Three Days to Forever (A Mac Faraday Mystery Book 9)

by Lauren Carr

  “Oh, Mac, I was so worried about you! Hector told me that the manor is in shambles, but when I think of what could have happened to you and Josh and Gnarly.” She pulled away and gazed up into Mac’s face with tears in her eyes. “How is Josh? Is he okay?”

  As hard as he tried to concentrate on what Archie was saying to him, Mac couldn’t piece the words together to understand what she was saying. They only sounded like noises, and they were drowned out by the question that kept repeating itself in his mind.

  “Don’t say it, Dad,” he heard Tristan warn him in the background.

  “Mac, are you okay?” Archie asked. “Say something.”

  The words spilled out of his mouth. “What in heaven’s name happened to your hair?”

  Tears spilled like a waterfall from Archie’s lovely emerald green eyes. “Oh, Mac!”

  “Now you did it.” Jessica wrapped her arm around Archie. “It isn’t her fault, you know.”

  “What?” Mac asked. “I didn’t do that to her.” Watching Jessica hugging the sobbing Archie, Mac realized how blunt he had been in his shock. “Archie,” he pried her away from his daughter. Gently, he rocked his fiancée in his arms. “I’m sorry. I was just so shocked. You need to give a guy a warning when his little blonde pixie suddenly turns into I don’t know what. I’m sure they can fix it—”

  Archie choked. “Not before the wedding.”

  “That’s okay.” Mac stepped back to admire her pretty face. “I’m marrying you, not your hair. You’re a beautiful woman and I love you … even if you do have ugly hair.” Noticing that instead of peering down at her, they were eye to eye, Mac held her back and looked her up and down. “Are you taller?”

  “It’s my new boots.” Archie lifted one of her feet to show him her high-heel, platform boots. With a flick of her eyes in Jessica’s direction, she wordlessly sent the warning to Mac to remind him that they had been a Christmas present from his daughter.

  With a small grin, Mac picked up the signal. Archie, who preferred to go barefoot, rarely wore such extravagant footwear. She had only put them on for the arrival of his daughter. “Very nice.”

  “I don’t think her hair looks half bad,” Murphy said to Jessica.

  “Spoken like a man,” Jessica said while shrugging out of the leather jacket he had lent to her earlier.

  “I am a man.” Murphy reached for the jacket. “What do you expect me to speak like? A giraffe?”

  Keeping hold of the jacket, Jessica moved in closer to him. “How is your father, Murphy?”

  “In surgery,” he said. “But the prognosis is good.”

  “I’m glad.” She lowered her head to peer at him from the top of her violet eyes. “I broke up with Colt Fitzgerald.” She laid her hands on top of his where they grasped the jacket that hung between them.

  Murphy tried to fight the smile that came to his lips. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Would I be thinking too highly of myself if I thought you did that for me?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t have to end it with Colt Fitzgerald, underwear hunk, just for me.” A wide grin crossing his face, he pulled away to put on his jacket. “But I’m glad you did.”

  Jessica reached out to lay her fingers on his firm chest. “Are you doing anything tomorrow night, Murphy Thornton?”

  With a quick motion, he zipped up the coat, almost catching her fingertips in the zipper. “Sounds like I’m going to a wedding, Jessica Faraday.”

  She tilted her head to gaze up into his eyes. “These lips will be reserved for yours at midnight.”

  It took all of his control to keep from pulling her into his arms.

  “Jessie …” Tristan practically stepped in between the two of them. “Excuse me,” he said to Murphy, who backed up a full step to break the sexual tension that had such a strong hold on the two of them. “I’m Tristan, Jessie’s brother.” He offered Murphy his hand.

  With a sigh, Murphy shook the offered hand. “Nice to meet you, Tristan.”

  “Thank you for saving Jessie earlier,” Tristan said, “and for what you did at the safe house. Chief O’Callaghan says you really put yourself in the line of fire to save everyone, including our dad.”

  Murphy warmed up to the young man in the eyeglasses standing before him. “You’re welcome, Tristan.”

  “I admire men like you and my dad, who aren’t afraid to put their own lives on the line every day.”

  “I’m sure if the situation called for it, you’d do the same, Tristan.”

  The young man’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m not the physical sort.”

  Jessica wrapped her arms around her brother in an affectionate hug. “Tristan is an intellectual and proud of it.”

  “Do you know where our world would be today without the intellectuals?” Murphy asked. When Tristan hesitated, he answered, “The dark ages.” He tapped Tristan on the chest. “It’s men like you who keep the rest of us moving forward.”

  Turning to Jessica, Tristan whispered into her ear, “You have my permission to marry him.”

  Stepping out of the emergency room exit into the parking lot, David was praying for a second wind. He had barely slept the night before, even though he was staying at one of the luxurious suites at the Spencer Inn.

  Something that Donny Thornton had said about Mac Faraday was nagging at the back of his mind.

  Don’t you see? He got the fame and fortune, but you got his dad. And that’s something he can never buy, no matter how rich he is. Makes you wonder who the rich man really is.

