Beyond a Doubt

by Colleen Coble

  In a daze Kade watched Landorf’s scowl change to a smile as he reveled in the media attention. “I was just telling Ranger Matthews how precious these little animals are,” he said. His hand stroked the tiny raccoon. “Let me tell you about our vision for the center.”

  Grinning, Kade tiptoed out of the room.

  At last everyone was in bed. It had been hard keeping her thoughts from showing on her face. Bree didn’t want to tell Anu about Abe until she was sure of her facts.

  She paced the floor for a few minutes, then forced herself to sit back on the sofa. Her hand reached for the portable phone, then she pulled it back. Kade hadn’t called for several days. There had been a couple of hang-ups on the answering machine, and she clung to the hope that he might have called and not left any message.

  She sighed and curled back onto the sofa with her legs under her. Who was she trying to fool? She’d probably blown it with Kade. If anyone was to blame for the current situation of uneasy truce, it was her. Maybe it was best this way. Davy might never take to Kade, and he adored Nick. But the thought didn’t put her heart to rest.

  The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner sounded louder than normal, and Bree realized she was holding her breath. How stupid. Quentin had been the one stalking her, and he was in custody. The danger to her was past. But Anu’s heart was about to be broken.

  Samson had joined her in the living room. She glanced at him. His ears stood up as he gazed at her with a question in his dark eyes.

  “I know, I’m making you nervous,” she told him. “I’m making myself a wreck as well. It’s going to take some time to settle down and realize life is back to normal now.” Whatever normal was. She didn’t know anymore.

  She should go to bed herself. Church was tomorrow, and she wanted to be fresh so she could really participate in worship, though lately she felt as if God wasn’t listening. Would she ever forget the sound of Davy’s accusations ringing in her ears? It was her fault his father was dead. Her fault, her fault. The knowledge echoed in her heart. If only she hadn’t made that call the morning Rob was to fly home. If only she had waited until he got home and not picked a fight over the phone. If only . . .

  She sighed. She wasn’t the least bit sleepy, though she was tired from helping clean up the mess Quentin had made of Anu’s house. Another day of work and Anu could go home.

  She grabbed a pen and paper and began to write down what she knew about the murder of Peter Thorrington. The Seawind had been salvaged. Its cargo had allowed the survivors to realize a dream. Beulah had said she wished Peter was dead. Peter and Odetta’s son, Benjamin Mallory, had been killed. Odetta claimed the hippo had ordered the killing. Hippo, what could that mean?

  In her mind’s eye, Bree saw the certificates on Dr. Parker’s wall. The Hippocratic oath, the oath doctors take upon receiving their license. Blood rushed to her head. Could Dr. Parker be the Hippo? He’d gone away to college right after Peter’s death, though his family had money and surely didn’t need any ill-gotten gain. She tried to tell herself it couldn’t be the doctor, but a sickening feeling in her stomach wouldn’t go away. His son was involved in smuggling now too, just as the doctor had been in his younger days. Coincidence?

  The lights flickered then came back on again. Samson got up and padded to the window. He seemed a little agitated, but Bree thought he sensed the jangled mess of her own nerves. It would take them all some time to settle down.

  The wind rattled the slate shingles on the roof of the lighthouse, and Samson growled. “It’s just the wind, boy,” she assured him. A gust shook the big window in the living room, and the dog ran to it, the fur on the back of his neck raised. Rain came in driving sheets against the window. Samson began to pace, his tail straight out.

  Bree grabbed a quilt and pulled it over her legs as the wind found entry into the room through the leaky walls of the old building. As far as she knew, there were no tornado or severe thunderstorm warnings out for the evening. She should unplug the television just in case.

  She stood just as the lights went out. This time they didn’t come back on. She walked carefully to the flashlight she kept on the fireplace mantel. When she clicked it on, she let its beam sweep the room. As it passed over the window, she saw a man’s distorted face pressed against the glass. Bree’s heart slammed against her ribs, and her breathing sounded loud in her ears. Samson lunged at the window, barking furiously. The man quickly stepped away.

