by Hope White
“That would be awesome.”
A sudden image of Bree and Scott sitting by the fireplace in her living room eating freshly baked pumpkin muffins crossed her thoughts. A lovely image indeed.
“You seriously like Christmas, huh?” he said, tossing the ball again.
“What do you mean?”
“The way your face lit up just now when I said I’d help put up decorations. I’ll bet you’re going to send me up on the roof with boxes of lights.”
“Nothing so dangerous.”
His smile faded, along with their moods. The word dangerous yanked them back to reality. They were no longer a normal couple playing catch with her dog and making Christmas plans.
He was a man being hunted for something he couldn’t remember, and Bree was the woman determined to help him.
They played with the dog for a few more minutes, then Bree put Fiona back inside.
She locked up and they got in her SUV. The short drive to Healthy Eats started off quiet. Was Scott worrying about what he’d find out at the restaurant? She noticed he kept looking into the side view mirror.
To ease the tension she clicked on the radio to a station playing Christmas music. The sound of Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas” filled the car.
“This is a fun movie. We watch it every year,” she said, casting a quick glance at Scott. “What are your family traditions for Christmas?”
“Don’t have any. Mom was always working, Dad was never in the picture, I’m usually working.”
“What about your sister?”
“I stop by around the holidays, but she spends Christmas with her best friend, Ashley. She has a big family with lots of kids running around, playing with their new toys. That’s more fun for Em than hanging out with me.”
“So what do you do on Christmas Day?”
“Relax, watch football if it’s on, maybe catch a movie.”
“Alone?”
“Mostly.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”
“For the past five years Mom’s been having an open house. She’s got a big old house on twenty acres. Anyone who doesn’t have family is welcome as long as they bring a side dish or dessert. Mom provides the ham, turkey and beverages.”
“A lot of people show up?”
“Depends on the year. The first few years it was a dozen or so. Last year we had a full house. Aiden counted 35 people, and some stayed until midnight.”
“That sounds like quite a party.”
She thought about Christmas last year and how embraced she had felt, how loved, in contrast to her Christmases in the city.
“What, did someone break a lamp or something?” Scott said.
“No,” she chuckled. “Why did you ask that?”
“Your smile faded.”
“It was the first time in a long time that I’d felt part of a community. Living in the city had been an isolating experience for me.”
“Because of your boyfriend?”
“Pretty much. He didn’t approve of me hanging out with girlfriends or coming back to visit family.”
“I take it he didn’t attend your family Christmas party?”
“Absolutely not, and he guilted me into skipping it one year, as well.”
“The guy sounds like a jerk.” He glanced at her. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. He was a jerk in the end. He refused to let me break up until I convinced him I wasn’t good enough for him.”
“You did not,” Scott said, disbelief coloring his voice.
“I did what was necessary to extricate myself from a bad situation. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.” She sighed, remembering how taken she’d been with Thomas when they’d first started dating. “He wasn’t always a jerk. In the beginning he was polite and sophisticated, intelligent and funny. All the things I thought were important.”
“And now?”
“Now, other things are important, like kindness and integrity. But it doesn’t matter because I promised myself I wouldn’t date for at least a year after that breakup. The whole experience was tough, but I came back to Echo Mountain, adopted Fiona from a SAR volunteer who had to move away and give her up. Training for SAR and going on missions distracted me from my pain.”
“And how long has it been, since your breakup?”
“It’s coming up on a year.”
He nodded and glanced out the window.
Bree realized she hadn’t even been interested in dating anyone, not even a little bit and not even the safe men her mom tried fixing her up with.
Until Scott literally fell beneath her tree.
“About this restaurant,” he started, “will I have to eat kale and goji berries?”
“Sure, if you want.” She winked.
“I’m more of a meat loaf kind of guy.”
“I’m sure we’ll find something. There it is.” She pointed.
“Let’s hope someone recognizes me.”
She parked and they got out of the car.
The restaurant was housed in a bungalow style building with white trim and multipane windows.
“I’ve driven by a few times but never had time to go inside,” Bree said as they approached the restaurant.
The door swung open and a twenty-something young man with jet-black hair stepped outside. He glanced at Scott and froze, blocking the door.
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry?” Scott said.
“Oh, no, not good enough.” The young man pulled out his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” Bree asked.
The kid glared at Scott. “9-1-1.”
TWELVE
“There must be some mistake,” Bree said.
“No mistake. I told him never to come back. This is a healthy restaurant, we offer a healthy environment as well as healthy food which means no stress, or fighting.”
“Look, we need your help,” Bree said, hoping to keep him from making the call. “Please? Three minutes of your time. We won’t even come inside.”
The young man lowered his phone. “Fine.”
“Thanks.” She extended her hand. “I’m Breanna McBride, my brother runs Echo Mountain Resort.”
