Savaged

by Mia Sheridan

  What she should have done was call the police and report Driscoll. But . . . Jesus, there were always so many shades of gray involved in the cases he worked, so many stories, so many situations that most people couldn’t even imagine surviving. “From what I know, what you did helped him.”

  She nodded her head. “Good.” She paused for only a moment before asking, “He killed Driscoll then? My Jak?”

  “He says he’s innocent of the crime, and there’s no evidence to say otherwise. Driscoll’s murder is unsolved right now.”

  She looked vaguely surprised at his answer, as though she’d assumed Jak had killed him. Hell, after finding out what he had, he was surprised Jak hadn’t killed him. If that turned out to be true. And though there was no evidence against him, he had one hell of a motive. The man had not only watched on as Jak had suffered, but he’d deceived him about there being a war. Enemies. He’d planted the fear in him when he was just a child so it was all he’d ever known. It was really a wonder Jak wasn’t stark raving mad.

  “He . . . remembers me?”

  “He does, yes.”

  The old woman nodded, tears shimmering in her eyes again. “Will you tell him Baka is sorry. So very, very sorry.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Of course I will.”

  Once he’d said goodbye and left the small apartment of the woman Jak had once called Baka, Mark descended the steps, walking slowly to his car, one of the pieces of the puzzle of Jak’s life sliding into place.

  He turned the ignition and sat for a moment staring up at the apartment building where Jak had been raised, unknowingly being prepared for a “training” program devised by a sick and/or evil mind. What the hell did that mean? What had Driscoll’s point been? Why had he done what he’d done to an innocent boy? He glanced at what he could see behind the building. A vast expanse of woods . . . the place Jak had first played at what would become his only existence.

  Jak was the common denominator in all of this. How? Why? Who else knew what Driscoll had set up, other than the woman found murdered in town? Jak’s mother. Had there really been cameras in the trees? If so, who removed them? Driscoll? Who was the man on the cliff? Or had that actually been Driscoll and Jak’s young mind had misremembered?

  He pondered on all he knew and what he’d just learned, his mind then turning to Harper Ward and how her parents had been murdered too. Driscoll had been particularly bothered by the foster care system, Dr. Swift had told him. Harper Ward had grown up in social services. Did that mean anything? Were the two cases random and unconnected? They very well could be, but Mark had a feeling they were twisted together in some sinister way he could not yet fathom.

  A shiver rolled through him as he backed out of the parking space at the apartment complex, the old woman in the apartment he’d just visited staring at him from her window. When he’d first started investigating the homicides, he’d believed them to be crimes of hate. He’d find the perpetrator, and then move on to the next case. But with each week, with more and more puzzle pieces emerging, he became increasingly disturbed. Jak had been taken, mistreated, and had probably nearly died while trying to survive. A woman had been manipulated to believe that in taking in a baby, she’d find joy in a reunion with her family. Families broken. Parents grieving. But how was it all linked? What was first? Who was responsible? Would anyone pay for these crimes of cruelty?

  And was there a bigger picture he wasn’t yet seeing?

  PART II

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Mark and Laurie Gallagher’s home was a charming ranch at the end of a curved driveway, woods stretched out around it. Harper pulled up in front and shut off the engine, looking over at Jak, who sat next to her, his palms flat on his thighs. The first time she’d seen him in the sheriff’s office—what now seemed like a decade ago—he’d been sitting the same way. She now recognized it for what it was—nervous body language. He was grounding himself.

  She reached over and put her hand over his, linking their fingers. “This is going to be fine.”

  He gave her a nervous smile. “What if I do something wrong? I don’t know about going to someone’s house for dinner.”

  “Jak, these people know that. They want you here. They’re not going to judge your table manners. Just do what everyone else does.”

  He nodded but still looked doubtful. She squeezed his hand and then grabbed the bags she’d placed in the backseat. “Come on. I’m with you.”

  He glanced at the bags the same way he had when he’d first seen them, a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness, but followed her lead when she opened the truck door and got out.

  Harper smiled when they stepped onto the porch, decorated with two potted evergreen shrubs flanked in twinkle lights on either side of the porch, and a large wreath on the front door. She knocked and then took Jak’s hand in hers again, giving him another encouraging smile. If he was going to begin stepping out into the world, he had to start somewhere, and the best place—she thought—was the home of people who understood his situation and would strive to make things comfortable for him.

  So far, the only thing he’d done was to ride through town with her as she pointed out the different shops and businesses. She knew he had a million questions, she could see it in his expression that morphed from shock to bafflement, to delight, back to shock. He didn’t ask her anything though, and she figured he was taking it all in, attempting to figure things out for himself—or perhaps bring back memories of what he already knew and put them back into context. Not only that, but he also had to be struggling with the fact that he’d been given up, used, lied to in ways she still didn’t understand. There were so many unanswered questions remaining about what happened to him. Not to mention what happened to his mother and Driscoll. It was all so much. She didn’t want to rush him. He had to be completely overwhelmed.

  The door swung open and Agent Gallagher stood there, smiling out at them. “Come in. Jak, Harper. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, Agent Gallagher,” Harper said, stepping over the threshold, Jak behind her.

