by B. J Daniels
The only thing Nate hadn’t planned on was McKenna Bailey. He swore softly. Had he thought making love to her this morning would free him of the hold she had on him?
Well, that sure as hell hadn’t happened. Just the thought that he’d never be with McKenna Bailey again was killing him. He wished he’d never come back to this godforsaken place. Maybe Lucky was right. Maybe if he could just let it go—
He closed his eyes and quickly opened them again. If he closed his eyes, he feared he would hear the sounds he’d heard that night. The night Johnny disappeared. And the horrible silence that had followed. The silence had drawn him, then eight years old, to the back window under the eave.
He had leaned against the wall, afraid to look out as he’d heard the heavy tread of footsteps coming up the basement stairs, the thump of the back door, then the singing sound of the shovel blade digging into the rocks and soil in the backyard.
He had stood on tiptoe, turning to wipe the grime from the glass with shaking fingers before peering out into the darkness. He’d heard the wind. The tired scrape of a tree limb against the side of the house. The glass had trembled in its frame, and he’d shivered as the cold night air had crept in through the cracks.
At first he didn’t see them, the fearful dark figures that moved in the night. But as the clouds had parted and the moon peered down on the hillside behind the house, he’d seen the hunched figures carrying something all wrapped up as if in a blanket.
He had buried his head under the covers as another ring of a shovel blade had filled the late-night air. He’d known one of the boys was dead. He’d just never dreamed it was Johnny, his own brother.
Inside the tent now, he heard the first scream.
THE HANDS ON HER throat loosened. McKenna got out one scream before the man closed his large hands around her neck again. She struggled to fight him off, but he was too heavy, too powerful. She swung wildly at him. But he only shook off her blows as if they were nothing more than pesky gnats.
She couldn’t breathe. He was squeezing her throat, and the weight of him on her…All the time he was talking, but his words made no sense and he seemed to be distracted, as if he thought any moment Nate would appear to save her.
She stopped flailing at him. Air. She had to get air. Tiny black spots appeared on the edges of her vision. She had to get him off her or she was going to die.
Her hand dropped to the ground along the edge of the gravel driveway. Her fingers searched the grass and weeds, closing around something cold and heavy. A piece of rusted iron from the old iron fence. She grabbed it tightly in her fist, feeling as if she was about to pass out, and drove it into him.
He let out a bellow of surprise and pain. His hands released her to reach for the rusted iron now protruding from his chest. With one angry swipe, he jerked the rusted iron out and threw it into the darkness.
McKenna groped for something else to use for a weapon, realizing there would be nothing to stop him from killing her now.
She grabbed a small rock, swung it as hard as she could in the vicinity of the man’s head as he reached again with both hands for her throat. A loud whap filled the air, then his startled angry cry.
Gulping air, she swung again, this time connecting with his forearm as he tried to grasp her arms. He howled with pain and lurched backward. She sat up, brandishing the rock gripped in her hand and scrambling away from him as she tried to get her feet under her.
She was woozy from lack of oxygen and disoriented. She sucked in more air, gasping, her throat on fire. He was getting to his feet, shaking his head like an angry bull and swearing.
She hurled the rock at him, hitting him in the chest. He let out a bellow as she clambered to her feet. He was between her and the pickup, so she turned and ran—not toward the house, because she knew she’d never be able to get inside and lock the door behind her before he caught up to her.
Instead she ran around the side of the house, headed for the creek and Nate, praying he would hear her cries for help, praying he hadn’t gone for a horseback ride. She needed him as she’d never needed a man before.
She ran, screaming Nate’s name, her legs aching, the breath in her lungs burning. She could hear the man behind her yelling something she couldn’t make out. All she knew was that he was gaining on her.
His fingers dug into her shoulder and he pulled her down the way a lion takes down its prey.
She hit the ground hard.
“Scream, bitch, scream!” he yelled into her face.
Her chest heaved, her panic accelerating as she fought to catch her breath. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe again with him on top of her.
He slapped her, making her head snap to the side. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him ball up his fist and rear back to slug her. “I said scream.”
She closed her eyes, anticipating the blow, knowing that it would be over soon. A boom filled the air, making her recoil as hot, wet spray splattered over her.
Her eyes flew open an instant before the man straddling her fell forward, his heavy, bloody body slumped across her, pinning her to the ground. A new surge of panic filled her as she felt his warm blood soaking into her clothing. She couldn’t breathe, the weight of the man crushing her, the smell of his blood filling her nostrils.
“Get him off,” she cried, shoving at the dead weight as Nate appeared, a gun gripped in both his hands, the barrel leveled at the man on top of her. “Get him off!”
Nate raised a foot, put his boot heel against the man’s body and shoved, all the time keeping the gun on the man. The body flopped over into the weeds next to her with a soft thud—and a groan.
As she scrambled to her feet, she saw the cold fury on Nate’s face as he crouched to put the gun to the man’s temple.
