by B. J Daniels
“Do you hear what you’re saying? That there was a conspiracy to keep you from knowing you were adopted?”
“That’s why it never made any sense,” Eve said excitedly. “Don’t you see? The secret wasn’t kept because I was adopted. It was because of the murdered man in the plane in the Breaks. I saw a file in Doc’s office on my grandmother. Did you know she broke her leg the same day the plane went down? The same day my grandmother was on that plane.”
Carter went deathly still as he thought of the baby brush that the crime techs had found in the plane. “Mind if I see that?” he asked, reaching for the file on her lap.
With obvious reluctance she handed it to him. He turned on the dome light and flipped through the doctor’s records, stopping on her mother’s doctor visit for infertility.
He looked up at her, his mind on the downlike dark hair in the bristles of the baby brush.
It was all supposition. If her grandmother had been onboard that plane, if there really had been a baby on the plane, if they had both survived…
He let out a curse as he handed back the file. February 7, 1975—the night Doc treated Nina Mae Cross for a broken leg. Two days after the night Eve was said to have been born at the ranch.
He hesitated, then reminded himself that someone had shot out the front tire on her pickup. He had to be honest with her. He could see how determined she was to learn the truth and knew her well enough to realize she wasn’t going to stop until she did.
“There’s something you should know,” he said. “There’s a good chance that the day the plane went down, there was a baby onboard.”
Eve’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my God, you think I could be that baby?”
“Eve, let’s not leap to any conclusions—without evidence,” Carter said quickly as he neared her house.
“But there’s a way to find out, right?”
He nodded. “The crime lab took some of the hair from the baby brush found in the plane. If we send them some of your DNA—”
“Then let’s do it. If you send it right away—”
“First thing in the morning. I’ll put a rush on it.”
EVE SAT BACK. Her heart was pounding. But the excitement waned quickly. All the DNA test would do was tell her whether or not she’d been on that plane. She still wouldn’t know who she was. Worse, she and her grandmother were somehow connected to a murder.
Carter parked in front of her grandmother’s house. Her house, she thought protectively. The sky had already begun to lighten to the east. It wouldn’t be long before daybreak. He sounded as tired as she felt.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’ve already been hurt. I’ve been lied to and deceived. You don’t know what it’s like to be betrayed by the people who are supposed to love you.” She stopped, realizing what she’d said. “Or maybe you do.”
“Deena,” he said like a curse. “She deceived me even before we got married.”
She’d heard from a friend that Deena had lied about being pregnant to get Carter to marry her, but Eve had thought her friend was just trying to make her feel better about his elopement.
“Once you’ve done something that you regret,” Carter said, “it’s often hard to admit how wrong you were. You know you can’t undo the damage you’ve done,” he said, looking over at her. “And no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt.”
She saw the pain in his eyes and was surprised at the effect it had on her. She looked away, not wanting to feel any sympathy for him. He’d made love to her for the first time that night, the first time for both of them. Then he’d gone to Deena. If he now lived to regret it, then he’d gotten his just rewards.
“Eve,” he said gently. “I’ve never forgiven myself for what I did to you. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how much I’ve regretted it and wished—”
She turned toward him, planning to tell him she hadn’t given the past—let alone him—a second thought. It was the look in his eyes that stopped her.
“When I saw your pickup tonight upside down by the road and I thought that I might never get the chance to tell you how I feel, how I’ve always felt…”
She told herself she didn’t want to hear this. That she’d never dreamed of a day he would say these words to her.
He dragged her to him, his mouth dropping to hers. Wrapped in his arms after so many years, she lost herself in his kiss. It felt so right. After everything she’d been through, she just wanted the safety of his arms, to lose herself in his kisses, in his caresses.
Something hit the windshield, making them jump apart. The windshield was covered with what appeared to be dirt and crushed flower petals.
“What the hell?” Carter said, hurriedly getting out of the car.
Eve followed, spotting a dark figure disappearing over the rise in the road. An empty flowerpot lay beside the patrol car. She recognized it as the one that had been on her porch. The porch was empty. Past it, her front door stood open.
She ran toward the house, afraid of what she would find inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carter hesitate, torn no doubt from going after the person or staying with Eve.
“Eve, wait!” Carter called.
As she rushed to her front door and flicked on a light, she heard a vehicle engine in the distance. She caught her breath as her eyes adjusted to the light. She’d expected the place to be trashed after what the intruder had done with her flowerpot.
To her surprise, nothing looked out of place. She rushed upstairs, Carter hurrying after her, and stopped in the middle of her bedroom. Everything looked the same.
She stepped to a dresser drawer and opened it.
“Someone went through my things,” she said, turning to look at him.
“Deena,” he said, and swore. “I only got a glimpse of her, but the flowerpot incident is so like her.”
Deena had seen the two of them kissing. Eve groaned inwardly. She had enough problems without Deena.
As she started to turn from the bedroom, she caught a familiar scent. Aftershave. She recognized the smell from her close encounter at Doc’s office.
