by Hope White
“How long are you going to be here?” he said, irritated.
“I don’t know, a few hours?” she said, unwrapping her sandwich.
“Bree, you know how I feel about...” Aiden cast a quick glance at Scott.
“It’s a bad idea to be around me,” Scott said. “I agree.”
Aiden glanced at Scott as if trying to figure out if he was being sincere.
“I understand, Aiden,” Bree said. “And I’m sorry it upsets you, but I’m helping Scott and nothing either of you say will change my mind. So, let’s not have this conversation again because it’s starting to give me a headache.”
She closed her eyes, put her hands together and silently prayed over her meal. A few seconds later she grabbed her sandwich and took a bite. A happy, peaceful expression eased across her features. She’d surrendered, to God, to her taste buds, to the beauty of being in the moment. She definitely wasn’t listening to her brother’s protests.
Scott looked at Aiden and said, “Sorry.”
“You will be if anything happens to my sister.” Aiden stormed out.
Adjusting himself in the chair across from Bree, Scott reached over to open his sandwich and winced.
“Do you want me to—”
“Nope.” He clenched his jaw and peeled back the foil from his sandwich.
“Apologies for my brother,” she said.
“Not necessary. He’s looking out for you.”
“And I’m looking out for you.”
“Thanks, but I’m a big boy.”
“A wounded big boy with limited memory.”
He picked up his sandwich and put it back down.
“What’s wrong, you don’t want the turkey, after all?” she asked.
“Tonight might have been an act of nature, but if it hadn’t been and anything had happened to you—”
“Don’t focus on the darkness. We’re safe. We’ve got shelter and food. Let’s be grateful for that and enjoy our meal.”
Scott struggled to enjoy a peaceful dinner with the image of Bree’s terrified expression and the sound of her anxious voice in his mind.
“‘I can do all things through Him who gives me strength,’” she said and glanced up. “Philippians 4:13. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Your faith is important to you,” he said.
“It’s helped me through some tough times. It can help you, too.”
The woman had a kind of courage that mystified Scott. She was still determined to put herself at risk. For him.
That thought made him want to take off, slip out of the resort in the middle of the night and get as far away from Bree as possible. She didn’t deserve to be collateral damage to whatever Scott was into.
A knock at the door echoed across the room. Scott got up to answer it. He checked the peephole and spotted Chief Washburn standing outside his door.
“Who is it?” Bree asked.
“The chief.” Scott hesitated and glanced at Bree.
She came up beside him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He wanted to kiss her. In this ridiculously insane moment just before he might be taken away and locked up for good, all he could think about was how soft her lips looked, how much he wanted to taste them.
“You okay?” she said.
He offered a sad smile. “Sure,” he said. But he would never be okay because he ached for a woman he could never have.
Scott swung open the door. “Chief, we were expecting the forensic artist.”
Chief Washburn nodded at Bree and marched past them into the room. “Can’t get one here until tomorrow. I’ve got good news and bad news.”
Scott braced himself against the TV console. Bree came up beside him.
The chief held out a plastic evidence bag with Scott’s wallet.
“Your wallet?” Bree said.
Scott nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off the chief. The bad news was about to drop. He could feel it.
“That’s great,” Bree said and glanced at the chief. “Right?”
“You’ve got two driver’s licenses in here, one for Scott James and one for Scott Becket. We ran a background check on Scott Becket and found your employment history with the Chicago P.D. You want to tell me why you checked into the resort using false identification?”
“I have no idea.”
“I might be small town, son, but I’m not stupid.”
“No, sir, I never thought that.”
“Then you’d better come up with some answers, and quick.”
“Hang on, the doctors said his concussion was causing his memory loss—”
“Breanna,” Chief Washburn said, cutting her off. “You shouldn’t even be here so I’d advise you to keep quiet.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, obviously not happy with his stern tone. Scott agreed with him: Bree shouldn’t be here, especially not now with this new bit of information.
Scott had checked into the resort using an alias, which meant he didn’t want to be found. He was running from something, but was it criminal?
“I honestly don’t remember anything prior to coming to Washington,” Scott said.
“Could it be an undercover assignment?” the chief asked.
Scott shook his head. “It’s anybody’s guess.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I understand your position. You need to lock me up, don’t you?”
“Wait, you can’t.” Bree glanced at the chief.
“I can,” the chief said, “but I won’t until I know what to charge him with other than using a false ID. He could very well be on the job. First thing tomorrow I’m calling the Chicago P.D. In the meantime, do not leave this room.”
“Yes, sir,” Scott said.
The chief nodded at Bree. “Pack up your things. I’ll escort you home.”
“But,” she started to protest, then acquiesced. “Okay, give me a minute.”
“I’ll be waiting in the hallway. I need to speak with my officer.” Chief Washburn left them alone.
