  “He will now, if you can get my snowmobile running smoothly. And if you do right by him all spring, you’ll have a full-time position once you graduate.”

  A spark of interest blossomed in Tommy’s eyes. “Why would he hire me now, when he wouldn’t before?”

  “Because I have more pull than you do. Being chief of police has its perks, and I’m not above using my badge to my advantage.”

  “Then why are you doing this for me?”

  “Because I can.”

  He shook his head. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because you have only two choices. One way gets you a weekly paycheck and respectability; the other gets you room and board at the county jail. You’re not a juvenile anymore, Tom. If you get caught for your crimes, no matter how harmless they are, you’ll pay adult consequences. Then who’s going to help your mom deal with your brothers?”

  “You’ve talked to my mom?” he squeaked.

  “No. And I don’t intend to unless you force my hand.” Jack stood up. “This will stay just between us, providing the pranks stop. Be in my office at seven tomorrow morning with your answer.”

  “Wait!” Tommy said, also standing up. “I need to know why you’re doing this!” He ran to catch up with Jack. “You don’t even know me.”

  “Yes, I do,” Jack told him. “I was you, except my stunts weren’t nearly as creative.”

  “What stunts?” Tommy asked, back to being suspicious.

  “The Fart Gallery?” Jack said with a chuckle. “Let me ask you something, Tom,” he said, turning serious. “When you and your brothers were working on my cruiser, did you see anyone nosing around, three camps down from my house? Or did you see or hear anything unusual? A snowmobile on the lake, maybe a car driving away?”

  Tommy stepped over a fallen log, then gave Jack a sidelong glance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.

  “This is important,” Jack told him, veering onto a game trail so the walking was easier. “Somebody broke into Megan MacKeage’s house, and there was a lot of damage.”

  “It wasn’t us!” Tommy yelped.

  “I know it wasn’t. But I sure could use your help finding out who it was.”

  Tommy walked beside him in silence for several hundred yards. “We did see a car parked at the end of the camp road. It had New York plates on it, and the windows had iced up, so we knew it had only been sitting there a short while, because they wouldn’t have fogged up if it had been there all day. But we didn’t see anyone around or hear anything.”

  “What make and model was it?” Jack asked, heading down the lane toward the school.

  “Lincoln Town Car, 2006. White. It had a rental sticker on the bumper,” he told Jack, just as the school bus passed them. “Damn, I missed my bus.”

  “Not a problem,” Jack said, giving him a friendly slap on the back. “I’ll give you a ride home in my cruiser.”

  Chapter Twenty

  After dropping Tom off, Jack drove to TarStone Mountain Ski Resort. He slowly rumbled up and down the parking lot looking for a white Lincoln, then drove up to the entrance of the three-story hotel. He asked the horrified doorman to leave his cruiser where it was parked, stepped inside the bustling lobby, and walked past the line of patrons at the registry desk.

  “Is Greylen MacKeage available?” he asked the clerk who spotted his badge and came over.

  “No, sir, he’s not. But Callum MacKeage is available. Or I could page his brother, Morgan, if you prefer.”

  Jack didn’t want to go to Gù Brath and chance running into Megan. “I’ll speak with Callum, thank you. Would you please call Greylen and ask him to come over here? And also give me a printout of your guest list that would include what they’re driving?”

  “I don’t know if I’m supposed to do that, sir.”

  “I’ll handle this, Derek. Thank you,” a gentleman said as he appeared in a doorway behind the counter. “Chief Stone, if you would come this way,” he offered. “And bring me that printout he requested, would you, Derek?”

  Jack strode around the counter and walked past what could only be another giant MacKeage, though this one appeared to be several years Greylen’s senior. He looked as if he should have retired fifteen or twenty years ago, but here he was in a suit and tie, his physique that of a much younger man, his eyes sharp with intelligence.

  What in hell was in the water around here?

  “Chief,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Greylen’s cousin, Callum MacKeage.”

  Jack shook his hand. “Call me Jack, please. It’s good to meet yet another member of Megan’s family. I asked your clerk to call Greylen to come here.”

  “I already called him when Derek told me you were here. Grey’s on his way, and so is Morgan, his brother. Do ye have some news for us about Megan’s burglar?”

  “I have a description of the car he was driving, and I’d like to see if he’s registered here.”

  The door to the office opened and another giant walked in, this one a few years younger than Greylen. Jack decided he was bottling up the water from his well and selling it as a growth elixir.

  “Chief,” the man said, extending his hand. “Morgan MacKeage, Megan’s uncle. Have you caught my niece’s burglar?”

  Jack shook his hand. “Please call me Jack. As I was just explaining to Callum, I found out what the guy is driving, and I’m assuming he’s staying here.”

  “Why?” Callum asked. “There are other hotels in town.”

  “Because this is where I would stay if my target’s family conveniently owned a hotel.”