“You sorry bastard,” Nate said, bending over him.
She saw him saying something else to the man, but she wasn’t close enough to hear. The man’s eyes widened, though, and a terrible high-pitched laugh emanated from his mouth along with a stream of blood.
McKenna looked away, still trying to catch her breath, her throat in agony, her body trembling. When she looked back, the man on the ground was trying to say something.
He coughed, blood gurgling from his mouth, and spoke, his words coming out as if he was taking his last breath. She only caught a couple of words, but she saw Nate’s expression.
Then the man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell silent, leaving his last words floating in the night air.
McKenna stared, too stunned to move, to speak, as she watched Nate hurriedly check for a pulse. Apparently finding none, he holstered his gun and let out a string of curses.
“He said your name.” Her words quaked like her body. “He knew you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Nate froze, his back to her.
“I heard him,” McKenna said, her voice rising. “He said, Dempsey. And it was you he was calling for when…” Her voice broke. “He wanted me to scream so you would come.”
Nate closed his eyes for a moment. Hadn’t he known it was just a matter of time?
“Who are you?” she asked behind him, sounding afraid—only this time of him.
He turned slowly to face her. They were only feet apart. A sliver of moon and a handful of stars illuminating the darkness around them. Her face was ghostly white and she was trembling, her shirt and jacket soaked dark with blood, her cheek scratched and her hands filthy and bleeding.
He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her. To tell her everything was going to be all right. But he was tired of lying. And things were far from all right. “I’m a cop.”
She shook her head and took a step back. “A cop who just happens to know a killer?”
None of that mattered. “Are you all right?” His voice sounded strange even to him. He’d gone from fear to a cold, steely rage that had always frightened him. He could see that his calmness at having just killed a man was scaring her as much as what she�
�d overheard.
“I asked you who you are,” she snapped.
“I told you who I am,” he said, stepping past her and heading toward his tent. There would be no comforting her right now. Nor was this the time to talk. Not that she would listen to what he had to tell her now anymore than she would later.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she yelled after him.
“To call the sheriff,” he said and kept walking. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew better than to even try. He could hear her behind him.
“You knew that man,” she said to his back as she followed him at a distance to the tent.
He reached in and picked up his cell phone where he’d put it earlier, pressed 9-1-1 and only then did he turn to look at her.
“He said your name,” she repeated.
“There’s been a shooting at the old Harper place,” he said into the phone when the operator answered. “A man’s been killed. We need the sheriff.” He looked at her in the sliver of moon that had broken free of the clouds and disconnected before the dispatcher could ask him any questions.
As he snapped the phone shut, he reached into his tent and grabbed his jacket, tossing it to her. He felt as shaken as she looked now that it was over.
He could see the bruises already forming on her neck—just as he’d seen that the bullet hole wasn’t the only wound in the dead man’s chest. She’d fought back and it had saved her life. He tried not to let himself think about what would have happened if he hadn’t been here. But then she’d never have been attacked if he hadn’t come back here.
“Tell me the truth,” she said, glaring at him in the dim light as she angrily put on his jacket and crossed her arms over her chest.
The truth. What was that? “I think we should wait until the sheriff gets here. Here.” He dragged his camp stool over to the ring of rocks he used for a fire pit. She didn’t move. He could see that only stubbornness was holding her up. “Sit down before you fall down.”
ALL THE FIGHT WENT out of her. Her legs seemed to crumble under her. Nate lunged for her, catching her around the waist to keep her from falling as he lowered her gently to the camp chair.
“The sheriff will be here soon,” he said as he busied himself making a fire in the circle of rocks next to her.
She watched him, dazed and spent. A cop? He’d let her believe he owned a construction company. And a few minutes ago he’d acted like anything but a cop as he’d put his gun to that man’s head. What had he whispered to him?
At first she’d thought Nate was scared for her. Angry for her. But after she’d heard the man say Nate’s name and seen Nate’s reaction when the man died, she’d known it had never been about her. Not Nate being at Harper House, nor this man showing up when he had.
Glancing back toward the house, she could make out the dark shape of the man lying dead in the weeds. She began to shake harder, soaked with the cold wetness of the man’s blood beneath the jacket Nate had given her.
“You can’t get out of those clothes until after the sheriff gets here,” Nate said. “But the fire should help.”
Why was he acting as if he cared? She stared down into the flames. As she listened to the crackle of the dry wood and watched the smoke rise into the night air, she tried not to relive the terror. Or look at Nate. Hadn’t she known there was more to him being here?
Her eyes burned with tears. She squeezed them shut, but still the hot tears leaked out and ran down her cheeks. She heard Nate move to her, crouch in front of her, felt the rough pads of his thumbs as he brushed at her tears. She tried to pull away but couldn’t.
His arms came around her. She buried her face in his chest as in the distance she heard the wail of a siren growing closer and closer.
IT WAS LATE BY THE time the coroner and the ambulance pulled away from Harper House. The sheriff had taken their statements.