  She grabbed the phone and dialed 9-1-1. Nothing. No dial tone. Had the storm knocked out the phone, or had the man cut the wire? She clicked off the flashlight so he couldn’t see in and tiptoed to the window that faced town. All the lights seemed to be on there, even the Blue Bonnet Bed and Breakfast at the end of the street.

  Her fear heightened. Who was out there? Terror had her listening to every sound, imagining every shudder of the house was the man crashing through the door. She had to protect Davy. Her cell phone was in the Jeep, and there was no way to call for help without it. “Come!” she told Samson. She led Samson up the steps and checked on Davy. He was sound asleep. She pointed at the bed. “Guard,” she told her dog.

  She went across the hall to Anu’s room. She awakened Anu and told her what was happening.

  Anu pulled on her robe. “I will protect Davy. Call Mason.”

  That was her next mission. Bree pulled the bedroom door shut behind her, wishing she could lock it. The old doors had no locks, but Samson would defend “his” boy to the death. She went to the top of the stairs and listened, but the roar of the storm was too loud to make out much else. From the top of the stairs she could see the entry door. Still firmly shut. She went down the hall to the back stairway that led to the kitchen.

  Carefully easing down the steps, she peered around the doorjamb. The kitchen was empty, and the door to the backyard was still shut. Whoever was out there hadn’t forced his way in. Yet. She needed a weapon. What could she use?

  The storm lashed its fury at a window, and she jumped at the clatter. She went down the hall to the entry. Maybe there was something she could use in the closet. She didn’t dare flip on the flashlight for fear he might see.

  Crouching in the darkness, she rooted through the mess on the floor of the closet. Boots, gloves, shoes—no help there. She found snow chains and hefted them in her hand for a moment, then tossed them aside. Too awkward.

  She heard a noise at the door, a rattling. Was the man trying to come in, or was it the wind? Her hand at her throat, she decided it was the wind. Back in the closet, her questing hand touched something wooden. She grasped it and pulled it out. A baseball bat. That would have to do.

  She stood and advanced to the door. Though her instincts screamed for her to run back upstairs and cower in the bedroom beside the dog, she knew she couldn’t do that. She needed that cell phone.

  The blood pounded in her veins with the same ferocity as the crashing thunder outside. If only the sound would die down long enough for her to listen, to make sure no one stood on the other side of that door. On her tiptoes, she peeked through the small window in the door but could see nothing in the darkness outside. The security light was out too.

  Taking a deep breath, she prayed, then threw open the door. She made sure it was locked behind her, then dashed through the pelting rain to the Jeep. Luckily, it was unlocked, and she jumped inside and quickly locked the door. Just to be sure, she flicked on her flashlight and scanned the vehicle to make sure no one else was in the Jeep. She was alone.

  Gripping the baseball bat with white knuckles, she punched in 9-1-1 and pushed send. Nothing. She stared at the screen and realized she hadn’t recharged it for several days. The rain sluiced over the windshield in sheets.

  She could drive for help, but not without getting Anu and Davy. Peering through the sheets of rain, she tried to see the front of the house, but it was impossible. Where was the man? Perhaps he had broken in the back door while she was out here.

  She fumbled in her pocket for her house
key and pulled it out. With the key in one hand and the bat in the other, she projected herself nearly three feet on her first bound. The wind drove the rain in her face, and she sputtered and squinted, trying to see through the sheets of water and the penetrating darkness.

  Crossing that yard seemed to take hours. She finally stood at the front door. Jamming her key into the lock, she turned it and practically fell into the entry hall. She slammed the door behind her and threw the lock. Her chest heaving, she stopped and listened. Please, God, let him not be in here with Davy. She heard nothing and was just beginning to relax when a sound came from the direction of the kitchen.

  A crash, and then an oath over the fury of the storm. The window. He was in. What if he went up the back stairway to Davy and Anu? She had to stop him. Samson was barking ferociously from upstairs, so that was good. Anu would know the danger level had heightened.

