Grayson answered on the second ring. “I was about to call you, Shauna.”
His voice’s grim tone caused a hard ball to form in her stomach, and she put the call on speakerphone and moved to Zach’s side. “What’s wrong?”
“Olivia’s been murdered, and the killer broke into Bailey’s home. While she was there. She’s on the run, and no one knows where she’s gone.”
“Oh no! Was she injured?”
“I don’t think so. At least no blood was left behind. Unless Bailey surfaces on her own, we’ll have a hard time tracking her down.”
Shauna wanted to cry. “I should have gone out there right away, the second we discovered her whereabouts.”
“None of us had any idea she or her mom were in danger. The sheriff suspects some kind of organized-crime connection because her mother was killed execution style.”
Zach set a comforting hand on Shauna’s shoulder. “Was there any evidence of a connection between Olivia and organized crime?”
“The sheriff didn’t find anything like that. It was the manner of the killing that made him suspicious.”
Shauna pushed back her disappointment. “Are you still there or on your way home?”
“My flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow. I’d hoped to find her so I gave myself enough time to fill her in and get to know her a bit. I thought I’d poke around here and see if I can uncover a lead on where she might have gone. Maybe a friend would have an idea.”
“That’s a great idea. Let us know what you hear,” Zach said.
“Sure will. Talk to you later.”
Shauna was still processing her grief as she laid her phone on the counter. “We might never find her, Zach.” The sensation of her baby sister in her arms as a newborn had never left her. “What if the killer gets to her? Why would anyone want to shoot her mom?” She stared at his dear face with its strong jawline, blue eyes, and dark-brown hair.
“There’s a lot we don’t know about Olivia. Why would she steal Bailey? Maybe that’s the first place to start as we try to figure this all out.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his strength. “How do we do that?”
“She had to have some friends when she was here. People she worked with, neighbors, that kind of thing. I hadn’t pursued any of that since I managed to find her. It’s time to do that, I think.”
“You’re awesome.” She nuzzled her nose into his neck and inhaled the aroma of his skin, earthy and warm.
“Gotta keep my bride happy.”
Should she tell him? She’d thought to have a romantic seafood dinner and tell him, but the news was about to bust out of her.
She took his hand and tugged. “I have something to show you.”
He came willingly enough as she led him through the house to the master bedroom. Her pulse fluttered in her throat as she reached into the nightstand drawer and withdrew the surprise. She opened her palm to show him and smiled up into his face.
A puzzled line crouched between his eyes as he looked at what she held out. His jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “A pregnancy test? I don’t know how to read these things.”
“See the two lines? That means we’re having a little Zach.”
He hooted and grabbed her, then lifted her in his arms. “A baby? We’re having a baby?”
She clung to him as her stomach did a slow roll with the twirl. “That’s right, Cowboy. As nearly as I can figure, the little man will make his appearance in July.”
With her still in his arms, he sat on the side of the bed and cradled her close. “I’m rooting for a girl with your green eyes.”
“That would be all right too.” She rested her head on his chest. “I have to admit I’m a little scared. We both want this so badly. I’m afraid to hope I’ll carry this baby to term.”
“You didn’t have any problems with Alex, did you?”
“No, but I had a miscarriage when he was a year old. I’m a little spooked.”
His dark-blue eyes were tender, and he leaned in close enough that his breath warmed her cheek. “God loves to give us good things. Let’s just trust him and try not to worry.”
“I’ll make an appointment with the midwife right away. I’ll feel better once we hear a heartbeat.”
“When’s that?”
“Eight to ten weeks. I’m going to push for an eight-week appointment.” She cradled his face in her hands. “It’s going to be pretty exciting around here.”
“It already is.” His lips came down on hers in a sweet kiss of promise.
Chapter 6
At least he had somewhere new to look. Lance took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, then rolled his neck around to ease its stiffness. He was supposed to go to Daniel’s for dinner tonight, but he’d rather sit at his computer and see what he could find out about the intriguing Bailey Fleming. He had just enough time to take a quick shower before heading to Daniel’s for little Milo’s first birthday party.
His phone rang as he went down the hall to the bathroom. His dad’s face filled the screen, and he nearly didn’t answer. How did he tell his dad he’d failed again?
He pressed his lips together, then answered the phone. “Hey, Dad.”
“I saw the newspaper article about the FBI bust last week. Why didn’t you call to tell me about it?”
“There wasn’t anything to tell, Pop. We rescued several teenagers, but there was no sign of Ava, and Jackson is still at large.”
His dad sighed. “I’d hoped you were just keeping it under wraps until you knew more. No one had seen Ava?”
“No.” He didn’t dare tell his dad that there’d been a dark-headed young woman there. Pop would leap to the quick assumption it had to be Ava, and the calls would start coming several times a day.
Lance’s old foe helplessness swamped him. His parents had never recovered from Ava’s disappearance five years ago, and neither had he. Maybe none of them ever would. The suspense was the worst. Every night when he went to bed, he saw her face, and first thing in the morning he heard her calling his name, begging him to save her.