Bree looked at Scott. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for the ID thing.”
“I have no official jurisdiction here.”
“There’s got to be a good reason for keeping your identity a secret.”
He went to the table to help her clean up.
“I have a friend who’s an IT genius,” she said. “How about I ask him to—”
“No,” he said, “let the chief take the lead on this.”
For a second he thought she’d argue with him. Instead, she continued to pack up the containers. “I’ll leave some brownies and cookies.”
He nodded, stuffing the container of macaroni and cheese into the bag. She placed her hand over his and he looked into her amazing green eyes.
“Why don’t you call your sister to help you fill in the blanks?” she offered. “You shouldn’t be going through this alone.”
“So, you’re done with me, then?”
“For tonight. I can argue with my brother and win, but the police chief? Don’t want to risk getting locked up,” she teased. “I’ll check on you tomorrow morning, okay?”
“Perhaps it would be safer if you didn’t.”
“Friends don’t abandon each other, Scott.”
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stepped around the table and hesitated, as if she was about to give him a hug.
The chief knocked on the door. “Ready?” his muffled voice called.
“Coming!” She redirected her attention to Scott. “Be well, and phone your sister.”
She reached out and took his hand. “Focus on the goodness in this moment and surrender your heart to God. It will all work out.”
; With a squeeze of his hand, she smiled, turned and left. The door clicked shut behind her.
He’d never felt more alone in his life, alone and frustrated. He was potentially facing a world of trouble, yet had no means to defend himself, at least not until he remembered why he’d come to Echo Mountain in the first place.
As he went back to finish his sandwich, Bree’s satisfied smile flashed across his thoughts. She’d looked so content, almost euphoric when she’d taken a bite of her macaroni. Scott had never experienced that kind of contentment. He’d always been on edge, hyperdiligent about protecting his little sister or making money to pay for clothes growing up. Becoming a cop only fueled his intensity.
Get the bad guy, lock him up, prevent him from hurting innocents.
Innocents like Bree. Scott had to distance himself if he wanted to keep her safe, yet he needed her like nothing he’d ever needed before. No, he only felt this vulnerable and dependent on her because she was offering solace in a raging storm.
Time to reach out for help, something that felt utterly foreign to him. Although he’d lost his cell phone, he did remember Emily’s number. He sat on the bed and picked up the receiver.
He got an outside line and made the call. It rang two, three times, and he wondered if Em was out with friends. He glanced at the clock. It was two hours later in Chicago, which mean it was nearly eleven. He worried that he might wake her.
“Hello?” a female voice said.
“Em?”
“Who’s this?”
“Her brother, Scott. Who’s this and why are you answering her phone?” He clenched the phone tighter.
“It’s her friend Ashley. Emily was in a car accident.”
EIGHT
Bree put away the dishes and contemplated a bath with lavender salts and mood-enhancing candles. She loved her nighttime ritual of soaking in the tub while saying her daily prayers. Scott would top the list tonight.
She was about to draw the bath when she realized Fiona hadn’t been out since earlier that afternoon. Bree had been so distracted by the day’s events she’d neglected her lovable pup.
“Hey, Fi! Let’s go potty!” she called, wandering into the living room. Fiona’s head perked up from her favorite spot on the couch. “No, I’m not kidding, let’s go, silly girl.”
Bree grabbed the leash and Fiona catapulted off the couch, rushed Bree and posed in perfect dog sit. “That’s my girl.”
The bad weather had passed, but fog was rolling in, giving the resort property an eerie feel. Bree walked Fiona around the perimeter of the property to give her a healthy dose of exercise and a chance to relieve herself. “Such a good girl,” Bree praised, as Fiona paced alongside her.
A few minutes later Fiona started whining and pulling on her leash.
“What is it, girl?”
Bree was pretty good at reading Fiona’s behavior. A stop usually meant she’d caught an odor, and barking meant she sensed something up ahead. But the whining behavior could mean any number of things. Maybe she sensed a skunk in the woods.
Then the whining grew to a frantic bark. Not excited or pleased, but frantic. Worried.
Bree pulled out her phone and hit the speed dial for Harvey. She didn’t call Aiden because she’d had her fill of lectures for the day. Besides, the guy needed to enjoy his time off.
“Bree, everything okay?” Harvey answered.
“Oh, good, you’re still on duty. I’m walking Fiona and she’s acting rather strange.”
“Where are you?”
“South end of the property by the barn.”
“I’ll check it out.”
“I’m sorry to bother you so late with this.”
“Don’t be. Until I get up the guts to retire, this is part of the job. Go on home.”
“Thanks.” She ended the call and glanced up ahead. That’s when she saw it: the silhouette of a man walking away from the property.
A familiar-looking man.