  Standing out in the freezing wind, David looked up at the darkening sky in an attempt to watch the snowflakes whirling down through the parking lot lights that had just turned on with the approach of evening.

  Mac had never met Patrick O’Callaghan, his birth father. Yet, they were so very much alike. More than once since meeting Mac, becoming close friends with him, and working with him on murder cases, David had been taken aback by an expression that would cross his face, or even the tone of his voice in a particular circumstance.

  Mac has no idea how much he takes after Dad.

  And yet, Mac had never met him even once. It was all in his DNA.

  Mac had inherited the Spencer birthright and all the wealth and respect that went with the name, but David inherited the memories of a lifetime growing up with his father.

  Somehow, it just didn’t seem right.

  Who really is the rich man?

  David was startled by the feeling of two arms wrapping around him from behind to take him into a warm hug. “You seem to be miles away,” Chelsea whispered into his back.

  David clasped her hands and pulled her around. Her light blue eyes looked translucent in the parking lot lights beaming down on them. “Don’t tell me you came in for a medical reason.” It had been more than a year since her last epileptic seizure. Seeing Molly sitting calmly next to her, he didn’t think it was a possibility, but he wanted to ask.

  “Bogie drove me in,” she said. “I wanted to see if you all needed anything. Both Fletcher and Zigler got shot?”

  David nodded. “They’re okay. They’ll be going home soon. Fletcher only got grazed on the neck. If the bullet had gone just a fraction of an inch to the right, he’d have been gone, though. It would have gone through his neck. Officer Zigler got a bullet in his arm. They’ve already removed it. He’s happy on painkillers. His wife is here. She’ll be taking him home.”

  “With everything that’s happening, there’s still going to be a wedding?”

  David trapped her in his arms. “We need a celebration now more than ever. After the last few days …” He stopped to gaze down into her face.

  The look on her face—it was total adoration and love. It reminded him of a time … fishing.

  “Darling?” Her voice sounded far away. “Are you o
kay?”

  David blinked.

  “What’s wrong?” Her adoration changed to concern.

  “Tired,” he muttered. With a sigh, he tightened his arms around her. “I was just … do you remember when we used to go fishing?”

  She giggled. “Fishing? David, when we were kids, we used to go fishing all the time.”

  “Do you remember that time …” As the memory came back, his cheeks felt warm. “When I asked you to go steady. You said yes and we …” He bent over to kiss her on the forehead.

  “Your father walked in and caught us in the boathouse.” Her ivory-colored cheeks turned bright pink.

  He lifted her face to gaze down into her eyes. Gently, he kissed her on the mouth.

  “What brought that up?” she asked.

  “You’re very important to me, Chelsea.”

  “I know.”

  David sighed. “After all this is over, the wedding and Dooley’s murder, and … everything, I want us to take some time off, you and me, and go someplace just the two of us.”

  As if to remind him of her, Molly touched her cold snout to his hand.

  “The three of us.”

  While Chelsea was awed by his sudden display of affection for her, she was also confused. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  With a giggle, she replied, “Mac and Archie are going to Australia for their honeymoon.”

  “Within reason.” He kissed her on the nose. “I’m going home to shower and change. See you at the church?”

  “Try to avoid me.” She kissed him on the lips.

  His gaze on her was soft. “I love you, Chelsea. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  His tone scared her. “I love you, too, David.”

  Before she could ask him the reason for his sudden declaration, he pulled up the collar to his coat and walked across the parking lot to his cruiser. She watched him climb into the front seat of the cruiser. Before turning to go inside, she caught his eye as he sat staring through the windshield.

  Maybe he needs a nap before the rehearsal dinner.

  He shot her a wave of his hand. Only slightly reassured, she turned around to go inside to check on everyone who was still there.

  Staring at the car keys in his hands, David heard another voice, this one from Donny’s brother, Murphy, in his head.

  Contrary to what our government and the media has been telling us, they are here in America already. You’d be surprised and sickened to know how much progress they’ve made in their war against us since those in power forgot about September Eleventh.

  They’re here in America.

  How naive could I be to think they would not come here? Like I really thought our government would put their own agendas and personal interests aside to protect me and my team?

  David stared at the key ring in his hand.

  Want to know a trick a buddy of mine taught me? It was Patrick O’Callaghan’s voice speaking inside his head.

  Narrowing his blue eyes, David focused in on the keys.

  An undercover narc from Philadelphia taught me this.

  They were two men sharing a beer at the kitchen table. David had a long weekend away from the police academy. After hearing his son’s report on a class taught by a former FBI undercover agent, the police chief couldn’t resist relaying a few tricks he had learned on his own.

  Taking his key ring from the hook on the wall next to the kitchen table, Patrick O’Callaghan removed the hand cuff key. “If you ever get into a situation where you end up in a pair of cuffs, what are you going to do?”

  David chuckled. “I happen to be flexible enough that I can slip the cuffs.” He had practiced himself, bending over and slipping his cuffed hands down past his hips and under his feet.

  “Suppose you’re hog-tied, or zip-tied, or tied down flat?” Seeing that his son didn’t have an answer, Patrick’s eyes sparkled. “Always have a handcuff key stashed away where you can get it if you need it.” He shook the key at David. “The bad guys do. So should you.”