“I’ve heard of you guys, the McBride family.”
“And you are...?”
He shook her hand. “Dylan Jones.”
“Oh, you’re Catherine’s son? I met your mom at church a few weeks ago, but I didn’t see you.”
“I was at work. Hospital shift.”
“Dylan, my friend Scott was in an accident and is suffering from a head injury. I’m trying to help him remember things, perhaps by recreating where he’s been and who he met with. Obviously you remember him being here.”
“Wait, you were the guy that was shot in the mountains?” he asked.
“Yes,” Scott said.
“And now you can’t remember stuff?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe you’re better off.” Dylan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the building.
“Can’t argue with you there,” Scott said. “Judging by your behavior I have a feeling I’m not going to like what I find out.”
“What happened, Dylan?” Bree asked.
“He went nuts on this other guy, grabbed him by the collar and practically threw him across the room.”
Dylan’s mom pushed the door open. “Dylan, what’s going on?” She glanced at Bree and smiled. “Oh, hi, Breanna.”
“Catherine, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Dylan, we’re supposed to encourage patrons to come into the restaurant, not keep them out.”
“This is the guy, Mom, the one that started the fight last week.”
Catherine eyed Scott.
“I’m sorry if I did anything to disturb you or your patrons, ma’am,” Scott said. “I wish I had an explanation, but I sustained a head injury which has caused memory loss.”
Catherine glanced at Bree.
“It’s true,” Bree confirmed. “This is the man we rescued from the trail Sunday.”
“The one who was shot?”
“Yes.”
“Another reason you shouldn’t let him into the restaurant,” Dylan said. “What if they try shooting him in here?”
“Dylan, don’t be so dramatic,” his mom said. “Come get something to eat.” Catherine held the door open and motioned them inside.
Bree spotted a sheriff’s deputy sitting in the corner sipping coffee.
“That’s my brother, Nate Walsh,” Catherine said. “He stops by on break. Let me introduce you.”
“He’s got a gun,” Dylan threatened, nodding at Scott.
Catherine shook her head. “Nate, this is Breanna McBride and her friend, Scott.”
Scott offered his hand. “Scott Becket.”
Nate shook Scott’s hand and narrowed his eyes. “The hiker who was shot and has amnesia?”
“Wow, word gets around,” Scott said.
Nate shrugged. “That was pretty big stuff for this county.”
Breanna also shook hands with Deputy Nate Walsh. “So nice to meet you. We were hoping that bringing Scott back to places he’d been to before the accident might help him regain his memory.”
“Oh, he was here, all right,” Dylan said.
“Hey, kid, can you get me a refill?” Nate held up his empty mug.
“Sure.” He sneered at Scott as he passed.
“Well, have a seat anywhere,” Catherine said. “This is my slow time of the day.”
“Thanks,” Scott said. “I hate to press, but it would probably help if your son could give me a play-by-play of what happened when I was here last.”
“I’d like to hear that, too.” Nate motioned for Scott and Bree to join him in the booth and they did. She appreciated sitting with a police officer, thinking maybe it would keep the bad guys at a distance.
“Well, I have food to prep,” Catherine said with a smile. “Keep in mind, Dylan tends to embellish when he has an audience.”
“So you don’t think Scott got violent?” Bree said.
“I’m sure something happened, but he certainly didn’t tear up the place. There was no damage to speak of. Anyway, nice to see you again, Breanna.”
“Thanks, you, too.”
Catherine disappeared into the kitchen as Dylan returned to the table with the pot and poured coffee for his uncle.
“So, Dylan,” Nate started, “tell me again what happened when Scott here tore up the place.”
Dylan set the pot on the table. “Are you messing with me?”
“No, I’d like to hear the story again. He got into a fight and what, threw chairs or something?”
Dylan sighed and nibbled at the corner of his mouth. “Not exactly.”
“Okay, then what, he made a mess of the table, left you a bad tip?”
“Forget it.” Dylan turned to walk away.
“Dylan, please,” Scott said. “I could seriously use your help. Anything you could tell me about what I said or how I acted, or anything about the man I was talking to—”
“You weren’t talking,” Dylan spun around. “You were yelling. The argument started in here, then continued out in the parking lot.”
“I didn’t do anything violent in the restaurant?”
“You pounded on the table and spilled water everywhere.”
“Ah, so you were upset that you had to clean up,” his uncle said.
“You didn’t see him, Uncle Nate. He looked scary.” Dylan glanced at Scott. “Sorry, but you did.”
“Don’t be sorry. Could you give us a description of the other guy?”
“He was older.” He glanced at his uncle. “Even older than you.”
“Why, thanks,” Nate muttered.
“He had gray in his hair and wore a leather jacket and a blue baseball cap with a red C on the front.”