“Scott!” she called out.
He kept walking. This must be what Fiona was upset about. She sensed Scott’s presence and wanted to get to him. Well, so did Bree. She wanted to get to him and find out where he was going and why.
She picked up her pace as she and Fiona jogged toward Scott. He’d turned onto the main road leading to the highway, probably to hitch a ride.
“Scott!” She tried again, but the sound of her voice didn’t carry far, so she decided on plan B.
She unleashed Fiona and pointed. “Go get him, girl.”
Fiona took off and caught up with Scott, barking and dancing around him. He motioned for her to go away, but Fiona wasn’t giving up.
Neither was Bree.
Scott turned around and stuck out his thumb, hoping to catch a ride from an oncoming car. Bree jogged toward him. She knew Fiona wouldn’t leave his side, which would surely discourage a motorist from picking him up. One passenger was easy, but a man with a dog? That was messy.
At least that’s what Thomas had always said: dogs were messy.
Well, apparently so was love.
Bree was closing in on Scott when a car did, in fact, slow down.
Scott motioned for Fiona to go away.
“Hey, be nice to my dog,” she said, out of breath as she caught up to him.
The driver of the car poked his head out the window. It was Will Rankin from SAR.
“Hey Bree, I thought that was Fiona,” Will said. “What’s she doing out here with this guy?”
Bree smirked at Scott. “She knew he was lost.”
“You need a ride back?” Will offered.
“No, we’re good, right?” she asked Scott.
“Sure, fine,” he said in a low voice.
“Say hi to the girls for me,” she said.
“Will do. Be safe.”
“You, too.”
She commanded Fiona to stand beside her as Will drove off. Bree turned to Scott. “What are you doing out here?”
“Leaving town. But apparently the dog has a better chance of hitching a ride than I do.”
“Maybe because you shouldn’t be trying to leave. Come on.” She took a step in the direction of the resort. Scott didn’t move. “Scott?”
“I need to go. My sister was in a car accident.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s my fault,” he said.
“How is that possible? You’re here and she’s...where is she?”
“Chicago.”
“Then it couldn’t have been your fault. How is she?”
“Okay, I guess. Her friends are taking turns staying with her.”
“Did you speak with your sister?”
“No, she was asleep.”
“But no serious injuries?”
“According to her friend Ashley, Em’s bruised and sore, but okay.”
“Good, that’s good.” Bree sighed. “And you were headed where, without money or ID?”
“I have to get to her.”
“Scott—”
He gripped Bree’s arm. “I’m all she’s got.”
Fiona broke into another round of barking, but this was different than before. Fiona’s anxious behavior was warning Scott to release Bree.
“I’m sorry.” His fingers sprung free of her arm.
“It’s okay,” Bree said. “Come on, let’s go back.”
He glanced at the road ahead with a wistful expression.
“Look, if you leave the resort you’ll look guilty of something,” Bree said. “You said friends are taking care of your sister. You need to take care of yourself.”
Instead, he started to walk toward the main road. This time she grabbed his arm.
“Stop.” She held his gaze. “You won�
��t get far without money or identification. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“It’s always been my job to take care of her.”
“I understand, but sometimes little sisters have to manage on their own. If she knew about your situation she’d want you to focus on your recovery and resolving your situation, right?”
He shrugged.
“Trust me, she would. The best thing you can do for her is to get better and stay safe.”
His gaze drifted to the resort, the massive property surrounded by lush forest. “I guess I shouldn’t have taken off.”
“You were worried about your sister.” She took his hand and coaxed him toward the resort. “Give yourself a break. Your brain’s still wonky.”
“Wonky?”
“You know, wonky, off-kilter.”
Once he started walking she was going to let go of his hand, but she sensed he needed the connection, so she held on. Fiona walked alongside them and it struck Bree how normal this looked: a man and woman holding hands, out for a romantic stroll with their dog.
But this wasn’t a romantic stroll. This was a rescue mission of sorts.
“So tell me about your sister,” Bree said.
“Emily’s great.” He smiled. “She’s two years younger than me, so I’ve always been protective.”
“You’re a good older brother.”
“I don’t know if she’d agree with that. I was pretty bossy when we were kids, but since Mom was always working I was in charge.”
“Why’d your mom work so much?”
“Dad left us, didn’t offer any financial support so it was up to Mom. When I was old enough I worked and pitched in. It became my job to take care of them.” He glanced sideways at her. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“One minute I’m frantic about my sister, the next you’ve got me telling my life story.”
“It’s a skill I developed when I did hair in the city. The things people would tell me...” She smiled and shook her head.
“Like what? It’s probably a lot more interesting than my life.”
“I doubt it. So, you practically raised your sister then what? Did you go to college?”
“Wait a second, is there something more to this line of questioning?”