  Gripping the bat with both hands, Bree advanced toward the door that led to the kitchen. It was hard to think, to plan, past the terror that dried her mouth. At the door to the kitchen she paused. Should she push the door open slowly and peek in or throw open the door and rush at the intruder?

  Be bold, she told herself. She took a couple of deep breaths, then set her jaw. She could do this. She had to—there was no one else. Narrowing her eyes, she threw open the door and charged into the kitchen. A dark form threw up a hand and whirled to face her. His face was covered with a ski mask, and he had a gun in his right hand.

  She planted her feet and brought the bat down on his wrist. The gun flew from his fingers, and he let out a gasp of pain or surprise or both and dived after the gun. He got there before she did. He whipped around and pointed it at her head.

  “Drop the bat!” he ordered in a gruff voice. Bree maintained her grip on the bat and tried to decide if she could attempt to disarm him again.

  “I said drop it!” He thumbed the hammer of the gun.

  She had no choice. The baseball bat dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and clattered on the tile floor. He’d broken one of the six small panes in the door window, and wind gusted through the opening, but it wasn’t the cold rain that chilled her.

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  He motioned for her to precede him through the door to the basement. He marched her down the steps. She was trembling so hard she had to hang on to the railing to prevent herself from falling. This man wasn’t Dr. Parker—he was too tall and slender. Her jolt of intuition had been all wrong.

  His gun trained on her, he reached over and flipped a breaker. “Back upstairs,” he ordered.

  Back in the kitchen, he motioned for her to go through the kitchen door toward the front of the house. Walking slowly, her mind jumped from one possibility to another. As she entered the foyer, she saw Anu at the top of the stairs. The man behind her gave a hiss of recognition, and she realized with a sinking heart that he’d seen her too.

  “Get down here,” the man snarled.

  Anu started slowly down the steps. Bree’s chest felt like it might explode into a million fragments. Davy, Davy. She had to find a way to protect him. And Anu.

  Her feet dragging, she led the way to the living room.

  The man gestured for them to sit on the sofa. “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” Maybe they were finally going to find out what this was all about.

  “The diamond.”

  Bree and Anu stared at one another. “We don’t know anything about any diamond,” Bree said.

  “Don’t play with me,” he snarled. His eyes glowered behind the ski mask. “I don’t have all day. Give me the diamond if you don’t want to get hurt.”

  “We don’t have any diamonds other than our engagement rings. Is that what you want?” Bree couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. All this for a couple of rings? It didn’t make sense.

  The man began to pace, and she could feel his pent-up anger. It was like watching a storm building over Lake Superior while in a boat miles from shore.

  He leaned forward and grabbed Anu’s hand. “You were wearing it the other day, but it’s not in your house and you don’t have it on now. Where is it?”

  Bree’s eyes widened. “You mean the emerald ring?”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “Sure, call it what you want. The green ring.”

  A green diamond—that’s what he was talking about. Bree had heard of them, but she’d never seen one. Few people had. No wonder the color was so pale. It had to be worth millions.

  She stared at the man. Something about his voice reminded her of someone.

  The man squeezed Anu’s hand, and she let out a gasp of pain. “I said where is it?”

  “It’s in my room upstairs.” Anu met his gaze. “I’ll go get it.”

  “We’ll all go.” He jerked Bree to her feet, then motioned for Anu to lead the way. They went up the steps to the door to the bedroom. From the other side of the door, she could hear Samson growling softly.

  “Keep that dog in there, or I’ll have to shoot him.”

  “He can’t open the door by himself,” she assured him.

  Anu went to her room and approached the bedside table. She picked up a small ceramic bowl. She turned and offered it to the man.

  He grabbed the bowl from her hands and looked inside. He swore. “Where is it? I don’t have patience for tricks.” The man’s eyes narrowed behind the ski mask. “Who should I shoot first? Bree or the boy? Pick one.”

