Matchmaking with a Mission

by B. J Daniels

  This is where the boy she’d seen had been standing, looking out at her. She shivered, unable to shake the eerie feeling that came over her as she looked out.

  Turning away from the window, she moved to the middle of the room and tried to visualize what it would look like cleaned up, painted, blinds on the windows.

  It was going to take a lot of work, she thought, looking up at the bare lightbulb hanging down. She really did need someone to look at the wiring.

  Nate Dempsey had graciously offered to help. Why hadn’t she accepted? She had plenty of space to board his horse, and trading for help around here would have been ideal.

  But she knew why she’d hesitated. That nagging feeling that he wanted something from her. Something more than a place to board his horse. Or camp. What if he’d lied and he was the one who’d been digging on the hillside behind the house? But digging for what?

  It made no sense for anyone to be digging out there. What could there possibly have been buried behind the house?

  It wasn’t as if there was buried treasure out there. Ellis Harper hadn’t had two nickels to scrape together. Or had he? He wouldn’t be the first old-timer to hide money in the yard. He might not even have remembered he’d done it.

  McKenna thought of her grandmother, Nina Mae Cross, who had Alzheimer’s. If she’d buried any money, she wouldn’t remember doing it either.

  Other than seeing Nate Dempsey ride away from Harper House and having him standing her up for a date, she wasn’t sure what it was about him that made her leery of him. He seemed normal enough, and she did like his horse. And his smile was killer.

  There was something about him that drew her to him, which made no sense, since Flynn Garrett was much better-looking and she hadn’t felt anything but mild interest. Even his kiss hadn’t set off a firecracker, let alone a Roman candle.

  But Nate Dempsey…All he had to do was smile and it was the Fourth of July. She just wished she could remember where she’d seen him before. It would drive her crazy until she recalled.

  She glanced around the room, realizing that her earlier enthusiasm for the house had waned some—and that worried her since so many people seemed to think she was crazy to try to save this house. She knew that her older sister, Eve, thought she’d acted impulsively.

  Maybe she had. But even as a girl, sitting astride her horse and looking at the house from a distance, she’d had the feeling that the house needed her, that it called to her.

  Well, what it was saying right now was that she’d made a mistake. Not that the property alone wasn’t worth what she’d paid for the place. But she was beginning to fear that razing the house was the smartest thing to do.

  It wasn’t something she wanted to hear as she skirted the ancient square of linoleum that covered the center of the wood-plank floor like a rug. Stubbornness alone would make her try to save this house.

  She noticed that the wood around the linoleum was in fair shape. Her first job would be to tear out the floor covering to expose the wood, she thought as she bent down to lift a corner of the linoleum.

  One of the boards stuck to the underside. The board lifted a few inches, and she thought she saw something in the space beneath it. Sitting down on the floor, she shoved the floor covering back with her feet and pried the board the rest of the way up.

  In the space between the floor joists was what had clearly been a child’s secret hiding compartment. There were several old metal children’s toys, rusted with age, a handful of marbles and a piece of rolled-up once-white paper.

  She wiped away the cobwebs and plucked the faded paper from between the boards, letting the board and linoleum drop back down as she scooted out of the way.

  Unrolling the paper, she thought she’d find a child’s artwork. Instead it was an old announcement about Whitehorse Days, a June rodeo event held every year at the local fairgrounds. This one was dated twenty-one years ago.

  Disappointed that’s all it was, she turned the paper over. And froze.

  Her pulse roared in her ears as she realized with horror what she had in her hands.

  Chapter Six

  The sheet of paper gripped in her fingers was stained dark with blood—bloody thumbprints and what appeared to be more than a half dozen names. Next to each small bloody thumbprint was a name and an age. All of them were children twelve and under.

  But it was the wording at the top of the page, written in an older child’s shaky print, that horrified her.

  Under the threat of death we make a blood oath to avenge those who harmed us in this house if it is the last thing we ever do. We vow to return at a set time to finish what needs to be done—or suffer the consequences.

  It sounded like something kids might write. But the bloody prints on it and the names and ages gave her chill.

  She glanced around the room. What had happened in this house? Shivering, she scanned down the list of names.

  Roy Vaughn

  Lucky Thomas

  Steven Cross

  Bobby French

  Andrew Charles

  Denny Jones

  Lyle Weston

  She didn’t recognize any of the names and was thankful for that. Seven names on the list. What had happened to these boys?

  McKenna hadn’t thought too much about it when Eve had told her that Harper House had been a home for troubled boys. It hadn’t mattered. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Under the threat of death? Suffer the consequences? Surely they were being overdramatic. Kids were like that. And yet, as she stared down at the paper, her hand trembled.

  The boys had made a blood oath to avenge the people who’d hurt them. They’d spilled their own blood to make the vow.

  The paper was dated twenty-one years ago. The boys who’d signed it were too young to do anything at the time. But they would all be in their late twenties to early thirties by now. If they really had planned to do something to the people they felt had mistreated them, wouldn’t they have done it by now? Wouldn’t she have heard about it?

