by Lisa Jackson
“I don’t see that this is any of your business.”
“I’m just trying to solve this murder investigation, Dr. Donahue, and in the process I’ll need to know everything I can about Jonah McKee. You didn’t like him much, did you?”
“That’s true.” Skye held the short man’s gaze. “As you probably already know, I wasn’t the only one and I certainly didn’t want to see him dead.”
“But you came back here and picked up with Max before the old man was cold in his grave. Don’t you think that’s a little convenient?”
“Coincidental is the word. I came back when I did because I’d finished my residency and I was offered a practice here by Dr. Fletcher. If you don’t believe me, you can ask him.”
“Why would I doubt you, Doctor?”
It was all Skye could do not to jump out of the old rocker in which she was seated and shake some sense into the foul little man. She’d returned his call, agreed to meet him and braced herself for the confrontation, but she hadn’t expected him to suggest that she’d had something to do with murdering Jonah McKee. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?” she asked, glancing pointedly at her watch.
“A couple of things.”
Skye inwardly groaned. They’d been talking for nearly an hour and her nerves were stretched as tightly as guitar strings.
“Who else would you classify as Jonah’s enemies?”
“I don’t classify myself as one.”
His lower lip protruded and he shrugged. “Give me names.”
“A lot of people who did business with him.”
He didn’t bother making a note. “Already checking on that.”
“Neighbors, maybe. Women he might have been involved with.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and Stone’s mouth twitched as if he was enjoying a private joke.
“No?”
“No.”
“How about your sister? As I understand it, Jonah convinced her to give up her baby.”
Skye’s mouth turned to cotton. “I can’t comment on that.”
“And your mother. Worked for him for years. Everyone in the office suspected that she was in love with the old coot, but he never gave her a second glance.”
Skye shot to her feet. Her insides had turned to jelly. “My mother would never have done anything to hurt Jonah McKee.”
The doorbell chimed softly.
“You’re in pretty tight with the McKee clan, aren’t you? Seeing Max. Renting space to his younger brother. Working for the old man once.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing,” he said as the doorbell pealed again.
“Good. Then I think we’ve finished, Mr. Stone,” she said as she crossed the room quickly and threw open the door to find Max standing in the foyer. Relief flooded through her.
“Hi! I thought—” His gaze, which had centered on her lips for an instant, moved to a spot past her shoulder and turned instantly cold. “Stone,” he said without a trace of inflection. “He bothering you?”
“Just asking a few questions, Max,” Rex countered.
“It’s okay,” Skye interjected. “Mr. Stone was just leaving.”
Rather than argue the issue, the detective slipped out the door and through the foyer, leaving Max still seething in his wake.
“He’s a slimy bastard.” Max peered through one of the narrow windows near the front door as Stone’s Chrysler pulled away from the curb.
“Just doing his job,” Skye remarked with a smile. Just the sight of Max seemed to make the gloom disappear.
The tension in Max’s shoulders eased. “I have to go over to Dawson City to pick up Hillary,” he said. “I thought you could come along and we’d all go out to dinner.”
Skye hesitated. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t,” Max assured her as he linked his fingers through hers and pulled her close. As she turned up her face, he pressed warm lips to hers. “Come on,” he whispered and she tingled inside. “It’ll be fun.”
“Promise?” she said, not daring to believe him.
He lifted one hand, palm out. “Promise.”
Skye’s stomach was in knots by the time they reached the two-story frame house where Hillary lived with her mother and stepfather. Max’s face had grown tense, his knuckles white, as he gripped the steering wheel so hard Skye thought it might bend. He pulled close to the curb and swore under his breath. “God, I hate this.”
“I’ll wait here,” Skye said. Even though she’d been invited, she felt out of place, as if she had no right to intrude in this part of Max’s life.
She watched as he jogged up the path, took the porch steps in one stride and knocked rapidly on the door. Within minutes, the door opened and Hillary, dressed in shorts and a matching T-shirt, shot through, scrambling into her father’s open arms.
Colleen, looking tired, stood inside with one crying toddler on her hip. She didn’t smile at Max; in fact, her lips were pulled into a tight scowl of disapproval. She handed him a small suitcase seemingly relieved to let her daughter go.
As she turned in the doorway, her gaze moved to the pickup, and in an instant she caught sight of Skye. Her face drained of color and she cast Max a final glare before slamming the door so hard the house seemed to shake.
“Boy, was she mad!” Hillary announced as Max opened the door to the cab and she started to climb in. “Hey, wait a minute.” Curious eyes met Skye’s. “You’re the lady at the ice-cream place.”
“That’s right.”
Hillary’s nose wrinkled. “I ’member. You’re a doctor,” she said with distaste in her tone.
“See how smart you are,” Skye said to the precocious child.
Max said, “Her name is Dr. Donahue.”
“You can call me Skye.”
“Skye?” Hillary repeated, looking through the windshield to the heavens. “That’s a weird name.”
“Hillary!” Max’s tone was harsh, but Skye laughed and shushed him with her gaze.
“Well, it’s not nearly as pretty as Hillary.”