“This is the same man you said called himself Hal Turner?” Carter asked McKenna.
She only nodded since they’d already been over this a half dozen times.
“And you didn’t think to tell me that he had tried to attack you?” the sheriff demanded.
“He didn’t attack me. He pushed me. At least I think it was him. To tell you the truth, I thought I’d imagined it.”
She’d told Carter everything she could remember from the moment the man grabbed her from under the pickup and knocked her down to stabbing him with the piece of rusty iron from the fence to running for her life only to be caught and almost killed before Nate shot the man.
The only thing she hadn’t told him was her suspicions or what the man had said right before he died. She told herself she wasn’t covering for Nate. She wouldn’t do that. She knew she wasn’t thinking clearly after everything she’d been through. She’d convinced herself that she couldn’t be sure that the man had said Nate’s name.
Dempsey.
She couldn’t be sure she’d heard correctly since the rest of what the man had said made no sense. She could have misunderstood. Just as she’d misunderstood the man’s motives last night? If she was right and he’d wanted her to scream so Nate would come…then the man must have had a death wish.
She had to talk to Nate alone. She wanted to know what was going on. Nate and the man had known each other. But what did that mean?
There was also a good chance that when Nate gave his statement he’d told the sheriff things he hadn’t confided in her, since they’d given their statements separately.
Carter finally had one of the deputies drive her to the ranch so she could get a shower and change clothing. She was exhausted, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. McKenna felt sick to her stomach. That was the first man she’d ever seen killed. She remembered the dead weight of him on her and shuddered.
Nate had been taken down to the sheriff’s department for more questioning. Was it true Nate was a cop?
MCKENNA HADN’T EXPECTED to get a wink of sleep even as exhausted as she’d been. So she was surprised when she’d awakened late the next morning.
She showered again, letting the water beat down on her until it ran cold, wishing she could wash away the memory of last night.
Humans are amazingly resilient. Except for a few aches and pains, she didn’t feel any different. How was that possible when a man had tried to kill her, would have if Nate hadn’t killed him? She tried not to think about how close she’d come to dying.
Even though the day was warm, she dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Eve had thrown Nate’s jacket he’d lent McKenna into the washer and dryer along with her own clothing. As she retrieved it, she was glad to see there were no bloodstains when each article of clothing came out of the dryer.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Eve asked from the doorway. “After what you’re been through, you should be in bed.”
“I can’t sleep and I can’t just sit here. I have to know what’s going on. I’m driving in to talk to Carter.” McKenna didn’t mention that she was also going to find Nate.
Both Eve and Faith had gotten up when the deputy had brought her home late last night. No doubt Carter had called to inform them of what had happened. And yet they’d both quizzed her, one sitting on the closed toilet while the other perched on the edge of the tub as she took her shower.
“Carter isn’t going to tell you anything if the killing is still under investigation,” Eve said.
“The man died right in front of me.” Right on top of her.
“After he tried to kill you. How’s your throat, by the way?”
McKenna touched a finger to the bruises. “Sore, but I’ll live.”
Eve shook her head. “I don’t want you going back to that house.”
She knew better than to argue with her older sister right now. Eve had been terrified last night to hear about what had happened. Being older, and with the folks gone from the ranch, Eve felt responsible for her sisters’ safety. It didn’t matter that both Faith and McKenna were plenty old enough to take care of
themselves. At least under normal circumstances.
“I’m just going into town. I’ll be back as soon as I find out what’s going on.”
Eve eyed her. “Anita Samuelson called this morning. She said she has some photographs you had inquired about? She said she’d drop them off.”
McKenna nodded. She’d completely forgotten she’d called the woman for the photos of Harper House. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Back when she’d been excited about the house.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Eve asked.
“I’m fine.” It wasn’t true and they both knew it. A person didn’t get over something like this after a few hours sleep. Eve would have been even more worried if she’d known what had really kept McKenna awake.
SHERIFF CARTER JACKSON didn’t seem at all surprised when McKenna walked into his office. He got to his feet and hurried around to offer her a chair.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said automatically.
“I’m surprised Eve let you out of the house,” he said, taking his chair again behind his desk.
“She knew she’d have to hog-tie me to keep me from coming to town to see you,” McKenna said. “I need to know what you found out about the man.”
Carter leaned back in his chair. “The investigation is ongoing at this p—”
“Eve told me you’d say that. Carter, please, I have to know.”
He seemed to study her for a long moment. Finally, with a sigh, he said, “His prints came up with a hit. He served some time at Deer Lodge. His name is Dennis Jones.”
She felt her heart rate shoot up. His name was on the list she’d found under the floorboards of the house. “Denny Jones.”
Carter nodded. “He did spend some time at Harper House. Apparently the place was never state-certified, and some pretty awful things happened to the boys.”
She sat back. “What about…”
“The blood oath, as you call it? I’ve contacted both Frank Merkel and Rosemarie Blackmore. They’re both fine.”