“Deena wasn’t the only one who’s been here.” But why would Bridger Duvall have been in her bedroom?
Chapter Fourteen
“Bridger Duvall?” Carter echoed when Eve told him. “Let me guess. There’s more to the story.”
“I wasn’t alone tonight in Doc’s office,” she said. “I heard someone else breaking in.”
Carter recalled that both the front and back doors at the doctor’s office had been broken into. “Are you telling me—”
“Bridger Duvall was there.”
“The man who’s renting the old McAllister place?”
She nodded.
“Did he see you?”
“He tried to stop me from leaving, but I got away. I’d seen him earlier. Coming out of my grandmother’s room at the nursing home. I think he might have taken a photograph of me and my grandmother. It was a baby photograph of me.”
Carter swore. “What would he want with a baby photograph of you?”
She shook her head.
“I need to talk to Duvall, but I’m not leaving you here alone,” he said, reaching for the phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Deputy Samuelson. I’ll have him come out and stay with you until I get back.”
“That isn’t necessary.” She stuffed her hands in the front pockets of her jeans, putting up a fight, but not much of one. She was obviously frightened after everything that had happened. “I’m fine. You scared off Deena and whoever else was here. I really doubt they’d be foolish enough to come back.”
“Someone shot out your tire tonight.”
“Probably just a case of mistaken identity.”
“Right. We have no way of knowing who was behind it at this point since apparently you’ve been doing some investigating on your own. I should lock you up for break
ing into Doc’s office.”
She held out her hands for him to put the cuffs on.
“I’m serious, Eve. You’ve apparently got someone running scared.”
She nodded as she put her hands back in her pockets. “Which means it has something to do with me and the plane crash.”
“Maybe.” He worried it was Deena. “You’re in danger and until we find out from whom…”
“I’ll start locking my doors and being careful,” she promised.
“Right.” He called the deputy and hung up. “Samuelson’s on his way. He was on a call so he’s not far from here.” Still, Carter didn’t like letting Eve out of his sight. But he knew that wasn’t possible, short of arresting her. “Don’t give the poor guy a hard time, okay?”
She smiled and he was reminded of their interrupted kiss.
“You should get some sleep.”
She nodded, her gaze meeting his, her eyes filling with tears. “What’s going on, Carter?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“I don’t know.” He stepped toward her, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her. She’d been through so much.
At first she didn’t resist. She felt so right in his arms. She buried her face in his shirt. He pulled her closer. All those old feelings and desires sparked and caught fire.
He remembered their night together in the front seat of his old pickup. He’d never wanted a woman more than he wanted her right now. But he knew that the worst thing he could do was repeat the past. He drew back, holding her at arm’s length.
“I can’t do this,” he said softly.
She shook her head, hurt and anger in her eyes. “What is it you want from me?” she demanded.
“Nothing. That is—”
“No.” She stepped away from him. “That’s your problem, isn’t it, Jackson. You’ve never known what you wanted.”
“You’re wrong about that,” he said, surprised by her outburst.
“Well, you had your chance. You blew it.”
“I know.”
“So don’t even…” She looked close to tears.
“I want another chance with you, Eve,” he said, his heart in his throat. “If you can ever find it in your heart to forgive me. I want your trust. Your love.” He took a breath and let it out as he stepped to her, his fingers going to her cheek.
She seemed to hold her breath as he brushed the tip of a finger along her jawline, across her full lips. He heard the small intake of breath she made even over the pounding of his own pulse. “There’s always been something between us. Tell me I’m wrong about that.”
She said nothing, just looked up at him, her eyes full.
“Only this time, Eve Bailey,” he said, drawing back his touch, “I won’t be making love to you until our wedding night.”
Tears welled to bursting in her eyes. She brushed hastily at them. “You’re presuming a lot, Mr. Jackson.”
“No, I’m just hoping for a second chance,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “That if you ever need me—”
The sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway drew their attentions. “Samuelson is here,” he said.
She nodded.
“Get some rest. I’ll be back soon.” He headed for the door.
“Carter?”
He turned at the door to look back at her.
“Be careful.”
THE SUN WAS JUST CRESTING the horizon as Eve watched Carter go down her porch steps to talk to Deputy Samuelson.
Earlier, all she’d thought about was lying down. She’d felt dead on her feet, emotionally and physically exhausted from the past forty-eight hours.
But now, as she stood watching Carter from the window, all she could think about was the future and what it might hold. She thought of what he’d said.
If she ever needed him? She’d never needed or wanted anyone but him.
Deena would try to make things impossible for them. But Eve knew it wasn’t Deena she worried about. It was her own fear of falling for Carter again that gave her pause.
A second chance? Was it possible for them? Eve hated to even hope and yet it was hope that gave her strength right now.
Her stomach growled. She tried to remember the last time she’d had anything to eat. She knew she needed sleep. But the sun was coming up and she had so much on her mind…
She wandered into the kitchen as she heard Carter’s patrol car start up. She opened the refrigerator as she listened to him drive away and felt niggling worry at the thought of him confronting Bridger Duvall.