  Both men narrowed their eyes at him. Jack sat down without waiting for an invitation, and looked around. He realized Callum had brought him to Grey’s office when he saw the pictures of all the girls when they were young. He stood up and walked over to look at one in particular.

  “This is Megan. How old is she here?”

  “Nine,” Morgan said, coming to stand beside him. “She’s sitting on Lancelot.” He waved at the wall of seven individual pictures of Grey’s seven daughters on horseback. “Each girl was given a draft horse for her fifth birthday. Their uncle Ian had a passion for the big, docile beasts.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve met Ian,” he said, studying the other photos, immediately picking out Camry. Even as a kid, Jack could see she was a hellion.

  “No, you haven’t. Ian left us nearly three years ago.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  The door opened and Greylen walked in, carrying a computer printout. “What’s up, Stone?” he asked, walking around his desk and sitting down. “Ye have some good news for us?”

  “No, I’m hoping you do,” Jack
said, sitting across from him. “I’m looking for a guest of yours who would be driving a late-model, white Lincoln Town Car with New York plates.”

  Greylen pulled a set of glasses out of his shirt pocket and studied the printout. A minute later he set the pages down on his desk and pointed to a spot on one of them. “Peter Trump, room 316.” He hit the intercom button. “Derek, could you please print out Peter Trump’s history for me, and also tell me when he’d scheduled to check out,” he asked, releasing the button.

  “Trump has a history here? How do you know?”

  Grey tapped his finger on the page. “We have a code for repeat guests, so we can reward their patronage.”

  Jack leaned back in his chair. “Peter Trump is likely an alias. What did you take for an ID? Does it say?”

  “Credit card,” Greylen read. “Which would be viable, or we’d have known it was fake when he checked in. We always run them through first thing, to hold the funds.”

  Jack shrugged. “It’s easy to get a card under a false name. The good thing is, Trump doesn’t realize we know who he is or where he’s staying. It’s just a matter of my knocking on door 316 and asking him to come down to the station for questioning.”

  To a man, the three MacKeages gave Jack scowls that would have made a bear tremble.

  He immediately shook his head. “We’re doing this my way this time, gentlemen, and we’re doing it by the book. I have to show the selectmen I’m doing something to earn my paycheck. So far, it looks as if I’ve been running around chasing my tail. What’s Megan up to today?” he asked, standing up and heading to the door. “Has her mother let her out of her sight yet?”

  “Megan was locked in the lab with Kenzie when I left Gù Brath,” Grey said, following him.

  Jack pulled open the door, then turned and held up his hand to the three men following him. “I’m going up alone,” he said, checking his gun tucked in the back of his belt, under his jacket. “Just give me a master key card and point me to the stairs.”

  He turned and nearly ran over Derek.

  “Um…here are the printouts,” Derek said, handing them to Greylen. “And Mr. Trump left his departure date open-ended.”

  “Thank you. Would you also get Chief Stone a master key?” Grey said, looking down at the printouts he’d just received. “Peter Trump has been here five times in the last six months. First time was August 23.” He looked at Jack. “Not a week after Megan got home.” He looked back at the printout in his hand. “He stayed two weeks. Then he was here again in early October, when he stayed one week. Then November and December. He arrived this last time on January 10.” He looked at Jack again. “That would be shortly after Megan went to work for Mark Collins.”

  Jack took the key card from Derek, walked into the lobby, then turned back to the men. “The stairs?”

  Morgan pointed to the left. Jack pushed through the heavy fire door, walked up two of the steps, then turned and bent down to peek through the tiny window in the door. Yup, the three Scots were scrambling in three different directions, apparently intending to cover his ass.

  Jack turned and headed upstairs with a smile. Nothing like having a few giant Highlanders watching his back.

  He made it partway down the hall of the third floor, then stopped with a muttered curse. His jacket was police issue. When Trump checked the peephole and saw Jack’s badge, he would likely start shooting through the door. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the floor next to the wall, pulling his gun from the back of his belt and holding it down by this thigh.

  Greylen stepped off the elevator and walked toward him. “Let me knock on his door,” Grey said. “He should recognize me and not get suspicious.”

  Jack nodded. It was a good plan. They walked to room 316 together; then Jack hung back and waited. Grey knocked, then knocked again, but nobody answered.

  “Mr. Trump, are you in there?” Grey asked. “We’re having a water problem with the room below ye, and we need to check your bathroom, sir.”

  Still nobody answered.

  Grey reached in his pocket and pulled out his own master key card. But just as soon as he stuck it in the slot, Jack nudged him aside and opened the door while staying out of the direct line of fire. The door swung open into what appeared to be an empty room.

  With his gun leading the way, Jack slowly entered the two-room suite, checking the closets and bathroom and both rooms thoroughly. He lowered his gun with a sigh and Grey finally entered the room.