  “Merry Christmas,” Jak mimicked, and Agent Gallagher smiled more broadly, giving him one of those manly shoulder pats as he entered his home.

  “Please, you’re in my home. No Agent Gallagher.” He smiled. “Call me Mark. And come meet Laurie. She’s in the kitchen.”

  They followed Mark through the foyer and down a short hall. “I’ll put these under the tree real quick. Hold on.” He took the packages from Harper’s hand and stepped into the living room, a beautifully decorated, brightly lit tree in the corner, and then met them again in the hall. “Right this way.” He smiled and led them into a large, open kitchen at the end of the hall. A pretty woman with straight, shoulder-length blonde hair, wearing a red apron was taking something out of the oven and she turned, placing the tray on the counter and smiling when she saw them.

  “Laurie, this is Harper and Jak,” Mark said, as Laurie took off the oven mitt and came around the island.

  “Mrs. Gallagher,” Harper said, taking her hand. “Thank you for having us to your home.”

  “Thank you for coming, dear. We’re so happy to have you.” She shook Harper’s hand and then held her hand out to Jak who took it tentatively. “Merry Christmas. Please, call me Laurie.” She smiled again, and though her smile was bright, there was a sadness in her eyes that was unmistakable—a very slight rim of red that made Harper think she’d cried recently.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Mark asked. “I’ve mixed up a special batch of my eggnog.”

  “Sure,” Harper said. “I’d love some.”

  “I’d love some too,” Jak said, looking unsure. Harper grabbed his hand discreetly between them and squeezed.

  “You three go on in to the living room while I finish up the appetizers,” Laurie said.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Harper asked.

  Laurie hesitated, glancing back at the counter. “Oh sure, if you don’t mind. I just need to lay a f
ew things out on trays.”

  “Great. I can definitely handle that.”

  “Come with me, Jak,” Mark said. “The drink cart is in the living room. Harper, yours will be waiting.”

  Jak glanced behind him as he followed Mark out of the room and a warm flush of tenderness washed over her at the uncertain look on his face. He felt comfortable with her over anyone else. Anyone else in the world, she realized, and the thought caused a feeling of deep honor to fill her.

  Laurie told her what she needed done and they chatted easily, getting to know each other, Laurie telling Harper how the adjustment between sunny California and snowy Montana was going. Laurie Gallagher was warm and kind, and Harper liked her immensely after only ten minutes. Her heart broke to know that such a motherly woman had lost her only child.

  They each carried two trays of appetizers into the living room where Mark and Jak were standing by the Christmas tree, both holding a glass of eggnog. Mark helped them set down the food, and then handed them each a glass. “Merry Christmas. Thank you both for joining us and brightening our home.” He looked at his wife and a flash of sadness moved between them before they both smiled, raising their glasses. Harper and Jak raised their glasses as well and then Harper took a sip of the rich, creamy drink, with the barest hint of alcohol. She was glad it was subtle. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and anything more, would have been too strong for her.

  As she was lowering her glass from her lips, she glanced at Jak, who had just taken a drink. A look of pure horror crossed over his face before he sputtered, a spray of eggnog raining from his mouth as he coughed and retched and tried to catch his breath.

  Harper took the cup from him, as Mark began patting his back and Laurie rushed forward with a napkin. He took it, wiping at his mouth as tears from coughing filled his eyes. “Oh dear,” Laurie said. “Are you okay? Let me get you some water. You must have swallowed it down the wrong tube.”

  She rushed off and Mark ceased pounding on Jak’s back as he coughed once more, taking a deep breath. “What is that?” Jak asked, eyeing the glasses in Harper’s hands as though she was holding two big goblets of poison that he’d just drunk from.

  “Just cream and eggs and well . . .” Harper looked helplessly at Mark who glanced back at her, sheepish.

  “I should have realized that this might be a taste you’re not quite used to,” Mark said. Laurie came back into the room and handed Jak a glass of water, which he took, a grateful look on his face before he tipped it, drinking it all in three quick gulps. Jak let out one final shudder as Harper placed the two glasses on the table, looking at the trays of food with new eyes. There was an array of cheeses, but there was also vegetables and crackers and a few nuts and dried berries. She let out a sigh of relief. He had plenty of options there of foods that wouldn’t cause his stomach to protest. Hopefully. She wasn’t a medical professional, but knew his diet was limited and his body would probably react poorly to things it wasn’t used to.

  Damn, I should have thought of that sooner, she admonished herself. By the look on Mark’s face, she could tell the same thought was crossing his mind.

  “Why don’t we open a few gifts before Laurie’s sister, Pam, and her boys get here,” Mark said, leading them to the tree and, Harper knew, trying to ensure Jak didn’t feel awkward about spitting out the eggnog. He didn’t look awkward exactly—yet—more aggrieved that they’d all tried to poison him on Christmas. But Jak was self-conscious, and as soon as he had a moment to wonder if he’d reacted wrongly, he would. Not that he had done anything inappropriate, considering they should have thought a few things through—but regardless, Jak would wonder and she was glad Mark was moving on quickly to something else.