  32

  Bree cast her thoughts around for some way to get the gun away from the man, but all that she saw in the bedroom were stuffed toys and small pieces of Davy’s fireman set. She clenched her hands and coiled to spring on him. She wouldn’t allow him to hurt her son.

  Anu took a step toward the man, and Bree gasped and turned to stop her.

  “Abraham.” Anu spoke the name softly. She held out her hand. The ring sparkled in her palm. “Is this what you’re looking for, husband?”

  Bree caught her breath and turned to stare at the gunman.

  The man drew back as if he’d been struck. “Shut up,” he said, his voice thick.

  “I know it is you, my Abraham. I recognized your voice, though you tried to disguise it. And your walk is distinct.”

  The man’s hand that held the gun began to shake. He took a step back. To Bree’s astonishment, Anu took another step forward and took the gun from the man’s unresisting hand. She reached up and pulled the ski mask from his face. A face lined and harsh appeared. Older than the picture she’d seen, but still recognizable. Abraham Nicholls, also known as Neville. Glints of blond and gray were beginning to show at the roots of his dyed hair.

  Anu stepped back. “So, Abraham, you have returned. I admit our reunion is not quite as I’d pictured.” Her faint smile was sad. She laid the gun on the bed.

  Abe stared at her. “I can’t believe you recognized me.”

  Anu’s smile dimmed even further. “Your ways were etched on my heart,” she said simply. “The way you walk, the tilt of your head, the sound of your voice.”

  Bree stepped closer to Anu and took her hand, nearly flinching at Anu’s icy fingers.

  Anu squeezed Bree’s hand. “You do not seem surprised, kulta. Did you know of my husband’s return?”

  “I suspected it.”

  Bree turned to Abe. “You’re the one who has been watching the house, right? Was it you who vandalized it?”

  Abe scowled. “Give me the diamond, Anu.” He held out his hand. “This is for your own good.”

  “You gave it to me, Abraham. If you wished it back, why did you not simply come to the door and ask?” Anu looked at the ring in her hand. “This diamond—it is worth a great deal of money?”

  Abe’s bark of laughter was bitter. “You have no idea.”

  “That is the only reason you’ve come back? I thought perhaps you’d come to seek—my forgiveness.” Anu whispered the last two words.

  He laughed again, a forced and harsh sound. “Just the diamond.”
/>   “Always I have prayed for you, Abraham. That God would speak to your heart and that you would turn to him.”

  How could she be so calm? Bree marveled at Anu’s patient voice and wondered if she’d played out this scenario in her head over the years. Or maybe it was just God. Anu always seemed to know the right thing to say.

  “I’m afraid I’m beyond redemption,” Abe said. He tugged at his collar and looked everywhere but at his wife.

  “There is nothing God doesn’t forgive. You can stop this running now, Abraham. Face what you’ve done. Your daughter misses you.” Anu cleared her throat, and her fingers tightened on Bree’s. “I miss you too. God has brought you back to this place to force you to confront your past.”

  Abe shook his head slowly. “It’s too late, Anu. No matter how much I might wish otherwise.”

  “I want to understand what happened, why you left us.”

  Abe grunted.

  “I think I know,” Bree said. “You were smuggling for a long time, weren’t you? Why did it start?” Beulah had said the Do-Wrong Gang played poker. “Gambling debts?” It was a wild stab.

  Abe sent her a glance of resentment. “Shut up. This isn’t about you.”

  “You set fire to my house.”

  “I didn’t,” he growled.

  Bree made another wild guess. “You used the Seawind, didn’t you? For the bigger smuggling, the stuff that had to be shipped. What was it—gems, drugs?”

  Abe turned around to face them again, and his blue eyes, so like Rob’s, blinked slowly. “Give me the diamond and let me get out of here. I’m tired of both of you.”

  Bree’s thoughts whirled. “Was Argie Hamel in on it?”

  Abe slapped Bree and she gasped, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed.

  “You’re so stupid, and I’m tired of hearing you yap. There was a lot more money in prescription drugs and illegal booty from Canada than salvage on the boat.”