His parents’ guilt pierced even deeper. There had been the typical teenage fights with Ava that transitioned into screaming matches as she approached her sixteenth birthday. She wanted to go out with her friends, and their parents had rules—rules she thought were stupid. He’d thought they were stupid when he was her age, too, but by the time he went to college, he’d seen the wisdom. Their parents only wanted to protect her, and so did he. She’d felt ganged up on, and the next thing they knew, she ran away after a particularly bitter argument.
He spoke with his dad a few more minutes, then hopped in the shower. After changing into jeans and a Seahawks sweatshirt, he drove to Daniel’s house, a small ranch on the east side of Seattle.
Daniel’s wife, Sandy, came to the door with Milo in her arms. The beautiful redhead had flour on her cheek and chocolate frosting at the corner of her mouth. She thrust the baby at him. “Here, take Milo. I’ve got to finish the cake before our parents get here. Someone just shoot me now.”
Milo patted his face and gave him a toothy grin. The kid was cute as a button and sported eight teeth now. His white-blond hair was like his dad’s, and his big gray eyes had everyone gaga over him. Including Lance. He put Milo’s present on the gift table, then hoisted the toddler to his shoulders. Milo grabbed his hair and squealed with hysterical laughter. This was a favorite game of theirs. He romped to the living room with a giggling Milo and found Daniel frantically stuffing baby toys back into a tub.
“Sandy is ready to kill me for getting home too late to watch Milo while she finished cooking. By the way, some hits came in on Bailey Fleming, and I stopped by the office to print them out.”
“What did you find out?”
“The sheriff in Rock Harbor, Michigan, is looking for her in connection with a shooting.”
Whoa, Lance hadn’t been expecting that. He lifted Milo down from his shoulders and settled him in one ar
m. “Can I see?”
“After dinner. Everyone is arriving and if I spoil Milo’s first birthday, I’m toast.”
The doorbell rang and Daniel groaned. “Here we go.”
“It’ll be fun.” Lance handed Milo a toy car and the baby squirmed to get down to roll it. Cars were his favorite.
Would he ever have a family of his own? It probably wouldn’t happen until he found Ava.
Mac let herself into Jason’s house with her key and walked through the unlit rooms to the living room, where she found Jason sitting in the dark in his recliner by the fireplace. The television’s volume was so low she could hardly hear it.
She flipped on the light and set a thermos of chili on the table beside the chair. It hurt to see him unshaven and in food-stained sweats. He’d always been so meticulous about his hygiene and appearance. “I brought you some dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She paid no more attention to his usual response than she did any other night. She fetched bowls and spoons from the kitchen and grimaced at the sink overflowing with dishes. Tomorrow she’d find time to come earlier so she could clean. The place was a pigsty, but she tamped down her irritation. He couldn’t see any of the mess.
For the past two weeks, since they’d gotten out of the hospital, she worked at showing him how sorry she was for everything. The divorce had been her fault, and if he hadn’t been trying to rescue her from her own stupidity, he wouldn’t have been injured. He deserved better than she’d given him. But no matter how much she tried to help him, he stayed surly. Maybe he would never forgive her.
She carried the bowl and spoon back to the living room and poured out the chili, then touched the side of a bowl against his right hand. “Here you go. Lots of jalapeños as you like it.”
Chili was his favorite dish, but she still expected a token refusal at first. But his fingers closed around the bowl, and he took it from her hands. He balanced the bowl on his lap and felt around the rim for the spoon. Handsome with his sun-streaked brown hair, Jason Yarwood had always been one of the strongest people she’d ever known. He and her sister, Ellie, owned a house-flipping business, and he could heft large beams on those broad shoulders with ease. Ever since hitting his head during her rescue from terrorists, those gorgeous brown eyes were sightless.
Would he ever look at her with love again? She hadn’t loved him when she married him, but she’d been wrong, so wrong.
“You eating too?” His voice was gruff.
“Yep.” She picked up the other bowl of chili and settled onto the sofa across from him.
The spices and tomatoes hit her tongue in a wave that sharpened her senses. He lifted the spoon to his mouth with care and winced when the bite of soup spilled onto his sweatshirt. Maybe soup hadn’t been such a good idea. A sandwich was easier to handle.
She set her empty bowl aside on the table next to her. “Did your mom take you to see the doctor today?”
“I’m still blind. No change.”
The next thing she knew his bowl flew through the air to shatter against the fireplace. Red splatters of chili dripped like blood off the mantel and onto the wood floor.
She shot to her feet with her fists clenched. “What if I’d stood just then and you hit me with the bowl?”
“I can hear where you are. Only my eyes are broken, not my ears.” He glowered, and his strident voice held an edge. “How do you think it makes me feel to know I’m helpless here, Mac? Why do you come so often anyway? To feel sorry for the poor blind guy? Save your pity. I’ve only ever wanted your love, and you saw fit to kick me to the curb. What’s the point?”
She longed to confess her changed feelings, but he was in no frame of mind to receive that kind of confession. He’d think it was only because of pity. “I want to see you well, Jason. We might not be married any longer, but I care about you.”
“Yeah, guilt is an emotion. I get that, but this wasn’t your fault.” The anger drained from his face, and he rubbed his forehead. “What am I going to do if I never see again?”