  Standing up from his chair, the police chief went over to a kitchen drawer where they kept a small first aid kit. “I’m going to show you an old trick that I pray you never need to use.”

  Patrick O’Callaghan had been dead for many years, but David sat in the front seat of his cruiser remembering that night and how the police chief had made his son practice his little trick over and over again until he had it down.

  When did I stop doing that? David looked up to see the snow blowing around his cruiser in the parking lot. When did I get so comfortable … and complacent?

  With a sense of urgency, he dug his hand into the breast pocket of his shirt until he found his spare hand cuff key. Throwing open the door to his cruiser, he climbed out and went around to the back in search of the first aid kit.

  Time to stop being comfortable. If the enemy is here, then I need to be ready.

  “Time to wake up and take your medicine, little lady.”

  The words bounced and echoed inside Cameron’s head.

  “Wake up.” The harsh sounding words were partnered by a slap on her cheek. “I don’t have all day.”

  With effort, Cameron fluttered her eyelids to look around. The dark room was blurry, and there was a white round figure in the middle.

  “There. Are you awake? Open your mouth. It’s time for your medicine.”

  Thick rough fingers grasped her jaw and pried her mouth open. The sting of the alcohol burned her tongue and throat where it went down. When she jerked her head away, the whiskey spilt across her face and down her throat, chest, and behind her shoulders to dribble down behind her neck. She felt her sweater cling to her chest.

  “Get your hands off me!” she said between coughs. Attempting to sit up, she discovered that her hands were cuffed to the bedposts. Soft cloths were wrapped around her wrists to prevent telltale bruising.

  Her vision clearing, she recognized the fat round face of Special Agent Leland Elder.

  “You son of a bitch!” Even though she was tied down, she lunged for him. “I’m going to kill you!”

  “I don’t think so, Gates.” A cocky grin crossed his face. “You wouldn’t be in this position now if you had just minded your place. My partner and I took over the Crane murder case—”

  “Who you killed!”

  “That’s irrelevant to your situation.”

  “Are you even real FBI agents?”

  “Of course,” Elder said. “Your boss checked us out. I’ve been with the bureau over twenty years. Black, close to twelve. Both of us have distinguished commendations. Sterling records.”

  “For a couple of killers.”

  “We do what we have to do for our nation.” Bottle in hand, he bent over her. “Now lay back and have a few drinks, and then you can die happy—which is a lot better than how Crane went out.”

  With a snap of her teeth, Cameron attempted to bite him.

  Elder threw back his hand as if to slap her, but then he thought better of it. “Nah, the police can’t find you with any marks on you. Won’t go with the scenario.”

  “What scenario?”

  With a cocky laugh, Elder sat back on the bed. “Oh, you’ve been very depressed, Detective Gates. Your first husband died about this time several years ago, didn’t he? With the holiday season, memories have come crashing back. Since your current husband left town, you’ve become increasingly depressed thinking about Nick. You’ve been calling your husband, but he’s been busy and unable to comfort you. So you decided to check into this motel and drown your sorrows until, unable to take the pain and guilt any longer,”—he held up Cameron’s phone and pressed a button—”you sent one last text to your hubby. ‘I love you and I’m sorry. Good-bye.’”

  “No!” Only when Cameron attempted to pull up her legs to kic
k him did she discover that her feet were also bound with handcuffs to the footboards.

  Grabbing her by the jaw, Elder reached over to press the muzzle of the gun into her mouth, pry it open, and shove the gun in. “Time to eat your gun, little lady.”

  “You first,” Cameron heard a male voice say before she heard the shot.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rock Springs Boulevard, Chester, West Virginia

  Were the holidays always this exhausting?

  Jan Martin-MacMillan wanted a nap. But she had to clean the house while the cleaning was good—while her eight-month-old son was sleeping. If she laid down, she knew she’d be asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  T.J. (Tad Junior) still wasn’t cognizant about Christmas and New Year’s Eve. If making the house special for the holidays was this exhausting, then what was she going to do next year when he’d be completely mobile?

  She was tired just thinking about it.

  Kneeling under the tree, Jan was smoothing the tree curtain when she sensed, rather than saw, her husband, Dr. Tad MacMillan, come into the room and sit down on the edge of the sofa next to her. He bent over to kiss her on the top of the head. “Alone at last,” he breathed into her blonde hair.

  Irving, Cameron’s twenty-five pound Maine coon, leapt up onto the sofa and curled up to sit down, facing the two of them.

  “Not quite,” she replied.

  He lifted her chin to face him. His green eyes sparkled. “Ignore him.” He kissed her gently on the lips.

  The doorbell rang.

  “How about whoever is at the door?” she replied.

  “Let’s pretend no one is home.”

  “You’re the town doctor,” she said with a sigh while climbing to her feet. “Our vehicles are outside. If someone needs help and you don’t answer …” She hurried from the living room to the foyer. Passing the bay window, she saw that Cameron’s cruiser was in the driveway. “I thought Cameron left for Deep Creek Lake this morning.”