As she pulled out the ham, cheese and eggs she’d bought at the store, she wondered if Deputy Samuelson would want some breakfast.
She hadn’t heard his tread on the porch. As she started to turn to look out through the living room to see if he was still in his car, she heard the creak of a floorboard behind her an instant before a hand cupped her mouth.
The dozen eggs fell to the floor, followed by the package of sliced ham and cheese. Eve struggled to fight off her attacker, but he was larger and stronger, as he dragged her out the back door and across the yard toward the barn.
CARTER PARKED his patrol car in front of the old McAllister place and got out. The large sprawling ranch house sat silent in the early-morning light.
He’d heard the place had been sold to a former stock detective and her husband. Apparently, Bridger Duvall was renting it in the interim. Carter hadn’t been able to learn much about Duvall on his way out to the house.
Duvall was single, had lived in Bozeman, about five hours to the southwest, and had been a chef at a couple of restaurants. He was thirty-two and had no warrants or arrests on his record.
Carter didn’t see Duvall’s black car as he walked up the steps to the front door, rang the bell and waited. A barn cat ambled across the yard, eyeing him distrustfully. In the tall grass crickets chirped. The air was heating up fast, the scents of clover and hay strong. It was going to be another hot one. Which probably meant another afternoon storm.
Carter tried the bell again, then knocked. Still no answer. Walking over to the garage, he cupped his hands over his eyes and peered in. Empty. Either Duvall hadn’t come home last night or he’d taken off early this morning.
The sheriff hesitated, then went back to the front door and tried the knob. Few people locked their doors in this part of Montana, but Duvall wasn’t from here. To Carter’s surprise, the door swung open.
Any evidence he found would be inadmissible in court, he told himself as he stepped inside. But after what Eve had told him about Duvall breaking into Doc’s office building last night and possibly being in her house tonight, Carter wasn’t about to leave until he looked around.
“Anyone home?” he called.
He wasn’t expecting an answer and he didn’t get one. He moved through the house. The air was cool and a little stale. He got the impression Bridger Duvall didn’t spend much time here. What bothered Carter was what Duvall was doing here in the first place? It certainly was no vacation destination. Few people had ever heard of Whitehorse or Old Town.
Moving through the house, Carter saw that there were no personal items in the living room, kitchen or dining room. Three of the bedrooms were completely empty. The fourth had a bed, the blankets on it crumpled.
Carter stepped in. There was a half-empty water glass next to the bed. He moved around to the other side. A book lay on the floor. A mystery, one Carter had been meaning to read.
Nothing here of any interest. He felt relieved, although he had no idea what he’d expected to find.
As he turned to leave, he saw the back of the bedroom door. A cheap cork bulletin board had been tacked to it. The bulletin board held a half-dozen snapshots.
Carter stepped closer. His heart began to pound. The photographs were of Eve Bailey, all candid shots taken with a wide-angle lens from a distance. And one of her as a baby with her grandmother.
There were photographs of her going into the Whitehorse rest home, ones of her
coming out of the grocery store, another of her getting gas at Packy’s on the way out of town.
But it was the photograph of Eve saddling up her horse next to the barn and another of her painting late at night inside her grandmother’s house that struck like a blade through the heart.
He tried his cell. No service. He rushed out of the house to his patrol car and grabbed his radio. Deputy Samuelson didn’t answer. Carter told himself that the deputy was probably in the house with Eve. Knowing her, she was probably making him breakfast.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Eve was in terrible trouble as he leaped into his car, started the engine and took off in the direction of her house.
A mile up the road, his radio squawked. He snatched it up, praying it was Samuelson. It was the dispatcher with an urgent call from Max Roswell at the crime lab.
“Patch him through.” Carter held his breath as he heard Max’s voice.
“We’ve identified your vic from the plane,” Max said. “We got lucky. He had a variety of tattoos. One with his military unit number. Another of a heart with two names inside, his and a woman’s. Even with the skin mummified we were able to enhance both tattoos by using a computer program. This high-tech stuff is truly amazing.”
Carter could have cared less how they’d done it. “Who is he?”
“You might know him,” Max said. “He dropped off the radar screen thirty-two years ago. Name’s Charley Cross. The woman’s name on the tattoo is Nina Mae.”
Eve’s grandfather was the victim?
“You still with me?” Max asked. “I take it you know him?”
“Yeah,” Carter managed to say. “He supposedly ran off thirty-two years ago. To Mexico. At least that was the rumor.” He recalled how devastated Nina Mae had been after that.
“He didn’t get quite that far,” Max said.
Carter’s mind was reeling. No wonder Nina Mae had been devastated. If she and Charley had been on that plane…
“By the way,” Max was saying. “Those hair samples we took from the baby brush. We ran a couple of DNA tests. The hair was from two different babies. But are you ready for this? They were related.”