  Still, she felt the need to show this to someone. Her soon-to-be brother-in-law, the sheriff. Not her sisters. It would only upset them, just as it had her.

  Carefully she rolled up the sheet and rose on quaking legs from the floor to put it in her large shoulder bag.

  As she turned, she let out a shriek. A man she’d never seen before stood in the doorway. He was massive, his clothing worn, his expression amused.

  “Did I frighten you?” he asked, knowing full well he had and seeming to enjoy her discomfort. “I called up from below. I guess you didn’t hear me.” He glanced toward her shoulder bag she was still holding after she’d stuck the paper inside. How long had he been standing there watching her?

  “Can I help you?” she asked. Her voice quaked, giving away her fear at being alone here in the house with him. Why hadn’t she heard him drive up?

  “I was told in town that you needed some help out here,” he said, glancing past her to the window. “I’m handy with tools.” His gaze came back to her and she saw that odd amusement in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, but you were misinformed. I’m planning on doing the work myself,” she said. “But thanks for the offer Mr….”

  “Turner,” he said. “Hal Turner.”

  The name was a lie. His gaze challenged her to call him on it. Just as it challenged her to shake his hand as he outstretched it toward her.

  His slightly damp paw of a hand swallowed hers. She did her best not to grimace. “McKenna Bailey.”

  “I know who you are,” he said as she broke contact and fought the urge to wipe her hand on her jeans.

  He knew who she was? But she didn’t know who he was. She took a step toward the door, but he was blocking her way.

  “I work cheap,” he said, not moving.

  He knew he was scaring her. He seemed to be enjoying it. She tested the weight of her shoulder bag, the only weapon at her disposal. The purse, if swung hard enough, might surprise him but little more.

/>   She had a fleeting crazy thought: if she’d agreed to let Nate Dempsey board his horse out here, he’d be here now.

  The sound of a vehicle coming up her road made her almost sag with relief. The man heard it, too, and she saw his expression change.

  “Well, if you’re sure you don’t need any help…” He turned and stepped back through the doorway.

  She listened to his heavy footfalls on the stairs and tried to calm down. The man had frightened her more than she wanted to admit.

  Stepping to the window, she saw a pickup pull up in the yard and felt such a sense of relief she had to grab hold of the window frame to keep her knees from buckling.

  Nate Dempsey’s truck came to a stop next to her pickup. She saw with surprise that there were only two vehicles in the yard—her pickup and Nate’s. How had the man who called himself Hal Turner gotten out here? And where was he now?

  She watched Nate Dempsey emerge from the cab of his truck and stop to stare up at the house, his expression hidden in the shadow of his straw hat’s brim.

  The house suddenly felt ice-cold as she rushed to the north-side window. The backyard was empty. So was the hillside behind it. Was it possible the man had never left the house?

  McKenna ran back to the front of the house to tap on the window. Nate looked up, shading his eyes. She waved, wanting him to know where she was just in case the man was still in the house. Waiting for her.

  She ran downstairs, not stopping until she was through the front door and halfway down the porch steps.

  THE MINUTE NATE SAW McKenna’s face he knew something was wrong. She came rushing out of the house and down the porch steps. Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes wide and wild.

  “Hey! You all right?”

  “Sure.” She tried to brush it off, but he saw the way she glanced around the yard, then looked over her shoulder back at the house as if she was being chased. “It’s just that there was this man here….”

  “Is he still in the house?” Nate asked, suddenly on alert.

  “I don’t know. Did you see anyone leave?”

  “No. I’ll make sure he’s gone,” he said as she hugged herself. She didn’t seem to hear him. He touched her arm; it was ice-cold. “Just wait here.”

  He mounted the steps of the porch. He could feel the gun in his shoulder holster, snug against his side, as he opened the front door and listened for a moment before stepping inside.

  The house seemed unusually quiet. He glanced back at McKenna. She was right where he’d left her. It took him only a few minutes to search the house since he knew all its hiding places. He started upstairs, working his way down. There was only one place he dreaded looking in.

  The basement.

  He hadn’t been down there in more than twenty years, but he could remember it as if it were yesterday. The smell, the feel of the cold dampness around him, the furtive sounds that made his skin crawl.

  At the door to the basement he hesitated, his hand inches from the knob. Funny how fears, no matter how irrational, linger into adulthood.

  He opened the basement door. The smell alone was enough to transport him back. He was seven again, a skinny, scared kid locked in the basement for a punishment he didn’t deserve.

  He took a breath and reached around the edge of the doorjamb for the light switch.

  MCKENNA HAD WAITED. Then, feeling vulnerable outside and worried about Nate, she’d cautiously climbed the porch steps and slipped back inside the house.

  She saw him standing at the top of the stairs to the basement as if listening. She started to tell him where the light switch was, since it wasn’t easy to find. But the words never left her lips as she watched him reach around the doorjamb and flip on the light as if he’d done it dozens of times.

  Startled, for a moment she couldn’t catch her breath. How had he known where the light switch was?