“I hate my name,” Hillary announced. “Kelsy Craig says it sounds snotty!”
“What does Kelsy know? It’s a beautiful name,” Skye said, still laughing as Hillary crawled across her lap and plopped herself down next to the driver’s seat, wedging her little body between Skye’s and Max’s, and buckling her seat belt. “Know who else I am—besides a doctor?”
Hillary scowled and thought hard, as if Skye had asked her a trick question. “Who?”
“Dani’s sister.”
“The horse lady?” Hillary’s eyes rounded in awe.
“The very same.”
Hillary glanced up at her father for confirmation. “It’s the truth,” he said.
“Do you do tricks on horses, too?”
“To tell you the truth, Hillary, I avoid them as much as possible.”
“Are you afraid of ’em?”
“Just careful,” Skye said, and it was apparent from Hillary’s reaction that being a doctor just didn’t measure up to being an honest-to-goodness trick rider.
They planned to have dinner in one of Hillary’s favorite restaurants, which was located in a shopping mall that had been made out of a converted theater and Quonset hut. In the middle of the mall a carousel with bright colors and lights was spinning and filling the little mall with organ music.
“I wanna ride!” Hillary enthused.
“After dinner.” Max guided his daughter into the restaurant. It was painted in primary colors and offered slides, a small maze and differently shaped mirrors to amuse the children while their specialty pizzas were being prepared.
They ate in a booth painted with circus monkeys and smiling tigers. The pizza was hot, even if it wasn’t the best Skye had ever tasted, and Hillary was anxious to eat her food quickly and join a group of noisy children running gleefully through the maze.
“So this is how you
spend your Friday nights,” Skye teased.
Hillary squealed in joy as she barely recognized her reflection in a wavy mirror that distorted her image.
“Most of the time.” He stared at her across the table. “Sometimes we get really wild and see a Disney flick.”
She caught the gleam in his eyes and her throat turned to dust. What was it about him that captivated her so? That made her think with her heart rather than her head?
Curls streaming behind her, Hillary ran up and threw herself into her father’s arms. She climbed onto his lap and stole a slice of pepperoni from his forgotten piece of pizza.
“You’re a thief, Hillary McKee,” he accused as she chewed the morsel in front of him.
“You didn’t clean your plate. Mommy says we gots to always clean our plates, but Mary and Carey they just make a big mess when they eat.”
“Not like their big sister, eh?” Max said, beaming down at his daughter.
Skye felt a tug on her heartstrings. For years she’d been jealous of Colleen for giving Max what she couldn’t and now she felt foolish. Hillary, spoiled though she was, was an adorable child, and if Max hadn’t married Colleen, he never would have experienced the joy of becoming a father.
At that moment, her pager beeped and Skye excused herself to go find a telephone. She called her exchange, found out that one of the Donner kids had swallowed a half bottle of aspirin and was en route to the clinic here in Dawson City.
She made her way back to the table where Max and Hillary were just gathering up the remains of the pizza in aluminum foil.
“Something wrong?”
“Lenny Donner got into the medicine cabinet. Somehow he pried off the childproof cap and downed a few more aspirin than he should have. I’m meeting them at the Urgent Care Clinic here.”
“Let’s go.” Max drove through the streets of Dawson City with Hillary babbling on and on about riding horses with Dani. He let Skye off at the emergency doors, then parked the truck. By the time he walked into the clinic, she’d already disappeared into one of the examining rooms. He felt a mild irritation at having his evening ruined. Though he realized that her patients had to come first, he couldn’t help feeling jealous that her chosen profession could take her away from him at a moment’s notice.
He read to Hillary from a children’s book, then when she got restless, they wandered down the hallways and outside, only to circle back to the reception area where patients were waiting to be admitted.
“Let’s go!” Hillary demanded finally.
“We will, soon.”
“Where’s Skye?”
“Helping someone,” Max explained, glowering at the closed doors.
“Who?”
“A patient—a little boy who accidentally poisoned himself.” Suddenly Max was ashamed of himself. What if he had discovered Hillary with a half-filled bottle of pills, or on the floor unconscious, or in the middle of a seizure? Wouldn’t he want the best medical personnel available for his little girl? Swearing under his breath, he felt like a selfish fool. He picked up Hillary and held her close, silently thanking God that she was well and whole.
As Skye finally emerged from the back of the building, she was talking to Vickie Donner who was carrying her young son. The boy would be fine now that his stomach had been pumped, but Vickie was still shaken by the incident. They passed Max in the waiting room and Vickie shot him a hateful glance before scurrying outside.
Once Vickie had driven away, Skye turned to Max and found him holding onto his child as if fearing for her life.
“Sorry about the interruption,” she said, offering a smile.
“Goes with the territory I guess.” But there wasn’t any spark in Max’s eyes.
Hillary yawned widely. “Can we go home now?”
“Sure we can, pumpkin.” Max pressed a kiss to Hillary’s crown of curls and once again Skye witnessed the incredible bond between father and daughter. She knew how much it pained him that Hillary didn’t live with him, realized that he hated being what he described as a part-time father, only allowed to be with his child on weekends or whenever Colleen needed a break.