  “He’s gone,” Grey said, stating the obvious. “He packed up and left without checking out.”

  “Which probably means he’s not coming back,” Jack said, tucking his gun in his belt as he continued exploring the room. He picked up the trash can, dumped the papers in it onto the desk, and rummaged through them. “Don’t let housekeeping clean in here until I have Simon Pratt check for fingerprints,” Jack said, shoving all the papers back in the trash can. “With luck, our guy might be in someone’s database. There’s a chance he’s never coming back, but there’s also a good chance that he suspects his car was seen and has changed vehicles and checked into another hotel either here in Pine Creek or in Greenville.”

  “I would guess the last, since he can’t know we’ve sent off the samples,” Grey said. “Mark Collins emailed Megan yesterday and asked how her survey was coming along.”

  “Did she answer him?”

  “Aye, she sent him an email saying she thought there was a mountain lion in the area to be developed.”

  “Perfect,” Jack said. “Mentioning the cat makes it appear that she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

  “Megan just realized this morning that her laptop is missing. She had me go over to her house with her to get it, but she couldn’t find it.”

  Jack dismissed the news with a shrug. “The samples are what Collins want.”

  Grey moved directly in front of Jack. “I’m worried that Megan herself might be a target now. She told me this morning that she had taken extensive notes on what she’d observed around the dead animals. That’s why she went after the laptop this morning, when she remembered her notes and wanted to read them.”

  “Shit,” Jack hissed. “If Collins gets hold of her computer, he might decide Megan is just as much of a threat as those samples are.” He glared at Grey. “She has to stay at Gù Brath until…dammit, it could take weeks to get Collins off our backs.”

  “Or an instant, for the right man,” Grey said very softly.

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know where in hell you people get your sense of justice, but taking the law into your own hands is not acceptable.”

  “Collins is now threatening my daughter’s life, Stone. In my day, we made sure such threats couldn’t come back to haunt us.” Grey walked to the hall door. “I will give you the same amount of time to deal with Collins that you gave Kenzie to deal with his problem. One week, Stone—and then I will take matters into my own hands.” His eyes hardened even more. “And if you fail, you will leave Pine Creek forever—alone.”

  Jack stared at the empty doorway. O-kay. It didn’t get any more direct than that, did it?

  Jack pulled out his cell phone, called Simon, and told him to come to the resort to take fingerprints. He then slipped the phone back in his pocket with a sigh. It was time to start thinking like his ancestors.

  Taking advantage of his foul mood, Jack went to the MacKeage stables to wait for Kenzie. He knew the Sasquatch was using a horse to travel to and from the cabin where he lived with the priest, because Jack’s badge had gotten the doorman to talk about a lot of things, including Kenzie’s frequent visits to Gù Brath since Megan had moved back home.

  Jack had also learned from the affable doorman that Miss Camry MacKeage was a huge flirt, but that she was all talk and no action. Presumably he told Jack this so Jack wouldn’t get his hopes up, seeing how he was new in town and all. Not that it mattered, anyway, as the doorman had heard that Camry was flying to France in a few days because of what some scienti
st there had discovered about ion propulsion—which, the doorman had explained, was Camry’s area of expertise.

  So Jack sat on a bale of hay and let some horse named Snowball nuzzle his shoulder. He was surprised to realize he was going to miss Camry. She had grown on him over the last couple of weeks, and he was sorry she was leaving.

  The large stable door suddenly slid open and Kenzie Gregor walked in, stopping short when he spotted Jack.

  “How’s your favor going with Megan?” Jack asked.

  Kenzie walked to a stall and led one of the huge draft horses into the aisle. “It’s going quite well, thank ye.”

  “And your pet? How’s that little problem coming along?”

  Kenzie gave Jack a warning glance and went back to bridling his horse. “I told ye I’d take care of it, and I will.”

  “No, actually, you never did tell me you would.”

  Kenzie turned to face him. “The beast won’t be breaking into any more shops. He’s sick, and I fear he may be dying.”

  “Well, that takes care of that problem,” Jack said, standing up to leave.

  “Ye don’t understand, Stone. I intend to do everything in my power to save him.”

  “Or your brother’s power?”

  Kenzie looked momentarily startled, then narrowed his eyes. “What has my brother got to do with this?”

  Jack shrugged and stepped outside, Kenzie following. “You save that creature’s life, Gregor, you better find a way to send it back where it came from.”

  “I will deal with it,” he said, leading his horse toward the path heading up the mountain. He stopped, swung up onto its bare back in one easy motion, and gave Jack a speculative look. “Camry and Megan were talking at lunch today, and Camry mentioned a word I haven’t heard before. Would ye happen to know what shaman means?”

  “What it means, Gregor, is that you Celts aren’t the only magic act in town,” Jack said, walking away.