She knew he wasn’t asking about money, but about living a productive life. Jason always had a thing about taking care of her. His mother too. He was the caregiving type.
“The first thing you can do is learn to be self-sufficient, no matter what. A nurse is coming to help you with that. She’ll teach you how to care for yourself, how to cook, how to navigate. At least for now.”
He raised his head, his nostrils flaring. “What have you done, Mac?”
“It’s just until your sight returns. It can’t hurt to learn how to get around in the house.”
“I don’t want a nursemaid!”
“She’s not. She’s had experience teaching this kind of thing. I think you’ll feel better about yourself if you’re not so dependent.”
He chewed his lip, and his brown eyes held anguish. “I don’t like being a burden.”
“You’re not a burden. Not to me and not to your mom. But I know you, Jason. This will help you. Give her a chance, okay?”
He shrugged. “I’ll see.”
And that was the best she could hope for under the circumstances. She went to fetch a bucket of water and a rag to clean up the chili mess.
Chapter 7
The house felt secretive and spooky without lights, and Bailey left the bedroom door open in hopes that the heat and glow from the dying fire would creep inside the room. Without knowing the status of the chimney, she didn’t dare go to bed with a fire blazing, though she would have loved to be warm. Using a flashlight from her car, she found extra blankets in the hall closet and piled the bed high with them, then went to the bathroom to wash her face.
Of course there was no water. This far out of town, there would only be a well, and the pump needed electricity. Her reflection in the mirror was dim and ghostly. She already hated her purple hair, but she’d read somewhere that if you wanted to hide, changing your hair color to something gaudy was helpful because that’s all people would see. Purple had seemed best to go with her dark hair, but the color startled her every time she caught a glimpse of it.
She pulled out the burner phone she’d bought in Minnesota. Dare she call one of her stepbrothers? She felt so alone, but what if Mom’s killer had tapped their phones? It wasn’t safe. They’d be able to triangulate her location by tracing back a call. Though she wasn’t yet used to Pacific time, she wasn’t sleepy and she desperately wanted to talk to someone.
Maybe she could call the sheriff and see if he’d found out anything. The killer wasn’t likely to be watching the sheriff’s phone. Her mother had said not to go to the police, but she felt too isolated and vulnerable. She had to know what was happening.
It was only ten back home. Surely that wasn’t too late to call. Before she could change her mind, she placed the call.
“Sheriff Kaleva.” He sounded alert.
“Um, Sheriff, it’s Bailey Fleming.”
“Bailey, what happened? I’ve been worried about you.”
“I had to get away. Mom’s killer is after me. Have you arrested anyone? Is the autopsy back?”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you that. Please, don’t ask any more questions or I’ll have to hang up.”
He cleared his throat. “We still don’t have any clues to the murderer’s identity. Do you have any idea who this is? Did your mother talk about being in danger?”
“We always moved around a lot, and Mom left a note telling me to hide, so that’s what I’m doing.” His lack of progress fueled her decision. She wouldn’t tell him she planned to investigate and find out who had killed her mother.
“Look, it’s not safe for you to be out there by yourself. Wherever you are, contact the police and have them call me. I’ll corroborate how much danger you’re in. We can arrange for police protection.”
She knew how that worked—the killer would just lie low until the police pulled off the protection detail from lack of funds. “I’m okay. I just wanted an update.
I’ll be in touch.” She ended the call before he could object, then switched off the phone.
What did she know about all this? Her mother had to have left some clues over the years as to her background. Bailey had always been told her mother’s parents were dead, but was that even true? What was this house? The neighbor said it was owned by a holding company. Did that mean Kyle was involved in something illegal?
She wouldn’t put it past him, but the bigger question was, why would he own a house in the same town where her mother grew up? Had she known Kyle somehow? Maybe that was why she had been in favor of the marriage.
In the light of day tomorrow, she’d search through everything in this house. Maybe clues were hidden somewhere as to Kyle’s plans. It was even possible her connection to Kyle had caused all this. She couldn’t overlook anything.
All these questions made her head hurt. She took off her shoes, and still wearing her clothing and socks, she crept under the thick stack of quilts. Her body heat soon warmed the sheets, and she drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke, moonlight streamed through the windows, and she lay there with her heart pounding. The loud crash that had awakened her still reverberated through her chest. She sat up and heard muttering down the hall. It sounded like someone in the living room. She had no real weapons, only bear spray. Her inclination was to huddle under the covers and pray whoever was out there departed, but if it was the killer, he’d find her.
She slipped out of bed and found her purse. Holding the car keys in her hand like a knife, she tiptoed to the door and peered out down the hall and into the living room. A dark shadow moved jerkily around the room, and a swath of moonlight revealed the intruder’s identity.
Her neighbor Lily.
Bailey exhaled and stuffed the keys into her pocket, then padded quietly into the room and watched the old woman for a while. Still dressed in her ratty bathrobe and muddy slippers, Lily pulled out the drawers in the side tables by the sofa and muttered under her breath.
“Where is it?” She stopped and raked her white hair out of her face. “I know it’s here.”
Secrets at Cedar Cabin Page 5