  “Great idea, Mark,” Laurie said, heading toward a grouping of bags under the tree near the back.

  Harper grabbed the pile of gifts she’d brought and when she went to hand Jak the gift she’d gotten for him, he was standing at the tree, a look of utter bafflement on his face as he rubbed the “needles” of the fake tree between his fingers. He leaned forward and tentatively sniffed at it.

  “It’s not real,” she whispered, leaning toward him.

  He glanced at her. “Not real?”

  “Right, it’s um, made of . . .” Plastic? Nylon? Harper actually had no idea.

  Jak’s brow wrinkled, but then his fingers found one of the twinkle lights and he touched it lightly as though he thought it might burn him. “They’re like tiny stars, cold enough to hold in your hand,” he murmured. He seemed pleased by them and Harper’s lips tipped as she watched him. She gazed at him, studying the look of childlike wonder on his strong, handsome face. I’m in love with him, she thought. It was too quick, too much too soon, too risky in so many ways, too . . . oh, so many “toos,” but it was true and real. I love you, she thought as he gazed at the fake tree, a look of awe and perplexity mingling in his open expression. The strength of the feeling almost brought tears to her eyes.

  When did it happen? she wondered, trying to pinpoint the exact moment she had fallen. It should have been . . . momentous, wasn’t that true? But no, she realized dreamily, it hadn’t been one singular stopping of time. It was a beautiful string of moments, each one opening her heart to him little by little. And this was one. Watching Jak under the twinkling lights of his first Christmas tree, it was suddenly clear. Sometimes miracles—like love—arrived gently. Softly. Without fanfare. Without a lightning strike. For true miracles needed no such thing. Their eyes met and her heart sang. I love you, she thought again. And it was as simple and as wondrous as that.

  “Here,” she whispered, and his gaze moved downward as she placed a wrapped gift in his hands.

  He blinked at her, then considered the package wrapped in bright red shiny paper, tied with a white and red bow, a look of pure delight coming over his face. “Thank you,” he said. “I love it.”

  She laughed softly. “There’s something inside.”

  “Inside?” He turned it over.

  “Have you never received a gift before, Jak? Even when you were a child?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Her heart squeezed—even she, a foster child, had received a few Christmas gifts—but she didn’t want to make him feel strange and so she smiled. “I’m honored that I’m giving you your first one then. Let’s sit and you can open it.”

  Laurie had collected her bags and was seated on the couch and the rest of them joined her, passing gifts around. Jak watched them, the first hint of uncertainty coming into his eyes. Harper knew what he was thinking, he had nothing to give to them. I should have helped him with the whole gift thing. She hadn’t anticipated that he’d feel bad for not reciprocating. God, she really needed to start considering his situation more. Considering that he watched everything so closely, that he wanted so much to fit in. She was just really getting to know him, but she should have realized that.

  “This is from me and Jak,” she said quickly, handing the gift she’d brought for the Gallagher’s. It was a beautifully photographed coffee table book of Montana, done by a local photographer.

  Laurie ran her hand over the top of it. “Oh, Harper, Jak, it’s lovely. It’s the perfect addition to our new home. Thank you.”

  She smiled. “In the summer, if you’d like, I’d be happy to show you some of those spots. There’s a beautiful waterfall a short distance from here. You can see a picture of it in there.”

  Laurie glanced at Mark, and Harper thought she saw something that looked like hope in the older woman’s eyes. Had her gift made her glad—even for a moment—that they’d moved to Montana? Oh, she hoped so. “We would absolutely love that.”

  Harper turned toward Jak. “Open yours,” she said softly.

  Jak looked down at the gift in his lap and then slowly, so slowly, and painstakingly, removed the bow, and then the wrapping paper, turning over the book she’d picked for him. The Montana Wildlife Guide. “I . . . thought you could look up the names of the things you’ve come to know,�
�� she said very softly.

  Jak stared at it, touching it lovingly before looking at her. “Thank you,” he said, and the absolute and utter joy on his face made her heart skip a beat.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I . . . don’t have anything for you.”

  She took his hand, squeezing it. “Oh, Jak, you’ve already given me so much. You gave me my life back.” She smiled at him, tears springing to her eyes, and he smiled back, so sweetly it broke her heart. This big, strong and competent man was so very out of his depth.

  The Gallagher’s gave Harper and Jak gifts next—beautiful handmade scarves each, that Jak touched delightedly and then put around his neck, smiling at them, and not removing it. They all grinned and then talked and laughed and snacked on the appetizers for a while before the doorbell rang and Laurie jumped up. “Oh, goodness, time got away from me. That’ll be my sister, and I need to check the turkey. Mark, will you grab the door?”

  Once they were alone for a moment, Harper took Jak’s hand in hers and leaned over, kissing him quickly on the mouth. “You okay?”

  He nodded, his gaze lingering on her lips and making her wish they could leave right that second. She wanted him. In a way she’d never wanted anyone before. And the joyful anticipation of making love with him set off a burst of fireworks in her belly.

  The twinkle lights sparkled more brightly, the candles on the mantel glowed so warmly, and joy glimmered and danced inside Harper.