Bree gripped Scott’s leg. “The man who tried to get to you in the hospital.”
“And did get to me in my hotel room,” Scott said. “So I knew him pretty well if we met for lunch.”
“You might know him, but you didn’t like him,” Dylan said.
“Go on,” Nate encouraged.
“When I was cleaning up your table, you guys kept talking like I was invisible. The other guy said, ‘the boss says it’s over, then it’s over.’ You said, ‘I’m doing this to save the boss.’ You said something about talking directly to your boss and the other guy made a snide comment as I was walking away. That’s when I heard a crash and the flower vase hit the floor. When I turned around, you had him by the collar of his jacket. You were breathing fire, man, I thought you were going to strangle him, so I threatened to call 9-1-1 and you left. I watched you guys in the parking lot. He was pretty calm, but you were waving your arms, trying to make your point.”
“And you’d never seen the older man before, and you haven’t seen him since that day?” Deputy Nate asked.
“No, sir, I’d remember. He was one creepy-looking dude.”
“Thanks, Dylan. You’ve been a big help,” Scott said.
Bree puzzled over the conversation Dylan just shared.
“You guys want coffee? It’s organic, fair trade,” Dylan offered to Scott and Bree.
“Sure, I’ll have a cup,” Scott said.
“Do you have any tea?” Bree asked.
“I’ll bring over the list. It’s also organic and loose leaf.”
“Sounds great.”
Dylan left the table.
“Does that help?” Nate asked.
Scott nodded. “It confirms that I was here for work on a special project for my boss.”
“Then why would your boss send the salt-and-pepper haired man to stop you?” Bree asked.
“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe Rich was lying.”
They three of them sat quietly for a few seconds.
“Well, I’d better get back.” Deputy Nate shifted out of the booth. “Watch yourselves and let me know if I can help with anything.” He jotted his cell number on a restaurant business card and slid it across the table.
“Thanks,” Scott said.
Dylan returned, offered Bree a tea list and poured Scott a cup of coffee.
“Oh, there was one other thing,” Dylan offered.
“What’s that?” Scott said.
“You asked if I knew where the refinery plant was in Wallace County. You said something about your GPS not being able to find it or something.”
“And did you give me directions?”
“I did. Are you guys ordering food? We have a tasty butternut squash soup that’s dairy and gluten free.”
“I’ll have the paradise green tea but could you give us a few minutes on our food order?” Bree said.
“Absolutely.”
Dylan went into the back and Bree placed her hand over Scott’s. “This helps, right? Now you know you were headed to the plant.”
“I need to get up there.”
“It’ll be dark in a few hours. Let’s go tomorrow.”
He looked into her eyes. “I’d rather you stay at the resort.”
“And hide? No, thanks. If these jerks are after me, too, then I’d like to be a part of the investigation. Besides, I’m with you until the end of this thing.”
“Bree—”
“If you’re worried about our safety, we could get one of the SAR guys to come with us, or better yet I’ll ask Uncle Chuck to meet us there. It’
s in his county.”
“A cop,” he hedged. “I don’t know what I’m going to find up there.”
“You mean something that will reflect poorly on you?”
“You have such a nice way of saying things. Yes, I’m afraid I’ve participated in something criminal and it’ll come out if I keep pushing.”
“I doubt it, but facing your mistakes is the only way to move on with your life or they will shadow you forever.”
He cocked his head slightly and a tender smile tugged at his lips. “How did you get so wise?”
“I’ve had my share of challenges,” she said, “but in the end they made me stronger.”
“You’re amazing.”
The words sent a shiver across her shoulders. Thomas used to call her that. Bree leaned back and studied him. Scott wasn’t working an angle to get something in return. He sincerely meant it. He considered her an amazing individual.
“Uh, the brain injury has kind of messed with my filter, so was that one of those things I should have kept to myself?” he asked.
“No, actually, I’m glad you didn’t.”
* * *
The next morning Bree got up early and did a majority of her resort work so she could take a long lunch and drive Scott to the plant. She called Uncle Chuck who agreed to meet them, so everything was all set. Since Aiden had business in Seattle he wasn’t around to hammer her with twenty questions when she left the resort with Scott.
As they headed north in her SUV she noted that Scott was unusually quiet. “How’s your head?” she asked.
“Better than yesterday.”
“That’s good.”
A few minutes of silence stretched between them.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“You seem...distant.”
“I’m focused on making sure we’re not being followed,” he said, squinting as he studied the side view mirror.
“How does it look?”
“Good.”
Another few minutes of silence. Bree assumed Scott was anticipating the worst; that he wouldn’t like what he discovered at the plant.
“It will be okay,” she offered.
He nodded and glanced out the window.
“Okay, spill it.”
He snapped his attention to her. “What?”