  She realized even though he hadn’t bid on the house, he’d probably toured it before the auction like everyone else. He would have remembered the location of the light switch just as she had.

  She let out a ragged breath. Her heart was pounding and she knew she wasn’t thinking clearly and hadn’t been since she’d turned around to find that man standing in the bedroom doorway upstairs.

  She listened to Nate descend the steps slowly, almost tentatively, and tried not to read any more into what she’d seen than she already had. There had been no Nate Dempsey on the list of names she’d found under the floorboards.

  When he came back up a few moments later, moving a little quicker as he ascended the steps, she was waiting for him.

  “I thought I told you to wait outside,” he said, sounding irritated and upset, although she doubted it was with her. He apologized at once. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t still in the house.”

  She watched him switch off the light, then close the basement door. “Did you find anything?”

  He shook his head, still seeming upset. “So tell me what happened.”

  She told him what she knew, which wasn’t much. “He was large and unkempt.”

  “Homeless, you think?”

  “Maybe. He said he’d heard I needed help with the house.”

  “Where would he have heard that?” Nate asked.

  “Anywhere in town. News travels fast around Whitehorse. When I told him I didn’t need any help, he kept at me. I tried to step past him, but he was blocking the door.”

  Nate swore. “When you’re here alone, you really should lock your door.”

  “I’ve never locked my doors in my life in this part of Montana.”

  “Well, maybe you’d better start. So did this guy tell you what his name was or give you any idea what he wanted?”

  “Just work, I assume. He said his name was Hal Turner, but I think he was lying.” She couldn’t miss Nate’s reaction to the name. “Do you know him?”

  “I used to know a Hal Turner, that’s all.”

  That wasn’t all. “Maybe it’s the same guy.”

  Nate was shaking his head. “The Hal Turner I knew is dead.”

  That would explain his startled reaction, she told herself.

  Nate seemed anxious and upset again. “You shouldn’t stay out here alone. It’s not safe.”

  “You think he’ll come back?” She hated the catch she heard in her voice.

  “If he thinks you’re here alone, he will. A woman alone this far from another house—you’re a sitting duck.”

  “What would you have me do? This is going to be my home. I refuse to be run off. I’ll get some pepper spray. I’ll lock the doors. I’ll be more careful.”

  He took off his Western straw hat and wiped his shirt-sleeve over his face. She noticed he was sweating, while she was freezing.

  “Think about my offer. Right now I’m staying at a motel in town, but I’d rather be camped somewhere. I could pitch my tent down by the creek. You wouldn’t know I was there—unless you needed me.” He held up a hand before she could say anything. “Just think about it. I’ll check the barn and outbuildings to make sure he’s not hiding out there.” He didn’t wait for a response.

  She stood at the back screen door, hugging herself as she watched him cut across the yard, toward the barn. In all the years she’d lived up here she’d never been afraid. Until now.

  But she wasn’t going to let one incident like this make her frightened. She would take more precautions. Once she was moved in she didn’t expect any trouble.

  Not that she didn’t realize how close she’d come. What would she have done if Nate hadn’t stopped by? She hated to think what would have happened.

  Why had he come by? she wondered, frowning. She hadn’t even thought to ask.

  WHEN NATE RETURNED to the house, he noticed the change in McKenna. She was acting skittish, and he realized she was probably picking up on his reaction. But what she’d told him had frightened him more than he wanted to admit.

  At first he’d thought the man had been just some homeless poor soul
passing through town, probably looking for work or a free meal, who’d come on a little too strong and had frightened her.

  Until she’d said the man had called himself Hal Turner. Nate hadn’t heard that name in years. But he would never forget it. Hal Turner hadn’t just been one of the first boys to live in Harper House, he had become a hero to the boys who came later.

  It was Hal Turner who’d started the first revenge pact among the boys. Allegedly he’d grown up and come back to Whitehorse as part of that original pact to kill the first Harper House attendants: Norman and Alma Cherry. At least that was the story. Hal Turner had allegedly made the murders look like a murder/suicide and gotten away with it.

  Coincidence that someone showed up now using that name?

  Not in a million years.

  The man who’d called himself Hal Turner hadn’t come looking for work. Nor had it been about McKenna. No, the man had been sending a message. And the message was for Nate.

  “Are you all right?” he asked McKenna, worried that he’d done something to give himself away. Or, maybe worse, that she remembered where she’d seen him before.

  She nodded, looking scared again.

  “Look,” he said. “I understand if you don’t want me staying out here. Forget I said anything about it. Same with boarding my horse or me helping with the house. I tend to come on too strong sometimes.”

  “No, I appreciate the offer. It’s just that I can’t ask you to—”

  “You’re not asking. The truth is, I’m picky about where I leave Blue. He’s temperamental with most people, and after seeing how he took to you I just thought…”

  He saw her consider. The horse, he thought, was his ticket.

  “Let me give it some thought,” she said. “I do appreciate the offer. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thank you.” She brushed a lock of blond hair back from her face, and he could tell the man who’d been here earlier had made her feel vulnerable—something new for McKenna Bailey.