“How’s the boy?” Max asked, once they were back in his truck.
“Fine now, but it was a good thing his mother knew what he’d been into.”
Hillary snuggled next to her father as they drove away from Dawson City, and by the time Max turned into the driveway of the old house, she was snoring softly, her little lips moving as the breath rushed in and out of her lungs.
“She’s precious,” Skye said, touching Hillary’s soft curls.
“The one thing I did right with my miserable life.” Tenderly he brushed a stray wisp off Hillary’s cheek and Skye felt the same old longing, the desire to have a child of her own. Her throat clogged with yearning and she blinked rapidly against a sudden rush of tears.
“I’ll see you later,” she whispered, and he leaned over to brush his lips with hers.
“You could come home with me.”
She glanced at Hillary, sleeping so peacefully against her father. “Not tonight.”
“She’ll have to know sometime.”
“Will she?”
The question hung between them in the soft summer-night air.
Max reached up and lifted a handful of Skye’s thick hair. “She will if you’re going to become her stepmother.”
“Her what?” Skye asked, astounded.
“I want you to marry me, Skye.” His eyes held hers in the darkness. “And this time I won’t take no for an answer.”
Skye swallowed hard, joy leaping in her heart, love burning through her blood. She wanted to say yes and to hell with everything else, but Hillary, asleep between them, was a consideration. Could Skye be a part of this little girl’s life, share her with her natural mother, keep her mouth shut when Colleen insisted upon something she disagreed with? And surely Max would want more children as did she. But not at this point in time. Now that she was committed to the clinic, could she become a full-time mother? Could she juggle the responsibilities of career and motherhood and do either justice?
“I don’t know, Max,” she said. “My first impulse is to say yes and let the chips fall where they may, but there are so many other people to think about, other responsibilities.”
“Your job.”
“My career. I have the clinic—”
“I own it. Don’t worry about that.”
“Patients—”
“There are other doctors.”
“You...you want me to give it up?” she whispered, torn inside.
“Not completely, but can’t you do it part-time?”
“I’m a doctor, for crying out loud, not a waitress! This is my profession!” And there it was, the old double standard, rearing its ugly head. He’d been raised to be in command, to be the boss, and he’d never want a wife whose career would threaten his control or be treated in equal terms as his. She stared into his eyes, dark with anger, and knew that it would never work. She’d been a fool to believe that love—their special love—could conquer all.
“I guess you’ve given me your answer,” he said, throwing the pickup into gear.
She swallowed back the tears that rose in her throat and the angry fear that she’d never find love again. “I guess I have.” Before she broke down completely, she threw open the door, stepped onto the gravel and slammed the door shut.
He tromped on the gas pedal and took off, the taillights of his truck becoming red blurs as she watched him leave through the sheen of her tears.
“Fool,” she said, dashing the damning tears away. How could she ever expect him to love her with that deep, soul-jarring love that she felt for him. To Max, love was one-sided. His way or no way. There wasn’t room for compromise.
“Goodbye,” she whispered brokenly. Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders and refused to be one of those sobbing, pitiful women who clung to desperate dreams that would never come true.
But as she walked up the st
eps to the porch, the night closed around her, and she knew, deep in the darkest recesses of her heart, that her life would never be the same.
Chapter Thirteen
“I hate to say it, but it looks like that private detective your mama hired knows his stuff.” Sheriff Hammond Polk reached into the back pocket of his uniform, drew out a tin and found a pinch of chewing tobacco which he stuffed behind his lower lip. He looked a little sheepish for a big man who was used to intimidating people by one hard look cast their way. An outdoorsman, he seemed out of place in the offices of McKee Enterprises. “Yep, makin’ us look like buffoons, reopening the investigation and all, but I guess it had to be done.”
In frustration, Max ran stiff fingers through his hair. “No one believed that Dad was murdered.”
“I know.” Polk settled into one of the chairs near the corner of the desk. “Damn it all, I didn’t want to believe it myself. Murder? In Rimrock? The world’s gone to hell in a hand basket, if you ask me.”
“What do you want us to do?”
“Not much. Just cooperate. Answer the deputies’ questions, let ’em have access to all your files. I’d rather not work with Rex Stone—always considered him an arrogant SOB—but since he caught us with our pants down, so to speak, I’d rather work with him than against him. That way the department won’t suffer any more embarrassment.” He shifted uneasily in his chair and rubbed his heavy jaw.
“Do you have any suspects?” Max asked as the enormity of the situation settled on his shoulders. This was murder they were discussing. Someone had intentionally edged his father’s car off the road. Doom settled in his already-battered heart.
“We got a couple of leads, nothin’ substantial, but we’re questioning anyone who was at the Black Anvil the night your father didn’t make it home. Some of the regulars were there, of course, but there were a couple of other fellas, as well, out-of-towners and the like. We’ve talked to them before, but we’re gonna do it again, just in case we missed somethin’. Wouldn’t want Stone to beat us to the punch.” He placed his meaty hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself upright. “I’ll be talkin’ to your ma about this.” Squaring his hat on his head, he sketched a salute and left.
